the stars in your eyes | t.s. one shots

inexperienced

i met this guy tonight and... oh my god. all those things that people always say about meeting the right person for you, about how you'll just know and you'll want to see him again more than anything and you'll be able to feel your heart pounding and all of those things that i always thought were total utter bullshit... they happened. i don't know what the hell to do about it.
he already texted me asking if i got home ok and saying he really enjoyed talking to me tonight. i don't know what to do. god. i want to see him again but it's so fucking embarrassing. i'm worse than a 24 year old virgin, i'm a 24 year old who hasn't even so much as touched lips with another person. jesus christ what the hell am i supposed to do when he wants to kiss me and i have to be like yeah i don't actually know how to kiss.
i can tell he's so experienced. not like, in the way that he's a player, but in the way that... well, he's certainly not a virgin, i guess is what i'm gonna say. and... what if he like... doesn't realize that it's a big deal to me? what if he doesn't understand why i'm scared? goooooddddd i'm so embarrassing. but like... i just... when i think about him, about how he bought me a drink and told me i was pretty... it makes me blush all over again. but then my head starts spinning and running with it and it's all just so overwhelming because i'm way too old to be learning how to do this all for the very first time.

Taylor's stream of consciousness is interrupted when her phone starts to buzz on the mattress beside her. She tucks her pen into the spine of her journal and looks at the caller ID- it's him. Travis.

She swallows, utterly unsure why he'd be calling her right now. She's also too intrigued to decline the call. So, her iPhone pressed to her cheek: "Hello?"

"Taylor, hi," Travis says. "Listen, I just wanted to check in and make sure you're feeling alright. You drink some water since you got home? Eat a snack?"

Taylor nervously chuckles. "Yeah. I only had 3 cocktails. I'm good. I was definitely tipsy but I'm already starting to come down and I'm not gonna be hungover tomorrow or anything. But... uh, thanks. That's... really sweet of you."

A silence falls between the two of them and then: "Travis?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you really call?"

He sighs. "Busted. I... wanted to find out what you're doing on Friday evening. I really want to see you again, Taylor."

Butterflies explode in her stomach as she quickly runs through her plans in her mind- nothing for Friday. And... as much as it absolutely scares her, makes her mind swirl and her breath hitch, she wants to see him again too. "Friday would be good for me."

"Drop your pin. I'll pick you up at 6:00."

"Okay." Her response is quiet- almost so much that he can't hear her, but he does. It's full of anticipation. 

It's only Saturday right now... or really, it's early on Sunday morning. The clock has ticked past midnight, but Taylor's been wide awake thinking about the man on the other end of the line. It leaves a lot of days before she's going to see him again.

It's a lot of time to be excited... or to freak herself out more than she already is.

The days pass and it proves to be both. She's jittery in every kind of way. She feels like she's going to explode with excitement, and also throw up with nerves. Taylor checks her outfit in the mirror probably a hundred times- it never changes. Every time she looks, there's the same little red dress, same leather jacket, same bow in her hair, same black heels.

She hopes she looks good. She's been on a few dates before, times that didn't ever lead to anything... but Travis is different. She really likes him- and she wants him to like her too. It's the first time she's ever consciously dressed with the hopes that a man will like the way she looks. Part of her can't help but feel like she's selling herself out. Like she's giving up this part of her identity... because she's never cared about boys. Not outwardly. Of course she's always craved the validation and attention, but acting on it has always felt... somehow just as embarrassing as not acting on it.