Chasing Headlines

Taylor blinked against the morning sunlight streaming through the window, her head pounding and her thoughts sluggish. It took her a moment to register her surroundings a bedroom that wasn't hers, a bed that wasn't hers, and the warm, solid presence beside her.

She froze, her heart racing as she turned her head slowly. Travis lay next to her, the sheets draped loosely over his waist, his bare chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. Panic set in as the events of the night before came flooding back in hazy fragments-the afterparty, the drinks, the laughter, the kiss, and then...

"Oh no," she muttered under her breath, clutching the blanket tighter around herself.

Travis stirred at the sound of her voice, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked a few times, then frowned, clearly trying to piece together the same puzzle. When his gaze met hers, realization dawned in his expression.

"Morning," he said, his voice groggy but cautious.

"Morning," Taylor replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked away, pulling the blanket higher over her chest as embarrassment washed over her.

Travis sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair. "So... last night."

"Yeah," she said quickly, cutting him off. "We were drunk. Really, really drunk."

"Agreed," he said, nodding. "I mean, it's not like..." He trailed off, searching for the right words.

"Not like it meant anything," she finished for him, her cheeks burning.

"Exactly," Travis said, relief flickering across his face. "We just got caught up in the moment. It happens."

Taylor nodded, but the awkwardness lingered. She pulled the sheet tighter, acutely aware of her vulnerability. "I should... probably find my clothes."

"Or," Travis said, standing up carefully, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from a chair, and pulling them on, "you could stay here while I make coffee and breakfast. We can talk this out like adults."

Taylor hesitated, unsure whether staying would make things better or worse, but the thought of coffee was too tempting. "Okay. Coffee first, then we talk."

Travis grinned, his easy demeanor somehow comforting. "Deal. Give me ten minutes."

As he left the room, Taylor exhaled deeply, scanning the floor for her dress from the night before. She found it crumpled near the foot of the bed and slipped it on quickly, feeling a bit more composed.

When she joined Travis in the kitchen, he was already plating scrambled eggs and toast, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air.

"Here," he said, handing her a mug. "Black, right?"

"Yeah," she said, surprised he'd remembered. "Thanks."

They sat at the small kitchen table, the silence stretching as they both tried to find the right words.

"So," Travis began, setting his mug down, "about last night..."

"It was a mistake," Taylor said quickly, cutting him off again. "I mean, we were drunk. We weren't thinking straight. It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Right," he agreed, nodding. "No feelings involved. Just... bad decision-making."

"Exactly." She took a sip of her coffee, trying to ignore the small pang of discomfort his words brought.

They sat in silence for a moment before Taylor spoke again. "I just... I don't want this to complicate things. We've got this whole PR thing going on, and if anyone found out..."