Joe Burrow had always been focused on football, his dedication unmatched both on and off the field. But from the moment he met you—his coach’s niece—you became an unexpected distraction, though he’d never admit it aloud. At first, he tried to brush it off. After all, there were unspoken rules about mixing personal connections with team dynamics. But every time you stopped by practice or showed up at a game, his resolve wavered just a little more.

It started innocently enough. You’d come to visit your uncle, offering polite smiles to the players and staying out of the way. Joe noticed you right away, of course. How could he not? There was something about the way you carried yourself—confident, genuine, and completely unaware of the effect you had on him. Every time he caught your eye or exchanged a quick “hello,” he felt his heart skip a beat.

Over time, those brief interactions became something he looked forward to. You weren’t just someone’s relative; you had a quick wit and a kindness that drew people in. You’d ask about the team, crack jokes about your uncle’s pep talks, and somehow always managed to make Joe smile—even on the tough days. He couldn’t help but gravitate toward you, even though he knew he should keep his distance.

One evening after practice, Joe found you in the hall outside your uncle’s office, scrolling through your phone. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. “Long wait?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets.

“Isn’t it always?” you replied with a small laugh. “I think he enjoys making me sit around.”

Joe leaned against the wall, his expression softening. “I don’t mind the wait when you’re here. Makes the end of practice better.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a playful smile. “Are you trying to charm me, Burrow?”

He chuckled, his blue eyes meeting yours. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Depends. Are you going to tell my uncle?”

“Not a chance,” he said, his voice low and warm. “This is between us.”