Capturing You

Chapter 21: Melt

I pulled away from the hug to look at him and thinned my lips. "Well, you know, you told me I couldn't date 'til I was 60 or whatever."

"That was just to keep you away from people like Dennis Milton."

We both laughed. "Please don't mention him again," I told him.

     "Joe's a good person," he said. His opinion meant a lot more to me than I'd come to realize; it was important that he thought of Joe this way. "You kids don't have to have it all figured out yet. Sure, it's gonna be complicated... He's in the NFL. But he's a good person once you take it all away."

I nodded. He was right.

     "Just have fun, Avery. I know that may not be in your language, but... You're young." He ruffled my hair. "It's gonna be okay, kiddo. And if it's not, you know who to call."

     I crashed into him for another hug and this time, I squeezed harder, more thankful that my dad had been here for me than any other time in my life. He hardly got enough credit for who he was, and I knew that was my fault — I would start changing that. "Thanks, dad. I love you."

     "Yeah, yeah. I know you do," he said, patting my back one more time before pulling away. "Listen. I know you have plans to come sleep at the house for the rest of the week. Why don't you and Joe just get a hotel together instead? I've hung out with you enough."

"Are you sure?" His explicit permission was jarring, but I supposed this was the trust between us I wanted to have.

     "Yeah, of course. Just come back to the farmhouse when you're ready to say goodbye, like we planned. I'll see you here on Saturday."

I smiled at him. "Okay, yeah. I'll see you here on Saturday."

-

Mint.

     I loved the familiarity of a routine more than anything and sought for my daily rituals to center me especially when I'd had a hard day. As I brushed my teeth, I looked at myself in the mirror, obsessing over what I wore, how my hair was, the way my face looked. I'd traded my clothes from the day for a loose-fitting Bengals shirt (it was the last clean thing I'd had, of course) and a pair of LA Tech plaid flannel sleep shorts. I thought matching pajamas to be overly luxurious and a waste of money; now, I wished I had some to look at least somewhat put together.

     I thought it would be easier once things between Joe and I cleared up, but it still felt so murky inside, the news too fresh to be efficiently deciphered. I was his girlfriend now and yet I was still overthinking what to do next, how to look, where I should be, desperate to match or complement him. I'd never known myself to be such a giddy school girl, though I supposed Joe brought that out in me.

     I finished brushing my teeth and took my hair out of a ponytail, braiding it into a neater-looking French braid behind me. Soon, I would face Joe — we would be alone in a bedroom, together. I physically shook my arms, hoping that it would rattle away my nerves. Didn't really work, but it was worth a shot. Then, I smiled at myself in the mirror: Joe Burrow liked me, and we were dating. We were actually dating!

     Once I composed myself, I headed back to the bedroom Joe and I would be sharing, my towel folded over my arm. I rapped my knuckles against the door, waiting to open it.

"Come in," I'd heard Joe speak from the other side of the door.

     I peeked my head in, smiling softly. "Hey. You good?" He'd had his back turned against me, in the midst of changing into a fresh white t-shirt. I bit my lip, trying not to look at his body. I'd seen this man shirtless countless times — after summer practice, all the guys would peel their drenched jerseys off — but never in this context, and the nuance of it made my heart beat faster.