13+87=100

The hotel room in New Orleans was drenched in heavy silence, broken only by the muffled hum of the city streets far below. Travis lay sprawled across the king-sized bed, his body tense despite the softness of the mattress. His face was buried in Taylor's chest, her arms wrapped protectively around him as though shielding him from the outside world. She traced gentle circles through his messy curls, trying to soothe the ache radiating from his defeated posture.

It had been a brutal night.

The Chiefs had lost to the Eagles in the Super Bowl, a gut-wrenching blow for Travis, who had poured every ounce of himself into the game. And as if that wasn't enough, the crowd at the stadium had turned on Taylor too, booing her with such hostility that it left her breathless and humiliated. The cherry on top? A spiteful tweet from Donald Trump that had gone viral within minutes.

    The only one who had a tougher night than the Kansas City Chiefs was Taylor Swift. She got booed out of the stadium. MAGA is very unforgiving.

Taylor had laughed bitterly when she first saw it, brushing it off as typical nonsense. But Travis? He had taken it harder than she expected. Now, lying atop her, his body heavy with disappointment, he couldn't shake the weight pressing down on his chest.

"I don't deserve you," Travis muttered, his voice muffled against her skin.

Taylor stilled, her hand pausing in his hair. "What?"

He lifted his head, eyes red-rimmed and filled with guilt. "You shouldn't be with someone who loses. I let you down tonight, Tay. I couldn't win for you, for the team, for anyone. You deserve a guy who can—"

"Travis," she interrupted firmly, cupping his face. "Stop."

"No, listen." He sat up, pulling away from her warmth, though it clearly pained him to do so. "You got booed because of me. Trump's out there dragging your name through the mud. The media's gonna have a field day with this. You don't need this crap in your life, Taylor. You've already had enough guys treat you like garbage. You should walk away now while you still can."

Taylor sat up too, narrowing her eyes at him. "You think I'm going to leave because you lost one game?"

"It's not just about the game," he insisted. "It's about me not being good enough for you."

Her jaw tightened. "You don't get to decide what I deserve. And for the record, just because you lost a football game doesn't make you a loser. That's not how love works, Travis. I'm not going anywhere."

He looked down, unable to meet her fierce gaze. "You should."

She softened, reaching for his hand. "No, I shouldn't. Because you're the first guy I've ever dated who treats me like a person, not a trophy or an object or some fantasy they want to control. Do you know how rare that is for me?"

Travis shook his head slightly, guilt still etched across his face.

"I'm not walking away from that," she continued, her voice unwavering. "I'm not walking away from you. Win or lose, I'm here. Always."

His shoulders trembled as he exhaled sharply, the weight of her words breaking down the wall of shame he'd built around himself. Taylor leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then another to his cheek and finally to his lips—a promise sealed in tenderness.

"You're stuck with me, Kelce," she whispered against his mouth. "Get used to it."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips despite the ache in his chest. He let out a shaky laugh. "You're a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

"You have no idea," she teased, brushing her fingers through his hair again.

He sighed deeply, resting his head back on her chest as if surrendering to the comfort only she could provide. Her heartbeat was steady beneath his ear, grounding him in a way nothing else could.