Taylor was on her fourth glass of pinot. She could feel her cheeks were flushed, her hair a bit mussed. She cleared her throat, trying to suppress her inhibitions. Across the table from her, Sophie’s tears of sorrow morphed into those of laughter as Ashley regaled a nightmarish date she’d been on at this very same restaurant weeks before.
Taylor’s phone buzzed, typically an alert she’d ignore when out with girlfriends, but for some unknown reason, Taylor lifted it from her purse.
A Long Island socialite’s daughter, seated three tables away from the women, watched as Taylor’s mouth fell open, and tilted the screen to display its message to her friends. And such Long Island Socialite’s daughter broke her “respect celebrity’s privacy” rule as she texted her best girlfriend about watching Taylor Swift, Sophie Turner, and Ashley Avignone, a trifecta of powerful, in-demand 30 year-old-women squeal in response to an invitation extended from Travis Kelce.
Who’s Travis Kelce Anyway?
Travis lifted piece by piece, jacket, and shoe, and jogger from his closet. He just had to get this right. Or that’s what Taylor’s team had hinted at least. The voice of her assistant, barely audible over the drone of her jet’s engines,
“Hi Trav, assuming you’re busy, I’ll call Aaron and André as well, but uh–we’re wheels down here in KC! So, we’re stopping at Loews before the show, we’re in the Presidential–hold on, oh, yes and Tree got the merch package–thank you, and uhm–yeah, I’m assuming we can’t see you before the show, game, sorry–but after! Dress to Impress. Yay!”
Travis had no problem dressing, next to his moves it was probably what he was most known for–well, that and being the best Tight End in Football. But dressing to impress Taylor Swift felt like an insurmountable task.
All of this felt–unreal. More so than beating his older brother in the Super Bowl.
He’d been dating Kayla in April. He had asked Lara for a pair of tickets to The Eras Tour. Kayla broke up with him in May. He told Lara he’d only need one ticket, after all. Then what happened? Taylor had always been the answer to “Who’s your celebrity crush?” But that’s just who she was, his celebrity. The kind of person who he’d be starstruck by.
Maybe it’s when Jordyn, the social media intern had put the Lavalier up to him during practice, leading up to The Eras Tour coming to Arrowhead.
“What’s your favorite Taylor Swift song?”
“Oh–easy, You Belong With Me!” He had to get back to practice, so he’d finished the interview by pointing to the camera, and yelling “You Belong With Me, Taylor!”
It had been a joke–but then he’d figured…she was going to be at Arrowhead. His home turf. He’d met plenty of celebrities who’d come to his games, why couldn’t he meet Taylor after hers? She was single, allegedly, if she’d broken up with that British twig, Matty Healy.
So, he’d–again, half-jokingly, strung a few beads onto string with his number on it. He’d gone to the concert, with a bird’s eye view from his box, and between singing “I Knew You Trouble,” he’d pestered Lara to ask her team if he could meet Taylor backstage.
She’d premiered a music video, Taylor Lautner did a back flip on stage–Lara reported back.
“Taylor’s on vocal rest, she doesn’t see anyone after the show.”
And what started as a joke became a much more serious chase for Trav.
Good thing he was quick on his feet.
This was a fun way to spend a Sunday. She was in Travis Kelce’s box. She was hanging out with the friends, and Mom, of a man she’d only spoken to briefly through FaceTime. As she ate a chicken strip with ketchup and seemingly Ranch, Taylor couldn’t help but marvel at the similarities between her and Trav’s life. Yes, obviously they were in different fields, but they were playing the same venues! He loved his family and was obsessed with work. He was unproblematic on Twitter, something Taylor had to worry about now following the Matty Healy debacle, and not that it matters–but he’s 6”5.’ Taylor didn’t have to wear sneakers–though, she was in love with the Jordans that Joseph had picked out for her.
It’s just a first date, but Taylor couldn’t help but notice the signs as the game went on:
Travis executing his signature arrow, which looked eerily like Taylor’s The Archer choreography.
A text from Tree, “Did you know you played Arrowhead 12 years ago TODAY during SN Tour?!!”
A fan holding a sign reading “Is Taylor Here?” Thumbs Up–she sure is.
Travis scoring the last touchdown.
You Belong With Me echoing throughout the stadium.
The game’s final score: 41 - 10. A 31-point difference. You know what 31 is backwards? 13.
As Taylor cleared cups and abandoned food trays in an effort to keep her side of the suite clean, she noticed her hands were shaking.
Was she nervous to meet him?
Travis’s entry to the locker room was met with hollers and slaps on the back. As he showered, Rashee and Isiah serenading the room with a pitchy rendition of Shake It Off. As he slid on his 1989-inspired ensemble, Patty was still on the field, talking to Erin about the pressures of performing for Miss Taylor Swift. Travis’s exit from the locker room, punctuated with jeers:
“Somebody’s game is starting now!”
“Trav - I KNEW YOU WERE TROUBLE!”
“Kelce hold the door open for that girl!”
Finally, Trav met Taylor, who was waiting for him near the field entrance. She was flanked by security and assistants, and what seemed to be the entire PR staff of the KC Chiefs, but out of all those people, she was attentively speaking to his Mom.
Unsure of himself in her presence, he opened the conversation with his Mom first:
“Hi, Momma. Good game today, yeah?”
“A great one!” She exclaimed.
He leaned down, wrapping his arms around his Mom, who whispered, not quiet enough,
“I’m gonna leave you two be, love ya.”
Taylor turned away from her assistants, “It was so nice to meet you Mrs. Kelce.”
The women hugged as though they’d known one another for years,
“Oh please, Taylor, it’s Donna!”
His Mom left now, but not before Taylor could call after her, “Go, Birds!”
“Go Birds!” Donna called over her shoulder.
Taylor looked to Travis now, her blue eyes meeting his.
“Sorry,” she shrugged.
“No-no, never apologize–I love the Eagles, obviously.” Jason was going to die if he ever heard this, but Travis would not be the one to kiss and tell.
They made small talk as they walked through the labyrinth halls of Arrowhead. Travis was all too aware of his arms dangling by his sides– should he rest his hands in his pockets–or in her hand?
Their knuckles brushed as they turned a corner, and passed a throng of people, one man in a Chief’s windbreaker, holding his phone indiscreetly by his thigh, the camera poised to capture Trav and Taylor. Trav’s jaw locked, probably some friend of a cousin of a fraternity brother of Clark Hunt’s, who thinks that he and Taylor are circus animals to be captured.
“Hey man, how you doing–” he said through gritted teeth, trying to maintain a friendly demeanor in the face of privacy invasion.
Taylor stood up straighter calling out “Hey, how’s it going?” Her smile relaxed as they walked away from the man. She rolled a tongue across her teeth, breathing a sigh out through her nose.
“Sorry about that,” Travis offered.
“Please–no, I’m sorry! I’m sure you’re just exhausted after the game, and the attention, well it has its own way of exhausting.” She gathered her blonde hair behind her now, tucking it behind her back.
“No, I know exactly what you mean.” He stammered, “I mean I don’t–but I’ll try to, is what I’m trying to say.”
Finally, they exited the stadium, where Travis’s car was waiting for them. Taylor charged ahead before her head of security stopped the group.
“Sorry–Taylor, you feel ok in a convertible?”
“Yeah, I think so.” She replied.
He turned to Travis now, “Your car, its passed inspection right? This year?”
Travis blinked, “Yeah, yes sir.”
“And are you prepared for us to tail you?” Travis noticed Taylor was speaking to her assistant now in hushed tones about the plan for departure the following morning. He could almost hear Taylor say “is there any way we could push the flight back an hour or two?”
“Of course,” Travis replied. “What car will y’all be in, though? Just so I know it’s you?”
The security pointed to a fleet of armed, window-tinted SUVs, “We’ll be in one of the BMWs over there. We’ll send Taylor over the exact license plate number, most likely we’ll be in JPG6.”
Travis nodded, “Ok–great, great. And Tay–” Her head snapped towards him now, her hair brushing against her shoulders, “Uh–” he stammered, his focus a little unnerved, “I can always put the top up, for your, uhm safety.”
“No! It’ll be fun! My hair will just get all curly, but I don’t mind!” She went to open the passenger side door.
Travis lunged, their hands meeting at the handle.
“Sorry! Sorry–” Travis lifting his palms into the air, “but I think I am supposed to open that for you.”
“Go ahead then,” he did so, and as Taylor climbed into the seat, her team dispersed.
The two were alone now, as Trav rounded to the driver’s side, he attempted to shake off his nerves.
First dates are nerve-wracking as is, add on the spotlight of superstardom and post-game press conferences, and a sunset drive to dinner feels like outrunning the law.
As they pulled through the parking lot, up to their first intersection, Taylor turned to Travis, her cheeks red with the wind, one arm hanging out the door, the other behind Travis’s headrest,
