Stolen Memories [Tayvis Fanfiction]

ELECTRIC

Six Days Later
June 25th; 2024
Taylor Swift's Point of View
My reflection mocks me in the hotel mirror. I can't seem to tear my gaze away, scrutinizing every detail. Every inch of me needs to be perfect, flawless. Why am I suddenly so fixated? When I meet people, I usually throw on what my stylist picked out with a bit of makeup and call it a day. This? This is an eternity I haven't spent on getting ready in ages.

It's Travis. It has to be. Makes zero sense, though. He's a friend. Looks shouldn't matter this much with a friend, right?

Except they do. He's been swirling around my brain all week. When I'm not drowning myself in work or my motherly duties, it's Travis. Obsessive thoughts about him, daydreams about today and what it could hold. I just want to shut him out, refocus on my life.

The click of the red lipstick cap echoes in the room as I snap it shut and toss it onto the counter. In the mirror, my reflection practically vibrates with nervous energy. I'm a vision in white - a two-piece Ralph Lauren number, the eyelet linen bustier and mini skirt a perfect combination that shows off just enough skin. Tan sandals peek out from under the skirt, their color mirroring the woven leather of my matching shoulder bag. A pop of turquoise hangs from my ears, the teardrop earrings complimenting the dainty gold bracelet and rings that adorn my wrist. My hair, usually beautifully laid out straight, is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, a stark contrast to the bold red lips and perfect wings of eyeliner that frame my face. This isn't just a "look," it's a full-on statement, and for the first time, I'm questioning the reason behind it.

Frustration bubbles up as I sigh, the red fading slightly from my cheeks. This outfit feels...designed, every detail screaming for attention. Not exactly "catching up with a friend" vibes. The clock on the wall mocks me with its insistent ticking – 20 minutes until I meet Travis. Scrapping the whole thing and starting over isn't an option.

I guess I'm showing up candid style. Heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs, I leave the hotel room. He's just a friend, right? So why do I feel like I'm about to take flight?  Settling into the backseat of the car, I try to calm my jitters. Each beat of my heart echoes in my ears as we pull up to his house. Stepping onto the porch, I take a deep breath and hit the doorbell. The wait stretches into an eternity, punctuated only by the frantic thump of my pulse.

Then the door swings open, and there he is. In that instant, the whirlwind of anxieties that had been swirling around me dissipates. A giddy smile spreads across my face, and for a moment, I feel like a teenager again, full of butterflies and boundless joy.

"Hi," I manage, the word tumbling out awkwardly. My voice seems to have deserted me.

"Hey!" Travis throws the door open wider, his smile as warm and inviting as the summer sun. I step inside, and for a moment, I'm speechless.  His place is amazing - stylish, but with a lived-in feel that makes it instantly welcoming. It's clear he's put a lot of thought into it.

"Wow," I finally blurt, "your place is... uh... cool." So much for maintaining any semblance of composure. Just being near him seems to scramble my brain.

Travis lets out a chuckle, the sound rich and familiar. "Thanks, I like it. You look really nice by the way."

Heat floods my cheeks.  "Oh, this?" I blurt, gesturing vaguely at myself. "This isn't anything much." Ugh, why did I just say that?  Moments ago I was freaking out about going overboard, and now I'm downplaying the whole thing. I mentally kick myself.

"Are you sure?" Travis asks, his gaze lingering on my face a beat too long to be entirely casual.  "Because it looks stunning." His smile widens, and a flicker of something unidentifiable sparks in his eyes.