Safe and Sound(Taylor's Version) //  Taylor Swift

Colleen

As the plane taxies toward the gate, my nerves feel like they're trying to choke me. I rub my throat, working to swallow the lump that's taken over my esophagus. I've never been this anxious.

I know I'm overthinking everything.

For the last twelve hours I've heard Clinton's voice in my ear, low and guttural, a near growl of desperation, telling me he 'fucking needs me to get on the plane.'

I haven't caught my breath since.

What will happen when I see him? Is this the start of something or was it a weak moment for him? Because from the instant I saw him I've wanted this. When I first came for a visit to California to attend Brianna's Diva tribute performance, I was struck silent when Clinton stepped out of the limo with Brianna. Much like I'm feeling now, I could hardly swallow, hardly take a breath. I couldn't speak around him without cringing at how naïve I sounded, squealing over every landmark passing by through the window. Clinton remained stoic, silently keeping the masses away from us while I pined like a lovesick teenager.

I've found my voice with him since then, but Clinton's continued to look at me like a kid. He's made a point to comment on my age every time we talk. Until recently.

Until he watched another man flirt with me.

What did that unleash in him? I've been kept at arms-length for the past year, living next door and spending every spare moment with him. I've missed his laugh, his presence, with a physical ache while he's been on tour. But since Ryan made overt plays for my attention, Clinton has been different.

People are already up and crowding the aisle to get off the plane as soon as possible. I stay in my seat, attempting to slow my breathing but not succeeding. Time ticks by as passengers slowly pass me. Finally, I can't put it off any longer. I need to leave. How can I be so excited and yet so scared at the same time? I don't know what to expect. I don't know how to act, what to do. Will he pull me to him the way he did in the hotel room last time I was with him? Will there be more than a hug?

Or will this be awkward now that we've had late night confessions.

I spread a hand over my stomach as I make my way up the ramp, eyes cast down. I'm shaking. I've never been this nervous. I've never wanted someone so much. I emerge from the long tunnel into the airport gate and follow signs to baggage claim where the airport is open to the public, where Clinton should be waiting for me. Unless he simply sent a car to pick me up. The details weren't worked out when he emailed the ticket information. All I knew was I needed to get on a plane at 10am to cross the country to the east coast. I drag my carryon behind me as I step onto the escalator down to baggage claim.

Although I'm tempted to keep my eyes down at me feet, I gather the courage to look around, spotting Clinton almost instantly.

He's leaning against a pillar dressed in all black as he tends to do. His biceps bulge with his arms crossed, one hand holding his phone as he focuses on the screen. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from him.

Clinton: did you miss the plane?

I text back: Look up.

I glance back at him to find him looking right at me. Our eyes catch and the air rushes out of my lungs. He sees me, looks right through me to my core. I'm very aware my every thought, every feeling, has to be written all over my face with the way his eyes darken. At the bottom of the escalator, I take a step in his direction at the same time he pushes off the pillar to head toward me. We finally meet halfway, eyes never leaving the other.

And then I'm in his arms. I float with the feeling of his arms around me, all of my fears now vapor. His scent surrounds me, soap and clean skin with a hint of spice. Masculine without being overpowering.

"I thought you might have changed your mind. Everyone got off the plane and you were nowhere." He confesses with his mouth right at my ear.

"It took me a minute to gather the courage." I offer my own confession. The truth.

"If you'll be brave, I will, too."

I nod. I've lost the power to speak.

He presses the tip of his nose into the spot just below my ear, nuzzling close and pulling me impossibly closer. Blowing our casual friendship to bits. One question answered, at least.

"You're here." His words are strained.

"I'm here." Mine are, too.

"Can we please get the fuck out of the airport?" He speaks as one hand finds the small of my back and the other digs into my hair, holding me to him in a move that has me melting.

"Okay." I breathe. Try to find words, almost failing. "I didn't check a bag, just brought my carryon."

"Thank fuck." With one hand he grabs the handle of my bag. His other hand grabs mine. He laces our fingers together, squeezing once as we start walking. All the fears I had on the plane melt away. I don't know where we're going or what he intends to do, but it doesn't matter. I smile at our intertwined hands like my dreams are about to come true.

I'm in a bubble of wonder and surprise as he leads me out of the airport and across the road to a parking garage. We stand shoulder to shoulder, my hand still encased in his as we wait for the elevator. We don't speak. We don't make eye contact. I have a feeling if we did, something would ignite. I'm holding myself in check, and I sense Clinton is as well.

The elevator ride up a few floors is quick. We step out as soon as the doors are open wide enough to do so. Clinton rushes us around a corner.

Before I realize what's happening, Clinton has my back up against a concrete wall in the parking garage. He's pressed against me, his eyes finally meeting mine after we've forced our gazes away from each other. And I was right.

Something deep and wonderful has ignited between us.

He searches my eyes, seeking consent. I tilt my chin a bit higher, my lips closer to his. His eyes dip to my mouth for a half second before he surges. His mouth covers mine. His arms pull me close. We're pressed together, his thigh between my legs lifting me to him. I go willingly. I have no desire to be anywhere else.

His lips are firm, kissing me with certainty. At first, he holds both of us still, acclimating to the new sensation, the unexpected rush of need. But it takes almost no time at all for him to give in to the need, brushing his lips up, taking my top lip between his. And then we can't get enough. We can't slow down. He presses his tongue to the seam of my lips, begging for entrance. I open on contact, needing him closer. He dips in, tasting me. I give myself over to him, unable to stop even if I wanted to. I don't think I ever want to stop.

A hum of approval vibrates from his chest as his lips continue moving over mine. His hands cup my face, controlling the tilt of my head and the angle of our kiss. I grip his arms, those biceps I watch flexing whenever I can. And now my fingers are wrapped around them, memorizing the movement of his muscle, the stretch of warm skin under me.

Much too soon, he pulls back. My face is still cradled in his touch, but I need more.

"If I could do this all damn day, I would." His eyes search mine. "I don't know how I've held back all this time."

I feel the warm blush rise. I don't know either. I've pictured this more times than I can count.

"But I'm due back. I borrowed a car from the venue manager, and I don't want her to think I took off with it."

"How'd you pull that off? Borrowing a stranger's car?"

He kisses me, then winks. "I told her I had to see about a girl."

I roll my eyes. "You ripped off Ben and Matt. I knew watching Good Will Hunting with you would come back to haunt me."

"Haunt you?" He leans back. "That's how I scored us a ride, baby."

I laugh. I'm so relieved the physical pull we're giving in to hasn't ruined the fun friendship between us. He nudges me to him, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. We walk over to a black Mercedes with limo tinted windows.

"Some ride," I say as he pops the trunk for my bag. "That manager must be doing pretty well."

"It's a big place. Biggest on tour." He starts the car then looks over at me with a sly grin. "It's actually the VIP transportation for the venue, not the manager's personal ride."

"VIP, huh? I'm honored."

He grabs my hand.

"You should be. You are very important, Colleen."

With a squeeze of my hand that I feel deep in my heart, we're off to the next part of this adventure. Clinton drives us through the city, past skyscrapers and busy downtown streets. We end up beyond the crowded city center and into the heart of a nearby neighborhood. The stadium for tonight's show looms ahead of us, dwarfing the smaller buildings and apartments surrounding it.

Our drive has been quiet, thoughtful as we steal glances the entire way. Somehow words aren't needed. But I'm also worried that with how much our relationship just changed, we'll need to have some serious words about it. Thinking about it makes me nervous so I focus on the here and now instead.

Clinton parks the car before leading me into the halls of the stadium. He's still dragging my bag with one hand and holding my hand with the other, but the tense energy from before, when he pressed me up against the parking garage wall before kissing the hell out of me, isn't there. And when we get to an interior door marked 'Restricted Entry,' Clinton drops my hand and turns to me.

"I think we should lie low for a while," he says before running a hand through his hair. "I need to be focused on the crowd and security. If the band realizes that I brought you out here..." He shakes his head. "Those guys are ruthless. I need to keep Brianna safe." He steps closer to me. "I need to keep you safe. I need to focus. That's all this is."

I nod. "I understand." I watched everything go down with Brianna. I know how quickly a situation can turn and how focused her security detail needs to be.

But it's hard not to be a little disappointed that he's not ready to show everyone I'm here with him.

"I did tell Brianna you were coming. She'd love for you to stay with her in her dressing room until she goes on in," Clinton checks his watch, "five hours."

I smile, not wanting to cause him any more stress. He's a natural protector, something I realized as soon as I moved in next to him and he thought I was going to kill myself hanging my pictures on the wall.

"Lead the way."

Not Another Line (Colleen's Version) 😏 As I've done with each book in the Hollywood Story series, one chapter is in the love interest's point of view. This one felt like Colleen's turn. And it's not one that I had originally imagined when plotting but here we are(so typical lol!)

The way Colleen feels around Clinton, and the way he feels so protective over everyone in his life, inspired this song choice. If you aren't aware of the background on this TS song, it's inspired by the Hunger Games 🥰

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Thanks for reading and HAPPY FRIDAY FEELS!