Capturing You

Chapter 13: Caught You Off Guard

     Saturday morning, I agreed to meet my dad at his hotel. In hindsight, he should have met me at mine. It was a nightmare to park and crowds of fans were lined up on the sidewalks, kept back from swarming any players by metal hip-height fences. Once I'd snuck my way inside the hotel, its lobby was no different, swarming with media paparazzi for any quick glances of the players. My dad, of course, was in the middle of it all. I'd caught sight of him delivering an interview with some local television station.

     "As a Louisiana fan of Joe Burrow, what's it like to see him make it to the Super Bowl in such a short amount of time?" I heard the reporter ask him.

     "Go McNeese!" He snuck in, playing to the camera with a smile before answering her question.

     I snickered, watching from afar, folding my arms over my chest. Maybe I'd been too hard on my dad after all of these years, so often embarrassed by the thing he loved the most. I had always felt bitter — football took up so much of his time and I didn't really have much of a choice than to cling on to what my mom was interested in — but I wondered if I'd made peace with it all now. Unexpectedly, I'd become somewhat engrossed in this job, this lifestyle. And I wondered if whatever was blossoming between Joe and I would bury me into it deeper.

If so, I supposed it wouldn't be so bad.

     My dad glanced at me from afar, gesturing at me to take a photo. How did he know I had my camera in my bag? With a huff, I pulled it out and snapped a shot. I pictured him uploading it to Facebook later and bragging to all of his friends that he was on television for the Super Bowl.

     As he answered another question, I felt a sudden presence behind me, the scent of pine and peppermint wafting in the air. I looked over my shoulder to see none other than Joe, hiding behind the pillar I'd been leaning on. He likely was incognito due to the gaggle of reporters just feet away, ready to snatch the camera from my dad and point it at him.

     "Hey, Swamp Girl," he spoke just so in my ear.

     "J—" I caught myself before fully saying his whole name, bringing my voice down to a whisper. "Jeeeesus H. Christ, you scared the crap outta me. What the hell are you doing out here? You're—"

     We moved in closer to each other, partly to be able to hear each other as I whisper-yelled and also for me to shield his appearance. He was a tower of a man that it felt silly to try, even if I was taller than the average girl.

     "—You're a literal hazard." If even just one person recognized him, I'd likely be trampled into a pancake. I was glad to see his idea of undercover was a totally nondescript Bengals Super Bowl LVI t-shirt and sweatpants.

     He took one look at my panicked expression and burst into quiet laughter, something I found completely contagious. We leaned into each other, giggling.

     "I'm glad you think I'm that handsome," he teased me.
    
     "Oh, be quiet."

     He nodded his head towards my dad across the way. We both watched as he wrapped up. "That's Coach T, right?"

     "Yep. In the flesh."

     "Good. I put him at our hotel for a reason."

     "The special treatment is so unfair," I joked. "What's the reason?"

     "I don't know what you have planned this morning, but I was thinking of taking you both to breakfast. Well, maybe just to breakfast in my room. Wouldn't be the best idea to go out in public right now."

     My stomach gurgled. I was hungry, and now, nervousness piled on top of that to make one hell of an ache. Joe wanted to meet my dad already?

     "We were actually gonna go to breakfast at this one place, but if you really want to do that..." The hesitance in my voice was clear-cut, but I couldn't say no to the puppy-dog eyes Joe had activated. "I guess I'll let him know." I was only worried that we'd be taking up Joe's time, but he insisted.