Chapter 2: Back to Work

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Like every year, my birthday passed as ordinarily as any other day, though when I went to bed that night I didn't fall right asleep. Most nights were a peaceful winding down for me, watching garbage television — my guilty pleasure — until I knocked out. But that night, I picked up my phone and opened the text from Burrow back up. The white light from my screen emanated a glow around my face in my otherwise pitch black bedroom.

Shot Caller? I thought. When had he ever called me that? Maybe he was mistaking me with the senior photographers, who definitely spent more time with him than I did. Burrow never struck me as the kind of guy who would forget someone's name or be that kind of self-obsessed jock, but he was no longer just a kid from Ohio, after all. He was the new face of the whole NFL, at least unofficially, and that was enough for him to muddle all the little people together.

At least, if I was in his spot, I suppose that would be enough for me.

I racked my brain that night. Maybe he did call me by the nickname once, in passing...

Back at the office from my mini birthday break, I came in thinking — no, hoping — it would be back to business as usual, banking on my routine to recalibrate my mindset and get it off of overthinking Burrow's text. As soon as I sat and unpacked, I caught sight of the huge note I had made for the week on my calendar. It was week one of prepping for the Super Bowl, but I had punctuated the note with a question mark, for I didn't know what the outcome of the AFC Championship would be. I could scratch over the note now, as my team was getting the most attention a team could ever get in the league, everyone's phone buzzing around me in the office, everyone hurriedly responding to media requests.

I sighed. I opened my email to nearly 250 emails from different news outlets asking for permission to use the viral photo of Burrow right before the deciding game. My boss, Elena, had answered them all during my quick time off. I could feel a looming presence approaching me, and when I turned around in my chair, she was there as predicted.

Elena had slick, straight blonde hair parted in the middle and facial features that all seemed to point down at me in a 'V' shape. Her bird-like nose made every single time she looked at me feel like I was being hunted by a hawk. She never had much good to say, so my association was hardly false. Perpetually clutching a clipboard, she pushed her blue light-blocking glasses down to look at me and chewed her gum. "Avery," she said, "you're on Burrow duty today. Everyone raved about your photo and we're gonna need more to make memes out of."

Of course I would be on duty following the quarterback today, right when I was ready to resign from even thinking about him. I flashed a smile, though, and nodded. "Alright, I'll get in touch and find out where he is. The usual?" I was referring to the amount of pictures I would need to have by the end of the day for them to use; it was typically 50. Not so hard when the team's all together, but a little bit more difficult to follow just one player throughout whatever exercise was on schedule. But I could do it.

"Actually, we were thinking 200. Make sure you bring backup batteries and stuff," she said, already turning to give someone else their daily assignment.

"Wait, Elena. I—" I stammered. I didn't want to say I couldn't do it, because I would be able to do it, it was just... "They only usually let the photographers in there for about an hour at a time, you know, so they don't get distracted." 'They' being the players.

She looked at me as if I should already have this problem solved and as if she should already be clocked out for the day and spreading her miserable attitude elsewhere. I chuckled nervously and hoped she didn't see through it. This routine was how it had been for the entire season so far. If they were going to change it for the Super Bowl, surely there would have been some sort of brief.

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