Tayvis One-Shots

shopping

Travis's POV

The first clue that Taylor was up to something came when she walked out of the bedroom holding a sundress and a pair of sneakers, a determined glint in her eye.

"Alright," she said, plopping the outfit onto the couch. "We're going shopping."

I blinked at her from where I was sprawled out, halfway through scrolling my phone. "What?"

"Shopping," she repeated, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You know, when people go out, look at stuff, maybe buy things." She grinned, her tone playful. "We're doing that."

I sat up, giving her a look. "You do know you're Taylor Swift, right? Shopping isn't exactly a low-key activity for you."

She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, her hip jutting out in that way that told me I wasn't going to win this argument. "Travis, I can't sit around all day worrying about what Tree wants me to do. I need to get out. And besides," she added with a sly smile, "you're big and scary. You'll keep me safe."

"Big and scary," I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's what I'm here for?"

"And handsome," she teased, walking over and sitting beside me. "Don't forget that part."

I sighed, shaking my head. "You really think Tree's gonna be okay with this?"

"She'll never know," Taylor said with a wave of her hand. "Unless you tell her."

I chuckled despite myself. "You're impossible."

She beamed, clearly taking that as a win, and hopped up to grab the sundress again. "I knew you'd see things my way. Now help me pick out a jacket, something that says 'incognito superstar.'"

I watched her as she twirled toward the closet, her energy infectious. "There's no jacket in the world that'll make people not recognize you," I muttered, but she was already flipping through hangers, humming to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, she'd chosen a light denim jacket to go with the dress and a wide-brimmed hat she insisted was "perfect for blending in." I wasn't convinced, but when she looked at me with those big, excited eyes, I caved.

"Alright," I said, grabbing my keys. "But when this blows up, I'm blaming you."

She grinned, grabbing her bag and slipping her hand into mine. "Deal."

We barely made it two blocks before the first fan spotted her.

I noticed the girl first, she froze mid-step on the sidewalk, her phone slipping from her hand as her eyes went wide. Then came the squeal, loud enough to make a few pigeons scatter.

"Oh my God! It's Taylor Swift!" she shrieked, grabbing her friend's arm so hard I thought it might fall off.

Taylor stopped in her tracks, turning toward the sound with a sheepish grin. "Hi!" she called, waving like this was the most normal thing in the world.

Before I knew it, the two girls were rushing over, their excitement practically vibrating off them. "I can't believe it! Taylor, we love you so much!" one of them gushed, her hands flying to her face like she was trying not to cry.

"Thank you," Taylor said warmly, reaching out to give them both a quick hug. "You're so sweet. What are your names?"

And just like that, Taylor switched into full-on superstar mode. She asked them about their favorite songs, posed for selfies, and even complimented one girl's 1989 sweatshirt. It was like watching her light up the stage, except this time, the audience was two stunned teenagers who would probably remember this for the rest of their lives.