Getaway Car

Like a Fireworks Show

Travis hobbled down the jet bridge in Sydney. Damn, that was a long flight. As he had promised the team, he did a few physical therapy exercises en route when he wasn't sleeping. Travis was doing his best with a shitty situation, but he hated feeling weak. He still wasn't allowed to put any weight on his leg, so a wheelchair was waiting for him at the gate. He wasn't terribly bothered by how ridiculous it looked for a 250 pound man to be pushed through an airport; when was he not looking ridiculous? No, it was more that he viewed his injury as his failing. He'd had lots of teammates have similar ACL issues and he never thought any less of them; it was part of the game. But now that the table's had turned and he was the injured one - he hated it. He could always count on his athleticism - look how far it had gotten him - but now he was unable to walk as far as baggage claim.

He'd worried that he'd lost any chance he had with Taylor after he tore his ACL. He always felt like he was out of his league with her, but if he was benched? Why would Taylor want to date a guy that couldn't do the one thing he was supposed to be good at? Of course, she'd been generous and sweet while he was recovering. He woke up from surgery with a terrifying cat floral arrangement staring at him. While he was staying in her mansion, she'd had the kitchen stocked with his favorite foods and an entire fridge filled with his favorite tequila sodas. What could offer her? He couldn't dwell on it.

He was good at not giving a fuck and he needed to channel that attitude now. He could stay in the moment. He was lucky she seemed to like having him around, for whatever reason. He felt increasingly useless in her life, but he could push that aside and just focus on having fun together. Being fun was a second thing he was good at. He could still do fun.

His flight had gotten held up due to weather, so he wasn't able to see her before the show, as he'd arrived during the opening act. He was in a private suite with Taylor's parents for the show. They'd met previously, but he was always happy to talk football and Taylor with them - his two favorite subjects. Taylor's dad, Scott, seemed to be on the same wavelength as Travis. During every high note or cool transition, the two men would look at each other and exclaim, "Wow!!" as if they were seeing this for the first time.

Scott and Travis had also had some conversations about keeping Taylor safe, a spiel Scott famously gave to every security team in charge of his daughter. Travis agreed wholeheartedly, knowing he himself would tackle anyone that approached her wrong, his ACL be damned.

The show was incredible. He'd been blown away the first time he saw her perform, but now he knew all the intricacies and moving parts required to make it all happen. Hell, even the stage itself was a lot: a whole team of people had to break down, transport, and rebuild the stage between cities. Taylor had told him about the literal seconds she had during quick changes. It usually took a football game three and half hours for sixty minutes of actual gametime. It was all stops and starts. The Eras Tour felt like six hours was being squeezed into three: some important cog in the wheel was happening every single second. He repeatedly had to pinch himself that he'd taken this goddess on stage to a place in Cleveland called "The Troll Hole." Jesus.

One of the tour managers came into the private suite to escort Travis backstage as Taylor was on her last song. He was making his way to her dressing room when the lights came up backstage and the show ended. It was like a city back there; a city he knew would be fully dismantled in a few hours. It was impressive. And then there she was. Even in a bustling, dark, backstage, she glowed. She was handing her mic pack off when she turned to see him.

"Travis!" She rushed over, throwing her arms around his neck. She gingerly hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm so glad you made it. I know that's a long flight. Did you do your exercises like you promised?" She playfully scolded.

"I did! I did!" he pleaded.

"Okay good, your coach called me and said I better not hurt his tight end. He was intimidating! How'd he get my number?" Taylor asked. Travis raised his hands innocently, "I didn't give it to him!"

Taylor eyed him suspiciously, "Okayyyy, follow me," she led him back to her dressing room which was larger than Travis' college apartment. She stepped behind a large screen to change out of her costume, while Travis very dutifully looked up at the ceiling. She called from behind the screen, "Is wanting to go out a crazy idea? Are you exhausted?"

"Are you?" Travis asked. She'd just put on a three hour show. He'd slept on the plane and the concert had amped him UP. He also hadn't seen outside of Taylor's house for the last week. He was extremely ready to go out; and he'd heard Australia knew how to party.

Taylor stepped out in a light white dress with black buttons all the way up the front, and pulled her hair back. "Nah. I'm always wired after a show. And it's my last night in Sydney! It's been a minute since we closed down a bar," Taylor said through a smile. It was true, Taylor and Travis had closed down quite a few bars since knowing each other. They both fed off the other's energy, and neither ever wanted their nights together to end.

"Alright now!" Travis hollered.

"First things first though," Taylor began, "I'm starving and I wanna hear about how your knee's doing. There's a good spot in our hotel." Taylor had put up Travis in the same hotel she'd been staying in.

"Am I allowed to push your wheelchair?" Taylor asked excitedly. He was typically such an immovable force that could pick her up at a moment's notice; she was loving the switch in dynamics.

"As you wish, Nurse Taylor," he grinned. Ooh, that had a nice ring to it.