The next morning I wake up early to make breakfast. However, we had no groceries. Last night we got takeout from a cafe down the road, but we didn't even think about actual food.
"Joey," I whisper and rub his back.
He hums.
"I have to go to the store to get some groceries. I'll be back in a little while," I say, and his eyes shoot open.
"Can I come?"
I shrug, "If you want. I was gonna let you sleep in."
"We can sleep all the time," he sits up, "how many times a week can you peacefully go grocery shopping?"
He had a point. Neither of us could get our own groceries anymore because it attracted too much attention. But I didn't think anyone would be out at 8 in the morning in a small town in Maine. Not only that, but I knew almost every person in this town. Or at least I did.
"You're right," I stand up, "I'll be downstairs."
"Mm," he hums.
When I'm downstairs I start really looking at all of the pictures of my brothers and I. We were so little, even the last one we took. Cowen's broad shoulders from college football hadn't come in yet, I still wore my glasses, and Cade didn't have the little bit of facial hair that he does now.
I took a picture of it and sent it to our family group chat. Cade and Cowen's first response was 'Why are you at Water House?' Eventually Cowen said 'I bet Joe's there too' and Cade replied 'Probably, leave her alone'
And then the two got in an argument.
"I'm ready," Joe says as he walks into the hallway.
"Okay," I smile and we make our way out to the rental car. The grocery store was no further than 5 miles, but the scenery made it feel even shorter. The waves, the boats, the trees, all of it.
The parking lot was empty except for a few cars belonging to the people who worked there.
When we walked in, it was silent other than some music playing over the speakers. We grabbed a cart and began scanning the aisles.
"Question." Joe asks before putting some cereal into the basket.
I grin, "Shoot."
"Why were you up so early?"
I sigh, "I was going to make you breakfast in bed, but we didn't have any food."
"I'm glad," he chuckles, "I like doing domestic tasks. They make me feel more normal."
"Even though we are the farthest thing from normal," I say, and he nods in agreement, "but we can't complain because we wanted this life."
"Eh, I just wanted to play in the NFL. The publicity part just goes with it," he shrugs as we turn the corner.
"Shoot, I forgot to grab vanilla, will you grab a carton of milk from over there," I give him pleading eyes and he nods.
I turn around and walk to the other end of the aisle where I knew the vanilla extract would be. I'm so focused that I don't even hear footsteps approaching me.
"Colette, you've grown up," I hear a guys voice, and I look up to see Miles, my old summer fling. His voice was deeper, he was a bit taller, his hair was darker, but it was still the same Miles.
"Miles, it's been a while," I chuckle.
He nods, "No kidding. It looks like you've made something good out of yourself."
"I hope so," I nod, "I've worked damn hard for it."
"Yeah I bet you have," he smiles, "are you all back? Or is it just you?"
"No I'm here with my boyfriend," I smile proudly and watch as his face falls.
"Huh," he says and looks around, "I figured you wouldn't be faithful."
I laugh, thinking it was a joke, but his face doesn't move, "We were teenagers, I'm sure we're both over it by now."
He takes a deep breath, "Yeah, but I always wonder what could have been if you came back the next summer."
I start getting uncomfortable, "We were hormonal teenagers. Nothing good ever comes from that."
"I thought something could," he shrugs and puts a hand on the shelf near my own, "maybe we could try...again..."
His voice trailed off as he looked behind me. I turn around and sigh in relief, there was Joe, his 6'4 self pushing the cart, making it look smaller than it was.
"Miles, this is my boyfriend, Joe. Joe, this is Miles, we used to be friends," I say, and take a step back so that I'd be standing next to Joe. He instantly knew I was uncomfortable.
"Hey man," Joe nods to Miles and Miles nods back.
"What's up."
"Well, we better get going," I look up to Joe and pat his back, "bye."
"It was nice to see you, Colette," Miles says as we start walking away and I hum.
"He's a creep," I whisper once we're far enough away.
"Old friend?" Joe tilts his head.
I shrug, "We used to hang out, he was my first."
"Your first, first?" He asks, and I nod shamefully.
"He was the only guy who gave me attention when I was a teenager, so obviously I was going to like him," I hold my hands up in defense.
"I feel bad for younger you," he leans down and whispers, "you didn't know what a real man was like."
"Joey," I scold him and he laughs, "I'm right though?"
I shamefully nod and he laughs more.
"I feel bad for him, never getting out of this town," I whisper, "surely he had dreams other than marrying me."
Joe chuckles softly, "Some people aren't like us."
"Like us?" I give him a confused look.
He shrugs, "Ambitious. We have dreams. Some people just don't."
"That would suck," I whisper.
We gather everything else that we needed and checked out. Luckily, no other long lost friends caught us on our way out.
✧
"Do you ever wonder how many people know who you are?" Joe asks, looking up at the night sky. We'd been fishing, played card games, and cooked all day.
"I try not to," I sigh, "it's a lot of pressure."
"Yeah, I know what you mean," he continues playing with the rings on my fingers.
"When we first started hanging out, I thought it wouldn't turn into anything because we're both, so...out there," he whispers, "but when we're together it feels like we're normal people."
"You're being really emotional, are you okay?" I jokingly say, and we chuckle.
"I don't know, it's just different," he says, and I give him a confused look, "good different. I don't have to be the public version of myself."
I hum and we sit in silence for a minute.
"Let's dance," I abruptly stand up and pull him with me.
"Why?"
I shrug and lead us through the house, "We need to be ready for the wedding."
"That's a good excuse, how long have you been planning this?" He asks as we walk up the stairs.
"Since the second you suggested we come to Maine," I smile and walk over to the CD wall.
"I bet you cry at weddings too," he says.
I look at him over my shoulder, "Nothings wrong with that."
"Just an observation," he raises his hands in defense.
I picked the Avengers Endgame soundtrack and skipped to the end. It's Been A Long, Long Time by Harry James and sung by Helen Forrest starts playing and I turn around.
Joe sticks his hand out and I take it. He pulls me close, wrapping an arm around my waist and putting our hands out to the side.
My other hand goes up around his neck and we take small, soft steps.
"I feel like Steve and Peggy," he whispers.
"That was the intention," I whisper back, and lay my head on his chest.
We swayed back and forth. It was serene. My heart ached, but not because this hurt me, but because it was picture perfect. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to tell him so bad, but I knew it would freak him out, much like it did me.
The next song started playing but we continued swaying. Come And Get Your Love wasn't necessarily a slow song, but we treated it like it was.
"Camden," he whispers, and I slowly look up at him, "thank you."
I search his eyes, "For what?"
"Being you," his face turns in a half smile, "you're the only person I would willingly slow dance with."
I grin, "Why would I want to be anyone else?"
He bites his cheek and stares at me. It didn't make me feel uncomfortable, it made me proud. Proud that he was staring at me.
"We should go to bed, it's late," he whispers, looking over at his watch.
I nod in agreement.
✧
"Oh yeah, the Cartier's are iconic," I say in response to him asking if I liked his glasses. We were going through his old outfits, brainstorming what he should wear to his next game.
"You've thought about them a lot?" He asks, looking up from his phone.
I shrug innocently, "You look hot in them."
"Thanks for being honest," he squints at me, "actually I have one in mind."
"One what?"
He pulls his phone closer to him and looks closely, "An outfit, I can't show you."
"What are you planning?" I ask suspiciously and he grins.
"I'm going to wear one of your sweatshirts with a pair of these jeans," he shows me a picture of some bright blue jeans and swipes to the next photo to show me what sweatshirt he wanted to wear, "it matches way to good to not."
"You aren't wearing one of my sweatshirts," I chuckle, "I bet you will chicken out."
"You really wanna bet?" He raises his eyebrows at me and I nod.
"Yes, I do want to bet," I lean forward on the airplane table and rest my head on my fist, "if you chicken out, you donate to my charity. If you wear it, I'll donate to yours."
He tilts his head, "You really don't think I'll wear it?"
"Nope," I shake my head, "you'll start thinking about all the questions you'll get and how much press you'll get. That's a lot of attention, Joey."
"You're on," he shrugs, and sticks his hand across the table. I shake it firmly and we nod to each other. I knew he would wear it, and the sales for that shirt would go up. All of the money from that specific top goes to a children's cancer research facility. So it's a win-win.
"What are you going to wear?" He sits back in the seat and tilts his head.
"Haven't thought about it," I shrug, "probably some sweatpants and a hoodie."
I wait for his reaction. He stares at me, a blank expression on his face, "Be real."
"I actually haven't thought about it," I chuckle and raise my hands innocently, "my best friend's wedding is in a couple days, I'm trying to focus on that."
"I think you should wear that skirt that you got for Paris," he says.
"What would I wear it with?"
He turns off his phone and looks at me, "I got a bunch of clothes for you to wear specifically on game days. Just suggestions to make your life easier."
"Joe, you didn't have to do that," I raise my eyebrows. He never fails to surprise me.
"I wanted to," he grins, "and I knew you would actually show up in sweatpants and a hoodie. We have to be the best dressed couple in the league."
"Is this important to you?"
He rubs his hands together and shrugs, "I guess, I mean, I was joking. You don't have to, but I have fun dressing you. You're so cute, I could put you in a trash bag and you'd look amazing."
"Then you bet I will wear whatever you want me to wear," I smile and he mirrors me.
After a couple rounds of cards, we begin our descent back into Cincinnati. It was gloomier than Maine, which shocked me.
"This was a really good idea," I say to Joe once we're in the car.
"I could tell you were getting anxious from being stationary," he grins and I laugh.
"Yeah, I was on tour for almost a year and a half, being in one spot is strange."
He shakes his head, "I don't know how you ever did that. I'd get homesick."
"I thrive on change," I shrug, "and you get used to it after a while. And the fans make it so worth it."
"This is selfish, but I'm glad it ended in time for season," he picks up my hand and holds it as he steers the car with the other one.
What might have seemed like an innocent comment no longer became innocent as I started thinking more about it. I really hope he doesn't think I did that intentionally, or that in the future I'd do it just so that I could be his trophy wife, or girlfriend. Whatever I would be by then. If he knew I wanted to keep touring, then why did he say something-
"Camden, I just said it because it was on my mind," he cuts my thoughts off, "I wasn't saying it because I expect you to stop touring whenever season comes around."
"Nail on the head," I say, and shyly look over to him, "how did you know that's what I was thinking?"
"I didn't," he sighed, "but I did know that when your hands get sweaty and your face gets red that you're thinking about something important. So, I put two and two together."
I turn my palms over, "My hands do not get sweaty."
"Like I said, just when you're thinking hard on something," he laughs and squeezes my hand.
I don't know why I'm so surprised by his ability to read me. It's basically his whole job, sort of. He has to read the defense and make quick decisions. Except his reads are typically 300 pound men trying to crush him and a few really fast guys trying to catch the ball before his teammates do.
And yet, the harder option still seems to be a woman.
⇜⇝
Okay the wedding in next chapter! (I think. I hope. I'm not sure actually, we'll see)
Thanks for reading lovers!!
Love you all!