We returned from Charlotte that Sunday afternoon, and I went straight to the media office at the football complex, my bags still in my car and powdered sugar still dusting my leggings from our Dunkin Donuts pit stop.

There was a 24-48 window to turn over content following the close of an event like ACC Kickoff. Games were shorter - six hours or ideally less. I wasn't a procrastinator - I liked getting things done early, mostly because it would haunt every waking thought of mine until it was finished.

Mara had come in briefly to dump all of the photos she'd taken onto our shared harddrive so I could start making the preseason watchlist graphics to post on Instagram. Clemson's preseason ranking within the conference was #2 just behind Florida State (because of course), but the official top 25 college football rankings wouldn't come out until late August, when preseason was almost over.

Every week following that, a bunch of old guys in a room who thought they knew more than us mere mortals would determine the ranking of every college football team based on their performance that weekend using a conveniently vague set of criteria. It wasn't like the NFL where simply winning or losing determined a team's fate. In college football, the manner in which a team won or lost was equally, if not more, important - among several other factors. It was a level of scrutiny and pressure that most normal 18-22 year olds shouldn't be equipped to handle, and yet they did.

I took another sip of my second cold brew of the day as I organized all of the clips from media day in sequential order. To be able to condense five hours of footage into a one minute thirty second video for social media was an understated skill - one I'd taught myself and refined over the last few years.

At some point I'd lost track of time as I started compiling all the preseason awards and watchlist graphics, and I had a bad habit of blasting my music when I really got in the zone. I was faintly singing along to my women in grunge playlist when someone slammed their hand on the table beside my laptop, sending my heart so far up my throat I thought I was going to spit it out.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I exclaimed as I ripped my headphones off.

Reid smirked down at me. "Nope, just me. Guess we're even now on the whole startling each other with headphones on thing."

I scrunched my nose up at him, even though he smelled clean and freshly showered. "I seem to recall you saying to me when someone has their headphones on, it generally means they don't want to be bothered. Besides, have you ever heard of knocking?" I gestured to the now open door of the media office.

"I did, like three times," he chuckled. "Interesting song you were listening to."

I scoffed and sat back in my chair. "It's Liz Phair. You wouldn't understand."

"Right." He gave me a quick nod, and it was almost unnerving having him standing over me while I was sat. His head was so far away it might as well have been up in another stratosphere, "Anyway, uh....I was gonna go get dinner if you wanted to come. We're the only two psychos still in the building and they might lock us in here."

Even from all the way up there, the blush painting his cheeks was too endearing not to notice.

"Sure." I stood up from my chair a little too eagerly, sending it wheeling back right at Reid's hand, who'd stuck it out to stop it. "It can't hurt to maybe start working on your first article since it's due in a few weeks. We could brainstorm a little."

Reid shrugged as he slid his hands into the pockets of his shorts. "As long as I'm fed. I know a place we can go. It's kind of a drive, if you're okay with that."

"Fine by me." I tried to taper down the eagerness as I gathered up all my gear into my bag before following Reid out of the football complex and into the parking lot.

"I'll drive," he called over his shoulder to me, and I had to almost jog to keep up with his strides. It wasn't all that late, but dark clouds blanketed the sky as a prelude to oncoming rain.

When we arrived at a massive orange Ford Raptor parked at the edge of the lot, I couldn't hold back a dry chuckle. "Why am I not at all surprised this is yours?"

I'd seen it in the parking lot before and up until now hadn't given a second thought to who it belonged to - it could have been anyone's. Reid just smirked as he unlocked the truck and got in, and I followed suit on the passenger side, having to step on the running board and hoist myself up by the handle at the top of the door. Reid felt a mile away in the driver's seat as he turned the air conditioned seats on from the bright display screen at the dashboard.

"Seriously," I huffed out as I finally settled into the plush leather passenger seat. "Who on Earth needs a vehicle this big?"

"My ego," Reid remarked casually as the engine roared to life.

After a moment or two of completely perplexed silence, my mouth slightly agape, the corners of Reid's lips lifted into an amused smirk. It took a concerted effort from me to reach over the massive center console to whack him on the forearm.

"You know, you're almost funny," I teased him.

"I'm almost flattered," he retorted coyly.

We'd pulled out of the parking lot, and I took the moment to glance around the inside of the truck, still in awe of how massive the space was. Everything was a crisp black leather, free of tears and stains and other bruises you'd expect the vehicle of male college athlete to have. When I looked down, even the floor was almost spotless, and everything smelled like the beach.

"It's clean," I said as I twisted my body to look into the spacious back seat, where save for Reid's Clemson-branded backpack and gym bag, it was also empty.

He scoffed. "You sound surprised."

I twisted myself back forward. "Okay, well...no offense, but you can't deny that college guys in general have a history of being messy."

Reid snickered. "My mom used to make me make my bed every morning before school, and 12 years later it's somehow turned me into kind of a neat freak. There's some history for ya."

"That's...really nice, actually."

He grinned, and it pulled one out of me too. Warmth rolled through me in waves, but I still had enough good sense to rip my gaze away from him before I was completely pulled under. I turned to look out the window, where farm fields whizzed by us in a blur of greens and yellows.

Music faintly fluttered through the speakers as we maneuvered through the empty streets of Clemson until we'd left campus entirely, the small town's backroads dimly lit. I glanced over at the display screen, and when I saw You're an Ocean by Fastball, I reached over and turned the volume up, which prompted a faint smile from Reid. 

"It was a gift, by the way," he said, gesturing to the general inside of the truck. "From the local Ford dealership so they could put my face on a billboard for a few months."

I propped my elbow up on the center console and rested my chin in my hand, focusing my gaze now on the empty, farm field lined road ahead. "Crazy how three years ago you would have been kicked off the team for something like that."

"Gotta love NIL. I'd be in so much debt to South Carolina Medical if I wasn't able to make all the sponsorship money and stuff."

I sat up. "Wait, really?"

Reid drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Yeah, how do you think I paid for my 10 surgeries and 10 weeks of hospital stay? That shit ain't free."

I finally allowed myself another glance his way, his expression as stoic as I was used to seeing from him. I found myself uncharacteristically speechless, and I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the offhanded way he said something so serious, or maybe it was the way I'd been drinking in every angle of his face, every freckle, and every out of place lock of hair, like this was the first time I was truly seeing him.

"I'm sorry," I finally sighed out. "That that happened."

Reid pinched his lips together, still tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "Nah, don't worry about it. Over and done with now."

But it was too late - I did worry, and in more ways than one. Despite all the progress we'd made over the last few weeks, just two sentences had me seconding guessing how much he really trusted me. Thankfully the song switched over, distracting us both.

"Wait, you listen to Creed?" I teased. That got him to loosen back up a bit.

"Now hold on a minute," Reid put his hand up in defense. "Believe it or not, Higher by Creed is a locker room staple, okay? Couldn't tell you how or why, but it is."

"Whatever you say." I held up my hands, still smirking.

Reid huffed out a breath and handed me the USB cord sticking out from under the display screen. "Fine then. Play me the song you were listening to before."

"Uh no," I chuckled and shook my head. "I don't think you'd like it."

"Try me." A ghost of a grin played on Reid's lips

I grabbed the USB cord and shuffled through my Spotify before hitting play on Supernova by Liz Phair.

I have looked all over the place
But you have got my favorite face
Your eyelashes sparkle like gilded grass
And your lips are sweet and slippery
Like a cherub's bare wet ass

'Cause you're a human supernova
A solar superman
You're an angel with wings of fire
A flying, giant friction blast

Reid snickered at some of the more suggestive lyrics, and I felt the need to defend my music taste.

"I told you you wouldn't like it," I insisted. "90s grunge was just a different time."

"Nah, I like it." He shook his head. "And for the record, I listen to a lot of the Offspring, so I do kinda get it."

This time, the grin he wore was no longer a ghost but more of a living, breathing thing. It was contagious. Then again, so was a virus.  

"I guess you're pretty fly for a white guy," I joked, hoping he picked up on my Offspring reference.

His laughter was enough of an answer. "Well, now we gotta listen to that."

"I'm on it." I scrolled through my Spotify likes again until I found Pretty Fly by the Offspring and after switching the song over, I turned my gaze back out the window, hiding a satisfied smirk behind my palm.

It took us about 40 minutes to make it to the Georgia border, and we got off the freeway just as the rain really started coming down, pulling almost immediately into a diner parking lot. Its neon purple and blue lights reflected in the fresh puddles on the pavement, and other than the building, there was nothing in the damp dreariness of the early night. We were one of three other cars in the lot.

"Wait." Reid twisted his body and reached into the backseat with ease, slipping a dark gray sweatshirt out of his open gym bag. "Before you ask, it's clean."

"Oh, thanks." I held it out in front of me, surprised to see the letters FEA stitched in big blocky letters instead of anything Clemson related. "What's FEA?"

Reid pulled his hood over his hat, and as he reached to open the car door, casually responded, "Fuck 'em all."

I smirked to myself as I pulled the hoodie on and followed Reid inside, keeping my head down to sidestep puddles in my sneakers. It was warm and dimly lit once we made it inside, and minimal idle chatter floated over smooth jazz music. Reid slid his hood off and removed his hat, raking a hand through his hair and flicking away any wayward raindrops.

"Oh, it's you," the tall brunette behind the counter said to Reid. I shot Reid a puzzled look, but he just smirked back at her.

"Sit wherever." She pointed her pen towards the dozen or so empty booths. "This ain't Applebees."

"Do you know her?" I whispered as I followed Reid towards the back of the diner, sliding the hood of his sweatshirt off of my head.

"You could say that," Reid chuckled. "Anna's my cousin. She goes to Georgia, so you know she's always salty with me. My aunt's around here somewhere, too. They run the place."

And suddenly the hike out here across state lines made sense. If I was Reid, I'd want to go somewhere where I knew I'd not only be comfortable, but maybe I'd be left alone, too.

Reid and I went to the back corner of the diner and dropped into a booth, complete with shiny red leather cushions and a miniature jukebox on the edge of the table, pressed up against the wall underneath the window. Raindrops raced down the glass, catching bits of blue and purple light from outside.

Reid reached over for the glass salt shaker and began spilling it out onto the table. I watched with equal parts fascination and confusion as he dug the edge of the salt shaker into the salt he'd just spilled, and when he let go, it balanced on its own.

"How'd you do that?" I asked, leaning forward to examine it.

"Magic," Reid shrugged.

I scoffed. "Science."

"Well, don't ruin it." He scowled and knocked the salt shaker over.

"Making a mess already?" A middle-aged woman appeared beside our table and gave Reid a pointed look, though just the faintest glint of amusement twinkled behind her glasses. I could only assume she was Reid's aunt.

Reid wiped his hands on his shorts. "Just checking to see if I could still do the salt shaker trick."

"I'm going to scold my little brother for teaching you that the next time I see him. Spilling salt is bad luck, you know." She sighed and plucked a pen out from behind her ear, setting loose a few strands of salt and pepper hair from her updo. "Your usual, I assume?"

Reid heaved out a sigh. "Please. Extra everything."

Without looking up from her notepad, she tipped her pen in my direction. "Not going to introduce your friend?"

I heard the booth creaking as Reid shifted in his seat. "Jo runs the football's media team."

"Nice to meet you," I extended my hand to her, and after a fleeting moment of surprise, she shook it with a smile.

"I'm Eva, and unfortunately for Reid, we're related." Eva smirked at him before addressing me again. "What are you having, hon?"

I glanced across the table at Reid. "Well wait, what's your usual?"

"Double bacon cheeseburger, extra barbecue sauce, curly fries, chocolate milkshake."

"Okay, curly fries sounds legit," I admitted with a coy smirk. "And I'll take a grilled cheese, please. But with butter, not mayonnaise."

"Uh hello?" Reid cut in. "And a milkshake? We didn't come all the way out here for toast and cheese."

"Fine," I shot him a deadpanned look. "Strawberry, please."

The moment Eva left, I leaned across the table and hissed through my teeth, "Did you not tell your family you're doing the ESPN piece?"

Reid tugged at the sleeve of his sweatshirt and dropped his gaze. "Not really, no."

I sat back in the booth and let out an exacerbated sigh. "Why not?"

"I don't know, okay?" Reid groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I guess because once I tell them, it just makes it that much more real. No backing out. That's a point of no return."

I let out another sigh and folded my arms across my chest. "Well, I hate to break this to you, but you've already signed a contract. You're already past a point of no return, and backing out would kind of suck for everyone involved."

"This is different," he shot back quickly. "You know, my mom didn't even want me playing again, but..."

"But...?" I arched an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on.

"It's nothing." He shook his head. "Forget it."

"Reid, I want you to understand something." I sat up straight and folded my hands on top of the table. "This project is collaborative - meaning you and I need to work together if we want this to be even half as good as I think it could be."

"Just good? Not great?" Reid faintly smirked. "I don't really settle for good, ya know."

"You know what? You're right. I don't settle for good either." I mirrored his smirk. "It could be monumental if we really wanted it to be. That being said, if there's something we talk about that you don't want me to include, you just need to tell me, and it's off the record. We need to trust each other, too."

"I know, I know." Reid sighed, but before he could say anything else, Eva placed our food and our milkshakes down in front of us. She gave Reid an affectionate, almost sympathetic squeeze of his shoulder before walking away.

"Alright, then before we start all this, you're gonna do something for me." Reid slid his chocolate milkshake towards me after taking a sip. "Fry. Milkshake. Only works with the chocolate one."

"Ew, no," I scoffed.

He arched an eyebrow at me. "What happened to we have to trust each other? You trust me, don't you?"

I narrowed my eyes at him before taking a small fry, swirling it around quickly in the shake, and popping it in my mouth before it could drip on his sweatshirt that I was still wearing.

"So...?"

It was great, and it shouldn't have surprised me.

"Hold on, I think I need to try again. I don't think I got enough shake to properly assess the taste," I said with a grin as I dunked another fry in the shake.

"Sure, sure."

There was a subtle triumph in his smirk - the way you expect someone who's spent his whole life winning to look.

I slid his milkshake back over to him. "Even though I know it's your default setting, don't get cocky with me."

"Well like you said, it's my default setting." Reid smirked before taking a bite of his burger. A smear of barbeque sauce collected in the corner of his mouth. It was way more endearing than it had any right to be.

"You've got, uh..." I pointed in the general area of his mouth.

"Oh, shit," he grumbled as he wiped it away with a napkin. "Anyway, before you start grilling me, I wanna ask you a question,"

I scoffed. "Is this necessary?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "Remember, trust and all that bullshit."

"Fine," I sighed. "Ask away."

"Why don't you like mayo? You specifically asked for butter instead of mayo on your grilled cheese despite the fact that mayo makes it 100 times better for a shit ton of reasons."

While it wasn't anywhere near what I thought he was going to ask me, I responded with almost comical incredulousness. "Okay woah, have you ever tasted mayo? It tastes like sour wallpaper paste. And don't even get me started on the texture."

"Now hold up," Reid held his hand up, and he seemed to be enjoying himself as he cracked a grin. "Why do you know what wallpaper paste tastes like?"

"Who's being interviewed here, me or you?" I pointed at him with a fry. "I think that's enough about me."

"Alright, fine," he held up his hands in surrender. "Your turn. Grill away."

"I'm not really going to grill you," I told him. "I don't want it to be like that."

Reid inched forward in his seat, almost as if he was nervous about what was coming next. "Then how's it gonna be?"

"Well, so many ESPN pieces are just stats and numbers and very impersonal. I don't like that. It's not my style. Even though I'm more of a visual story-teller, I think the same concept applies to this." I paused and twirled the straw in my own milkshake. "I guess I just want to paint a picture of you as a real person, you know? Not just a stat sheet readoff. Those things are important, but so are plenty of other things. Like the french fry milkshake thing and your weird salt shaker trick." 

Reid took a moment to soak in my mini-monologue, watching a drop of condensation slide down his milkshake glass. "That's...kinda nice, actually."

I let out a faint chuckle. "Trust and all that bullshit, remember?"

He smiled at me, beaming and bright like he did on 4th of July, and I realized Reid might have been that kind of human supernova Liz Phair sang about.

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this is the only manip you get from me bc content is limited and so are my skills.

clarifying the NIL stuff because i know it can get confusing and i've mentioned it a few times already - NIL stands for "name, image, and likeness" and was a rule recently enacted by the NCAA that allows a college athlete (of any sport) to be paid for, you guessed it, their name, image, and likeness. that means they can be compensated for a multitude of things in either money or gifts - such as appearing in commercials and ads, partnerships with brands such as nike and under armour, social media sponsorships, etc. the university itself does not pay the athletes, so athletes are sought after on a skill/popularity basis. prior to this change taking place only a couple of years ago, college athletes could not accept any type payment or compensation for anything, and the penalties were sometimes quite severe if they got caught (see: reggie bush getting his heisman taken away, justice for reggie pls).

anyway, it's not a story of mine without love interests bonding over music!!! i've posted playlists of both jo and reid's personal tastes back in the visuals+mixtapes chapters if you're interested. thanks as always for reading <3