Riptide

"Let's get out of here."

The Big Sur fic that nobody asked for. No doubt there are others out there but I couldn't resist having a shot at it. This whole thing will be a good mix of fluff and angst. I'm a firm believer that these two probably suffered from the classic gay problem of lusting after each other without making a move for months, so that's all accounted for. I really wanted to stick to the timeline that we assume occurred in real life, but, obviously, I've taken some creative license. Forgive me if I've made a glaring mistake anywhere but cats, PR managers, boyfriends, and public appearances as of early 2014 should all be accounted for.

February 2014

"Let's get out of here," Karlie whispered into her ear. "I can't stand seeing you like this."

Taylor felt a dull pressure aching just above her eyes, her forehead resting against her friend's firm shoulder. Her apartment lay still around them. She began to listen to Karlie's soft breaths in the silence, following their rhythm and trying to match her own ragged huffs to their pattern. A sob threatened to creep up her throat as the model placed a hand on her back.

"I'll take you anywhere if it means this will stop."

Taylor thought back to the reddish hue streaked across the darkening New York City skyline as they had walked back from dinner earlier that evening; its muted reflection shining in the lenses of Karlie's sunglasses when the younger girl had turned to flash a smile. Her security team had followed closely at their heels yet hung back just enough to let them feel a rare sense of freedom. Karlie had been rambling on about the magic of simple garlic and olive oil on linguine, still pleasantly astounded by a pasta dish they had ordered at the restaurant. Her stomach fluttered at the memory of Karlie's hand brushing past her own so lightly that it could have been a trick of her imagination.

Mind floating off in all directions, she had failed to spot it coming. The flash had stunned her enough to leave spots dancing across her vision. Security had pounced on the lone photographer in an instant, shielding her from the camera lens swinging violently as the paparazzo was pushed back into the side of a delivery van serving as a hiding spot. She couldn't see Karlie but felt her tall presence at her back. "Evening, ladies!" the photographer had called over to them in a broad Jersey drawl, wrestling himself out of the grip of her head bodyguard. "Give me a smile, Taylor! I've been waiting all night!"

Through another throng of paparazzi and within the safety of her building's stairwell, she had begun to cry from shock and frustration. She couldn't remember the last time she had let her guard drop so low. Karlie had put an arm around her then and squeezed her tight, her own face sporting a dazed expression. She had mumbled under her breath in fury as they climbed the stairs two at a time, speculating if waitstaff at the restaurant had tipped off an agency upon their departure.

Once they had made it inside the apartment and the security team had been stood down, they had both slumped onto the couch and suddenly she had found herself within the warmth of Karlie's arms. It had taken her a moment to settle within the embrace, finally relenting as her heart rate drummed throughout her body.

Her memories catching up to the present moment, Taylor wondered how long they had been resting on each other. The smell of Karlie's perfume was strong in her nose.

"Taylor, listen to me."

Pulled out of her swirling thoughts by Karlie's gentle voice, she lifted her head up. Karlie leant forward to brush the pad of her finger over Taylor's cheek to catch a tear as it fell. She had a look in her eyes that Taylor had not yet encountered in their still blossoming friendship; a steely intensity that reached Taylor's core and filled her with a sense of reassurance. Meeting those eyes with her own brought a dry feeling to her mouth. "You need a break," Karlie breathed, quickly drawing her hand away from Taylor's flushed face.