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He expects her to be at least a tinge of mad when he comes home after practice. He’d heard about it on the radio driving back to their house, how she’d placed second in this dumbass ranking in this dumbass music magazine. She obviously should be first.
So yeah, he is a little mad about it. There can’t be a single doubt that Taylor is the biggest music sensation since the Beatles, Elvis or Michael Jackson. It’s there in plain sight. The record breaking tours, the hit after hit albums over the years (that she has written the majority of herself, mind them), the awesome role model she is for young people and how her music has actually contributed to economic growth all over the world.
He might be a tiny bit biased, well, because he loves her so much it isn't even funny and his life mission is to hear that infectious laughter of hers at least once a day. Still, anyone can see it. There are numbers to prove it. Travis likes numbers and statistics, they don’t lie.
Maybe he is actually really mad, he thinks then, gripping the steering wheel harder. He takes a few deep breaths to calm down. Then he spends the remaining turns of the car ride to practice what to say when he sees her. He tries to come up with words that don’t sound too angry and that convey exactly how amazing he thinks she is, that in his eyes there is no other #1. These Billboard people don't even deserve to use her name in their dumb ass articles.
He is a bit surprised when the intro to Single Ladies is blasting as he opens the front door. It’s the sound system in the living room that’s playing, he can tell pretty quickly, and discards his gym bag and keys by the door to follow the music.
Taylor is half-laying - half sitting on the couch, foot bopping to the rhythm. She’s singing along to the catchy lines, if you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it.., pointing to her own ring finger at the same time as she looks up, meeting his eyes. She smiles big then, continuing to point to her finger as she wiggles her eyebrows.
Just like that, all the anger he’d felt moments ago leaves him in a quick flow. His smile matches hers as he takes three, four strides across the living room until he is close enough the grab the hand she’s still holding up.
“Is there a hint here? You know I’m just a guy. You gotta be very clear so I understand..”
“Nah, just, it might be good to know that gold looks good on me.. And ehm, princess cut..?”
He lets out a loud laugh, leaning over her to get as close as he can. “Princess cut huh, I’ll try to remember,” he murmurs before pressing his lips to hers. Like he doesn’t know already. She kisses him back eagerly, humming contently.
“How was practice?” She asks while pulling back slightly.
“Was good, nothing special,” he starts, but then, just as quickly as he forgot about it, he remembers that he was mad driving home. “Or.., I heard about this artists of 21st century ranking, real stupid ranking if you ask me. Have they even disclosed how they compared artists against each other?” he rushes his word out now, a slight edge to his voice, his gaze intense as he looks at Taylor. “There’s no logic behind it, it’s, well fucking stupid.”
He feels the heat radiating from him, but as he looks at Taylor she surprisingly starts to smile. “I love you so much, Trav,” he whispers happily, pulling him so close that he is practically engulfing her.
“You’re not mad about it? It’s wrong, you are the artist of the 21st century, the best. There’s no competition, baby,” he murmurs against her ear.
“Nah, I agree with you babe, it’s a fucking stupid ranking, that’s why I honestly don’t care that much,” she says. “How can you compare artists like that over a 25 year period? It's very subjective. There are so many great artists that didn’t even make the top 25.”
Travis shakes his head, she’s too good for this industry. But he gets what she means. “Nah, not as simple as football where the most points win.” Still, there are top lists and album sales to look at. “If it was based on hits, albums and stuff, like actual facts, you’d be the clear winner,” he insists, it's still bugging him, he knows Taylor can tell.
“I know, babe. I promise I’m fine.” She searches for her phone behind her, trying to stay within Travis’ embrace as she does so. “I’m really happy that I have this big fan who is always on my side, though. Might even take a fight with the biggest music magazine in the world If I asked him.” She smiles lovingly as she says it, tracing his cheekbone softly.
“Yeah, Tay, obviously. And I mean we know people,” he whispers, capturing her hand in his. But he knows she would never do anything like that. She plays fair, just like he does.
“Nah, if I have to lose to someone.., I mean she’s Beyoncé.” She presses play then, the intro to Single Ladies once again blasting through the sound system and he can’t help but smile as she looks at him mischievously.
“Did you know this was my jam back in 2008?” she asks then and Travis slowly realizes that she has a plan and he’s not sure he’s going to like it. “Even learned the dance, you know..”
She’s so quick that he yelps when she suddenly pushes on his chest, jumps to her feet and drags him with her. She takes a firm grip on his hips.
“The hip movements are crucial, yeah, use those hips, baby!” She laughs when she says it, moving his hips to the rhythm, guiding him though the movements.
He catches on quickly, following her directions. Travis is still a little mad about the outcome of the dumb ass ranking, but the thing is, he can’t stay mad around her. Not when she is so humble, understanding and respectful about all of it. Not when she’s laughing so hard her face is red as tomato as she watches him dance. Not when she whispers I love yous as she pulls him close.
Still, he wants to be clear on one thing, his girlfriend is the best pop star in the whole wide world and she’s also the most amazing person he’s ever met.