Getaway Car

I Say I Don't Want That, but What if I Do?

It was finally New Year's Eve and Taylor was already pacing. Things with Travis were feeling... complicated. It was incredible to spend her birthday just hanging out, like she loved to do with her friends. Travis was her friend, she told herself. Even though he could somehow look hot in a dinosaur onesie.

Someone had spotted Travis in Rhode Island and people put it together, but beyond that, her birthday didn't count toward "the arrangement." She just liked him, and liked who she was around him. Hence: complicated.

And now he was en route to her hotel room straight from a game. He'd had to go from the field, to a plane, to New York. She'd let him off the hook when she realized, but he insisted, telling the press "Spending New Year's with Taylor will be my motivation to win." Thank God he had won, or she'd probably be blamed for distracting him. And now he was her date for New Year's Eve. Was he her date as her "boyfriend," or as her friend, or as her friend she really wanted to make out with? More importantly, which did she want him to be?

She'd rented out The Top of the Standard, a glittery spot at the top of a skyscraper with panoramic views in the East Village. It was all gold with seventies details, so she'd had a whole Studio 54 themed party planned, that happened to go perfectly with Travis' mustache. The jury was still out on the mustache for Taylor. She either thought it was embarrassing or the hottest fucking thing she'd ever seen, depending on the day.

She'd gotten a stunning gold pleated Halston gown from the archives and she looked incredible, curls out in full force. Just a few floors above, a live band was playing the best of the '70s and the entire room glittered with disco balls.

There was a knock at her hotel room and Travis stepped in. He was wearing platform boots, white bell bottoms and a gold silk shirt unbuttoned almost down to his navel. This man had more chest hair than all of her previous boyfriends combined. Taylor's jaw dropped.

"That good, huh?" Travis spun to show off the full outfit.

"So. Good." Taylor answered. It suddenly felt very obvious to her that she would die if she didn't get to kiss this guy at midnight. Now how was she going to let him know that? He'd already turned her down once before. Why had she made that stupid nothing physical rule? Travis strode over and broke her out of her thoughts.

"And you! Look at you!" He grabbed his chest as if he'd been wounded. "Not the curls! You know that's my weakness," Travis grabbed her hand to spin her around. Her gold dress twirled. Taylor beamed. Taylor had not known that was his weakness, but she certainly made a mental note now.

"Shall we?" Travis extended his arm. Taylor looped her arm in his and the two set off to the already raucous party happening above.

The party was magical. Everyone looked incredible, the entire room sparkled in gold, the live music perfectly captured that heady Studio 54 feeling. Taylor had invited a bunch of Travis' friends as well. Travis grabbed her by the waist and leaned down to whisper, "Lemme go talk to my jabronis, but wave if you need me. And you owe me a dance, by the way." He winked. She melted. Oh dammit, she should not be melting. She needed to find her perfect best friend, Blake.

Taylor scurried over to Blake and pulled her away from a group she'd been chatting with. Taylor whispered, "Code Red," under her breath and Blake followed her to a quieter corner.

"Am I supposed to know what Code Red means?" Blake asked. "Also, you look amazing."

"Thank you and no, but I figured it would convey the seriousness of my situation," Taylor sighed.

"Which is...?" Blake asked curiously.

"Travis. He looks really hot tonight," Taylor lamented.

Blake's face lit up. She liked Travis. "Does that mean fake dating may become real dating?" she asked excitedly. She knew all about the arrangement, but she also knew about the elevator dancing, the Troll Hole, and the birthday Law & Order marathon.