CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT [publicity] stunts

"You guys are on a nickname basis now?"

"I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE you chopped your hair," Josh sighs, rolling his head dramatically against the headrest. "And that I found you and JB cuddling."

I had woken up to Josh taking a picture of Joe and I in my bed- he was practically lying on me, his arm wrapped around my waist, his face buried in my hair like he hadn't moved an inch since we'd fallen asleep. Josh wiggled his eyebrows, nodding his head toward the living room, where Marren and Ja'Marr were still asleep. "They'll be up soon, better act like you weren't just in bed with modern-day Justin Timberlake."

I grip the steering wheel, trying to resist reacting, but the heat creeping up my neck gives me away. "JB? You guys are on a nickname basis now?" I ask, turning off the highway. I can't deny that it surprised me- it never occurred to me that as Joe and I'd relationship grew, theirs did as well. It makes sense, though. Josh is my other half in one way, and Joe in the other. It only makes sense for them to become close. I find it endearing that they're managing to grow in their friendship.

"It's a thing now, catch up, Tally."

Josh and I split when we reached the building- he was going in for an interview and I was going to my office. Nothing could've prepared me for the ambushing awaiting me the second I crossed the threshold. Someone uploaded the video of us screwing around on the field Sunday and it was... viral, to say the least.

I wasn't able to sit alone for more than 10 minutes before someone else popped their head into my office, commenting on how impressive my stunt was or how I was able to walk off the fall. By the third person, I gave up my humble denial of being in 'cheerleader shape' and settled for forced smiles and polite nods. I've had at least a handful of social media users accusing me of double-timing as a Bengals cheerleader on the weekend, even though I'm literally on camera half the time. My phone was buzzing nonstop, so much so that I had to power it off for the day.

The weirdest part? It wasn't the video Marren recorded. No, this one was taken from afar, as if it were videoed from the endzone. I replayed the clip. Whoever recorded obviously didn't have the steady hands that Marren did- the camera shook but still managed to catch everything. My fall, the landing, and Joe carrying me off the field on his back. I don't recall anyone else being on the field, so at the moment, it was a mystery.

I hadn't had too much time to dwell- after work, Josh dragged me to urgent care, where the prognosis was expected and underwhelming. A twisted ankle.

The next day at work was spent secretly texting Josh about his new position as an administration assistant- working in team operations- and dodging anyone trying to ask about the video. I rushed over to a salon during my lunch break to even out my new haircut. My mind bounced around as I sat in the chair, thinking nervously about this week's game against the Dolphins. The game against Tua- who happens to be my ex, who I also haven't seen in roughly three years. Talk about awkward. I was still wrestling with the anxiety when I got back to the office.

Simons stepped in, a distracted smile on his face as he took the seat across from me. "Talullah, I'm loving the new 'do. Fits your newfound persona, don't you think?"

I pull my lips together into a flat smile. "Ah, sure, Simons. What's up?"

He glances at the clock on the wall, folding his hands together in his lap. "I just wanted to make sure you're going to be at the gala next week."

"Gala?" I ask, my mind processing the word. "This is the first I'm hearing of a gala."

"It's an annual charity thing the Bengals do. It's a big deal," he explains, pushing the frame of his wired glasses up his nose. "You're a hit right now. People are talking. I need you there. And since Burrow's the hottest thing in the NFL since Brady, you'll be going together."

He smirks, like he's already picturing the image of Joe and I walking in together, arm-in-arm. "Simons, are you-"

"Yes, I'm serious, yes, I'm telling you to be there, and yes, I'm forcing you to be Joe's date. If you think about it, I'm doing you a favor. The kid's got looks," the man shrugs, rising to his feet. "No if, and, or but. It'll be great publicity."

He spoke like it was all a part of a bigger plan. "Make sure Marren and that new guy you two are friends with shows. Kids got this spark in his eye, Talullah. He's meant for greater things; I'll tell you that," he sighs with his hands on his hips. "Okay, I'm going now."

After he left, I immediately pulled my phone out to text Joe.

Just heard from Simons. I've been told that I'll be your date to the gala. Good publicity

I don't get a response, and I don't expect one. Today is film day, so I know he has no chance to respond. I click off his contact and on Josh's. Simons said to bring you to the gala. I can't wait to see your hair slicked back again.

My door bursts open, revealing an irritated Josh. "I'm not slicking my hair back again, Talullah," he rolls his eyes, sitting in the same chair Simons did just moments ago. He slumps in his chair, running a hand through his curls. "Should I?" he looks up, his eyes wide. "Shit, I should, shouldn't I?" he squeezes his eyes shut, his face writhed up in pain. I laugh, pausing the game's highlights on my screen. "I think you should, it was so cute when you did it in high school."

"I looked like a dope," Josh argues, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I'm excited. I'm gonna have Mare come over and do her hair. And yours, of course. Do you have a dress to wear?"

I can see his excitement as he speaks. "I have some old dresses from things like this from college. You wanna pick out my outfit again?" I offer, pulling my drawer open to put away some random things on my desk. "Um, hello, you're gonna need something new. Especially if you're gonna be Joe's date," he leans in to speak quietly when he reaches the last sentence. "Oh, I am," I sigh, leaning back in my own chair. "Simons said it'll be good publicity."

Josh grins, nodding. "Yes! Ugh, your babies will be so beautiful. I say let's go shopping after work!"

I roll my eyes at his comment. "Fine. What color do you think we should wear?" I swear it feels like prom all over again. "Definitely not orange. I'm so tired of it," he admits wearily, glaring at the orange and black striped mousepad on my desk. I giggle, clicking the mouse to start the video. "Okay, I have actual work to do. Bye, JJ."

After work, Josh and I find ourselves at a dress store on one of the strips downtown. Joe had responded, saying he guessed I could be his date, and requested that we were anything but orange as well. He also asked to come over for dinner. Josh has picked out every dress I've tried on, spinning me around like a Barbie doll. We finally settled on a long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder dress. It's a deep red and velvet, perfect for the incoming fall. "I'm gonna give you retro curls and you have to do a smokey eye!" Josh gushes as we finally arrive back at the apartment.

"We'll see. What are you gonna wear?" I ask, putting the dress away in my closet. "Mhm, I'm thinking pink," he says, pulling his hands apart for dramatic effect. "Do a baby pink, nothing too bright," I suggest, slipping past him and into the kitchen to begin cooking before Joe showed up.

"That's a great idea! Are you excited?" he asks as he takes a seat at the island. I consider his question as I begin chopping an onion. "I think so," I begin. "I'm just worried about all the cameras and stuff."

"Don't be, you're gonna do fine. You're a natural," Josh smiles, checking his phone. "Hey, I'm gonna go out with some friends. Don't wait up, love you!"

He slips out the door as I continue cooking, telling Alexa to shuffle my playlist. I manage to finish our dinner by the time Joe knocks on the door with wet hair and a pink box. "What's that?"

He steps into the apartment and places the box on the counter. "Brownie bites," he answers casually, slipping his jacket off. "Sounds yum," I begin to plate our food. "It smells good, what is that?" Joe asks, opening the fridge to pull two bottles of water out. "I made chicken tacos. I'm not a big cook, so I tried something easy."

I offer him his plate once we sit down together on the couch. He thanks me and bites into his first taco, humming. "So, you ready for the game this weekend?" I ask, trying the food. A little salty, but it'll do.

He nods, swallowing his bite of taco. "So... Tua's playing this weekend," Joe mentions casually, leaning back into the couch and stretching his long legs out. I wipe my fingers on a paper towel, glaring at him. "Yeah, don't remind me. It's gonna be awkward."

His jaw tightens slightly. "You guys still talk?" I furrow my brows- "No. Not since we broke up."

"Good," he says simply, taking another bite of his food. "Good?" I repeat, quirking an eyebrow. His sudden shadow of protectiveness sends a tingle to my stomach that I can't ignore. Joe glances up at me, the taco halfway to his mouth. He answers like it's obvious, "Um, yeah, good. He's an ex for a reason, babe."

Babe.

My cheeks tingle with a pink blush at the sudden use of a pet name and the seemingly protective nature Joe's taken up- either that or how casually these things came from his mouth. "Okay, moving away from Tua, did you get my text about the gala?"

"Yeah, I was gonna ask you anyways, but," he brushes it off, popping the cap to the water bottle off. "How romantic," I tease light-heartedly, finishing my taco and balling the napkin up. Joe doesn't mind the poking. Instead, he says, "You're gonna look so good," while paying too much attention to the muted TV, that he hasn't glanced at once since he's gotten here.

His compliment makes me blush, no matter how hard I try to brush it off. I suppress a grin as I stand up, taking his empty plate. "You don't even know what I'm wearing," I state over my shoulder, putting mine in the sink. "I don't need to. What color did Josh rope us into wearing?"

I grab the pink box of deserts, taking them back to the couch with me. I curl up next to Joe, opening the box to examine what he got. I chose the red one, which turned out to be white chocolate and strawberry. "Red," I answer before biting into the sweet. Joe picks one up- it's layered with white cream and Oreo pieces. "You should've heard Simons," I laugh, covering my mouth with my hand. He bites into his own desert, his eyebrows raised, waiting for me to elaborate.

"'Since Burrow's the hottest thing in the NFL since Brady, you'll be going together'," I imitate my boss to Joe, who's fighting an amused smile. "Flattery will only get you so far," Joe shakes his head, that same dimpled smile peeking out.

"So, what happens at the gala?" I ask, putting the rest of the baked good back in the box and leaning back into the couch. He rests his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers grazing my shoulder softly. His touch is calming and a little too natural than anything I'm used to- I'm too comfortable and too excited to act naturally. I let my giggle slip out as a cough while he takes a moment to consider how much to reveal. "Well, it's mainly a lot of formalities," he begins. "Shake hands, smile, listen to some speeches from CEOs and businessmen. There's an auction- signed helmets, balls, dinner with players."

I raise my brows. "That sounds... exhausting." He gives a small shrug, still tracing his fingers across my back. "There's usually good food, an open bar, and you'll be there this year. Sounds like a decent night to me."

His casual compliment catches me off guard. I don't acknowledge it- I push it deep down before it can make my cheeks any more red.

"So there's gonna be drunk people stepping on my dress?" I wince, leaning my head against his chest. "Don't worry," he murmurs, letting his hand drop fully on my shoulder. "I'll make sure no one steps on you."