CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE     all the noise

"You know the truth."

THE GYM WAS BRIGHT and smelt of chalk and disinfectant as I set up for the days workshop. It was the day after the Bengals win against the Titans, and I was expecting Joe any minute now; he practically begged me to let him come. Mr. Doebler was extremely keen on the idea.

I wasn't sure why Joe was so eager to spend his Sunday morning with a hyperactive group of 3, 4, and 5-year-olds, but his determination and big, sad blue eyes were too much for me to turn him down.

The kids were arriving any minute now and I was excited. It was hard to be mad at Simons when I'd been looking forward to this workshop since my head hit the pillow the night of the auction; sharing my love and skills with sweet children, eager to absorb every word that left my lips. It tugged at my heart even more when I exchanged emails with Mr. Doebler- he was a chairman for a program in Cincinnati that helped underprivileged kids, so this workshop meant even more to me than it had before.

I adjusted the mats for the fifth time when Joe's voice, cheerful and loud, echoed through the gymnasium. "Good morning, Talullah."

I wipe my hands on my shorts as I turn. Joe saunters over, a gray muscle shirt and black basketball shorts clinging to his frame. His messy, blonde hair catches the morning light, and his entire being radiates with excitement. "Hi, J."

Without hesitation, he crosses the room and wraps his arms around my back. He lifts me into the air, spinning me around with a grin. I throw my head back with a loud laugh as he chuckles himself- the sound makes everything a little brighter and makes me feel a little lighter.

"Someone's excited," I tease, as he sets me back down on my feet. In reality, it was rubbing off on me- his smile was bright and contagious. He leans down to give me a quick kiss, making a blush spread across my cheeks. Even though we're dating, I don't think I'll ever get used to the way he makes my heart race.

Within minutes, the gym was filled with the sounds of tiny voices and scuffling sneakers. The children streamed in behind their parents, their eyes wide with wonder as they took in the space.

After bidding their parents goodbye, the group of little girls gathered on the mats, chatting with excitement. I start with introductions, giving each kid the spotlight to announce their name and favorite color. Joe sat to the side, perched on the edge of the bleachers watching with a soft smile. It's hard to ignore the intent way he was watching- his eyes tracked every move I made, every word I said, and it was making me nervous.

Halfway through warm-ups, one little girl in a bright blue leotard by the name of Bridgit stood up and marched over to Joe. "Why aren't you doing it too?" she asked, her hands on her hips. Joe blinks, startled, pointing at himself, "Me?"

I repress a giggle as I reach for my toes, watching out the corner of my eye. "Yes, you!" she exclaims like it's obvious. "You're sitting here!" All the other children have turned their attention to the pair, chiming in. "Yeah, come here, sir!"

Joe glances at me for help, an awkward grimace pressed into his cheeks. "You heard the ladies," I answer with a smirk. Joe reluctantly joins us, towering over the little girls as he tries to follow the instructions. One of the older girls in the group points at him, confused. "Who are you?"

The kids all turn to look at Joe, their curiosity piqued. I wave Joe to the front. He shoves his hands in his pockets as I introduce him, "This is Joe. He's here to help me out today." He crouches down, resting his forearms on his knees. "Hi, guys," his voice was warm and soft, and it gave my heart a squeeze.  One of the girls squints at Joe- "Are you Joe Burrow?"

He chuckles, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. "Yeah, I am."

"Who's Joe Burrow?" a girl from the back asks, her pigtails bouncing as she tilts her head. "I play football," he answers, rising to his feet. "I'm the one who throws the ball."

His explanation prompts a chorus of excited gasps, followed by a flurry of questions and "My dad loves football!"s. I watch as Joe tries to keep up with their rapid-force curiosity before clapping my hands a few times. "Okay, guys, let's start learning some gymnastics!"

The kids are eager to learn- they squeal with excitement as Joe knelt on the mat, his knees awkwardly splayed. It was clear that he was unsure as to what he'd signed himself up for.

"Okay, let's start with this," I announce as climb into position. "This is called a butterfly stretch. If anyone needs help, just raise your hand and I'll come around."

The kids followed suit, giggling as they bent their legs. Joe attempts the stretch, but his long limbs and broad shoulders make it look hilariously awkward. One of the girls- Mya- doubles over in laughter. "You're going it wrong!"

"I don't think I'm cut out for gymnastics," he mutters dramatically, earning more giggles from the students. "Don't worry guys," I say with a grin, "Joe is new to this, so we have to go easy on him."

Bridgit leans over and pats his shoulder. "Just keep practicing." He smiles at the young girl, "Thanks for the encouragement, Coach."

After finishing up stretches and a few more of Joe's unintentionally funny attempts to keep up, I call for a water break. The kids all scramble for their brightly colored bottles, chattering animatedly amongst themselves. Joe hangs back with me, leaning on his arms. "Wow," he begins, running a hand through his hair. "They are so excited."

"I know." I can't help but grin as I watch the group of children, their hair frizzy and leotards sparkling under the bright lights. I lean over to offer him a bottle of water. He takes it, his gaze drifting to the girls as they tumble and laugh. Then, loudly enough to grab their attention, he says, "Did you guys know Miss Talullah used to be a professional cheerleader?"

They immediately freeze, turning to us with wide eyes and gaping mouths. "Really?"

I shoot Joe an unserious glare. "What are you doing?" He gives an innocent shrug, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "Miss Talullah, show us something cool!" they beg, bouncing up and down. Joe leans back with a smug smile, clearly proud of himself for stirring the pot up, "Yeah, Miss Talullah, show us something cool."

His teasing tone makes a blush prickle at my cheeks as I rise to my feet, rolling my eyes at him. I sigh as I brush off my shorts. "I guess I can show you guys something."

I start the routine with a tumbling pass, completing a cartwheel, a round-off, and a back handspring. I finish with a classic cheer pose, my chest rising and falling with the kids screams of excitement. Their tiny hands clap furiously as they all squeal. Jackie, with pink glasses and matching sneakers, runs up to hug my leg.

"Didn't know you still had it in you," Joe teases as he claps along with the kids. His grin stretches ear to ear, omitting his previous claim. I lean down to rub Jackie's back, and I shoot back with a smile, "Don't test me, Burrow."

Toward the end of the workshop, just as the kids were wrapping up their tumbling practice, Mr. Doebler walked in with a camera slung over his shoulder. His face lights up when he sees the girls taking turns showing me their somersaults. I clap as he approaches me, the girls bowing dramatically after completing their stunts. "This looks fun!" Emil says, stepping onto the mat.

"Yeah, it's been great," I reply with a smile, glancing back at Joe, who was kneeling to tie one of the girls' shoes. "Would you mind if I snapped a quick photo of you two with the kids?"

We gather in a semicircle, Bridgit clinging to Joe like her life depends on it. I knelt beside him, the remainder of the girls crowding around us with wide smiles. Once the picture was taken, the kids began running to their parents who were trickling in to pick them up. They were eager to show their parents what they had learned. But Bridgit wasn't having it.

She wailed, clinging to Joe's leg. "I don't wanna go!" she cried, her hands gripping him with surprising strength for a 4-year-old. Joe crouches down to console her, rubbing her tiny back slowly. "It's okay, Bridgit," I begin, kneeling down to speak to her. "I'll be back, and maybe Joe will come too."

"Promise?" she sniffs, looking up at Joe with tears shimmering in her big, brown eyes. He nods solemnly, "I promise." She finally let go, and let her mom lead her out of the gym, passing sad glances over her shoulder back at Joe.

Joe and I begin cleaning up when Emil approaches me, a hopeful gleam in his expression. "Talullah, this was amazing. The kids had so much fun, this was a hit. I had to ask, would you be interested in hosting workshops like this on a monthly, possibly bimonthly basis? We'd be happy to pay you for your time."

My heart swelled at the thought of continuing to work with these children. "I'd love to," I gush, a wide smile overtaking my features. "But please, no, I don't want any money."

He smiles, taking my hand in his. "You're a gem, Talullah. You have no idea how much this means to these children. Thank you."

I nod softly before he squeezes my shoulder and hobbles out of the room. Once cleaned, Joe and I left the gym and walked to his car. The afternoon sky was bright, despite the cold chill in the air as we climbed in.

"Thanks," I tell Joe as I buckle my seatbelt. "For what?" he asks, glancing at me with a smile as he reverses out of the parking spot, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror. "Being here. Being so sweet with the kids."

He shakes his head, his hand finding my knee. "You were the star. They loved you, Tally. I can't blame them."

And my heart stopped.

They loved you. I can't blame them.

My chest tightened as I tried to keep a neutral expression, but my mind and heart were both racing. Between the words he said and the way he said them- like it was a simple truth, like he meant every syllable. His voice was soft, almost reverent, but it hit me like a gut punch. Was he saying... that he loved me? Did I love him? There's no way that's what he meant, right?

It was hard to gather my thoughts when my stomach was flipping and my heart was racing. That's not what he meant, I tell myself, but it was a lot harder to convince myself than it should've been.

"You okay?" Joe asks, snapping me from my daze. "Hm?" I turn to him, my face still hot. He raises an eyebrow, glancing at me. "Oh, yeah. Just tired," I lie, forcing a smile. He nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

After a beat, he adds, "You'll make a good mom one day, you know."

The only sound audible at this point is the humming of the engine and the sound of Joe clicking the blinker. By now, my heart really did stop. My stomach was flipping and every muscle in my body was tensed as his words echoed in my head.

Why would he say that? It had to just be an offhand comment. It couldn't mean anything deeper- it was way too early. This couldn't be his way of hinting at anything he sees in me, or in us.

"Are you okay, Tally?" he asks again, this time with real concern.

I force myself to nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Yeah. Just tired," I manage, though it sounded unconvincing even to my own ears. He didn't push it, though- instead, he brushes his thumb over my knee in slow circles, making my mind spin faster.

By the time we pulled into the cafe parking lot, I was barely holding it together. I tried to shake it off as we ordered and took our seats, but Joe's sharp eyes only made my facade crack even further.

After finishing our lunch, I tried to distract myself with mindless scrolling. The Twitter notification came almost immediately, making me freeze. The headline read: Bengals Staff Member Caught Kissing Joe Burrow at Fundraising Gala.

"Oh," was all I could manage, my voice barely audible. Joe frowned, glancing up from his plate. My stomach dropped as I offered him my phone, the accompanying photo glaring at him. Shayla's hands were pressed against his chest while Joe stood frozen, his body rigid.

His jaw tightens as he takes the device from my hand. "They took fucking photos?" His voice is taught and sharp. He exhales sharply, handing me my phone. He leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. His anger made me angry- this was unfair. What made me even more upset was that Shayla wanted this to happen. I scroll through the comments, chewing at the inside of my cheek as I read the replies.

"Joe looks so uncomfy..."

"who is she?"

"bro looks DISGUSTED LMAO"

"she needs to back off, Joe's MY man."

"They're not buying it," I say quietly, putting my phone down to look at Joe. His jaw is clenched, and his hands are flexing on the table. "Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that this is out there."

"I know."

"I hate the spotlight. The way they- they twist everything and make my life seem like... like it's not... like it's a show!" He shakes his head, frustration evident in his movements. "I just want to live my life without all this... noise."

His words hit me hard, making me shift. I try to read his expression- his blue eyes were stormy, a mix of anger and something almost softer, something that I just couldn't place. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

"She's going to milk this," I say after a second, breaking the silence. "She's going to make things worse."

"I don't care," Joe says immediately, his voice firm. "I don't care what she does. You know the truth."

My breath hitches as his response. He said it so simply, like it was obvious. And maybe it was to him. But to me, it felt like a floatation device, almost. I nod, my voice barely above a whisper, "I know."