NFL Imagines

///Joe Burrow\\\

Title: Table for One— I Mean Two
Warnings: None

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You sipped angrily at your drink, frustration radiating off of you the longer you stared at your laptop screen.

College was killing you. You were struggling more than you ever had. You were pissed off at the world, you were pissed off at everyone, hell you were pissed off at the bathroom door just an hour ago because it just so happened to be there and you just so happened to stub your toe on it even though you had lived in that apartment for over a year and the door had always been there.

Everyone and everything had you on edge right now. All the people around you could sense this and made no attempt to speak to you. No one in the little coffee shop even dared to glance at you, afraid you would kill them if they slipped up and did. Honestly, you probably would, because your glare could kill at the time.

It was good that everyone around you was giving you your space. You had come here because your roommate wasn't allowing you to have any space, which was making it hard for you to focus. You thought that maybe a nice drink and a small snack in a peaceful little coffee shop would help you to focus, but you were proven wrong when you somehow became even more frustrated.

You heavily sighed and closed your laptop with force. You brought your drink back to your lips and took a few sips, calming your nerves. A minute later, once you were calmer, you decided to pull your phone out and scroll through random stuff.

You were so engrossed in your phone that you didn't hear the bell on the shop door ring, nor did you hear all the other people in the building begin to murmur.

A minute passed and the room went silent. Your ears perked up at the sudden silence and you looked up, eyes going to glance at your surroundings, but instead finding the chest of a tall man.

Your eyes slowly traveled up his chest to his neck and finally to his face. Your heart jumped up your throat and you froze in shock.

The Joe Burrow was standing there, a coffee cup in his right hand and a muffin in his left. He wore a kind grin, but there was a hint of a smirk in it. He knew what he had done to you and he found it amusing.

Your lips had parted and you swiftly snapped your mouth shut, your cheeks warming. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth, trying to form some type of sentence. You stuttered and fumbled over your words, struggling more than you had ever struggled to speak in the past.

Finally, you just settled for one word.

"Hi."

It came out in a squeak and the blond chuckled, giving a small shake of his head. His blue eyes met your (e/c) ones and you swore you were only dreaming. You had to be. There was no way the Joe Burrow was in front of you right now. And if he really was here, why was he here, before you of all people?

"I uhhh," he paused, glancing at his left hand. "I got you a muffin. It's a chocolate one. I hope you aren't allergic. And that you like chocolate muffins."

He extended his arm out towards you, giving you the muffin. He shifted on his feet. Was that a nervous foot shift you just noticed? No, you had to be overthinking....Or were you?