Capturing You

Chapter 11: Swimming

     The night after the gala blurred together like a kaleidoscope, the same image of Joe and I dancing in the ballroom mirrored and distorted in a dream-like state as we drove home. We didn't kiss or anything, nothing changed in the way we spoke or acted around each other except for that initial awkwardness after confessing. And yet, while things were seemingly unchanged, I felt so free, both of us liberated from these secrets we'd been sitting on for however long.

     On the way home, when the excitement from the gala had fizzled out, Joe reached over and placed a hand on my knee as he drove. I wished the ride home was longer; we hadn't had a moment alone. I looked over at him, smiling curiously.

     "Next week is gonna be busy for me. But I was thinking, when we both have some downtime... we should get something to eat after work one of these nights," he said. Of course it was going to be busy for all of us — we were still in preparation for the league's biggest game after all. Having a playground crush throughout all of this seemed so silly, and yet so fitting as far as the timing went.

     "Okay," I said, nodding. "That sounds good. Honestly, Joe, there's no pressure. I know there's a lot more important things going on than... whatever we are."

     Boyfriend and girlfriend? Dating? The last person who was interested in me like this was Dennis Milton and we'd never gotten farther than attending prom together. He had a puppy dog crush on me that I didn't reciprocate, thankful that college had separated us before I had to break the news to him. In college, I'd never been the object of anyone's affection. I wasn't in a sorority, didn't party, and hardly socialized outside of class and my minuscule friend group. I never ended up crossing paths with anyone I liked in that way, and with my mind laser-focused on my career anyway, I didn't worry.

     Golden boy Joe Burrow, though, was probably the opposite. Surely he had girls lined up that he could pick and choose from. That was why I found it so unbelievable that he'd confessed what he had just hours ago. An athlete like him with plenty of choices, I half-expected him to dodge what I had said in the interest of having his options open — but instead, he was succinct.

     "I only like you," he told me. "The thing is — realistically, you're right. It doesn't make sense for us to rush into anything with so much going on right now. I just couldn't keep it to myself for any longer."

I chuckled. "I'm glad you told me. I wouldn't have been upset if you waited. I wasn't even sure you even felt the same about me, anyway."

He scoffed at that. "You're amazing. I knew it when I met you months ago."

I remembered that.

-

     It was the day I was interviewing for the job and of course, it was raining. All the preparation I'd taken into actually doing my hair for once had been foiled by the humidity and I walked into the office looking like a frizzy monster. I had been carrying so much crap that day — my laptop bag, my dripping umbrella, my tote, my lunch box, my water bottle. It was a wonder how I'd hauled it all.

     Frazzled by not only the weather, but also by the fact I'd been a little later than I wanted to be — 10 minutes early instead of 15 — I unknowingly walked into the wrong department: the coaching staff. No one had looked up from their computers to give me the time of day, except Joe, who had been in the conference room adjacent to the main set of cubicles in the department, probably going over plays with his coach.

      I remembered being confused and doing a quick scan of the room to see who I could bother. I think Joe saw me before I saw him, because he had walked over to help me at the same time I turned to walk out of the apartment; we crashed into each other, my things tumbling to the ground in a pile. My photographs, which were once tucked neatly in a manila folder, spilled onto the carpet, droplets of rain from my umbrella contaminating them.