Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

April 21st, 2016

Taylor glanced in the full length mirror, adjusting her red shirt labeled with her home state, Pennsylvania. Her usual tangled and wild hair was tamed by her hair stylist Veronica. She had a hair stylist. This whole situation was just completely absurd. And right now, she could think of three reasons why she should leave off the top of her head.

One, she was terrible at talking in public. Two, she hated this tied up Britney Spears styled shirt. And three, most of all, she didn't even want Travis Kelce.

She'd first seen the ad while doom-scrolling Instagram at 1 a.m.—a flashy nationwide casting call for women ages 20–30, promising a chance to date an NFL player. Some guy named... Travis Kelce?

Who the fuck even was Travis Kelce? Taylor didn't pride herself on her football knowledge, but she knew the basics. And she's never heard of Travis Kelce.

At first, she laughed. The man looked like the human version of a sports car—loud, shiny, and too fast for his own good. She was already tired of his cocky smile and absurd outfits just from the ad.

But then she saw the subscript: Compensation and exposure to the entertainment world if participated.

It was ridiculous. But also...it could be something. She was living in a dingy apartment in Philadelphia living off a meager wages busting shifts at Margie's.

Oh come on Taylor. What makes you think a millionaire athlete would want to do with you?

So she didn't apply. She didn't think about it. Until a week later when Abigail came over and they got drunk on cheap wine, talking about everything and nothing at all.

"Oh my gosh Tay, have you seen that hot NFL player's new dating show ad?" Abi giggled.

"Trevor Kirk?" Taylor laughed. "Or whatever the fuck his name is." God, she was way too drunk to be having this conversation, or any conversation at all.

"Babe nooo, it was like, Travis or something."

"Right." Tay rolled her eyes. "How arrogant do you have to be to have your own dating show?"

"Oh come on Taylor. Anyone with eyes can see he's hot as fuck." Abi teased, leaning in with a mischievous grin. "You should try out for it."

"Hell no. Are you serious? Like I would even get picked." Taylor sighed.

"Oh my god Tay. You're like, the most gorgeous person I know. Why the fuck would he not pick you??" Abi exclaimed with conviction. "Do it girl. Heaven knows you're drunk enough to be convinced right now."

She was right. And two glasses (okay, three) of wine later, Taylor submitted her application—half as a joke, half as a dare.

And somehow, two weeks later, she got an email back.

"Congratulations, Miss Taylor Swift! You've been selected for the opportunity of a lifetime! See you in LA!"

And here she was. About to step out into the USC stadium holding two stupid looking pom poms in a too tight crop top in the middle of goddamn February. If she didn't freeze to death tonight, the rest can be planned after that.

A knock sounded on her door.

"1 minute!" The production manager called out.

Taylor looked back at the mirror, uncertainty glancing back.

"On second thought..." She muttered, yanking her tied up shirt down and smoothing the wrinkles with her hand. "If he has a problem with my regular, non Britney Spears outfit, he's not the one for me."

Taking a deep breath.

Exhaled any sanity or dignity she had left.

And stepped out of the trailer.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

It was so cold.

The stadium was massive. It really was, in a way, bigger than life. Standing in the middle of that endless green field made everything feel surreal—but mostly, it just made Taylor even more nervous. Her hands clutched the silver pom-poms the stage manager had handed her moments earlier. She looked around.

They were all gorgeous. And she...was nothing like them.

Suddenly, a girl with long brown hair with the word "Iowa" stamped across her chest squealed.

Every eye turned towards the entrance.

And there he was.

Even taller than he looked in pictures, if that was possible. He oozed confidence. Taylor knew he was hot and she may or may not have downloaded more than a few highlight reels on the plane ride here, but holy crap. No wonder he got a deal for a dating show.

But what she wasn't prepared for... was the golden retriever smile that lit up his entire face.

He walked through the crowd of girls like he belonged there, waving his arms up and down, hyping everyone up like it was game day. Taylor forced a bright smile and waved her pom-poms in the air, teeth chattering slightly.

It was so cold.

"Ladies!" Travis boomed. "Thank you for this warm welcome."

The group cheered.

"I'm seriously excited to get to know you all—and looking around, I already know how hard some of these decisions will be."

Taylor rolled her eyes inwardly.

"And some of those choices will happen soon...because some of you will be going home tomorrow."

She could almost hear the dramatic beat they will no doubt edit later.

Tomorrow? Taylor's stomach dropped. She had barely got here. She swears if they send her home tonight and don't pay for her flight ticket she will actually throw hands.

"You'll each have 60 seconds to talk alone with me. I know it's short...but I'm hoping to get a good, or at least somewhat accurate, first impression of all of you." Travis continued, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Good luck ladies."

Worried whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire.

"Oh my god, we just got here." Someone groaned.

"I can't go home now!" Montana exclaimed.

Agreement went through the small crowd.

Taylor didn't say anything. But she knows two things.

She needs the money, and in order to get that, she has to make it through this round.

Over the next twenty minutes, girls filtered in and out of the tunnel after their interviews. Some returned practically glowing. Others... not so much.

"Taylor Swift, Pennsylvania!" The producer called. "You're on in 2 minutes!"

She stood up, her heart hammering in her chest. She made her way toward the stadium entrance. Moonlight spilled across the turf, stretching out in front of her like a runway. And there, dead center, stood a towering silhouette.

Travis Kelce.

You can do this. He's just a overconfident man with a really bad reality tv show.

She steadily walked towards him, keeping her head down until she reached Travis.

"Hey." Travis said.

Taylor looked up at him, eyes meeting his for the first time. And dammit, they were even more gorgeous up close. She couldn't tell if they were green or blue in this light. That shouldn't have mattered, but it infuriated her how distracted she was.

"Hi, I'm Taylor." She said, forcing her brightest smile.

Travis grinned."It's nice to meet you, Taylor." His voice was softer than she expected. Sincere.

I smiled. "I'm excited to be here." I hope that didn't sound like a lie.

"I'm excited that you're here gorgeous." His eyes twinkled. Of course he was that flirtatious.

"Soo..." she laughed lightly, nerves kicking in. "Uhh... fuck?"

Travis burst out laughing, throwing his head back.

"You're cute," he said with a wink. "Bit early for that, sweetheart—but I'm looking forward to getting to know you."

Who the hell still winks? Apparently, hot 6'5" NFL players.

Taylor's face flushed beet red.

"That''s not what I meant." She stammered, ignoring the fact that he had just called her cute.

"If you say so." Travis smirked. "So...tell me about yourself...Taylor." He said, as it he was trying her name out. Some insane part of her liked the sound of it on his lips.

She took a breath.

Calm the fuck down . "So...I'm from Pennsylvania, I do double shifts at a restaurant called Margie's and I would love to be a songwriter someday. Honestly, I have no idea why I'm even here but--wow, I probably shouldn't have said that." Taylor winced and paused for a few awkward moments. "So...wanna hear a joke?" She asked weakly.

Travis' eyes sparkled. "I would love to hear a joke." Finally something she could do.

A small smile pulled at Taylor's lips. "Ok. So. There was a cat, and the cat walks into the library. Right?"

"Right." He answers in amusement.

"So the cat asked the librarian. 'Excuse me, could I get a tuna fish please?' And the librarian says 'Sir this is a library." A smile tugs at Travis' lips. Yes! "And then the cat says," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Oh sorry. Could I get a tuna fish please?"

A giant smile breaks out on Travis' face. A full-on, shoulders-shaking, head-thrown-back kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that made her want to say something else just to hear it again.

Taylor grins. "Damn. I didn't know I was that funny."

He waves he hand in front of his face as he continues laughing. "No- no no no. God. I just...didn't expect the joke to actually land." He teases.

I raise my eyebrow. "Damn Travis. Didn't think I'd be funny, huh?"

Travis smiles again, opening his mouth to answer when a large speakerphone blasts in our ears across the stadium.

"The minute is over. Mr Kelce. Please tell Miss Swift to exit the fields." The director said.

Taylor blushed. They'd gone over time and neither of them even noticed the loud buzzer that had rang in the stadium moments ago.

"Oops. So. See you later." She said, her cheeks tinted pink.

Travis blinks, as if he was being snapped out of a haze. "Yeah. Yeah. See you." he said, holding up his hand for a wave like an afterthought before dropping it halfway.

She turned to walk back through the tunnel.

And when she glanced over her shoulder...

He was still watching her.

Something fluttered in her stomach.

Well, shit.

Chapter Text

Travis' POV

Travis Kelce was infatuated. He knew it—no, he felt it, in the way his stomach flipped when she walked away, calm and a little shy, like she didn't even know the effect she had on him.

He'd been ready to cancel the whole show just to follow her. And maybe that was a problem. Because he was supposed to be the one in control, the heart breaker. And now, a girl from Pennsylvania who he met 2 minutes ago had him standing in the middle of the field, cheeks flushed and heart pounding like he just played a football game.

Something about her stuck with him. The way she carried herself. The way she didn't rush to impress him. Part of him could tell Taylor wasn't fully sold on him yet. That maybe this whole thing meant something different to her than it did to the other girls. But then she'd look at him—really look at him—and he swore there was something there. Or at least, he hoped there was.

Not to mention how beautiful she is. With her golden hair and earth shattering smile, Travis thought he melted when Taylor smiled at him. And her eyes. God, her eyes. That soft, piercing kind of blue that made everything else disappear. He spent way too much of those sixty seconds just... falling into them. Probably didn't even say anything coherent. Just stood there grinning like some high school bench warmer getting noticed by the head cheerleader. Pathetic.

When she walked into the stadium, the world might as well have stopped.

Travis had tried to keep his cool, really. But the second she smiled in that shy but still confident way of hers—he was done for. Gone. Not even in a gutter-brain way. This was rainbows, unicorns, butterflies-level infatuation. Stupid. Unreal. Terrifying.

Holy shit. He was so deep in it.

When he first agreed to this show, it felt like a game. Something dumb and fun to do before the next NFL season. His manager called it "brand expansion." His brother called it "cringey as hell." Travis had shrugged and grinned. Why not? He liked attention. Liked people. Liked the idea of meeting someone who maybe—maybe—wasn't just here for the fame or the paycheck.

But he wasn't naive.

The girls were beautiful. Some of them practically rehearsed their flirty intros like they'd been practicing in the mirror. He didn't blame them—this was reality TV. They all had their reasons.

But then Taylor walked in and rest of the interviews blurred past like background noise. All he could think about was the next time he'd see her. He was pretty sure he had literal heart eyes.

"Snap out of it, man," he muttered to himself. "You've got a show to run. You can't just go falling for the first girl you see."

But maybe he already had.

Taylor's POV

She wasn't sixteen. She was a grown woman. But somehow, Taylor's brain still short-circuited after locking eyes with Travis Kelce and that annoyingly sincere smile of his. It wasn't like she hadn't noticed him before tonight—she had eyes. She and Abigail had spent an entire wine-fueled night squealing over his plays and his stupidly perfect jawline. But he wasn't what she'd expected in real life.

Travis Kelce looked at her like she was the only person in the room.

Which—fine—technically, she was. But that kind of undivided attention? It had her close to thinking some dangerously unprofessional thoughts. And that little smile he gave her? It had no business being that effective.

And his voice. Oh my god she could drown in it. That low, easy drawl. The way he said her name like he wanted to try it out a few more times. The way he'd looked genuinely disappointed when she walked away.

Stop it Taylor. He's Travis Kelce. He doesn't want you. For god's sake he's a walking red flag wrapped in charm and really fucking addicting cologne

Still. He had looked at her like she surprised him.

But it didn't matter. Not now. They were eliminating thirty girls tomorrow.

And she wouldn't—couldn't—be one of them.

Chapter Text

Travis' POV

He knew one person who was staying. As for the other 19? He was as sure as he was in high school about calculus. (he failed.)

Travis stood in front of the camera, watching as the footage played back the last hour. He really hopes they decide to keep his interaction with Taylor.

The producer, Tom, walked up to him.

"Hey Trav! Nice job out there, we're off to a great start." He exclaimed, clapping Travis on the back.

Travis grinned. "Thanks man. Honestly, 60 seconds was so short, I don't even know who to pick."

"That's the point!" Tom smiled, pulling out his notebook. "Now Travis, for the next round of eliminations, I would recommend keeping a few feisty ones, someone who lives and breathes drama, they make the show much more entertaining for the audience.

Travis nodded, trying to follow along. He wished there weren't so many instructions and he could just pick the girls of his choosing. Not that he really had an opinion on any right now.

"But in the end, do whatever you want! God knows we can't stop you." Tom joked. "But remember, the better this show is, the better it is for you."

"Thanks Tom. I'll be ready to roll after the break, just gotta pick and choose you know."

"Tough decisions, take your time. Jess has some of my notes over there---it'll help." Tom assured him. "We'll see you out there."

Travis takes a deep breath and walks over to Jess, Tom's assistant.

"Hey man." He said.

Jess looks up from his cards, lifting his hand in a little wave. "What's up big dawg! You need something?"

"Yeah," Travis said, running his hands through his hair. "Tom says you have notes for the girls?"

Jess grinned. "Sure do. Here you go." He hands Travis a thick stack of cards.

Trav flips through them, glancing over each contestants picture and notes. Jesus there were so many. He was kind of embarrassed by how little he remembered about each one.

Minnesota: "Good TV personality."

Alabama: "Competitive. Good contender."

Connecticut: "Source of drama."

Pennsylvania...

Taylor's card had barely anything on it.
Just her name, age, and a little scribble in someone's handwriting: "Quiet. Unsure if she's into it." It being Travis.

Travis wasn't supposed to feel this way after round one. He was supposed to play the part. Smile. Charm. Let the producers guide the show.

But suddenly, the idea of cutting her—of letting her walk away without knowing more—felt like an actual mistake.

And that scared the hell out of him.

"Yo, Jess," he called over.

He looked up. "Yeah?"

"Do I have to follow these notes?"

"Uhhh...no? But I'd really strongly recommend it. Especially if its listed as cut. Tom doesn't make a lot of exceptions if he doesn't think they're cut out for it."

Travis held up Taylor's card.

"Why's she listed like a maybe-cut?"

Jess hesitated. "Uh... the thinking was she didn't really pop in the first scene. She didn't flirt much. Camera didn't get a ton of footage to work with."

"She told me a fucking cat joke," Travis said flatly.

Jess blinked. "A... what?"

"A cat joke," he repeated. "And it made me laugh harder than I've laughed in months."

Jess gave a polite, confused smile. "Okay, but from a story perspective—"

"From a me perspective," he cut in, "she stays."

Jess shifted, a little nervous. "Tom might push back on that. She wasn't in the original—"

"She stays," Travis said again, this time firmer. He turned around and walked towards the set, leaving no room for discussion.

Alisha, the director beckoned him over. "Travis, we're rolling in 5."

Travis nodded in her direction, making his way over. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a lock of golden blonde hair. Taylor.

There she was. Laughing with Illinois and Joe, the junior producer.

Something about the way she tossed her head back, covering her mouth like she was trying not to laugh too loud---it stirs an unexpected feeling in his chest. Jealousy.

Get a grip. You've known her for like, ten seconds? Who was he to be jealous of her bonding and making friends on an obviously tense set?

But still. That laugh hadn't happened during his sixty seconds.

And Joe? He was leaning in close. A little too close. Travis had been in enough locker rooms and bar booths to recognize a flirt when he saw one.

It was probably nothing.
Except, it didn't feel like nothing.

He hadn't even realized he'd picked up the pace until he was halfway across the room.

"Hey," he said, voice easy, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. "Didn't get to say hi after the whole field fiasco."

Taylor looked up, eyes slightly wide like she hadn't expected him to speak to her again tonight.

"Oh—hey," she said with a small smile. "Yeah, that was... definitely a first impression."

"Cat jokes," he said, his face bursting with a grin. "Hard to forget."

"Well," Taylor shrugged, "figured if I couldn't be sexy, I might as well be funny."

Illinois let out a small, awkward chuckle, clearly trying to stay in the conversation.

"It worked," Travis said, eyes locked on Taylor. "Made an impression."

"Hope it was a good one," she said, voice light but careful.

"Best one all night."

There it was again—her expression flickered. Like she wasn't sure why he was talking to her in the first place. Like she didn't know if this was just one of his lines. And yeah, maybe he'd said that kind of thing before. But this time... he meant it.

Illinois shifted beside her, clearly waiting for him to acknowledge her too.

He didn't.

He couldn't.

Not when she was around.

Chapter Text

"Best one all night."

The words echoed in her ears. He was so good at this. Too good. And she hated how easily it was working on her.

There were cameras—always. Even when they weren't rolling, she knew the crew was watching, capturing every whisper, every glance, hoping to score some juicy B-roll for the episode's drama arc.

"Well—uh, I should go over there." Taylor gestured vaguely toward the other girls. Crap. They were all staring—at her, at Travis, like this was already something.

Travis' smile faltered just a little. "Okay. Yeah. Talk to you later?" he asked, voice dipped in hopeful sincerity.

He's acting. For the camera. He's paid to be charming, remember?

"Yeah," she replied, nodding too fast. Her cheeks were on fire. The longer Travis looked at her, the hotter she felt—like she was under a spotlight even bigger than the ones overhead.

Behind her, movement. Illinois—Maya, that was her name—had been standing there the whole time. Taylor had forgotten she wasn't alone.

Maya caught up with her instantly, practically vibrating. "Oh my god. He's totally into you!" she squealed. Her face looked so excited for Taylor that she almost managed to hide that tiny ounce of jealousy beneath it.

Taylor tried to laugh it off. "No, he's just doing his job. He's literally paid to flirt with us."

Maya's smile slipped, just a fraction. Taylor winced.

"I mean—he'll definitely like you, too," Taylor added quickly.

Maya shrugged, the disappointment flickering in her eyes. "Yeah, right. I can barely even say hi to him without sounding like a goat."

Taylor opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but before she could, a group of girls descended—fronted by one girl with glossy dark hair and a "TEXAS" sweatshirt practically screaming for attention.

She stopped short in front of Taylor, eyes narrowed. "You," she said. "What's your name?"

"T-Taylor."

The girl crossed her arms. "Just so you know, Taylor—Travis isn't into you."

The color drained from Taylor's face. The bluntness stung, even if she'd already been telling herself the same thing all night.

"Okay," Taylor managed, tongue nervously swiping across her bottom lip.

"Okay?" Texas girl laughed—a shrill, practiced sound. The kind that cameras love. "For future reference, I'm Ashley. And Travis? He doesn't even like blondes."

Taylor's brow shot up. "And how exactly do you know that?"

Ashley smirked. "Please. Don't twist your panties over it, Taylor. He's only talking to you because you look like an easily manipulated lost puppy."

Satisfied, Ashley flips her hair and struts away.

Taylor stood frozen. Embarrassment. Anger. Insecurity. All of it crashing in like a wave.

She wanted to shout something after her. To cry. To laugh. But instead, all she could think was—

Oh, fuck off, Ashley.

Still, the damage was done. The doubt had burrowed its way in.

later

It was late. The camera crew had gone home for the day and everyone had settled into the gigantic mansion they would call home for the next few weeks---or however long they last. The excitement from moving into the mansion had worn off, and most of the girls had passed out in their beds out of exhaustion. But as much as she hated it, Taylor's mind was still spinning with Ashley words.

Don't twist your panties over it, Taylor. He's only talking to you because you look like an easily manipulated lost puppy.

Was that what she looked like? A lost puppy? God forbid a girl get nervous on national TV. But of course, someone had to come and tell her how much she was making a fool of herself.

Deep down, Taylor knew that most of what Ashley said was utter crap and had absolutely no substance. But still...

She hated how easily she had played into Travis' charm, letting his easy smile and terrifyingly hot face make her internally giggle like a high school girl.

Taylor wasn't just going to sit there and let Travis catch her. She wasn't going to be the pawn in this little reality game. If he wanted her attention, he was going to have to work for it.

She stood up, smoothing the fabric of her dress, and took a deep breath. There was a night breeze that was picking up now, a reminder that the world outside this show still existed. That Taylor was still Taylor—and not some shiny contestant.

As she walked past a few girls still lounging near the pool, she spotted Travis at the bar, talking with one of the producers. He laughed at something, that relaxed, easy grin flashing under the golden patio lights.

Then he looked up.

His eyes found her instantly, and his smile shifted—just slightly. Something more focused. Warmer. Like she was the only person he saw.

For a moment, Taylor thought about walking over. Thought about leaning into the flirt, twirling her hair, playing the part of the girl who couldn't stay away. She could crack a joke, bump her shoulder into his, touch his arm lightly and ask some leading question that would send the internet spiraling into a ship war.

But she didn't.

Instead, she kept walking—chin up, back straight, not offering him a second glance.

She didn't need to fawn over him to prove anything. If Travis wanted her attention, he could come find her. And not just with a wink and a pickup line.

Abigail would be proud, she thought, smirking to herself.

For the first time since arriving, she felt a little bit like she was back in control.

Travis' POV

Travis leaned against the bar, trying to focus on whatever the hell Tom was saying, but his eyes kept drifting—back to her.

Taylor.

What is wrong with me?

It was only the first night, and he'd already fallen—hook, line, and sinker.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to snap himself out of it. He needed to get a grip before he blew up the entire show over a girl he'd known for, what—maybe four hours?

She wasn't even supposed to stand out. Not this much. Not this fast.

Right?

But then there was that laugh. That sarcastic little half-smile she gave him earlier. The way she looked at him like she wasn't impressed—and somehow, that only made him want to impress her more.

She was gorgeous, yeah. But so were a lot of the women here.

What messed with him was how real she felt. Effortless. Sharp. Like she didn't buy into any of this—and maybe that was the exact reason he was already in too deep.

But that doesn't mean I should throw everything away for her.

Right?

He exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the bar.

Right.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

You could feel it in the air.

The voices were higher. Tighter. Lip gloss was being applied like armor. Dresses were tried on and tossed aside like battle plans gone wrong.

It was elimination day. And by tonight, thirty of them would be gone.

Taylor had a creeping suspicion that Travis wasn't letting her go—not yet. But as she looked around the room at the sea of glossy hair, long lashes, and blinding confidence, doubt curled like smoke in her chest.

She couldn't name a single girl in this house a guy would drop in her favor.

And then—BEEEEP.

A shrill alarm cut through the mansion, sharp and jarring, like a fire drill from hell. Taylor jolted, heart already racing as she made her way to the living room.

A crowd had already formed around the massive TV. The screen was glowing red with a countdown ticking in the center:

1:57.

1:56.

A two-minute warning.

Just like in football.

Of course this show had a two-minute warning. The producers probably thought it was clever. Taylor thought it was corny as hell.

Then again, her palms were sweating now.

Suddenly, it didn't feel so funny anymore.

The giant TV in the living room flashed red, ticking down from 1:30.

"Is this real?" someone whispered behind her. "Are they seriously doing an elimination countdown party like it's the Superbowl halftime show?"

Taylor didn't respond. Her eyes were glued to the screen, heart thudding in time with the numbers.

0:20.

Maya was bouncing nervously beside her. Ashley stood across the room, arms crossed, unbothered.

0:05.
0:04.
0:03.
0:02.
0:01.

The screen went black.

Then, it lit up with a perfectly lit shot of Travis sitting on a sleek couch, looking too calm in a backwards cap and a smug half-smile.

"Hey, ladies."

Taylor nearly groaned.

"I know tonight's a big night. For almost all of you, it's your first time ever doing something like this. For others...maybe your seventh." He smirked.

A few girls laughed nervously, biting their nails.

Travis grinned. "But tonight, I'm switching it up."

Cue dramatic music.

"Only fifteen of you will be staying here at the mansion after tonight."

Taylor felt her stomach drop.

"BUT," Travis said, holding up a finger, "that doesn't mean the rest of you are eliminated. Yet."

You could hear a pin drop on the floor. A mini pin. A pin that weighed 0.0000000001 ounces.

"I'm inviting thirty-five of you to join me at a private after party tonight. No cameras. No producers in your ear."

Bullshit, Taylor thought automatically. There would be cameras hidden in the salt shakers.

"I want to see how you act when no one's telling you what to say. Just you, me, and a few hours to vibe." Travis' voice came back on: "At the end of the party, I'll be inviting five of you to return with me to the mansion. The rest... it's goodbye."

30. She knows that they were warned last night that thirty of them would go home today but only 5/35 of them would come back? There was no chance. None at all. She couldn't be on that list.

The video cut to a graphic: "After Party Invite List" with names starting to scroll below.

Maya's name popped up first.

She gasped and grabbed Taylor's arm. "Oh shit."

Ashley's name was next. In the opposite corner of the room, Ashley gasped in shock. Cry later bitch.

Then a bunch of girls Taylor didn't know yet.

She waited.

And waited.

And finally—

TAYLOR S.

There it was. Sandwiched between Lana R. and Nicole Z.

Taylor stared at it, pulse thudding in her ears.

The video ended with him smiling directly into the camera.

"Let's make it a night to remember."

The screen went black.

Taylor sat back into the couch cushions, unsure whether to scream or laugh.

So.

She wasn't eliminated.

But she wasn't safe, either.

She'd just been invited to what sounded like the most manipulative mixer of her life. And worst of all?

He made it sound like a favor.

before the party

What kind of mind game was this?

Get everyone worked up over an elimination, then toss them into a rooftop bar and call it romance? Please. It was like getting dumped via text and then invited to dinner to "try and be friends again".

Taylor stormed into her room and yanked open her suitcase like it owed her answers. What even was the dress code for a party where you were basically being paid to flirt with a guy who'd probably send you packing before sunrise?

Cocktail? Casual but cute?

Her eyes landed on a navy blue dress she hadn't planned on wearing yet — long, silky, dramatic and absolutely gorgeous. She hesitated. Then pulled it out.

It slipped over her like a second skin.

The fabric hugged her waist, skimmed her hips, and pooled at her ankles like it had missed her. The slit ran high up one thigh — flirty, dangerous. The neckline dipped just low enough to make someone lose their train of thought.

She looked in the mirror.

She looked good.

No—she looked hot. And that pissed her off.

Because the truth was, as much as she hated the stupid game, the stupid setup, the stupid party...

She was dressing up for him.

And she hated that she wanted him to look.

Let him figure out what to do with that.

Chapter Text

Travis' POV

The party buzzed with that strange mix of excitement and tension—like everyone was waiting for something to explode. Travis plastered on his usual easy smile, nodding and laughing at the right moments, letting the girls' flirty looks wash over him. But his eyes weren't looking for anything of them.

They were looking for her.

Taylor.

He caught sight of her the second she stepped off the elevator.

Holy shit. His jaw actually hit the floor.

The navy dress clung to every curve, the slit teasing just enough skin to make his breath hitch. She moved like she belonged here—and yet, somehow, she still felt untouchable.

His mouth suddenly went dry. She was glowing. She's beautiful.

And in that moment, Travis had never wanted anyone more.

Why was this so damn hard?

This was supposed to be just a game.

Just a show.

But with her there, all the rules blurred, crumbled, and disappeared.

Before he could stop himself, Ross nudged him hard in the ribs.

"Dude, you're straight-up drooling."

Travis snapped his mouth shut, heat crawling up his neck.

"What the hell are you looking at?" Ross pressed.

"No one," he said, trying to sound casual but failing spectacularly.

Ross snorted. "Yeah, sure. You ever look a burger that way?"

Travis choked on his drink.

Ross jabbed a thumb toward Taylor. "Who's the girl?"

"Taylor," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Ross grinned. "Alright, man. Go get her. Isn't that why you're here?"

Travis bumped Ross's shoulder, already starting to rise.

"Do I look okay?"

Ross smirked, eyes sharp.

"You look like a guy about to mess up a really good thing."

Travis didn't answer. Just nodded, adjusted his jacket, and crossed the room pretending like the ground beneath him wasn't about to collapse.

Taylor's POV

She caught his eye from across the room, the way his smile flickered like a candle in the wind. Not his usual confidence or cockiness. Travis freaking Kelce. Nervous. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, mouthing something to himself like he was practicing a speech.

Taylor's cold resolve cracked slightly. Just enough to let something in. She hated how gorgeous he looked.

He stopped in front of her like he wasn't sure she'd let him stay.

Her heart sped up—annoying, considering how much she'd tried to steel herself tonight. But instead of feeling detached and emotionless, she felt flustered.

He stopped a few feet away, hands awkwardly stuffed in his pockets, the easy grin replaced by something more raw—an uncertainty she wasn't used to seeing.

It only took a second for him to regain his composure.

"You always this shy, or just around devastatingly handsome tight ends?" Travis grinned. It was hard to believe he was acting all nervous two seconds ago.

She snorted. "Wow. Subtle."

"Didn't say I was subtle."

They reached the bar, and she sat down on a stool, hoping to he wouldn't follow her actions.He plopped down right next to her. She dropped her purse on the table with a little more force than necessary and crossed her arms.

"What do you want, Travis?"

He paused. For once, he didn't have a line ready. He just looked at her.

"I don't know," he said, quiet now.

"But I wanted to talk to you again."

Taylor sighed. "You know this isn't real life, right?"

That caught him off guard. "What?"

"This. Us. Talking. It's all cameras and lighting and stupid cat jokes. You don't actually like me. And I'm not actually pining for you."

"Well," he said, folding his arms, "you're not really giving me the chance."

Taylor let out a small breath. Not quite a sigh. Not quite a laugh. Taylor stepped back quickly. "I should go."

"Taylor—"

But she was already walking away. She didn't turn back. Because if she did, she might do something stupid. Like fall for someone on national television.

He cleared his throat. "Look, I know this whole thing's kind of a mess. But I wanted to find you here. Away from the cameras."

She let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, right. No cameras anywhere—except every phone in the room."

He smiled, embarrassed. "Yeah. I know. Still."

Taylor held his gaze, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then he stepped closer—just barely—and, with surprising gentleness, reached for her hand.

His fingers brushed against hers like he wasn't sure she'd let him take it.

But she didn't pull away.

And that, somehow, felt more dangerous than anything else.

"I didn't want you here tonight," he said softly.

Her brows shot up. "Wow. Okay. That's... great to hear."

Travis immediately panicked. "No—God, no. I didn't mean it like that. I wanted to see you. I want to be with you. It's just—" He paused.

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair.

"I didn't want you in this situation tonight, because I already know I'm not sending you home."

Taylor blinked. Her lips parted slightly.

Oh.

"I tried to keep you at the mansion," he added, quieter now. "But the producers... they're just not sure about you yet."

Taylor frowned. "Why?"

Travis looked genuinely upset. "They think you're not 'playing the game.' But that's exactly why I like you."

There it was again. That flicker behind the mask he put on. That part of him she didn't want to fall for—but already was.

"I guess," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "some selfish part of me wanted you here tonight anyway. Just so I could see you again. Talk to you. Even for five minutes."

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words got caught in her throat.

"I know you're not exactly... fond of me yet," he said, almost smiling.

"And how do you know that?" she shot back, lifting her chin.

A small smile stretched across Travis' face.

"There's a look in your eye." He stated simply. "And frankly, I like it a lot."

God she hated him. But to her dismay, she felt her walls slipping down slowly.

"I wish I could talk to you all night," he said. "But I've got... well. A line of thirty four women and two producers breathing down my neck."

Taylor nodded, barely.

That should've been the end.

But he paused, then turned back one last time.

"Oh—Taylor?"

She looked up.

Travis' eyes twinkled in the glow of the neon sign above their heads.

"You look beautiful tonight."

And just like that, her heart betrayed her. Again.

She was falling. She knew it.

And somehow, it felt like flying.

Chapter Text

The Elimination (#1)

Travis' POV

Travis stood in the middle of the now emptied rooftop bar, stripped of glitter and glamour, waiting for the cameras to roll.

In less than a minute, he'd have to look thirty women in the eye and ask them to leave. Just like that. Gone.

It wasn't fair.

It wasn't personal.

But it felt wrong anyway.

He barely knew most of them. A few smiles, a dance or two, names and states scribbled next to first impressions. And yet here he was, deciding who stayed.

The doors slid open.

Oh god.

Step by step, he was eventually standing before 35 pairs of eyes all glued on him. Travis shuffled his feet nervously.

Focus.

"Hello, ladies," he said, giving the camera his best charming smile. "I want you to know this wasn't easy. Tonight meant a lot to me, and you all made it unforgettable."

He glanced up—right into Taylor's eyes.Blue. Bright. Sharper than they had any right to be. She gave him the smallest, nervous smile. And for a second, he forgot what came next.He just... stared.

Taylor looked down, cheeks flushing.

Shit.

He blinked, snapped out of it, and fumbled a soft, "Sorry," into the mic.

The producer cleared his throat behind the camera.

Travis straightened."Okay. I have five names," he continued, voice steadier now. "If I call your name and your state, I would like you to stay here with me. As for the rest of you, I'm sorry."

A beat. Everyone tensed.Here we go.

"Ashley, Texas."

Ashley's tight-lipped smirk bloomed into a full, glittery grin. She strutted across the room with a wink so forced it nearly knocked him off balance.

"Riley, Montana."

"Lucia, New York."

"Olivia, Mississippi."

Four names down. One to go.Travis hesitated. His thumb rested on the final card.

His heartbeat roared in his ears, but he knew what he wanted. He's known since the very first night.

"Taylor, Pennsylvania."

Her head shot up.The look on her face was... not relief. Not confidence. Not even pride.It was surprise.Like she hadn't expected it at all.Travis' stomach turned. Hadn't he been clear? Hadn't he told her he liked her? Practically spelled it out back at the bar?

She just stared at him.Then—finally—Taylor stepped forward, moving to join the others. Quiet. Composed. That unreadable look still lingering on her face like a smudge of doubt.

Travis swallowed hard.He turned back to the group."To the rest of you... I'm truly sorry," he said, though the words felt like cotton in his mouth. "You're all incredible, and I hope you know that."The rejected girls began to shift, hugging each other, blinking fast.

But Travis' eyes stayed on her.

Taylor.

Taylor, who looked like she didn't quite believe him. Like she didn't trust a word he said, even after everything.Taylor.

Taylor's POV

She didn't hear her name at first.

The blood rushing in her ears drowned out everything—every voice, every whisper, every clack of heels against tile. It was only when her eyes met Travis's that the world clicked back into place.

"Taylor, Pennsylvania."

She blinked.

Had he really just said her name?

Suddenly Maya was shaking her by the shoulders, practically bouncing in place.

"You made it, Tay! You made it!"

Taylor managed a breath. "Yeah... I guess I did."

Maya paused, frowning. "Why do you sound like someone just told you your dog died?"

Taylor opened her mouth. Closed it. She didn't know what to say. The feelings were too tangled—confusion, disbelief, something that felt suspiciously close to guilt.

"Hot NFL player? Dating show? National television?" Maya pressed. "Did you forget where we are?"

Taylor let out a soft, strained laugh. "I don't know. I'm just... surprised."

And confused. Very, very confused.

Because he said he liked her. Said it with that quiet, nervous sincerity that made her stomach flutter like she was seventeen again. Looked at her like he saw something in her.

But he'd also told her the producers didn't want her here.

So why now?

Why this?

Maya shook her head. "Girl. Are you for real right now?"

Taylor raised her eyebrows.

"He was looking at you like you were Cinderella at the goddamn ball and he was about to run across the dance floor with a glass slipper in one hand and a contract in the other."

Taylor flushed. "I guess."

And then it hit her.

Hard.

She turned to Maya, heart twisting.

"Oh my god."

"What?" Maya blinked.

"I'm so sorry."

Maya's face fell just slightly. She tried to smile. "Don't be, Tay. It wasn't meant to be."

Taylor felt the weight of it—the unfairness of being chosen, the awkward guilt of standing there when someone else deserved it just as much. Especially Maya. Her only friend in this glittery, polished madhouse.

"I know," Taylor whispered. "But I'm gonna miss you."

They hadn't known each other long. A day, maybe. But Maya had been a lifeline. A grounding presence in a whirlwind of false lashes and forced connections.

Without hesitation, Taylor pulled her into a hug.

She hoped everything she didn't say could be said at this moment.

Maya held her just as tightly.

"You better win this thing now," she murmured into Taylor's hair. "Or at least make him cry."

Taylor laughed—wet and shaky. "Deal."

The bus ride back to the mansion was quiet.

They were relieved to still be here. Grateful, even.

But the exhaustion hit them like a wave.

The exhaustion of smiling too wide. Laughing too much.
Of playing perfection like a role, hour after hour.

Back in bed, under unfamiliar sheets, Taylor let his face slip into her mind.

Uninvited.

She couldn't come up with anything coherent—nothing of substance. Just images. Sensations. That crooked smile. The way his voice dipped when he said her name. The warmth of his hand on hers.

It all made her brain go soft.
Fuzzy.

And that scared the hell out of her.

He wasn't perfect. Not even close.

In fact, he was exactly the type of guy she'd sworn off since junior high—cocky, charming, a little too good at saying just the right thing.

But still.

Still.

She liked him.
And no matter how hard she tried to deny it—how much she wanted to roll her eyes and walk away—there it was.

The truth, sitting quietly at the center of her chest.

And it wasn't going anywhere.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

The morning light seeped through the cracks of her thin curtains and immediately blinded her.

Taylor rolled to her side and picked up her phone from the charging stand.

7:32 a.m.

This was a crime.

It was Saturday morning and she was up before 8.

Not because she wanted to be up. Not because she decided that this week was going to be the one where she chooses productivity over sleep.

No.

She was being woken up by the clamor of Catching Kelce contestants so she could fight for the attention of a man— all before she'd even had coffee.

God.

Muffled yelling echoed from the hallway.

Then: a knock. Or maybe it was more like a bang.

"GROUP DATE! TWENTY MINUTES! DRESS FOR ANYTHING!" A girl shouted.

Taylor sat up, hair sticking to one side of her face.

Ugh. You're joking.

"Dress for anything?" she muttered, dragging herself out of bed like a wandering ghost. "What does that even mean? Cowboy boots? A tiara?"

Across the room, Olivia was already digging through her drawer like a woman possessed. "I swear to God if it's a date that has anything that involves sweat, I'm going home."

Taylor blinked at her. "It's 7 a.m., Liv."

"Exactly. I don't do lunges or squats before 9."

A second knock rattled the door. Taylor flung it open, annoyed.

"What now?"

Taylor paused in surprise.

A PA stood there with a clipboard and dead eyes. "You're in group one. The bus leaves at 8:00. Dress to sweat."

Liv groaned loudly behind her.

And then she was gone.

Only 30 minutes to get ready for a group date?

This was practically a hate crime in Catching Kelce terms.

Taylor stared at her reflection in the tiny mirror above the dresser. Unfocused eyes. Pillow crease on one cheek. Her hair was sticking up in three different directions.

Perfect.

She threw on a blue tank top, athletic shorts, and her favorite pair of worn Nike sneakers.

She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashing water across her face. Lip balm. A little blush. Light mascara. That was it. No eyeliner. No contour. No sparkle.

Just Taylor.

Barefaced. Blinking. Deeply unprepared.

She sighed, grabbing a hoodie just in case it got chilly that day and headed out the door.

Outside, the sky was painted with that soft kind of morning light—pink and pale yellow, the air not yet thick with heat or pressure. She walked out to the circular driveway, where the big black party bus was already waiting, humming like a beast on idle.

A few other girls were already there, some visibly panicked by the lack of time and glam, others so tired they were almost already passed out in the seats.

Taylor hovered near the front of the bus, hands tucked in her front pocket.

Nobody seemed to want the front seats.

Letting out a sigh, Taylor sat down right behind the driver.

Momentarily, she tried to distract herself by strolling through her Instagram and Tiktok, but her feed was filled with clips from Catching Kelce.

She already had 26 unread dms from fans of the show.

Taylor hated that they were putting out episodes the day after they finish rolling. She couldn't even imagine the amount of editing that the crew had down last night, trying to polish it up for the public eye to see.

There was so much more pressure this way.

Taylor felt a knot of anxiety building in her stomach.

And then she heard it.

Laughter.

Familiar. Low. Easy.

She turned just as he stepped on the bus.

Travis.

Wearing black shorts, a fitted gray T-shirt, and that stupid backwards cap that really had no right looking that good on him. He was holding two iced coffees.

And for a second, her heart genuinely thought about doing something embarrassing.

Like saying good morning to him just so he would look at her.

"Morning," he said, stopping in front of her seat.

She blinked. "Hi."

He held out one of the cups. "Don't judge me, I guessed."

Taylor choked, "You got me coffee?"

He smiled widely, looking pleased with himself. "Yes ma'am."

"I went with vanilla because... I don't know, you seem like a vanilla kind of person." Travis rambled on, "Do you like vanilla? Are you allergic?" He said with a panicked expression.

She raised an eyebrow, slightly amused. "No I'm not. And...that's not a compliment."

"No, no—it's, like, the classic! Timeless. People only hate on vanilla because it's reliable."

Taylor took the cup anyway. "So I'm basic and boring. Nice."

His smile softened. "I didn't say that."

"Ok," Taylor said, the word barely came out as a whisper. She blushed.

"So...can I sit?"

At that moment, Taylor realized that Travis—all 6'5" of him—was casually leaning against the bus seat in front of her. Her face flushed as it hit her: he had brought her coffee. Just her. And now he was standing there, all charming and unbothered, doing a full-on Wattpad lean like it was nothing. It was ridiculously adorable, and completely unfair.

Taylor nodded, sipping the coffee. It was actually really good.

"Where'd you get this coffee?" Taylor hummed appreciatively. "It tastes like heaven to my taste buds."

Travis grinned.

"Get this? Baby this is homemade." He replied, proudly smiling at her.

"Homemade?" Taylor dramatically gasped, trying to ignore him calling her baby. "I'm impressed, Kelce." She really shouldn't be enjoying this banter as much as she did.

"So," Travis said, sliding into the seat beside her, long legs somehow folding comfortably. "How are you feeling about today?"

She gave him a glare. "Mildly betrayed."

He laughed. "Fair."

"No warning, no time, no caffeine until five seconds ago? I'm suing."

"Do I count as your legal representation?"

She snorted. "Absolutely not. You're the reason for the lawsuit."

Travis leaned back against the seat, eyes crinkling delightfully at her. "Alright, alright. Fair again."

He smelled like expensive cologne. Something warm. A little sharp. Clean.

It was too early to be this distracted.

Suddenly, a shriek from the back of the bus shattered the peace.

"Oh my GOD, is that a mud pit?!"

Taylor whipped her head toward the window just in time to see a wide, makeshift obstacle course coming into view through the trees. Orange cones. A slip n' slide. And the mud pit.

No. Freaking. Way.

Absolutely not.

Travis turned to her, fully enjoying her suffering.

"Dress to sweat," he said, shrugging.

She stared openly. "You could've at least said something."

"I brought you coffee. That should count for something."

"It would," she said, standing up as the bus pulled to a stop, "if it came with a IV and a therapist."

He laughed again. "Don't worry. You'll crush it."

Taylor stepped off the bus and immediately sank half an inch into mud and damp grass.

Great.

The rest of the girls were already gathering at the start of the course, producers shouting directions, cameras adjusting angles, a PA running around with a clipboard and headset yelling "We're rolling in 15!"

A few girls were stretching. Some were whispering. One had fully brought resistance bands and was doing squats like they were in a fitness ad.

Taylor stood frozen, staring at a tire-flipping station.

"You okay?" Travis asked behind her.

She turned, half-joking, half-serious. "Is there an option where I just forfeit and go home?"

He smiled. "Nope. But you could fake an injury. I'd help."

She tilted her head, smiling. "Would you carry me off the field, football hero style?"

"I absolutely would," he said, dead serious. "I'd even limp, so it looked like we both got taken out."

She actually laughed. "That's... disturbingly sweet."

"You know me, disturbing is kind of my brand."

Before she could answer, the show's host appeared like a jump-scare.

"LADIES!" he shouted, microphone echoing through the field. "Welcome to your first group challenge: the Kelce Combine!"

A cheer went up from the contestants. Taylor did not cheer. Taylor blinked, visibly trying to wake up from this horrible dream she was having.

The host beamed. "You'll be competing in four rounds of NFL-inspired events. The winner of today's challenge gets one-on-one time with our favorite tight end—and maybe even a kiss." He winked conspiratorially.

Taylor turned towards Travis, whose face was tinted pink.

"Game on Kelce." Taylor winked, sauntering over to the starting line.

She felt his eyes burning through her.

She hated this show, she reminded herself.

She hated all of it.

But then she glanced at Travis—laughing with one of the producers, cap put forwards now, coffee still in hand—and it hit her, clear and annoying:

She didn't hate him.

And maybe that was the problem.

Chapter Text

He couldn't stop smiling.

He looked like a lovesick puppy—grinning at nothing, all teeth and no shame—but he just couldn't stop.

She called him Kelce.

Plenty of people called him that. Teammates, coaches, fans. Hell, even his mom, when she was mad. But he was sure no one had ever said it like that, because he swears his name had never sounded so good.

The second she took a sip of the coffee and hummed in approval, Travis felt a ridiculous surge of pride. Like he had won something.

And he had.

He got her attention for the best 15 minutes of his life.

That was a win...right?

Someone nudged his shoulder.

"Dude. You're staring again."

Travis blinked. It was Ross—was was unfortunately way too observant.

He cleared his throat, trying to act casual. "Can't a guy appreciate a girl?"

Ross raised an eyebrow. "Sure. But you've been appreciating the back of her head for like... two straight minutes."

Travis hesitated. "It's a very nice head."

Ross looked at him like he needed immediate medical attention.

"Bro. You're in love. Just admit it."

Travis scoffed. "I'm not—"

"Don't even try it," Ross cut in. "I've seen you in a relationship. I've literally never seen you look—or appreciating your ex like that. And now you're out here appreciating a girl's head? A girl you barely met 48 hours ago?"

Travis opened his mouth to argue. Failed.

Ross didn't stop. "You're beat, man. Wiped. Cooked. Gone."

Travis sighed, glancing back toward Taylor's seat.

He knew Ross was right.

But he had a show to run.

And staring starry eyed at Taylor wasn't in the script.

"Man, I love you. But if you say appreciate one more time, I will actually walk away." Travis groaned.

Ross held up his hands.

"Okay, okay. You do you."

Tom beckoned Travis over.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he took a deep breath. Here we go.

"Hey Ladies!" Travis mustered up his enthusiasm.

A chorus of heys meet him.

He glanced over at Taylor, her face blank and staring that the course ahead.

The whistle blew, and the Kelce Combine officially began.

What followed could only be described as a slow-motion explosion of glitter, lip gloss, and wildly misguided athletic confidence.

The first obstacle was the mud pit.

Half the girls stopped in their tracks like it was lava.

Travis stood at the edge of the course with Ross and a few producers, trying not to laugh as one contestant shrieked and lost a shoe before even making it halfway across. A different girl flopped in like a human cannonball and emerged covered in mud but victorious, arms raised like she was born for this.

And then there was Taylor.

She hesitated for maybe half a second, like she was calculating her odds. Then she took a running start, leapt, landed with a splash that hit the camera crew, and started crawling.

Fast.

Travis blinked.

She was in a tank top and black biker shorts, both now soaked and clinging to her like second skin. Her ponytail had come loose, strands framing her face like an artwork. And there was a streak of mud across one cheek that somehow made her look even hotter.

And Travis... was not okay.

"She's definitely going in the promo," a PA muttered, watching her crush the tire pull next.

Yeah, no kidding.

Next was the wall climb.

Taylor scaled it like a pro.

By the time she reached the top, she was covered in dirt and sweat and adrenaline—and smiling like she had won a trophy. To be fair, she was about to.

Travis ran a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the smile stretching across his face.

God. She looked ridiculous. And strong. And so goddamn gorgeous and pretty at the same he could barely keep his head on straight.

"She's killing it," Ross whispered teasingly behind him.

Travis didn't respond. He was too busy watching Taylor high-five Olivia and jog toward the next event.

And last. The football game.

His time to shine

The rules were simple: flag football. Split into two teams. One ref. First team to score wins.

Travis stood on the sidelines, trying to look neutral, but it was game over for him the second Taylor put on the bright red practice penny that resembled a Chiefs' jersey and tied it in a knot at her waist.

Jesus.

That was not fair.

She took her position on offense, face flushed, eyes laser-focused.

And then she looked up. Met his gaze.

And winked.

Travis laughed under his breath.

She was doing this on purpose now. He was sure of it. Killing him slowly. One smile at a time.

Halfway through the game, things got chaotic. Flags flying. Screaming. Hair pulling. Taylor somehow had the ball, darting down the sideline, laughing as Riley chased after her.

And then—

"COMING THROUGH!" Travis sprinted towards her with a wide grin on his face.

Taylor shrieked. "WHAT ARE YOU—?!"

He lunged.

His arm wrapped around her waist just as she tried to spin. They went down in a tangle of limbs and grass and laughter. Her back hit the field with a soft thud, and Travis followed, landing mostly on his elbows to keep from crushing her.

Taylor's eyes fluttered open, inches away from his own.

They were close.

Very close.

Too close.

Travis got lost in Taylor's bright blue eyes, so bright they had stars in them.

Everything stilled.

Her hair was spread across the turf. Her breath caught in her throat. His hand was still rested on her waist, fingers brushing bare skin where her jersey had ridden up.

Taylor stared up at him, wide-eyed.

Travis stared back, unable to move.

Don't kiss her, his brain said.
Don't be that guy.
Not with cameras rolling.
Not yet.

But God. She smelled like vanilla and sunscreen and a little bit of sweat. Her lips were parted just slightly, like she was about to say something.

Instead, she whispered, "That was... excessive."

Travis grinned, breathless. "You're fast. I panicked."

Her hand landed on his chest—palm flat. Not pushing him away. Just... there.

"Flag football, Kelce," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Not full-body tackle."

He didn't move.

Didn't want to.

But then the ref's whistle blew, and the moment shattered like glass.

"PENALTY!" someone shouted.

Taylor rolled her eyes and shoved him lightly. "Come on. Get up, superstar."

Travis stood, offering her a hand. She took it. Her palm was warm and solid in his.

At least his palms weren't the only ones sweating.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

Her palms were sweating. Big time.

She could feel his breath on her face.

Holy shit.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

One second she was flying across the field, dodging girls left and right—dead set on winning this football game. And next thing she knows, she's on the ground.

Flat on her back. Grass tangled in her hair.

And Travis Kelce was on top of her.

Holy shit.

She could feel the weight of him—not crushing, but solid. His forearms were planted on either side of her head, muscles flexed, his chest just barely grazing hers with every shallow breath he took. His face hovered inches above hers, blue eyes locked onto hers with this infuriating mixture of concern and amusement.

Her face was on fire.

Her lips tingled.

She wondered what would happen if she kissed him right now.

Kiss him?

Taylor.
That’s insane.

“Penalty!” someone shouted from across the field, but the voice sounded miles away.

Oh right. Football. The game. Reality TV show.

“You tackled me,” she said, her voice raspier than she meant it to be.

Travis grinned—wide, all dimples and cocky charm. “You were about to score. Couldn’t let that happen.”

His grin deepened as he looked down at her, still not moving. His breath was warm against her cheek, laced with the faint scent of Gatorade and something else—sweat and cologne and him.

“You didn’t have to full-on NFL tackle me,” she muttered, trying to shift, but her leg was kind of… tangled with his.

She sat up, detaching herself from him.

"I didn't NFL tackle you Tay, that would've hurt a lot more." Travis smirked, leaning back on his arms, fully embracing the turf.

It was stupid. But something in her chest bloomed when he called her Tay. Like he had known her forever. But plenty of people called her Tay.

Her mom, her best friend. Heck. Even her boss.

But there was something about the way he said it, like he was cautiously testing it out, grinning when she didn't completely reject that idea.

"Travis. You body-slammed me." She retorted, wiling her heartbeat to slow down.

"Oh come on. I barely touched you."

Taylor rolled her eyes.

He looked down at her.

"Plus, I didn't know you had a wild side to you." Travis chuckled. "Seeing you scale that wall climb was genuinely a privilege."

Seeing you walk through a door is a privilege, Taylor wanted to say.

"Thanks." Taylor huffed dramatically. "I was two seconds away from winning!"

Travis nodded solemnly.

"Exactly why I had to take you down."

Tay rolled her eyes. “Chivalry really is dead.”

Travis smirked, not missing a beat. “Only if you want it to be.”

She froze—not visibly, but something in her shifted.

What was that supposed to mean?

He didn’t wait for a reaction, just offered her a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes this time—and jogged ahead to rejoin the group.

Taylor followed in silence, the distance between them suddenly feeling heavier than it should’ve.

It was always like this.

Every time she let her guard down—even just a little—Travis would say something that slipped past her defenses. Something unexpected. Something that didn’t feel like it was meant for the cameras.

And it always left her reeling.

Not in a dramatic, head-over-heels kind of way. But in a way that made her wonder if he meant it. If he saw something real in her. If he was reaching for something deeper… or just saying what he knew would get a reaction.

It scared her how much she wanted to believe it was the former.

Because the truth was—she liked him.

She liked the way he looked at her when he thought no one else was watching. She liked the way he challenged her, teased her, never tiptoed around who she was.

But then the questions would come.

How much of herself was she willing to give?

How much could she afford to?

Travis' POV

He noticed the way she turned quiet.

He always did.

From the moment he saw Taylor two nights ago, standing in the middle of the fields with a look in her eye like she was already two steps ahead of everyone in the room—he knew he’d always notice her.

Even now, with twenty cameras rolling and a dozen women competing for his attention, she was the one he kept tabs on without meaning to.

His comment hadn’t been that deep. A half-flirty line, just enough edge to make her look at him a little longer than she needed to.

But he knew exactly how he wanted it to land.

And it did.

He saw it—the slight hitch in her breath, the flicker of confusion behind her eyes. Like she didn’t know if she was supposed to believe him… or want to.

She didn’t answer. Just turned and walked beside him, quiet again as they rejoined the group.

But the silence?

That said enough.

The challenge wrapped up not long after. Laughter, banter, some light trash talk between the girls. The producers were eating it up.

Travis stayed in the mix—smiling, nodding, making jokes—but his focus kept drifting.

To her.

Taylor stood off to the side now, talking to one of the other girls—Marissa, maybe? The one with the curls and the loud laugh. Taylor smiled, polite. But even from across the lawn, Travis could tell it wasn’t real real. It was guarded. Careful.

That was the thing about her.

She didn’t hang on his every word. Didn’t try to touch his arm every five seconds or throw him those over-the-top, I’m-here-for-the-right-reasons speeches the cameras loved.

She kept her cards close.

And that—more than the heels and the hair and the show’s glittery version of love—that’s what made her dangerous.

And quite frankly, he didn't know how to play her game.

“Someone’s got your attention,” a voice said behind him.

Travis turned to see his brother Jason standing by the drinks table, arms crossed, smirking like he’d just caught him sneaking out after curfew.

“Shut up,” Travis muttered.

Jason grinned. “I’m just saying. You’re watching her like she already won.”

“She hasn’t.”

“Yet.”

Travis didn’t answer. He just looked back toward Taylor.

She was laughing now. Not politely. Not carefully. A real laugh—head back, shoulders loose. It hit him right in the chest.

Jason followed his gaze. “So what’s the problem?”

“The thing is,” Travis said, running a hand over his jaw, “I never feel like I’m saying the right thing with her. I’m not nervous, exactly—just... off. Like I’m second-guessing everything. And I don’t usually do that.”

He paused, eyes drifting toward where Taylor stood.

“She doesn’t give much away. And I get it—this whole thing’s weird. But it makes it hard to know where I stand. I can’t read her. And I think that’s what’s messing with me.”“Yeah. That’s the point.”

"And that's life, brother." Jason replied.

Travis sighed, tired from the long day.

"Tomorrow, I have to ask three more girls to leave."

Jason nodded, following along with his train of thoughts.

"And she's not one of them." Jason said, stating it more than asking.

Travis looked at his brother. Then back at her.

Taylor caught him staring. For a second, their eyes locked.

"No. She's not." Travis said, barely louder than a whisper.

And just like that—whatever she’d been laughing at faded. She looked away, tugging a piece of hair behind her ear like it gave her something to do.

He swore he saw a blush creep up her neck.

Jason let out a low whistle. “Oh yeah. You’re screwed.”

Travis didn’t disagree.

Because in that moment, for the first time since this whole thing started, he felt it.

Not the cameras.

Not the game.

Her.

And God knows he wants her.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

She knows she's in too deep when the jealousy creeps in.

It's small at first. A flicker. Barely there.

But then she sees Travis laughing with Marissa — the girl from Louisiana with the perfect drawl and too-perfect timing. Taylor watches, frozen, as Marissa reaches out and lightly touches his arm, her laugh bubbling up like it's been waiting for a moment just like this.

Taylor feels something cold crawl up her spine.

She hates this feeling.

Because she doesn't own him.

This was always part of the deal.

He's supposed to talk to everyone.

He's supposed to flirt.

And truthfully, Taylor had already gotten more attention than she expected.

But still.

Watching him now, smiling at someone else that wasn't her?

For some reason, it stung.

Taylor was gonna get hurt.

She knew it.

Step back before it hurts worse.

Before she falls any harder.

Before he makes a choice that isn't her.

She has to.

For her own sake.

"Ladies!" Travis's voice cuts through the room, loud and sudden.

A ripple of nervous energy surges through the group like static.

He's standing at the front, smiling — but it's a different kind of smile. Polished. Measured.

"I've had an amazing, exciting day getting to know everyone better," he says, and the air tightens around them. "But...it's time for Elimination Round Two."

Taylor stares at the floor. Her hands twist in her lap.

She doesn't look up.

"Tonight, three girls will be going home," Travis continues, his tone a little too cheerful, like he doesn't want to admit how hard this actually is.

Taylor blinks. Swallows. Blinks again.

The room is dead quiet.

"And, in addition..." he adds, with a dramatic pause, "one special girl will receive an invitation for a private dinner. Just the two of us. Alone."

Whispers erupted across the crowd of girls. Nervous laughter. Eyes dart around the room, already doing the math.

Taylor doesn't move.

She just keeps staring at her shoes, pulse hammering in her ears.

She briefly catches his glimpse.

Travis grins at her.

She doesn't breathe as the names are called.

It's like watching her own funeral in slow motion — dramatic, yes, but not entirely wrong.

Travis steps forward, holding the thin black envelope that makes everything feel too official. The air in the room could be cut with a butter knife.

"I want to thank you all again for being to open minded to our activities today," he jokes, then pursing his lips in that way that means bad news is coming. "This isn't easy."

Yeah. No kidding.

He exhales. "The three women going home tonight are..."

A beat.

"Jasmine. Rina. And Dani."

The silence lasts half a second too long.

Jasmine's jaw clenches. Dani is already blinking hard. Rina just nods like she saw it coming hours ago. Hugs are exchanged, cameras get their moment, and just like that—three girls are gone.

Taylor doesn't move. She can't.

She's not sure if her body has remembered how to function yet.

"And now," Travis says, lifting the other envelope. Gold trim, black seal. So dramatic. "This... is for the one person I'd like to spend a little more time with. Just the two of us."

Taylor feels it in her throat before she hears it.

"Taylor."

Her name lands heavy. She can feel dozens of pairs of eyes on her.

She looks up.

He's already watching her.

Of course he is.

The girls around her don't bother hiding their reactions. Geneva raises her brows. Marissa makes a small noise, something between a scoff and a sigh. Ashley just stares.

Taylor stands.

Walks.

She doesn't trust herself with him.

This was only going to make it harder.

Later — The Date
Travis's POV

She looked like she wanted to bolt when she saw the table.

Candlelight. Real silverware. Cloth napkins folded into flowers — the works.

He watches her take it in. Her expression is unreadable.

He gestures to the chair across from him. "It's not a trap. I swear."

She sits slowly. "It looks like one."

He laughs. "Okay, fair."

For a moment, they're quiet. There's soft music playing somewhere in the background, the fairy lights twinkling above them.

Travis leans in slightly. "You've been... quiet."

Taylor looks up at him, eyes steady. "You've been busy."

He nods. Takes it. Doesn't argue.

"I saw you with Marissa," she adds, voice careful, measured. "You seemed happy."

"I was being polite," he says easily. "It's part of the job."

"Right," she says. But something in her mouth twists like she won't quite allow herself to believe him.

Travis clears his throat.

"I picked you because I wanted to see where your head's at. After everything."

Taylor's eyes don't leave his. "You sure you want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Another beat of silence.

Taylor's mouth opens, then closes again.

Like she's trying to find the words but they keep slipping through her fingers.

Travis takes a breath, steadying himself.

"Okay then," he says, voice low. "I'll go first."

His eyes find hers — flickering with a dozen emotions all at once. Fear. Doubt. Something heavier.

He tenses, then speaks.

"I've put my cards on the table with you, Taylor," he says. "I think I've been pretty obvious."

Taylor doesn't move. Doesn't blink.

"I like you," he continues, the words tighter now, like each syllable costed him something precious. "A lot. I don't know what it is, or why it's happening, but when we're in a room? All I see is you. Every damn time."

She swallows hard.

"Every time we talk. Every time we brush past each other, or you give me that look like you're about to say something but don't — I feel it," he says. "I don't know what it is yet, but I know it's something."

Taylor's lips part, but she stays quiet.

His voice softens. "But you give me mixed signals, Tay. And I'm trying. I really am. But I don't know what to do with them."

He leans forward slightly, gaze locked on her.

"Just... tell me what to do." He begs.

Silence.

And then, something in Travis drops — low in his stomach. A quiet ache that starts to bloom.

She still doesn't speak.

He hesitates, then asks, softer now:

"Do you believe in love, Taylor?"

Her eyes widen slightly. Like the question caught her off guard.

She opens her mouth.

Nothing comes out.

He waits.

Finally, a whisper.

"Trav... okay. I do. I believe in love."

He exhales, almost relieved—

But she's not finished.

"I just don't think... this is it."

His heart stumbles in his chest.

She takes a breath, and then lands the final blow — calm and clear.

"And besides, Reality TV is a shitty, stupid way to find love. Don't you think?"

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

She's really done it this time. She can tell by the look in his eyes. The flicker of hurt in his eyes. The hitch in his breath as she delivered the final blow.

"And besides, Reality TV is a shitty and stupid way to find love, don't you think?"

Those were the words that haunted her all night.

Not the elimination.
Not the cameras.
Not even Marissa practically leaping at Travis the second their date imploded just to "talk."

No — it was that sentence. That moment.

She should've kissed him.

She could've told him the truth.

That she liked him.

That he scared her.

That the way he looked at her made something shift in her chest in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

But instead, she said something stupid.

And mean.

And from the way his face dropped, Taylor knew she had messed up. Big time.

And now, he was gone.

No text on the group phone.

No late-night hallway run-ins.

No cheeky little smirks from across the room when their eyes meet.

Just silence.

And it was all because she couldn't handle the truth.

later

The next morning, she stepped out onto the pool deck in a hoodie, shorts and sunglasses.

Marissa and Ashley were already posted up in loungers, pretending not to be watching her. Ashley wore a smug kind of grin — the kind that meant she knew something happened.

Taylor clocked it. Decided to ignore it.

"Sleep okay?" Marissa asked.

"I've had dreams where my teeth fall out that were less stressful," Taylor replied, plopping into a chair.

Ashley leaned in, voice syrupy. "You know he had a late-night patio chat with Geneva, right?"

Pause.

Taylor didn't move.

Geneva. Of course it had to be Geneva.

Perfect, beautiful, Geneva.

Get a grip on yourself, Taylor.

"Oh?" Taylor said, and took a sip of her coffee so no one could see her clench her jaw.

Ashley nodded, twisting the knife. "They were out there for a while. Real cozy. I mean—he was laughing. Like, actual laughing. Not just camera laugh."

Taylor didn't answer. Because she'd just heard the sound of her own brain short-circuiting.

She should not care.

She should not care.

She was the one who pushed him away.

But God, she did.

And worse, she knew she was being wildly unfair to him.

Because she knew exactly what she had done.

Travis' POV

He wasn't avoiding her.

Okay, that was a complete lie.

Yes he was.

After last night's conversation, he needed to breathe. Taylor didn't say what he expected.

In fact, she told the truth.

Which apparently was that she couldn't give a shit about this show.

And she couldn't give a shit about him.

And the truth? It hurt a lot more than a little.

It hurt a lot more than he should've let happened.

Which was incredibly dramatic coming from a guy talking about a girl he met a few days ago.

"I believe in love...I just don't think this is what it is."

That sentence kept playing in his head. Rewinding and looping over and over again.

She had said it in such an emotionless way. It hit him like a punch to the gut.

He hated her.

For making him feel this much. For making him feel like some love-drunk idiot on national television. For making him feel pathetic and an absolute moron for wanting her in the first place.

Travis, she never liked you.

And you're out here before a blind idiot asking her about love?

Goddamn it.

So yeah. He talked to Geneva. And yeah, he laughed. Geneva was sweet and safe and said things like "love is a leap of faith" in a voice like a Disney princess.

He could use the distraction.

But she wasn't Taylor.

No one was.

But she really fucked him up this time.

And honestly, he didn't know if it was worth it to try again.

Taylor's POV

By midday, the air was thick with tension.

Geneva was glowing. Literally. Like someone had highlighted her cheekbones with validation.

Travis? Nowhere to be seen.

The producers called for a group date card. Taylor's name was not on it.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or pissed.

Ashley and Marissa were both on it. So was Geneva.

When they left, the villa got quiet — too quiet.

Taylor sat on the edge of her bed, fingers twisting the strings of her hoodie. She hated feeling like this. Like she was back in high school, waiting to see if someone would pick her for prom.

Only this time, it was televised.

And she was supposed to smile about it.

Group Date (Travis' POV)

The group date was a photo shoot — because of course it was. Dresses, suits, a fake party.

Geneva ended up in the "lead female" role. Of course.

Travis pulled her aside before the camera started rolling.

"You doing okay?" he asked, brushing a leaf out of her hair like they were in a Nicholas Sparks adaptation.

She smiled brightly. "Better now."

He smiled back. But it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Taylor's POV

That night, someone got sent home early. Jade.

Everyone was shocked. She'd been flirting with Travis all week. They had great chemistry.

A producer told them it was "a personal decision." That Travis "followed his heart."

But in the hallway, Taylor heard Alyssa whisper to Marissa:

"I hope Taylor takes that as a warning, she's not untouchable just because he smiled at her a few times."

Taylor froze. Again.

The word untouchable hit her in a way it shouldn't have.

Because maybe that's exactly what she'd become.

Distant. Guarded. Hard to read.

Maybe Travis was done trying.

Maybe she ruined it with one honest sentence.

She went back to her room and shut the door before anyone saw the way her hands were shaking.

She didn't cry.

But only because she didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction.

Later That Night – Travis' POV

He stood on the balcony, staring out at the gigantic yard.

His mind took him back to that football game.

Where he tackled her. Where she laughed. Where he felt something click into place.

And now?

Now he couldn't even look at her.

Not without something hurting deep inside of him.

He replayed their last conversation in his head, again and again. Wondered if he pushed too hard. Wondered if that made her shut down.

Then he saw the light under her door flicker off.

And not for first time since this whole show started, he didn't know what move to make next.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV:

She walked down to the kitchen, the morning sun pouring in like it didn't know today was Elimination #3.

Last night, Taylor had spent hours thinking. Replaying every decision from the past 48 hours.

Travis had every right to send her home.

She had toyed with him — taken him for granted, pushed him away, and crushed him just because she couldn't handle her own feelings.

But the truth was:
She didn't want to go.

She wanted to look him in the eye and say,
I'm sorry.
Say, I like you. I was scared. I still am.

But she couldn't.

Her pride — her stupid, suffocating pride — would never let her do that.

"Hey." A voice said behind her.

Taylor spun around, and her stomach flipped — like it already knew who it was before her brain could catch up.

"Travis," She breathed.

"Taylor." He replied, eyes unblinking.

An uneasy silence settled over them.

No one else was awake yet.

This was inevitable.

"Did you...need something?" Taylor asked, her voice smaller than she wanted.

"I---I wanted to ask. One more time." Before the elimination, echoed Taylor's brain.

He didn't explain.

He didn't have to.

She knew what he meant.

She always knew.

But she said nothing.

Again.

Inside, she was screaming at herself — Just say it. Tell him you care. That you're sorry — really sorry.

His eyes searched hers. Pleading. Waiting. "I'm sorry." She whispered, the words holding a different meaning than she wanted to express.

Taylor spun on her feet and rushed out the kitchen, feeling Travis' burning glance on her back.

Fuck.

Travis' POV:

She was alone.

Standing in the morning light, holding her usual cup of coffee, looking like some ethereal being that descended from heaven.

You don't get to think about her like that, Travis told himself.

She's not yours to think about.

But that was the problem.

She was here for him.

Every single girl was. But only one of them made him feel like he was losing something before he ever had it.

He walked toward her, hands behind his back to hide the tremble.

"Hey." He said softly.

"Travis." Taylor turned, a wave of surprise washing over her face.

"Taylor." He said, keeping his voice steady.

It hung in the air — her name — filling the room with tension.

"Did you need something?" She asked.

"I---I wanted to ask. One more time."

But the words died halfway out of his mouth.

God, he sounded like a beggar.

He didn't need to beg. There were still 16 women here who wanted his time. Him.

But they weren't her.

She looked at him — eyes wide, glassy, swimming with things she refused to say.

"I'm sorry." She says. A million emotions running through her bright blue eyes. His chest filled with dread.

And it crushed him again.

Because he wanted those words — but not like that. Not like a retreat.

Before he could stop her, she was gone.

Running out of the kitchen like he had done something wrong.

And just like that, anger inside him suddenly boiled over.

Travis slammed his hand into the paper towel stand, the clatter echoed through the empty kitchen.

His hands found his face.

"Fuck," Travis muttered.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

She had to go.

She had to go before she destroyed him even more.

later:

Elimination #3:

Travis fidgeted with his hands.

A nervous wreck already.

She had to go.

She had to go.

Another four women were going home tonight, bringing the pool down to 12. Every week the stakes got higher. The expectations heavier.

Taylor’s name was on the sheet in front of him.

Typed. Finalized. Done.

She pulled away from him.

She made her choice.

Now he had to make his.

But his eyes lingered on the name.

Taylor.

Her stupid, perfect name.

A knock on the private suite broke the silence.

"Come in," Travis called out, expecting Tom or another producer.

It was Patrick.

Travis blinked. “Dude. What—what are you doing here?”

Patrick shrugged like it was nothing. “Had a break in the schedule. Figured I’d come see what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Travis laughed halfheartedly, running a hand over his jaw.

"Yeah, well. It's a disaster."

Pat chuckled, glancing at his paper.

"So. Who are you gonna give that last rose to?" Patrick gestured at Travis' hands.

He had twelve roses.

There were names next to eleven of those spots.

And one empty.

"It's her isn't it?" Patrick said. "Taylor."

Travis didn't answer.

"Listen man." Pat continued. "I've seen the way you look at her. That's a look of pure adoration. That's love man."

"No-" Travis protested.

Patrick cut him off.

"Don't even deny it. You know it's true. I could feel it radiating off my fucking TV." He joked.

"I don't even know what I'm doing, Pat." Travis muttered. "She doesn't want to be here. She's told me that much."

"Maybe she's scared."

"Or maybe she meant it." Travis said, a note of finality in his tone.

Then Patrick leaned forward.

"Look, man. This show? It's all editing and camera shots. But what happens after this, that's the real deal."

Travis looked up.

"If you let go of someone because of one moment, one comment, I promise you — show won't be what haunts you."

Travis' throat tightened.

Because he knew he was right.

But he just couldn't bring himself to write her name.

The Elimination:

The courtyard is quiet.

Camera lights glow softly, and the tension is suffocating. The women are wearing cocktail dresses, hands clutching their drink. There's an obvious anxiety in everyone's eyes.

Travis stands at the front, rose table beside him. He holds the first rose in his hand, jaw tight, breath slow.

He’s been in front of millions before.

But he’s never felt this kind of pressure.

Jason stands off to the side.

Patrick too.

Everyone’s watching.

Travis clears his throat.

Taylor's POV:

He didn't look at her.

Not even once.

Her name wasn't one that list.

She was sure of it.

You made your bed Taylor, now watch him lay in it with someone else.

Travis' POV:

The first name came easy.

"Ashley."

Rose, hug, next.

"Brianna."

A smile of relief. Next.

He continued — Marissa, Geneva, Piper, Jen. The names came out of his mouth like muscle memory. Eva, Kendall, Riley.

The crowd of girls thinned.

Four roses left.

He glanced at the list in his hand.

The next name down was hers.

Taylor.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

His throat locked.

His lips moved, just slightly.

Still nothing.

He blinked, chest tight, heart threatening to betray him in front of everyone.

Jason tilted his head from the sidelines, sensing it.

"Aubrey." He heard himself say.

Aubrey stepped forward, surprised. She hadn’t expected to stay.

He gave her a rose, barely looking.

Say it Travis, say it.

No. Let her go.

"Mallory," His voice cracked.

Two roses left.

He looked up — directly at Taylor.

She looked… like she already knew.

Like she was preparing herself for the sting.

But she didn’t flinch.

She didn’t blink.

And it meant she was ready to walk.

So why the hell are you still holding onto her?

He couldn't say it.

He couldn't.

"Rachel." Travis croaked.

The final rose.

He held it in his hand, knuckles white around the stem.

He looked up.

One spot left.

Five names left on the list.

And yet he could only see one.

Taylor.

And still...

He couldn’t say it.

Not out loud.

He looked around — at Jason. At Patrick.

Then right at her.

The words hovered on his tongue like an apology.

But still... silence.

A long pause.

Finally, the host stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Travis, there's still one more rose."

The five girls were all looking at him anxiously, faces scrunched up in anticipation.

Travis stepped forward wordlessly.

He didn’t even realize he was walking until he stood directly in front of her.

He held out the last rose.

To Taylor.

Her mouth opened.

"Why?" She whispered.

Finally, Travis replied, his voice almost broken.

"I don't know."

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV:

Travis hadn't said a word to her since the elimination.

It was already noon. He'd arrived an hour ago — all charming smiles and magnetic ease — and parked himself by the pool with the remaining girls.

All of them.

Except her.

Taylor sipped her drink a little harder than necessary. Ice rattled.

Across the patio, Travis threw his head back in laughter — the big kind, the kind she used to pull out of him. Now it was Marissa. Or Ashley. Or Geneva. Or literally anyone but her.

A bitterness bloomed in her chest.

Why the hell did he keep her around if he was just going to ignore her?
A punishment?
A guilt trip?
Some sort of test she was failing all over again?

She knew she had hurt him. She knew she'd brought this on herself.

But what was the point of this silent war?

She shouldn't have stayed.

She should have walked herself out.

She should've done a thousand things differently.

Travis Kelce and all his damn chances.

And every single one he handed her?

She dropped.

She stomped on them.

God, she sucked.

Taylor tugged at the strap of her sundress — butter yellow, soft, and flowing like it was made for her. She'd picked it for today on purpose. A little bit of summer. A little bit of "look at me."

She wanted him to look at her.

Was that pathetic?

Before she could spiral any deeper, a gentle tap came on her shoulder. She turned.

"Excuse me? Taylor?"

A guy stood above her — tall, elegant in a boyish kind of way, his face topped with blonde, tousled hair. His eyes were icy blue, like he knew more than he let on.

Joe.

Her memory clicked.

"Yes," she said, slightly startled. "That's me."

"I'm Joe," he smiled, hands in his pockets. "We talked the other night? About that old British romcom you hated?"

Taylor laughed. "I didn't hate it."

He raised an eyebrow. "You said the ending 'ruined all of humanity for you.'"

"Okay," she conceded, "that part was a little dramatic."

He smiled again. A real one. "Mind if I sit?"

She nodded, and he dropped into the chair beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Travis' POV:

From across the pool deck, he saw her.

Yellow sundress. Legs crossed. Laughing.

And some dude —one of the assistant producers, blonde, wiry — was sitting way too close.

His stomach twisted. He blinked and looked away.

Don't be that guy. Don't be that guy. Don't be—

He glanced over at her again.

She was smiling. Not the fake camera smile — the real one. The one he hadn't seen in days.
The one she used to give him.

And then Joe whatever-his-name-was leaned closer, chuckling at her jokes.

Travis's jaw tensed.

He wasn't jealous.

He wasn't.

He was just...curious.

Protective, maybe.

Or possibly just a raging idiot who still gave a shit.

After all, he was the same idiot who kept her here.

"Dude," Jason's voice cut through his thoughts. Travis turned as his brother approached, sunglasses on, holding a smoothie. "You're gonna snap that glass in your hand if you keep staring like that."

"I'm not staring," Travis muttered, setting down the untouched drink.

Jason glanced toward Taylor and Joe. "Right. You're just quietly plotting our his murder with your eyes.

Travis scoffed, but Jason leaned in, voice low.

"Look. I get it. She hurt you. But if you keep letting your pride win over, you're gonna regret this long after the show."

He didn't answer.

Because Jason was right.

Taylor's POV

Joe was mid-story about a disastrous off-Broadway play when someone called her name.

"Taylor!"

She looked up.

Jason Kelce was striding toward them like a man on a mission, his usual gruff energy turned serious.

"Can I steal you for a second?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh—sure?"

She stood, offering Joe an apologetic shrug.

Jason didn't wait — he was already turning back toward the house. Taylor jogged slightly to catch up.

"What's going on?" she asked, nervously. She had never talked to Jason in private, neither had he shown signs of having anything to say to her.

Jason didn't slow. "You and I are gonna have a little chat. About Travis. And about how long you're planning to pretend you don't love him."

Taylor froze.

Jason motioned for her to follow him. They walk into a large conference room inside the mansion. Taylor can feel herself sweating through her sundress.

The door clicked shut behind them. Taylor stood awkwardly near the table, arms crossed, pushing her hair out of her face. Jason leaned against the edge of the long conference table, arms folded across his chest, looking directly at her.

"Look," he began, blunt as ever. "I'm not here to be your therapist. Or your enemy. But I'm also not gonna stand by while you and Travis stare daggers across the pool like you're in some sad music video."

Taylor let out a dry laugh. "You dragged me in here for this?" Of course he did, Taylor. You're being a jackass to his only brother.

Jason didn't flinch. "You think I want to get involved in this mess? I'd rather be anywhere else. But Travis is my brother. And he's hurting."

Her smile faltered. That familiar twist of guilt curled back into her chest.

Jason went on, voice a little softer now. "He's been trying to act like he doesn't care. He's got his little smile on. Laughing it up. But he's not fooling anyone."

Taylor looked away, lips pressed into a line.

"I'm not saying what happened was all on you," Jason added. "But if you're sitting here pretending you don't still give a damn, then maybe you don't know what you want."

Taylor scoffed. "I never said I didn't give a damn." She fidgeted with the fabric of her dress.

Jason tilted his head. "No? Then what are you doing, Taylor? Waiting for him to read your mind? Waiting for a producer to tell you it's okay to be vulnerable again?"

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Rubbed the back of her neck.

"I don't know what you want me to say," she muttered.

"I want you to tell me the truth," Jason said. "Not for me. For you. For him."

Taylor looked down at the floor, then up at the ceiling like maybe the light bulb would give her an answer.

It didn't.

"I..." she started, then shook her head. "I don't know if I love him."

Jason didn't react, just waited.

"But I like him," she went on, voice cracking a little. "God, I like him. And I hate that I hurt him."

She blinked fast, willing the tears not to fall. Not here. Not now.

"I feel like complete shit, Jason," she admitted. "Like I ruined something that was good. And I don't even have the guts to try and fix it."

Jason pushed off the table and nodded, calm. "Taylor." He said gently. "Then say that. Not to me. But to him."

Taylor sniffed and nodded once, tight. "Okay."

He gave her a small smile. "Alright then. Let's go."

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV:

The second she stepped back onto the pool deck, the sunlight hit her like a brick wall.

Every eye turned.

Including the cameras.

Including Travis'.

He stood alone now, holding an almost empty glass of water, unreadable expression on his face. She saw him swallow and glance over to Jason quickly.

He didn't move.

And neither did she.

For a few seconds, they just stared at each other from across the pool.

Taylor's heart pounded so hard she thought it was going to beat out of her chest. She almost turned back around when she felt a hand gently placed on her back.

"Go." Jason whispered.

She took a few tentative steps towards Travis, their eyes still locked.

There was no mistaking who she was walking towards.

She stopped a few feet from him. He didn’t speak, just waited.

Deep breath.

“I need to say something,” she started, voice thin and cracking at the edges. "And just, I need you to listen to everything before you decide."

His eyes softened. He nodded once.

Taylor took a deep breath.

“I don’t know if I love you like Jason said I do,” she said. “I wish I did. That would make this simpler. But I know that I like you. A lot. More than I should. More than I’ve liked anyone in a long time. And I miss you. Even when you’re right in front of me.”

He didn’t move. She kept going.

“I messed up. I was scared. I shut down and pushed you away because I thought that’s what I deserved. But losing this chance to get to know you because I can't sort out my emotions?" Taylor inhaled. "That scares me more."

Say it Taylor.

She looked up, his steady gaze calming her.

"I'm sorry." Taylor whispered.

The words hung there between them, soft but heavy — the kind that carried weight even when spoken barely above a breath.

Travis looked at her for a long moment. Not cold or angry. Just...quiet. Like he'd been waiting for her to say those words for a lifetime.

He exhaled slowly.

“I know,” he said, his voice low, steady. “Tay I know you care. I’ve been waiting to hear it, but not because I needed you to beg or fix anything. I just... needed to know you wanted it." She blinked. "That you wanted it as much as I do." He added in a whisper.

That cracked something open in her — something raw and unguarded.

"I don't like this," she says, cheeks blushing from her vulnerability. "The competition. The watching. The waiting to see if I'm still someone you remember when you're smiling at someone else."

Travis swallows.

She's not yelling. She's not accusing.

She's just saying it.

"I didn't come here to play a game," she says, eyes flickering down to her untouched plate. "But I feel like I'm losing anyway."

He leans forward.

"You're not."

She looks up. "Then tell me what I am."

And there it is.

Travis' POV:

His heart stuttered the second she said it.

“I like you. A lot.”

It was a simple statement.

And it nearly knocked him out.

Something in his chest twisted — tight and desperate — like it had been wound up for days and someone finally cut the cord.

He felt like he could fly.

God, she liked him.

She missed him.

She wanted him.

He’d told himself he didn’t need to hear it. That he was fine if she never said a damn word. That if she walked out at the end of this, he’d let her go and move on and smile for the cameras.

But none of that was true.

Because this — finally letting her guard down to him— it mattered more than he wanted to admit.

When she whispered “I'm sorry,” it was like his whole body exhaled at once.

He was probably grinning like an idiot, even though this was the most vulnerable moment they've shared.

Taylor looked away, cheeks flushed.

And that's when Travis knew.

She was scared.

But she was trying.

And if there's only one thing he could do for the rest of his life, it would be trying with this girl.

“I know,” he started, carefully choosing his next words. “Tay," Travis whispered. "I know you care. I’ve been waiting to hear it, but not because I needed you to beg or fix anything. I just... needed to know you wanted it." Taylor looked down, her eyes glassy. "That you wanted it as much as I do."

Travis watched as she raised her head, eyes struggling to withdraw from the sudden defensiveness that appeared.

“I don’t like this. The competition. The watching. The waiting to see if I’m still someone you remember when you’re smiling at someone else.” Taylor said, almost urgently.

It wasn’t bitterness.

It wasn’t insecurity.

It was the truth.

Reality TV was no way for two people to meet.

Yet here they were.

Trying.

She continued, "I didn't come here to play a game," Taylor paused. "But it feels like I'm losing anyway." She admitted.

Travis's voice hitched as he opened his mouth to reply.

"You're not."

"Then tell me what I am."

Taylor's eyes searched his, desperately looking for an answer.

He could hear the others in the background. Chairs shifting. Whispering. Watching.

He didn’t care.

This wasn’t about them.

He leaned in just enough for her to feel it, just enough to close the space that had been keeping them apart for days.

“You’re the reason I’m still standing here.”

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Like she wasn't quite sure if she heard him right.

Travis didn’t look away.

“You wanted to know what you are,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. “That’s it.”

Taylor opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill out.

“I don’t care how many people are left,” Travis went on, his heart pounding 200 times a minute, threatening to break his ribs. “I don’t care what the next challenge is, or what the producers want, or how many staged-ass dates I go on.”

Travis paused.

"I just want you."

A single tear slid down Taylor's face.

She reached up quickly to wipe it away, but Travis caught her hand, lacing their fingers with quiet intent.

Then, with his free hand, he reached for her face — his thumb brushing softly against her cheek, wiping the tear away.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?" Travis asked quietly, so only she could hear.

At that moment, they were both aware of the multitude of cameras on them.

"Yes," Taylor breathed.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached for her — one already tangled with hers, the other gently cupping her cheek. He leaned down, nose almost touching hers, and for a second it felt like the entire world had paused to make room for this one, fragile thing.

And then—

“Sorry to interrupt—Travis, we need you for a quick interview!”

A voice cracked through the silence. A producer, headset on, stepping just a bit too close with apologetic eyes and absolutely zero timing.

Travis froze, lips barely an inch from hers.

Taylor blinked like someone had switched the lights back on too fast.

The magical spell of the moment shattered.

Travis turned his head, jaw tight. “Seriously?” He groaned.

The producer winced. “We just need a quick confessional for the press before golden hour ends. Five minutes, tops.”

Taylor took a step back. Not far. Just enough.

Travis looked at her like he wasn’t sure if this whole thing would still be there when he got back.

Taylor gave him a small, wry smile — soft and almost amused, but with an edge of frustration that matched his own.

“I’ll be here,” she said, stating the reassurance he needed.

He nodded once, slowly.

But as he turned to walk away, their fingers slipped apart a little too reluctantly — almost like in the last five minutes, everything has changed.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV:

OH. MY. GOD.

HE ALMOST KISSED ME.

He almost kissed me he almost kissed me he almost—
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.

Taylor walked back into the mansion like a broken machine, stiff limbs, wide eyes, barely functioning. Her heart hadn’t calmed down. It was still beating wildly from that almost kiss. Right after, Taylor had been absolutely swarmed the 5 out of the remaining 12 other girls, all begging her for details.

But she was positive she looked like she’d just been electrocuted. Emotionally. Physically. Spiritually.

What the hell just happened?

One second she was whispering yes, and then he was leaning in, and then—that producer jumping out of the hedges yelling RESET?

She thought she could've thrown a chair at that moment.

It was actually criminal.

She flopped onto one of the overstuffed chairs in the corner of the living room, staring blankly at a throw pillow.

Her brain was a cyclone of chaos, screaming, secondhand embarrassment, and maybe—possibly—love?

Wait. No. Calm down. Not love. Definitely not love.

She barely knew him.

But he was going to kiss her.

And he looked at her like she was the only person who existed.

And then he chose her —in that moment, it was just the two of them.

No cameras. (Although there were a million) No audience.

Just Travis and Taylor.

Like he’d finally seen her. Really seen her. And wanted her anyway.

Taylor buried her face in her hands.

“I am going to implode,” she whispered into her palms.

From the hallway, someone coughed.

She looked up to see Aubrey and Piper frozen in the doorway, holding mugs and wearing matching expressions disbelief.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Sooo... are we gonna talk about what just happened on the deck? Or should we all just pretend you didn't almost kiss Travis Kelce?

Taylor groaned.

Piper smirked. “Girl, your face was flushed as red as a tomato.

“Shut up,” Taylor muttered, but she was grinning. Wild. Breathless.

She felt like she was in high school all over again.

Travis' POV:

He stared after Taylor like she might still turn around.

She didn’t.

He stepped into the house with the producer, whose back was hunched like he was a little afraid of Travis at the moment.

He should be.

Travis felt like there was smoke coming out of his nose right now.

There's no way someone can have such terrible timing.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath.

A kiss.

They were right there.

And for once, it hadn’t been for the cameras. It wasn’t about the game. It wasn’t about making it to next week or crafting some perfect TV moment.

It was her.

It was them.

And it was real.

He stumbled through the confessional, mind completely running off the rails.

All he could think of was her.

And what would've been their first kiss...if that stupid producer hadn't interrupted them.

He turned, stalking back toward the house — not to find Taylor (yet), but because if he didn’t rant to someone immediately, he was going to explode.

He found Jason leaning on the kitchen island, casually eating one of those weird protein bars the girls kept around. He looked up when Travis walked in, one eyebrow raised like he could already feel the storm brewing.

Travis didn’t waste time.

“They interrupted us,” he snapped, voice low and sharp. “Right then. We were—” he gestured vaguely, frustrated — “almost there. Like a second away.”

Jason blinked in amusement. “Almost where?”

Travis gave him a look.

Jason smirked. “Oh. There there.”

“Dude.” Travis groaned.

Jason held up his hands in mock surrender, but he was clearly amused. “Alright, alright. Sorry. What happened?”

“She said yes,” Travis said, running a hand down his face. “I asked if I could kiss her and she said yes and then bam, producer in my ear like it’s some commercial break.”

Jason chewed his bar slowly. “Brutal.”

“She looked at me like…” Travis trailed off, then shook his head. “Like for the first time she was letting me see her. Really see her."

Jason’s expression shifted.

“And you didn’t kiss her?”

“I couldn’t,” Travis hissed. “There were like three people waiting behind the cameras, and I didn’t want it to be some clipped, awkward half-second moment that ends up in a promo reel. She deserved better than that.”

Jason nodded slowly, tossing the bar wrapper in the trash. “Then go give her better.”

Travis looked at him. “What if it’s not the same? What if she’s already pulling back?”

Jason stepped forward, meeting his eyes. “You don’t wait for perfect. If you wait, you'll never find out."

Travis looked up.

“You think she’s still up?” Travis asked, quieter now.

Jason smirked. “After that?" he asked. "I'll bet you 10 bucks she's staring at the ceiling also fixating on what happened today."

Travis nodded once and turned to go.

Jason called after him. “Hey.”

Travis looked back.

“Next time someone gets in the way?” Jason said, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Just kiss the girl.”

Taylor's POV:

The mansion was silent.

Almost too quiet.

Most of the girls were in the hot tub or whispering upstairs, half-distracted by the weirdness of the next rose ceremony being postponed. Again.

Taylor stood alone in the kitchen, barefoot on the cold tile, pouring herself a glass of water with shaking hands.

She hadn’t seen him since the Almost Kiss.

Which was fine.

Totally fine.

There was a quiet rustle behind her.

She turned around—

—and nearly dropped the glass.

A soft thunk sounded in the kitchen as a box of cereal she nudged on accident hit the ground.

“Sorry,” Travis said, holding up his hands like he’d startled her. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” He picked up the cheerios and gently set it back on the counter.

Taylor blinked. “No, it’s okay. I was just… uh…”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Avoiding me in the kitchen?

“Bold of you to assume I wasn’t here to get something,” she muttered, eyes flicking down to her glass to avoid the weight of his gaze.

He didn’t answer.

She looked up.

He was close. Not like earlier — but close enough to smell the faint remnants of the cologne he wore that made her knees go a little weak.

The kitchen light cast soft shadows over his face, making his green eyes seem darker, more intense, but still unmistakably him.

She felt the breath hitch in her throat.

“I thought you were doing a confessional,” she said, just to say something.

“I did."

"Thought it would take longer than that." She quipped, h errands fidgeting nervously.

"Well. I postponed some questions."

She froze. “Why?”

Travis stepped closer.

Now he was really close.

Like I-could-count-your-freckles close. Like if she swayed an inch forward, she’d fall right into his arms.

“Because I wasn’t done talking to you,” he said, voice low.

Taylor’s heart stuttered.

Her mouth opened, but she didn’t know what to say. Her mind went blank except for looping phrase in her head: Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

Travis looked down at her. His height still boggles her mind sometimes.

He didn't say anything.

Just looked at her.

Like he was memorizing her.

She watched as his eyes traced over every inch of her face — flickering between her eyes, and curve of her lips.

She could feel the weight of it, the warmth of him, the quiet tension pulling between them.

His hand flexed at his side, like he was holding himself back.

Waiting for her to make the first move.

He didn't say anything...

Just that look.

Like he adored her.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asked quietly.

Her voice was barely above a breath.

His thumb brushed lightly over her hand, as if he was grounding himself. As if touching her was the only thing keeping him steady.

"Because I can't believe you're real," he said, so soft it barely made it past his lips.

Taylor’s heart stuttered.

She laid her right hand on his chest.

“Kiss me." she whispered. “Please.”

Travis' POV

His breath caught as he closed the distance, his lips brushing hers with a slight hesitation.

It was soft at first.

Gentle.

Like they were both still afraid the other might pull away.

But neither did.

His hand slipped around her waist as hers found the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer.

She tasted like mints and nerves and something sweeter. Her lips moved against his like they’d already been here in dreams a thousand times.

He didn't know how long it lasted.

When they finally broke apart, he was breathless.

So was she.

Taylor blinked up at him, dazed. “Took you long enough.”

Travis grinned, thumb brushing her cheek. “I was trying to be respectful.”

"You? Respectful?" Taylor playfully nudged his shoulder.

"Only for you." He answered, smile widening.

And there was some truth behind that too.

Taylor's POV:

Taylor’s heart hammered in her chest, loud enough she was sure he could hear it. She was sure anyone within a 100 feet radius could hear it. The world felt dizzy and new — like she’d just stepped off a roller coaster that wasn’t slowing down.

The tingle of his lips lingered against hers, warm and sure, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she was okay with the notion of just falling.

Her fingers trembled as they rested against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath her palm — solid, real, and grounding.

Everything inside her twisted and softened all at once. She wanted to say something, anything, but the words tangled in her throat, caught in the silence that stretched between them.

Instead, she just closed her eyes and let herself sink into the moment, into him, into the deafening realization that hit her like a truck in that moment.

Her breath caught.

Those three little words.

Not yet on the tip of her tongue.

But so so real in her mind.

And somehow, that thought didn't seem so terrifying anymore.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

The sun rose way too early.

Taylor blinked against the soft gold spilling through the mansion's huge windows, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. Her heart still hadn't quite recovered from last night — the kiss, the warmth of him, the way her brain had gone completely static after he said she wasn't real.

She'd barely slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel the ghost of his lips, the heat of his hand at her waist, the sound of his voice when he whispered her name like it was a secret he wasn't supposed to say out loud.

And now she was supposed to go to breakfast like nothing happened.
Like she hadn't kissed Travis freaking Kelce.

Yeah. No big deal.

She groaned into her pillow.
"Oh my God. I'm fucked."

Aubrey's voice floated from the other side of the room. "You've been sighing dramatically for twenty minutes, Tay. Either spill or let me sleep."

Taylor peeked out from the blankets, hair sticking up everywhere. "It's nothing."

Aubrey rolled over, one eye open. "You kissed him, didn't you?"

Taylor froze, blush spreading across her face.

Aubrey screamed. "YOU DID."

Taylor threw a pillow at her. "Shhh!"

Aubrey caught it, grinning wickedly. "Girl. Girl. You kissed him. Travis Kelce."

Taylor's face burned. "He kissed me."

"Oh, correction," Aubrey teased. "He kissed you. Lord, I hope they caught that on camera."

Taylor groaned again and buried her face in her pillow. "Kill me."

Travis' POV

He didn't know how long he stood on the patio that morning, watching the mist lift off the lawn.

He just knew that for once, the whole mansion felt still.

And all he could think about was her.

He'd replayed their kiss a thousand times in his head already. The way she'd whispered please, the way her hands had trembled, the tiny sound she'd made when he finally kissed her.

He hadn't felt something like that in years. Maybe ever.

And now he was about to walk into breakfast with twelve women who were not her — pretending everything was fine when all he wanted to do was find her and ask if she felt it too.

Jason strolled up beside him, mug of coffee in hand.
"You've been out here staring at the fog for twenty minutes," he said. "You planning on proposing to the weather, or...?"

Travis rolled his eyes. "Don't start."

Jason smirked. "Oh, I'm starting. You kissed her, didn't you?"

Travis's silence said enough.

Jason whistled low. "Man, you're gone."

Travis ran a hand through his hair. "It's not like that."

Jason just raised an eyebrow.

Travis sighed. "...Okay. It's exactly like that."

Taylor's POV

The kitchen was buzzing with chatter when she finally made her way downstairs, hair half-done, pretending to look calm while internally short-circuiting.

She spotted him instantly — sitting at the far end of the table, mug in hand, laughing at something Jason said. His eyes caught hers across the room for just a second, and that was it.

Static. Again.

She immediately looked down at her plate, pretending her oatmeal was fascinating.

She could feel him looking at her, though. That low hum in her chest gave it away.

She was mid-sip of coffee when his voice came from behind her.
"Morning, Taylor."

Her name sounded different when he said it — lower, warmer.

She turned, praying she didn't look as nervous as she felt. "Hey."

He smiled, easy and soft.

She gulped.

Her brain was spinning wildly and she was pretty sure her heart was currently doing cartwheels. But she couldn't get a single word out.

For a minute, neither of them spoke.

Just looked at each other.

Travis leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Didn't scare you off, did I?"

Taylor blinked. "What?"

"Last night." He glanced over, smile crooked but a little unsure. "You looked like you might run for the hills after."

She laughed — nervous, breathy. "You didn't scare me. I just... don't really do that. The whole—" she gestured vaguely "—romantic reality TV thing."

He chuckled. "You think I do?"

That made her smile.

They sat in silence again, comfortable this time. The kind of quiet that felt safe.

Then he looked over, eyes soft. "You were shaking."

"What?"

"Last night," he said. "You were shaking."

Her cheeks went warm. "You noticed?"

"I notice everything about you," he said simply.

The air shifted — heavier, slower. She looked away, trying to hide the stupid grin tugging at her lips. "That's... sweet."

"You make it easy, honey."

Her brain stuttered. Honey.

No one had ever called her that before. Not like that. Not soft and kind and steady.

Normally she hated pet names — too corny, too fake.

But when he said it?

God she loved it.

In fact, she wouldn't find hearing that for the rest of her goddamn life.

He noticed the flicker in her expression. "Too much?"

She shook her head quickly. "No. I—uh. Kinda like it."

His smile deepened — a smirk taking over his face.

"Good, you're gonna have to get used to it."

She made a face to hide how flustered she felt. "You're crazy."

He laughed, low and genuine. "For you?" Travis' eyes crinkled. "Baby, you have no idea."

Later

The Fourth Elimination.

The ceremony began.

The host did his usual speech—something about connection, about gratitude, about hard choices. The words floated right over everyone's heads.

Then Travis stepped forward to the table lined with roses.

He picked up the first stem.

"Aubrey."

A collective exhale. Aubrey smiled wide, visibly relieved, and crossed to him.

He hugged her briefly, polite, then turned back to the table.

"Piper."

Taylor watched Piper step forward, graceful even in the tension. She glanced back, mouthing good luck before taking her place beside Aubrey.

Two roses down.

Nine women left.

Taylor's fingers tightened around her glass.

The third rose went to Eva—the one who'd been flirting shamelessly all week. Taylor tried not to roll her eyes, tried not to care.

Fourth: Marissa

Fifth: Ashley

Two days ago, she would've been on the edge of her seats.

There were only four roses left now.

But her heart remained calm.

She caught Travis's eyes again.

He reached for the sixth rose.

And looked right at her.

"Taylor."

Her heart stopped, then started again in a rush.

She stood, legs shaky but smiling anyway, meeting him halfway.

When he handed her the rose, his fingers brushed hers. Just barely. But enough.

"Thank you," she whispered.

His mouth twitched into a small smile. "You're welcome, Tay." Travis' eyes locked with hers, holding her there.

He was so beautiful in that light.

And in that moment, he felt like hers.

She nearly forgot how to breathe.

When she rejoined the others, Piper shot her a knowing grin.

Taylor's face was on fire.

The rest of the ceremony went by in a blur.

Geneva.

Brianna.

The ninth rose went to Riley.

And then—silence.

Three women stood without roses: Mallory, Rachel, Kendall, and Jen.

The music swelled quietly.

Travis exhaled, setting the last rose back down on the table. "I'm sorry," he said, voice low, genuine. "You're all incredible women. This isn't about not being enough—it's about who feels right for me."

Kendall's eyes shimmered. Mallory bit her lip, nodding like she'd expected it. Rachel hugged Jen tightly, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

He hugged each of them—quick, kind, respectful.

Taylor caught fragments of the goodbyes: "You deserve someone great." "Thank you for being here."

And then they were gone.

The sound of heels faded down the hall.

Three down.

Nine left.

And for the first time since this show started, she felt safe.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

To no one's surprise, Travis picked Taylor for the solo date.

Still, she couldn't help the flush that rose to her cheeks when his eyes found hers.

She'd spent an embarrassing amount of time on hair and makeup tonight—brushing through every curl, perfecting every lash, double-checking her reflection at least five times. But when she heard the knock at the mansion door, she realized she didn't even need blush anymore. Travis was doing the job for her.

"Hey, Tay."

Travis stood there, smiling wide, a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in his hand.

"Oh," she breathed.

He frowned slightly. "Is something wrong?"

Her eyes flicked from the flowers to his face. "No—no! It's just..." She hesitated, the corners of her lips twitching. "Hydrangeas are my favorite."

Travis's grin softened. "I know."

Taylor blinked. She didn't even remember telling him that—maybe weeks ago, maybe just in passing. But he remembered.

When she turned to close the door behind her, his arm moved instinctively, slipping between her and the frame to help guide her out. It wasn't exactly around her shoulders, but close—close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the steadiness in his touch.

"Careful, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low hum near her ear.

She glanced up, trying to sound casual even as her pulse betrayed her. "You don't like that one?" he asked, reading her reaction.

He'd been testing out nicknames all morning—baby, honey, and now sweetheart. Each one landing heavier than the last.

"I... don't know yet," she said softly. "You might have to say it again."

He chuckled, brushing a tiny smear of paint off her shoulder from their earlier art challenge. "Alright, nah—"

But before he could finish, her foot slipped again on the damp patio paint. His arms shot out, catching her without a second's hesitation. She landed against him, her breath catching in her throat.

"Watch your step, sweetheart," he whispered this time, voice low and teasing.

And he winked.

She groaned internally.

Oh, she was so screwed.

The rest of the challenge blurred by in splashes of color and laughter—paint everywhere, no chance of winning, and she didn't care. Not when he kept looking at her like that.

Every grin felt like gravity.

They'd kissed last night.

And now he was out here calling her baby. sweetheart. honey.

Taylor smiled to herself, heart pounding.

She was in trouble.
Big, bright, heart-thumping trouble.

Travis didn't think he'd ever seen anything more beautiful in his life.

And he was someone who'd seen his fair share of beautiful things — stadium lights, champagne nights, faces that turned heads.

But none of them came close to this.

To her.

Taylor stood in front of him, sunlight catching on the soft pink of her summer dress. Her hair was curled perfectly, a few loose pieces framing her face just right — like she'd stepped straight out of some daydream he didn't know he'd been having.

For a second, he forgot the cameras. Forgot the mic pack tugging at the back of his shirt. Forgot the rules.

"Wow," he said, breath coming out quieter than he meant. "You look—" He stopped, shook his head with a laugh. "You look incredible, Tay."

Her cheeks flushed. "You clean up pretty nice yourself, Kelce."

He grinned at that, offering her his hand. "Ready?"

When she slipped her fingers into his, something shifted. Just a tiny click in the universe — soft but certain.

He led her toward the car waiting at the end of the drive, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "You nervous?" he asked.

"Maybe a little." She smiled. "You?"

He laughed. "You kidding? I've taken harder hits on the field than this."

But when she laughed — that real, unguarded laugh — he knew he was lying.

Because this?

This was the scariest thing he'd done in a long time.

The drive out of the city felt quieter than usual. The mansion's noise faded behind them, replaced by open fields, the horizon stretching wide and golden.

He could tell Taylor was trying not to fidget — hands in her lap, eyes flicking out the window, curls brushing her cheek whenever the breeze blew in through the open window.

"So..." she said finally, turning to him. "Are you gonna tell me where we're going, or is this some secret NFL-level strategy thing?"

He grinned. "You don't trust me?"

"I didn't say that." She smiled, teasing.

He smirked.

"Oh god, it's something ridiculous isn't it?" She groaned.

"Define ridiculous," he said, eyes still on the road.

"Knowing you? Probably involves public embarrassment."

He laughed. "Me? Never."

They turned a corner, and the road opened up into a field of sunflowers — endless and bright. At the edge of the dirt path sat two bike, their handlebars gleaming in the light.

Taylor blinked. "You're kidding."

"Nope," Travis said, parking the truck. "We're going old-school."

"Bike? Through Kansas City""

He smiled at her, hopping onto the front of the bike and sitting forward to save room for her. "C'mon. It's tradition."

"Is it?" she asked, laughing as he helped her down from the truck.

"It is now," he said.

The first few minutes were chaos — Taylor trying to steady herself on gravel, Travis pretending not to notice her wobbling while clearly ready to catch her at any moment.

When she swerved a little too close to the ditch, he called out, "You sure you don't need training wheels, sweetheart?"

She shot him a look over her shoulder. "You sure you wanna test me, big guy?"

He barked out a laugh, nearly losing his own balance.

Eventually, they found a rhythm — side by side, wind in their hair, the road stretching endlessly ahead.

She tilted her face toward the sun. "This doesn't feel real."

He looked over at her, his chest tightening in a way that felt dangerous. "That's Kansas City for you."

She smiled softly, meeting his gaze for half a second too long before looking away.

When they finally stopped near a small hill overlooking the fields, she swung off her bike and kicked at the grass. "Okay, I admit it. This was actually kind of perfect."

"Kind of?" he teased, leaning against his handlebars.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. Perfect."

He grinned. "I'll take it."

They sat down in the grass, shoulders touching, the horizon glowing orange. He could hear the faint hum of cicadas, the rustle of wind through the stalks.

Taylor turned to him. "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?"

"Home," she said. "When you're always on the road. The noise, the people... this." She gestured to the wide-open sky.

He thought about it for a second. "Sometimes. But right now?" He looked at her. "Doesn't feel like I'm missing anything."

Her eyes lingered on his. "Do you say stuff like that to try and fluster people?" Taylor lips stretched into a wry smile.

He laughed softly. "You are flustered."

"Am not."

"Sure, sweetheart."

She gave him a mock glare — but didn't look away.

And that was when he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You've got something in your hair again."

Her breath hitched. "Guess it's becoming a theme."

He smiled. "I don't mind it."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The world around them blurred, the light dimming into gold.

Then — barely above a whisper — he said, "You make this place look better, you know that?"

Her lips parted like she might answer, but no sound came out.

Because he leaned in, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath, his hand still hovering by her cheek —

And just before their lips met, she whispered, "You're trouble, Travis Kelce."

He smiled. "Yeah. I know."

Then he kissed her, sure and steady.

Chapter Text

Taylor's POV

Taylor was floating after their date.

The kind of cloud nine that spun through her chest and lifted her bones and made her feel like she’d just stepped into a dream she’d been too afraid to have.

She lay on her back in her huge, too-soft mansion bed, the lights off, the moon pouring in as silver lines across her ceiling. Her hair was still a little wind-tangled from the bike ride, her lips still warm from earlier, her cheeks still aching from smiling too much.

She traced his name on the sheets with her fingertips, the shadows dancing lightly above her.

She replayed the moment again—Travis brushing that curl away from her cheek, saying all the right words like he always did, and taking her breath away with one kiss.

“God,” she whispered into the empty room, covering her face with her hands. “I’m so fucked.”

But it wasn’t scary.
Not like before.
Not like with anyone else.

It felt...god.

It felt good.

For the first time in so long, she fell asleep smiling.

The Next Morning

Taylor padded downstairs in slippers and a hoodie, still carrying the warm afterglow of last night. The other contestants were scattered around the common room, talking about the upcoming pool party filming that evening.

She headed toward the kitchen when she heard voices around the corner—Travis’s, low and frustrated, and the producer’s sharper, tighter.

Taylor slowed, peeking just before the hallway fully opened.

Travis stood with his arms crossed, jaw clenched.
The producer faced him with a tablet in hand, voice firm.

“You’re spending too much time with her, Trav. The audience needs dynamics. Options. Tension.”

“She’s the only one I want to spend time with,” he snapped.

Her heart hiccuped.

The producer sighed. “Look—this is a show. We need drama. People are saying you’re locking onto Taylor too early. That’s not how this works.”

Travis scoffed. “I don’t give a damn about ‘how this works.’”

“You need to socialize,” the producer insisted. “Especially tonight. Get attention. Give attention. We’re not asking for a proposal. Just engagement.”

Travis stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You’re asking me to hurt her.”

“We’re asking you to film the show you signed up for.”

Silence.

Then Travis exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll mingle.” He dropped his hands.

Taylor’s stomach dropped.

The last thing she wanted to be was the reason Travis felt conflicted.

She didn’t stay to hear the rest.

The Pool Party

Everything was loud.

Music thumping. Drinks flowing. Contestants draped across lounge chairs like props. Cameras everywhere.

Taylor perched on the pool’s edge, legs in the water, pretending not to watch Travis. Pretending her chest didn’t tighten every time he laughed at something someone else said. Pretending she couldn't see the producer nudge him toward a group of girls in bright swimsuits.

She didn’t want to look jealous.
Didn’t want to look insecure.
Didn’t want to be that girl.

So when Joe—sweet, safe, predictable Joe—plopped down next to her with a smile, she let him talk. Let him go on about the challenge next week, about his siblings, about whatever.

She nodded along, smiling when she could.
But she didn’t hear a single word.

She was watching Travis.

Travis' POV

His eyes flicked over to Taylor every few seconds, more tense each time he saw Joe leaning in. He ran a hand over his hair, irritated. Then someone handed him a drink. Then another. And another.

He could feel himself getting tipsier as the night went on.

Next thing he knew, Travis found himself seated right next to Eva, who was the most shameless flirt he had ever met.

Eva was being incredibly touchy, caressing his arm, bumping knees.

Even with the alcohol running through his veins, Travis knew he didn't like it.

Her hands clamped around his jaw, nails digging just a little too hard.
Before he could fully register what was happening, she yanked him down and—

She smashed her lips onto his.

The kiss wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t sweet.
It wasn’t anything like with Taylor.

The moment she kissed him, he knew he messed up.

It was forceful, sloppy, loud — her body pressing into his, her fingers in his curls, her mouth passionately pushing against his. A flash of cameras lit somewhere behind them, capturing every terrible second.

He froze.

Eyes wide.

Body stiff.

But he didn’t push her off.

He’d been too shocked.

Too tipsy.

Too angry at himself for letting the producers push him around.

Too annoyed seeing Taylor with Joe all night.

Too everything—but none of it was an excuse.

When he finally pulled back, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Don’t do that,” he muttered, stepping away.

She giggled. “Relax, it’s a dating show—”

“I said don’t,” he growled.

He scanned the crowd, searching desperately.

And there she was.

Taylor.

Standing alone at the edge of the pool now, still half-listening to Joe, but her eyes—her eyes were on him.

And they were glassy, full of something like hurt.

And a little bit of heartbreak.

He felt sick.

Taylor's POV

When Eva had sauntered up to Travis, Taylor’s chest tightened.

She looked away.

Don’t stare. Don’t feed it.

Joe was still talking. She had no idea about what.

And then it happened.

Laughter,

A stumble,

A clink of glasses,

And—

A kiss.

Not an accident.

Definitely not a peck.

A full, mouth-on-mouth kiss from the girl beside him.

He didn’t even push her off.

Not right away.

Everyone saw it.

Her heart cracked so loudly in her chest she swore someone would hear it.

She shouldn’t hurt this much.

She shouldn’t feel betrayed—it was a show. Right? He wasn’t hers. She wasn’t his. That kiss didn’t mean anything.

Except it did.

Because last night he kissed her like she was the only person on earth.

She had let him do that to her.

She stood up quickly, making some lame excuse to Joe.

Walking towards the mansion, Taylor took a deep breath.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit ridiculous.

It was a dating show after all.

He didn't do anything wrong.

“Tay—Tay, wait,” he called, catching up to her by the back gate.

She stopped. Slowly.

Arms crossed, chin lifted,.

He ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

She stared at him, unreadable. "Okay."

"Tay, please. You saw the kiss. Eva practically threw herself on me." Travis pleaded.

Taylor swallowed.

"You didn't pull away, Travis." She whispered.

“I was drunk. I was pissed off. I was—” He sighed, looking defeated. “Look. It’s a show, Taylor. I have to… kiss other people. That’s part of it.”

Her stomach turned.

“That’s what you think this is?” she whispered.

“What? No—Tay, come on—”

But she shook her head.

“No. If you believe feelings are just content… if you think they can be turned on and off for an audience—” She swallowed hard. “Then maybe this is for the best."

Travis' face fell.

“No, I would never—I care about you, Taylor. So much it scares the shit out of me. Please.”

She looked up at him then, really looked, and the ache in his voice tugged at her ribs.
But something inside her had already started unwinding — quietly, painfully — like a thread slipping from a seam she’d stitched together with so much hope.

“Travis. I—” She swallowed hard. “How can I trust you when I never know what part of the script you're reading?"

“Tay…” He stepped toward her, hands half-raised, desperate. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t kissing her. I froze. I messed up, I know I did, but don’t — don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How am I supposed to tell the difference?” Her words came out sharper than she intended, thick with hurt. “How am I supposed to know when you mean something and when you’re just—performing for the show?”

“I wasn’t performing with you,” he said, almost a whisper. “Never with you.”

She shook her head, blinking quickly, trying to steady the storm in her chest.

“Tay,” he tried again, voice trembling now. “Don’t walk away again.”

She took a small step back anyway.

She shook her head once, final, her voice barely audible.

“I can’t do this Trav. I'm so scared. I'm constantly terrified of what will happen next, of what the producers will write for your life. I don't want a part in this if there will always be something that's not real."

And she turned, leaving him standing there in the glow of string lights and camera shadows, looking like someone who just realized the thing he wanted most might be the thing he just destroyed.