Tayvis One-Shots

lost in the crowd

Travis's POV

It was just the two of us tucked away in a little corner booth, surrounded by soft, warm lights that turned everything gold. She had booked out a whole Italian restaurant for us, and I could tell she was relishing the break from everything, the chance to let her guard down for a few hours. And honestly, so was I.

"Have you ever tried the pasta here?" she asked, looking up at me from her menu with a slight smile. Her eyes had this soft glow in the candlelight, and for a second, I got lost in them.

"Not yet, but whatever you order, I'll trust it," I said, setting my menu down. "You've got pretty good taste, you know."

She laughed, giving me a teasing smile. "Oh, I'm choosing for both of us now?"

"Yep," I replied, leaning back in the booth. "Let's see if you know me as well as I think you do."

She rolled her eyes but gave in, ordering a mix of her favourites and a few things she thought I'd like. Watching her talk to the waiter, all polite smiles and thoughtful gestures, I couldn't help but feel this surge of admiration. There was something almost magical about her—a presence that went beyond the fame and the music, something real, something only I got to see.

As the waiter left, she turned back to me, her gaze softening. "I'm glad we got to do this," she said quietly, almost like she didn't want to break the spell of the evening.

"Me too," I said, reaching across the table to take her hand. Her fingers slipped into mine, warm and familiar, and we sat like that, just looking at each other, saying more in that silence than words could capture.

Our food came, steaming plates of pasta and warm bread, and we dove in, trading bites and laughing as we both tried things we'd never ordered before. Taylor nudged a plate of risotto my way, insisting I'd like it, and I had to laugh when I saw how serious she looked about it.

"I'm telling you, it's amazing," she said, eyes lighting up with excitement. "Trust me."

"Alright, alright," I said, lifting a forkful to my mouth, giving her a sceptical look that made her laugh. And when I tried it, I had to admit, it was pretty damn good.

We ate slowly, savouring the meal and the easy flow of conversation that came with it. She told me stories from her tour—fans who'd thrown flowers and letters onto the stage, a little girl who dressed up like her in the front row. She was lit up in a way that made me feel lucky to be on the other side of that table, to see the real Taylor, not the one everyone else knew.

"And then," she said, laughing, "this guy in the third row held up a sign asking me to prom! I think he must've been, like, seventeen."

"Hey, the guy's got guts," I said, grinning. "I mean, I get it. If I'd been seventeen and you walked into my high school, I probably would've done the same thing."

"Oh yeah?" She gave me a playful look, raising her eyebrow. "How exactly would you have asked me to prom?"

I leaned forward, resting my chin on my hand as I gave her my best serious look. "Probably something like, 'Hey, Taylor, I know you've got, like, a million better options, but if you want to ditch them all and come with me, I'm all yours.'"

She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand as her shoulders shook. "You? Smooth? I don't know if I believe that."

"Guess you'll never know," I said, shrugging with a smirk. "I don't need prom when I've got you."

Her laughter softened, and she reached across the table, her hand finding mine again. "Yeah. You do."

The world outside faded in that moment. It was just the two of us, like we were in our own little bubble, and I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. Just her laughter, the warmth of her hand in mine, and the quiet hum of the restaurant.