Big Shot | ✓

14 | human supernova

We returned from Charlotte that Sunday afternoon, and I went straight to the media office at the football complex, my bags still in my car and powdered sugar still dusting my leggings from our Dunkin Donuts pit stop.

There was a 24-48 window to turn over content following the close of an event like ACC Kickoff. Games were shorter - six hours or ideally less. I wasn't a procrastinator - I liked getting things done early, mostly because it would haunt every waking thought of mine until it was finished.

Mara had come in briefly to dump all of the photos she'd taken onto our shared harddrive so I could start making the preseason watchlist graphics to post on Instagram. Clemson's preseason ranking within the conference was #2 just behind Florida State (because of course), but the official top 25 college football rankings wouldn't come out until late August, when preseason was almost over.

Every week following that, a bunch of old guys in a room who thought they knew more than us mere mortals would determine the ranking of every college football team based on their performance that weekend using a conveniently vague set of criteria. It wasn't like the NFL where simply winning or losing determined a team's fate. In college football, the manner in which a team won or lost was equally, if not more, important - among several other factors. It was a level of scrutiny and pressure that most normal 18-22 year olds shouldn't be equipped to handle, and yet they did.

I took another sip of my second cold brew of the day as I organized all of the clips from media day in sequential order. To be able to condense five hours of footage into a one minute thirty second video for social media was an understated skill - one I'd taught myself and refined over the last few years.

At some point I'd lost track of time as I started compiling all the preseason awards and watchlist graphics, and I had a bad habit of blasting my music when I really got in the zone. I was faintly singing along to my women in grunge playlist when someone slammed their hand on the table beside my laptop, sending my heart so far up my throat I thought I was going to spit it out.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I exclaimed as I ripped my headphones off.

Reid smirked down at me. "Nope, just me. Guess we're even now on the whole startling each other with headphones on thing."

I scrunched my nose up at him, even though he smelled clean and freshly showered. "I seem to recall you saying to me when someone has their headphones on, it generally means they don't want to be bothered. Besides, have you ever heard of knocking?" I gestured to the now open door of the media office.

"I did, like three times," he chuckled. "Interesting song you were listening to."

I scoffed and sat back in my chair. "It's Liz Phair. You wouldn't understand."

"Right." He gave me a quick nod, and it was almost unnerving having him standing over me while I was sat. His head was so far away it might as well have been up in another stratosphere, "Anyway, uh....I was gonna go get dinner if you wanted to come. We're the only two psychos still in the building and they might lock us in here."

Even from all the way up there, the blush painting his cheeks was too endearing not to notice.

"Sure." I stood up from my chair a little too eagerly, sending it wheeling back right at Reid's hand, who'd stuck it out to stop it. "It can't hurt to maybe start working on your first article since it's due in a few weeks. We could brainstorm a little."

Reid shrugged as he slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "As long as I'm fed. I know a place we can go. It's kind of a drive, if you're okay with that."

"Fine by me." I tried to taper down the eagerness as I gathered up all my gear into my bag before following Reid out of the football complex and into the parking lot.