Capturing You

Chapter 13: Caught You Off Guard

     The reporters were done with my dad, and I knew their wandering eyes would soon land on Joe. "You'd better go," I warned him. I wanted to add that it was in our best interest to avoid my dad, since he would definitely draw a crowd — even if it was accidental.

     "Good call. I'll see you in a few, yeah? Room 302." He handed me a room key and pressed a hasty smooch to my cheek before running away.

     Beet red, I faced my dad, mustering up a smile as if nothing had happened. I hoped he was too oblivious to notice the change in my complexion.

     "Heeeeey, dad," I sang nervously. "I have a slight change of plans."

-

     "This had better be good. We're missing out on the Super Bowl Special at Nancy's right now," my dad said as I readied to open the door to Joe's room. Of course, he had no clue where we were going. "It was gonna be like, two mountains of pancakes with these fake little chocolate figures of a ram and a tiger on each mountain."

After I slid the room key in, I opened the door despite his mumbling and let him walk in first.

     There stood Joe by himself, a few steps into the room, a big open space taken up by a small spread of breakfast on a table. He flashed my dad a grin. "Hey, Coach T."

     My dad paled in complexion and I knew right then and there he was going to pass out. "Ope, okay, I got you," I told him, bracing myself behind him as he wobbled in his footsteps.

"Holy Smoky Mountains, you're — you're —"

"I'm Joe," Joe said, shaking hands with him.

      My dad looked at me and laughed maniacally. "Avery, you're the best daughter in the world. I was starting to wonder, 'Hey, is she ever gonna invite me to the Super Bowl?' But you really took me by surprise here. I'm shocked."

     I chuckled, begging with my eyes for him to compose himself, though my efforts seemed futile. "Actually, dad, this wasn't my idea at all." I had to give credit where credit was due, and shifted my eyes over to Joe, who was uncovering the dishes of breakfast he ordered.

     "Coach T, I was just so flattered by your letter," Joe spoke sincerely. "And Avery has just... been so awesome in the last week. Since I couldn't make it to her birthday lunch I thought I would make it up to both of you by setting this up."
I had a feeling he wasn't just buttering up my dad and that he was being genuine. Joe was full of surprises and each one kept me on my toes in the best way. We shared a quick smile.

     "I'm just sorry there aren't two pancake mountains," Joe added.

My dad snickered, then broke out into laughter. "It's alright, Joe Brrrr. I think you've more than made up for yourself. — Did you hear that, Avery? He called me Coach T." He giggled uncontrollably.

     We sat at the table Joe had set out in the middle of the room. He'd ordered a spread of some waffles — far more superior than pancakes, in my opinion — as well as some bacon, scrambled eggs, and a rainbow assortment of different food. I picked a little bit of everything. The pair engaged in small conversation for a whopping 15 seconds before my dad started reliving moments from old plays, asking Joe what all was going on in his mind. I hoped Joe wasn't annoyed by being pestered with my dad's questions, but he was a good sport about it all.

     I busied myself with getting something in my stomach, hoping that it would help ease my nerves. Though I knew wholeheartedly that Joe had set this surprise up out of his own kindness — I couldn't think of any quarterbacks who would spend their last morning before the day of the Super Bowl shooting the shit with their not-girlfriend's dad — a part of me wondered if there was an underlying motive to this. It had been far too early to tell anyone anything about us, in my mind at least, when neither of us even knew what was going to happen until the craze of the Super Bowl blew over. I came to wonder if this was Joe's strange way of cementing that he was committed to making it work somehow, solidifying that he would still be the Joe that I knew when things were busy.