Capturing You

Chapter 10: Had A Feeling You Did

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has been reading CY for about the last two weeks now! I really appreciate everyone's feedback and everyone who loyally comes back for each chapter as I post it. I am starting a new job next week which means the chapters may or may not come on a daily basis anymore, depending on my mental energy! I know I have loved writing this book so much and, like many of you, am anxious to see how it ends. Nevertheless, I hope you all continue to enjoy reading, and thanks in advance for your patience if the chapters are posted less frequently!

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While every time Joe and I had hung out in the past week was a look into the compatibility of our personalities, this night would be a litmus test for whether our lifestyles meshed. I had made up my mind that I would entertain the idea of having feelings for Joe Burrow, but with no one to confide in, I was evaluating all of this on my own. I considered myself a smart, logical person despite my horrible habit of overthinking; tonight would truly be a tug of war between those two parts of who I was.

There was, too, the fact that Joe had no idea I'd even been thinking about him this way. I did my best not to agonize over whether or not he actually liked me, just simply basing my own thoughts from his behavior. Calling me specific nicknames, complimenting me more than once, saying he wanted to get to know me deeper. I'd never had a boyfriend before, but I had this gut feeling that Joe flirted with me because he meant it — he wouldn't be inviting me to this gala otherwise.

And then there was the possibility that I was misreading all of this. I blindly chose not to consider it much, deciding that for once in life I would do something out of the ordinary. I just wished it was dying my hair or something and not trying to date an NFL star. At least my dad would be proud if he knew what I was up to.

We entered a set of massive French doors that revealed a ballroom that put the lobby — which was breathtaking already — to shame. What I loved most about The Mark, even having never been there, was its double life as a museum. I had it on my list of places to go to, but I was too preoccupied with work to ever make time. Massive pieces of baroque art hung from the walls, nearly beat out in competition with the glimmering chandelier that hung from a wildly ornate ceiling that resembled jeweled vines parasitic on golden paint. Even the carpet, an elegant deep red damask pattern, was gorgeous despite the dirt and wet spots from shoes that had just come from outside.

It was all such a treat for my eyes as a former art major. Surrounded by the culture of sports for the better half of a year, I didn't realize it'd been so long since I actually went to see art in person. When I finally looked straight ahead I saw a bubble of well-dressed strangers sipping champagne and chatting amongst themselves. My chest suddenly tightened and my shoulders stiffened. For some reason I felt as if I shouldn't have been the girl on Joe's arm as we walked deeper into the ballroom. It wasn't long before we were stopped, as Joe predicted.

The Bengals owner was the first to congratulate Joe, his words tender toward the quarterback who had taken his team to the Super Bowl for the first time in decades. "And who do you have with you tonight?" He asked Joe, smiling at me.

I hadn't met Mike Brown, the Bengals owner, in person yet, but I knew my dad would be freaking out if he knew what I was up to tonight.

"This is Avery Thompson," Joe told him, "she's a team photographer. The best."

I was completely blushing as I shook Mr. Brown's hand. "Nice to meet you,"

"It's nice to meet you. Thank you for all you do for the team," he said.

It seemed like a backwards thing to say — shouldn't we all be the one thanking him for making it all possible? — but I supposed it spoke to the forgotten, humble side of sports that I hardly saw these days.