CHAPTER FIFTEEN purple shirt panic

"If you have something to say, keep it off the clock."

WHATEVER ALARM that wakes me up isn't one that I'm used to. It rings out for a while before I actually come to, laying on something solid and warm. I push myself up, wiping my eyes groggily. I let out a small groan, bringing my arms above my head to stretch. When I take a moment to look around, I realize I'm in deep shit.

The sight of Joe's living room is what greets me, rather than my own bedroom. I glance to him, my hand hovering to shake him awake, but his slightly mussed hair and his face relaxed in such a way I've never seen before makes me hesitate. It's an oddly grounding sight, even though I'm internally panicking.

"Oh shit." The thought of everything I lacked for my morning routine- hell, even my entire day, made me slightly freak out. No work clothes, toothbrush, deodorant. The alarm continued to buzz, adding a hint of irritation to the mix. I reach over the sleeping body to silence it, but his own hand beats me to it. He smacks the screen lazily, grunting as he turned over to bury his face in the couch cushion.

"Relax," he muttered, his voice muffled. "Relax?" I parrot, running a hand through my knotted hair. "I have to go to work and look at me!" He lifts his head to peak at me, before closing his eyes and dropped his head back into the cushion. "You look fine to me."

"Joe, I'm serious," I groan, pushing his long legs off my lap. "I have to be at work in thirty minutes and I don't even have a toothbrush!"

He hums as he sits up, running a hand over his face. "Seriously, Tally, chill. I have mouthwash, I have a brush, you can raid my closet and use my deodorant."

Joe finally gets up, making sure to take his time stretching. He nods to the hallway, gesturing for me to follow him. We go into his room, where he opens his closet. "Have at it. I'll set the bathroom up for you."

I rifle through his closet, passing up extremely large hoodies and t-shirts. I groan as I grab the smallest shirt he owned- to my dismay, a purple LSU t-shirt, from what I'm assuming was his college days- wasting no time to rip off my own and tug this one on.

I run out of his room and find my way to the bathroom. Joe stood in front of the sink, his toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He waved to the different things on the counter that he laid out for me- a brush, mouthwash, and a brand-new stick of deodorant. He takes it out to mumble a "All for you, your highness." I roll my eyes at his comment. "Ugh, thank goodness," I sigh, picking up the brush and running it through my unruly hair. We finish in silence, and I rush to put my shoes on so we can leave.

I tug at the purple shirt as Joe begins to back out. "Great," I mutter, a little pissed. Joe grins as he pulls out of his driveway, a shit-eating smirk. "You're not still mad about that, are you?"

"Mad? No, I'm not mad. I'm furious. This is a damn cardinal sin," I huff, plugging the charger into my phone. "I don't know," Joe's voice trails off, and I already know he's going to add fuel to the fire. "I think you look good in purple."

My face reddens at his compliment. "I prefer crimson."

The annoyance of the shirt bleeds into the anxiety of not only being late but arriving with Joe. Just what I need- to feed the rumors.

I pick at the skin on my thumb, my stomach churning. He finally pulls into the parking lot, and I'm scrambling to get out of the car. "You're good, Tally," Joe says, offering a smile that only makes me more anxious. "Maybe I should go in alone," I hesitate, turning to the man in the seat next to me. He rolls his eyes, slipping out of the open door. "Get your ass inside, Miss I'm-Going-To-Be-Late."

I swallow my nerves, jogging to catch up with him as we enter the complex. "Everyone's gonna notice us." Joe doesn't bother to look down at me as he reaches for the door. "No one's gonna care, Tally." I huff as I enter behind him, ducking under his arm as he holds the door open. "Yes, they will. You're Joe Burrow."

He says nothing as we enter the lobby and I grumble at the shirt, still not over it. "You're lucky I even let you borrow it," Joe chimes, giving me a small shoulder bump. "Lucky?" I ask in disbelief, bumping him back with my hip. He turns to me, his expression turning serious. "Hey, just wait for me when you get off. I'll bring you home," he says, gripping the strap of his bag. "'k," I nod, giving him a nervous smile as I turn into my hallway, parting ways for the day.

I try to mask the anxiety that clings to me like smoke as I enter the office, giving everyone awkward smiles as I rush to my own. I try to convince myself that the purple shirt isn't screaming 'college nostalgia except I never went to this college', and that it means nothing to anyone, minus myself.

We're continuing the press interviews today, so I'll get the pleasure of spending my workday with Marren again. I cross my arms over my chest as I head to the studio, trying to hide the large Louisiana logo plastered across the front of the shirt. When I step into the room, Marren is already adjusting the tripod. "Hi, Marren," I call, setting down my clipboard.

"Hi, angel cakes," She responds, glancing up at me. "Woah, the shirt?"

I run a hand through my hair. "Not the time." She nods, pulling her lips into a frown. "Gotcha. But later though, right?" I take a seat, pulling my papers out to reorganize them. "Sure."

"Hey Lua," someone calls, and I glance over my shoulder to see Tee standing in the hallway. "Nice shirt, I didn't realize you were a Tigers fan." He held a shit-eating grin, and I know he's trying to get a rouse out of me. "Yeah," I call, turning back to Marren to help her with the equipment. "Had a change of heart, I guess."

"Oh, I bet you did, little lady. I'm diggin' the purple," he says, and I can hear the smirk through his words. "Zip it," I say pointedly, tapping the microphones against my hand. "Girl, just talk into it," Marren laughs, adjusting the cameras focus. "Hello? Helloooooo," I hum into the microphone. "Yeah, it's ready," she confirms, rising to her feet and pulling up a chair. "Tee, you're up first."

He saunters in front of the camera, leaning back in the chair. He poses, giving the camera a model-esque expression. "Posting for GQ?" Marren asks, popping a sucker into her mouth. "Where did you get that? I want one," I lean over to whisper. She digs in her pocket before producing a second sucker- a strawberry, gum filled lollipop. I unwrap it and place it in my mouth, as Tee yells, "Hey, I want one!"

The interview went smoothly, but that didn't stop the peanut gallery behind us from chiming in between takes. "Yo, Tee, is that your camera face?" Ja'Marr calls, the others snickering. "Don't hate because I'm photogenic," Tee replies, trying to stifle a laugh. It felt like a chore to finish up his interview- the guys wouldn't shut up and refused to leave after their own interviews. The studio buzzed with energy, the day dragging by as player after player rotated through their own interviews.

When Ja'Marr takes his turn, Tee and DJ immediately burst into laughter. "Ja'Marr, I gotta give you props, Talullah's looking nice in your college merch." I roll my eyes, taking the sucker from my mouth. "Okay, guys, can we quiet down for a second?"

Their chuckles turn into quiet giggles. "Ja'Marr, what are you most focused on going into the upcoming game?"

He crosses his arms over his chest, meeting my eyes as he answers. "Well, we're pretty focused on executing clean plays. Staying consistent, making sure we take-"

"Chase, you gonna propose when we go to the Super Bowl?"

I drop my head, annoyance starting to eat away at my professional demeanor. I look over to Marren, whose face was stuck in her phone. The laughter echos into the ceiling and my face is burning with embarrassment. Since when do these men not respect me? "Ja'Marr, just start over."

I finish his interview and manage to get Joe in front of the camera. "Hey," he whispers as I set up the microphone, since Marren can't seem to get off her phone. "Hi," I whisper back, getting frustrated when it falls out of the stand. I pick it up, trying to get it to snap into place. "Sorry they're giving you a hard time," he sighs, watching me fumble with this stupid microphone. It falls again, and I snap. "Marren, get the hell off your phone and come help."

She jerks her head up, her eyes wide. "Huh?"

I drop the microphone, throwing my hands in the air. "I need a damn cigarette."

I storm out of the studio, trying to keep my composure. It's like I'm the only damn one doing my job around here. All those grown men and they can't even let me get through one interview, and Marren, who I expected to have my back, won't get off her phone. I fan myself, trying to cool down before I enter the room again.

I ignore everyone's giggles as I walk back to my spot, smoothing my shirt anxiously. "Joe, let's be real for a sec- what's the deal with the shirt?"

I wait for Marren to adjust the tripod and the camera. "What about it?" Joe asks, raising an eyebrow, unamused. "Well, we were just wondering if it's for you or Ja'Marr, over here," DJ asks, jabbing a thumb towards Ja'Marr, who scrolled on his phone. They burst into laughter, shoving each other roughly. Joe rolls his eyes, brushing it off. It's obvious he's used to these kinds of pokes, but I'm not.

Marren gives me a nod, signaling that it's set and ready. I clear my throat, leaning into my own microphone. "Joe, it's nice to have you with us today. With this upcoming game against the Browns being so crucial, how do you manage to maintain a cool head on the field?"

He shifts in his seat as he answers, "It's really about staying in the moment. I try to focus..." His voice, along with his eyes, trail off behind me, and I turn around to see what caught his attention.

The other guys stand behind me, wrapping their arms around themselves and making kissy faces. I swallow thickly, turning back to Joe. I don't know if I can continue if they're going to keep acting like this. My face is hot, and my heart is thumping against my rib cage.

"U-Um, Joe, if you could continue," I manage, tugging at the collar of my shirt. He shakes his head, as if to focus back on the interview. "Yeah. I try to focus on the right reads, cause sometimes it gets a little hectic on the field. You just gotta trust- Okay, really?"

I turn back around, and this time, they're thrusting into the air and making dramatic expressions. My anger has no where's else to go, so it boils up into tears that prick the corner of my eyes. I turn back around so they can't see as they fall over my waterline and down my cheeks. I press my hands around my face to hide my frustration, but Joe can see right through me.

"Enough," he snaps, his voice cutting through the chaos. The room falls silent under his demand, his sharpness leaving zero room for argument. "We're just joking around, c'mon," DJ defends, trying to laugh it off. But Joe seems too fed up- "If you have something to say, keep it off the clock. We're here to work. You're done."

The playfulness snuffed out like a candle, the small group retreating back to the corner. He looks back at me, his expression softening. I can tell by his squared shoulders that he's still frustrated. The rest of the interviews pass by in a blur. The lingering tension is impossible to shake off. As soon as we're done, I can't leave the room fast enough.