Daylight

Taylor #4

The smell of garlic and herbs fills my kitchen as Abigail pours herself another glass of wine, settling into the barstool across from me. "You're lucky I love you," she says, eyeing the pasta I'm stirring. "I ditched two perfectly good plans for this dinner."

"Who were you gonna go out with?" I ask, laughing.

"People you'd hate," she teases, taking a sip. "So, spill. You've been weird all week, and I know it's not just tour stress. What's going on?"

I glance over my shoulder. Abigail has that look—intense, no-nonsense. There's no escaping her when she's like this.

"Well..." I start, trying to sound casual, "I might've had dinner with someone last week."

Her eyes light up. "Okay, go on. Who?"

"Travis Kelce," I say, focusing way too hard on the pasta.

Abigail nearly chokes on her wine. "I'm sorry—who?"

"Travis," I say again, quieter this time. "We kind of... reconnected."

"Hold on." Abigail sets her glass down with a thud. "You're telling me that Travis Kelce? Football star? Arrowhead stadium? Him?"

"Yes, Abigail," I say, rolling my eyes. "That Travis Kelce. We knew each other as kids, remember? Kindergarten, best friends—"

"Oh, I remember," she interrupts. "But I also remember you not having his number for, like, ten years. How did this happen?"

"He showed up at one of my shows," I say, grabbing plates for dinner. "I didn't even recognize him at first. But then he found me after, and we caught up over dinner. It was nice—just friends catching up."

"Friends?" Abigail raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, friends," I insist, sliding her plate across the counter.

"Taylor, you don't go to dinner with just any friend and end up on a magazine cover," she says, smirking.

I groan, setting my fork down. "It wasn't like that. Tree already gave me the same lecture. It was just dinner."

Abigail tilts her head, unconvinced. "And yet, you've been distracted all week. So, what aren't you telling me?"

Before I can respond, my phone buzzes on the counter. I grab it, glancing at the screen.

It's from Travis. "I've been thinking. I saw you rock it at Arrowhead Stadium, now you should come see me rock it at Arrowhead Stadium."

My jaw drops.

"What?" Abigail asks, leaning forward. "What's it say?"

I turn the phone toward her. Her eyes widen as she reads it. "Oh my God."

I stare at the message, my mind racing. Is this... is he asking me out? Is he serious?

Abigail waves a hand in front of my face. "Hello? Earth to Taylor? Are you gonna respond or just sit there looking like you've seen a ghost?"

"I—" My words catch in my throat, and before I know it, I'm blurting everything out. "Okay, fine! I like him! I like Travis, alright? I didn't mean to, but I do. He's funny, and sweet, and he remembered everything about me from when we were kids. And when we were at dinner, I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed him and how... how easy it felt being around him."

Abigail's eyes widen as I keep going. "And now he's texting me about coming to his game, and I don't know what it means! Does he want me there as a friend, or is this something more? And what am I even supposed to say? Because I just got out of a six-year relationship, and I'm still trying to figure out how I feel about... everything!"

I finally stop, breathing hard, and Abigail just stares at me for a moment. Then she smirks.

"Well, that's a lot to unpack," she says, taking a sip of wine. "But one thing's clear: you're totally into him."

I groan, burying my face in my hands. "This is such a mess."

"Not really," she says, reaching for my phone. "It's simple. You like him, he clearly likes you—go to the game. See what happens."

"Abigail..." I start, but she holds up a hand.

"Don't overthink it, Taylor. Just say yes. And maybe... try not to fall too hard for him," she adds with a grin.

Too late, I think as I pick up my phone and start typing a reply.