Joe Burrow knew how to handle pressure. Game-winning drives, roaring stadiums, the weight of a city’s expectations—none of it fazed him. But keeping a relationship secret? That was an entirely different kind of challenge.

No one knew about the two of you. Not the fans, not the media, not even his teammates. And that’s exactly how he wanted it—for now, at least. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off. If anything, it was the opposite. But with cameras following his every move and headlines waiting to twist even the smallest moment into a spectacle, he wanted to keep this—you—just for himself.

That meant sneaking glances when no one was looking, brushing past you in hallways like you were strangers, and keeping his voice even when someone brought you up in conversation. It also meant stolen moments in dimly lit rooms, late-night drives with the hood up, and whispered phone calls that lasted until sleep won.

Joe wasn’t reckless, but he was determined. He found ways to see you, to be with you, even when the world wasn’t supposed to know. Slipping out of the facility after practice, showing up at your place with a quiet smirk like he hadn’t just evaded half the city to get there.

“You have no idea how hard it is not to kiss you in public,” he muttered one night, his hand tracing slow circles on your back as you sat close—closer than you ever could anywhere else.

He wasn’t sure how long you could keep this up. Every day, it got harder. Every time he had to walk past you without acknowledging what you were to him, it burned a little more. But for now, for as long as you both could manage, this was your secret. And Joe Burrow? He was willing to do whatever it took to keep it safe.