Even if it's mine, even if it isn't...
Stock·holm syn·drome
noun
feelings of trust or affection felt in certain cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor.
⚠️ THIS STORY IS EXTREMELY EXPLICIT AND CONTAINS LOTS OF SENSITIVE TOP...
"Bryson! Wow! Your girlfriend is amazing!" The man said while sitting across from us at the dinner table next to his wife.
"Yes she is Richard!" He chuckled while cutting his steak.
"So Taylor, tell me about yourself." His wife asked.
I let out a fancy ass laugh. "I actually...I..." I looked at Bryson for help.
"She's still in college. You remember college and how confusing it was." He said.
"Oh of course! What are you in college for?"
"Music. I write, sing, you know...I do lots of things." I shrugged.
"Awww, you and Bryson could work with each other. He would've been on the top one hundred if he wasn't so shy and decided to pick up that A&R job."
"Ha, I'm just as shy." I scratched my head and took a sip of wine. I don't even drink.
"Yeah you two are the shy type. It's always the shy ones with so much potential and talent!" Richard exclaimed. "I hope you break out of that Tina."
"It's Taylo-" I corrected.
"Bryson how did you meet Tiana?"
"My name is Taylor..."
"I used to always see TAYLOR around campus and I'd be scrolling through the gram and see her featured on other people pages. She was just...reoccurring and I knew the universe had something for the both of us. Cliche but true."
"Wow! Very romantic. Tina, did it take him a while to come up to you? Knowing Bryson it probably took him years."
"It sure did Ricardo." I said jokingly.
"Ricardo?" Richard asked.
"Tina, Tiana? If you're gonna say my same, say it right!" I snapped. "It's Taylor...dickhead."
Bryson's eyes widened and so did everyone else's.
"Anymore questions or do I need to write an autobiography?"
• 9:34 p.m •
Since dinner, Bryson hasn't said anything to me. We're back on the jet on our way home. He's just writing, checking his laptop, answering text messages and ignoring me.
"Are you mad at me?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Then why aren't you talking to me? Why do you look upset? You always like talking to me."
"I do not like how they disrespected you. They even turned and looked at you when you corrected them. If they didn't hear you, which they did, they could've asked what was that?" He scratched his beard.
"Oh...I thought it was me."
"No. I just want to sleep. I can't wait till we get home."
• February 21, Sunday • • 1:31 a.m •
I took a shower and jumped into my pajama's, then Bryson did the same after I came out the bathroom.
"Jet lags a bitch." He groaned while grabbing my hand and shuffling to his bedroom. "Sleep here with me."
"But I wanna-"
"Shhhhh, just go to sleep. We'll talk in the morning. Okay?"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Once I hit the bed I was knocked out. His arms snaked around my waist and soon his snores filled the room along with the city life outside and ticking of the clock on the wall
