Overtime

5: New Job

I look at the directions May sent me and follow them step by step. A man is standing outside the entrance. He stares at me curiously. "How may I help you?"

"I have a photographer interview with May. I'm Julia Cunningham." I hold my head high and try not to act seriously imitated like I belong here.

He goes to his headset. "I've got Julia Cunningham out here saying she's got an interview." He waits a moment to hear the answer. I hope this is quick. Anxiety is eating me, and I want to call Amber to calm me down. The man opens the door. "You're good to head inside. Fifth door on the right. Someone should be standing outside waiting for you."

I smile at the man, "Thank you."

I walk inside, and music echoes through the speakers around the stadium. I can faintly see people down on the field practicing, I assume. I see a woman standing outside a door looking for me.

She smiles as I reach her. I smile back at her. "Well, aren't you just beautiful?" she says, and my cheeks heat. She holds her hand out, "I'm May Hinton. I'm head of the media department." A woman in charge? I am here for this. 

I shake her hand. "Julia Cunningham," I proudly tell her.

I follow behind her like a puppy, wondering how many people I will meet today. Inside the room, there is an office filled with people. There is a beautiful view of the field. Everyone turns to look at me as I walk in, and I'm feeling incredibly intimidated. They all look better than me.

"Everyone, this is Julia Cunningham." Everyone waves and says hello to me. "Julia, why don't you tell everyone a few things about you."

I smile and wave to everyone, "Hi, I'm Julia. Im a Nashville native. I'm a graduate of Vanderbilt, where I've spent the past two years as one of their head athletics photographers. Football is my favorite sport to take pictures of."

"You're a college graduate? You look barely eighteen!" One of the ladies says to me.

I nod, wanting to roll my eyes at the number of people who've said those words to me. "I turn twenty-four soon."

She gasps, "Enjoy your baby face for as long as possible."

"Okay, well, I'm going to leave you with them. They'll get you all set up and ready for practice," May says, patting my shoulder and walking away. So this isn't an interview? I have a job? Or no? Is practice the interview?

"Julia, we've gone ahead and made you a key card. Here is a lanyard and a vest."

A man hands the items to me, and I stare at him, confused, "Wait, so I have a job? Or, like, what?"

Everyone laughs, and I blush again. "Julia, we've seen your portfolio and think you have an amazing talent that would work perfectly for our team. You may decide if you would like the job after the practice so you can get a feel of it."

I smile, nodding, "Okay. Thank you." Oh my God. They want me. They want me. I want to scream into my pillow and cheer. I put the vest with the words NFL on the back of it. I feel legitimate.

"Are you ready?" The man walks up to me. I grab my bag and nod. "I'm Henry, by the way. I'm the head photographer." Henry is tall with a small Afro. He has the softest-looking skin, and I wanted to ask about his skincare routine. He was dressed almost exactly like me but wore a polo instead of a blouse.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise. Now, let's go to the field." We begin to walk together, "We will meet every day in that room; it's basically like our break room. You'll need your card with you at all times. It unlocks all the doors you will need to get inside. Take this route whenever you head to the field; otherwise, you'll get lost. I'll give you my number afterward, so you can call me if you need anything. We like to keep things fun around here, so don't be afraid to let loose. We try not to approach the players. We let them come to us. They are all pretty nice; I've never had a rude conversation with them."

By the time he stopped talking, we reached the field. It looks like most players were here, though I don't know how many people are on an NFL team. I immediately searched the crowd for him but didn't see him. I see some of the guys he hangs out with, but I don't see Caleb either. They probably don't all practice together. Theyre probably separated by offense and defense.

"You can take a place anywhere to set up. We move around the entire time. Don't stand too close to the field; I'm sure you know what happens." My eyes widen. Of course, I know what happens. A two-hundred-pound man can fall on top of me anytime. I need to work on my reflexes for sure.

I follow the others, set up my equipment, and watch the guys stretch and warm up. "How long does practice usually go for?" I ask the woman to my right. She's younger, like me. It makes me feel better.

"It's usually over by five. After an hour, the defense will switch out and head to the gym, and the offense will come to the field. I'm Hailey, by the way."

One of the coaches blew the whistle, "On the line, let's go." I straightened my posture, brought my camera to my face, and looked through the viewfinder. I took a few test shots as the players began their drills.

I adjust the camera settings to the best lighting and begin doing what I love. The best feeling about this is that I am at my own free will. I don't have to focus on one player. I can take whatever pictures I want, which is what I felt worked best.

I'm unsure if it'll stay that way, but May and Henry seem very relaxed. Unless they're just hiding their true emotions from me. Henry did say they like to have fun here, and I believe him. Most of these guys look like they're having fun on the field, making taking pictures much easier.

I watch the clock on the scoreboard constantly to show how much time they have left for the day. Soon enough, I had already accumulated over five hundred pictures, which I'll have to suffer and edit later.

My heart races as the offensive team walks onto the field. My eyes wander for him as they walk out of the tunnel. I already liked the past hour better. I didn't think about him once the entire hour. Okay, maybe once. It was a slip-up because one of the linebackers had the same haircut.

I want to hide as I see him come into my vision. I look away when he gets closer, not wanting to blow my cover away just yet. I go through my photos, deleting the ones I didn't like.

The coaches begin practice quickly, and I make sure I don't just take photos of Miles, no matter how much I want to. That bastard looked so hot in his sweaty, dry-fit shirt and shorts. He looked delicious. His flowing hair was wet with sweat, and I swore I could see sweat beads drop off him as he threw the ball.

I wanted to follow him into the showers afterward and help him bathe. I can't believe how turned on I am by his sweaty, smelly body. Pathetic.

I wanted him to look at me and make eye contact. I wanted him to know I was here and that he had gotten me here in under twelve hours. I wanted to run and kiss him on his feet as I thanked him for the idea of working here.