𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓! ʲ ᵇᵘʳʳᵒʷ

007. 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

The rest of the week flew by- I was able to adjust to my new job. I'm familiar with my coworkers and even found a friend in a player or two. And today's the day.

The first game of the season. Shayla and I arrived before sunrise, splitting once we reached the field. I felt so professional, flashing a badge to security to let them know that I'm allowed on the field.

I was so nervous- I tried keeping as busy as possible, but that wasn't necessarily hard. Making sure interviewers were able to get in, the media had the room they needed, checking in with the camera crew, reporters knew their spots, and clearing up any last-minute confusion.

The stands start filling up quick- a vast sea of orange and black, purple sprinkled in throughout the crowd. I take my spot near the edge of the field, waiting for them to come out. I pull my baseball cap low, trying to blend in. 

They finally come jogging out of the tunnel, the bright orange of their uniforms stealing all the attention. I spot Joe among the rest of the team, his shoulders square, his eyes fixed ahead. I can't but help watch the way he moves- demanding attention, with confident, fluid motions. He scans the sidelines, his step faltering when he spots me. I quickly look down at the clipboard, trying to remain inconspicuous.

The whistle blows and the offense takes the field. There's the slightest thing off about Joe- I can't explain it, but it's almost like he's unsure of himself. In the first quarter, he's a mess. Missed connections, passes thrown slightly off-target, and even took a bad hit. I bite my nails, silently cursing him. What in the world is his problem?

By half-time, we're down by six. I check my phone, making sure everyone is still content. "This is your fault." I jump, looking for the voice.

Shayla leans over the railing, a Sprite in her hand. "You're in his head. His games off," she points out. "And that's my fault, how?" I ask, taking the can from her and taking a sip. I raise it back up for her to grab. "You're giving him an existential crisis. Have you guys even spoken since the whole Mr. Burrow thing?"

I shaky my head, tapping my pen against the clipboard. "Exactly. Oh, there they come, gotta go!" Shayla slips away.

Joe seems more focused in the second half- while his movements are still tense, he's more fluid and dialed in. He manages to throw a perfect snap. Ja'Marr catches it, taking it directly into the end zone. I glance at the clock- we're out of time, 24-21.

The players all gather along the sidelines, and I search for Marren- basically my partner in crime. She's my camerawoman.

"Talullah, let's grab Burrow and Chase," she calls, pushing through the crowd with her camera. "Ja'Marr!" I call, trying to shuffle through the players. They're all so big, it's easy to get sucked into their crowd. I try to push through them, but it's no use. They're rock solid.

Someone pulls me out of the sea and back onto the sideline. "You were looking for me, Ms. Bennett?" Ja'Marr asks, wiping his forehead with a towel. "Yeah, are you down for a quick interview?" I ask, hopeful. "Of course."

I flag Marren down, who pulls the wireless microphone from her belt. I try to keep the interview short, knowing Ja'Marr probably wants to see his family.

"And finally, what is your go-to post-game snack?" I smile, turning the microphone to him. His hands rested on his waist as he looked up, thinking. He leans down into the microphone- "Anything my mama cooks."

I laugh, nodding. "Good answer. Great game, thank you for your time, Ja'Marr."

Marren cuts the camera and Ja'Marr nods a goodbye. The crowd has dispersed slightly, and I finally catch a glimpse of Joe. I nod to Marren, signaling for her to follow me. I tap on Joe's shoulder, putting on a pretty smile. He turns to me, his jaw clenched. My face immediately falls.