Getaway Car

Elevator Buttons

It was Travis' birthday and they hadn't been seen together since the afterparty; already the internet rumors were starting up. Had they broken up? Did they get in a fight? It was exhausting. Heaven forbid a professional athlete and one of the world's most popular musicians be busy. It was a reminder for Taylor why this could never work, even if he was really hot. And fun. And nice.

"Your chariot awaits," Travis bowed as he walked into her hotel room. He was such a dork. Taylor rolled her eyes, but couldn't stifle a smile.

They had a reservation at Travis' favorite Argentinian steakhouse in downtown Kansas City. She'd ask what he wanted for his birthday and he'd texted back, "To eat my weight in steak." Well okay, that birthday gift was easy enough.

The two headed down the hallway to the elevator, both smiling giddily. Taylor couldn't stop smiling around him and that was dangerous. "Fake, fake. This is fake," she scolded herself as they stepped onto the elevator. Then it lurched to a stop.

Taylor's eyes went wide, "Oh no." Suddenly any complicated feelings she was trying to wrangle were replaced with panic.

"Oh no," Travis said. "Isn't there an intercom button thing? Ah, here." He pressed the call button, "Hello? The elevator just stopped."

A voice crackled through, "Hello, this is Maintenance. Please remain calm. It looks like you're in Elevator Bay 2; I'm sending someone out now. Should be about an hour to get someone there, and then they'll assess."

An hour?! Kansas City was not on New York time, apparently. "What do we do? I guess I should tell my security team," Taylor said, sliding down to the elevator floor and taking her phone out of her purse.

"Damn, yeah. I'll let my mom know I guess," Travis said. He sat down next to Taylor and took out his phone.

"And now?" Taylor asked. Taylor could feel her breathing getting more rapid; she was anxious. She'd never been stuck in an elevator before. Janitorial carts? Sure. The small space wasn't the issue; it was the lack of control.

"I guess we just have to wait," Travis shrugged. He continued, seeing her growing worry. "But I'm getting to spend my birthday in an elevator with the first artist with simultaneous top 10s from three of their own albums since The Beatles. That's pretty cool."

"Have you been reading my Wikipedia?" she asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

"You know I can't read!" Travis laughed at his own joke.

Taylor smiled, but then slumped, defeated. Travis continued, wanting to cheer her up, "You know what? I can show you the touchdown dances I've been practicing."

Taylor raised her eyebrows. He continued, "Oh yeah, you gotta see this. Play 'Fight For Your Right to Party' on your phone." Travis stood back up and faced the elevator wall, in his starting position. Taylor did as asked and the song started. Travis frenetically transitioned between a good dozen dance moves, each more absurd than the last.

Taylor couldn't stop laughing as she clapped enthusiastically. She was stuck in an elevator with a very large man dancing like an idiot.

Travis held out his hand to the sitting Taylor, "Here, I'll teach you."

After a quick lesson, the two were dancing in sync, which then devolved into Taylor teaching Travis some of her Eras choreography, and finally Travis doing his best impression of her chair-ography. Tears were streaming down their faces from laughter when the intercom crackled to life.

"Maintenance here. Looks like it may be a bigger issue than we thought, so we're sending up some firefighters to get you on your way. Should be there within the next half hour." The announcement brought them both back down to reality.

Breathing heavily from laughter, Travis hit the button, "Okay, thanks, man." He sat back down on the elevator floor and Taylor did the same, sitting across from him.

"Sorry you're not eating your weight in steak," Taylor said.

"I'll live," the conversation lulled for a moment. He continued, "Did you know it was going to be this crazy?"

"What?"

"The media attention on us. The fan attention. It's wild. Like, I thought I knew what I was getting into, but I don't know that I did," Travis said.

Taylor had to admit her plan was maybe working a little too well. She'd dated famous guys before, but this attention was on a new level. It was constant paparazzi, hundreds of "news" stories every day about every tiny thing, instant proposal speculations, a barrage of strangers weighing in with their opinions. Looking over at Travis - this guy sitting across from her in an elevator - whose only grievance was wanting to take her on a date, subjected to all of this. Her heart ached; for him, for herself, for every past relationship that buckled to the pressure.

"I'm sorry, Travis," Taylor said quietly. "It's more than I expected, but I had an idea. That's why I thought it was a good idea, a good distraction. How're you doing with it all?"

Travis paused for a moment to think and said, "I read I'm already shopping for rings! But it's not too bad. My brother and mom worry a bit, but I think I can handle it. It comes with the territory. And don't feel sorry. Even if I had known, I still would've made the same choice. Getting to know you has been worth it."

Taylor's throat got tight and tears started to well. She wasn't going to cry though; she refused. She took a deep breath to reign it in. "Thank you for saying that. I don't know if my ex would say the same."

"I think there's Taylor, like just you, a person. But there's also Taylor: Superstar," Travis mimed looking up at a marquee. "And they're both a part of you. You don't get one without the other. I'm Travis: a guy from Cleveland that likes sneakers; but also Travis: tight end for the Chiefs. There's the guy that my brother knows, and there's a guy that a lot of people I've never even met look up to. Both are me and I wouldn't want to give up either one. Like Shrek, I have layers. So do you."

She couldn't get a read on Travis, not even as she dared herself to stare into those blue eyes of his. How could this guy she barely knew make her feel so seen?

A thunderous banging from outside interrupted the moment and made Taylor jump.

"Hello? Fire department," a voice shouted from the other side of the elevator, "Let's get you out of there." A small team of firefighters pried open the elevator doors. Taylor and Travis were just about two feet above the floor below; Travis hopped down and grabbed Taylor's hand to help her. They'd spent two hours in the elevator, but Taylor would've sworn it was no time at all.

Meanwhile, the firefighters were very surprised to see Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift were the subjects of their elevator rescue. One stepped forward to introduce himself.

"Sorry about that, folks. I'm Scott. Totally okay to say no, but um, this is wild. Could I get a photo with you both? No one's going to believe us that Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift were stuck in the elevator call we responded to."

"Sure, man, and thanks for getting us out," Travis enthusiastically shook Scott's hand and pulled Taylor in for a selfie. The two dutifully and gratefully took photos with all six of the firefighters present.

"Thank you so so much," Taylor said again to the group.

"The restaurant's still open. Wanna go? Up to you," Travis asked.

Taylor had been in a hot, sweaty elevator for two hours. Her makeup was a mess and her hair was more frizz than curl at this point. But she was in her No Fucks Era and she didn't want the night to end, "Yeah, let's go. Happy birthday, Travis."