I had always figured that at some point in my career there was a possibility I would be at the NFL draft. Even as someone who did media for college football, you followed those college players up until the very moment their name gets called, and they make the transition from college to professional.

I just didn't think my first time at the draft would be sitting beside the widely assumed number one overall pick for 2024, whose knee was bobbing up and down restlessly under our table as if he didn't know that fact himself.

"Hey," I rested my hand gently on his knee, and it stopped. "I know you're nervous, but I feel compelled to remind you that there's pretty much a camera on you at all times."

"Somehow that makes me feel worse," he grumbled, propping his chin in his hand as he balanced his elbow on the deep red tablecloth draped over our table. 

The first day of the draft was the NFL's version of the Met Gala. It was a nationally televised, highly publicized event, and there was a hyper-fixation on what everyone was wearing, who they brought with them, what kind of watch they had on, what they smelled like, etc etc etc. A hyper-fixation I was far too aware of, but now almost desperate to take it in stride.

Maybe that was why I ended up wearing a gleaming silver halter gown, and a pair of sky-high rhinestone-studded Louboutin heels that Reid had gifted me. Instead of hiding from misogynistic media outlets, I was practically begging them to come and find me now - and make sure they knew I was far more stylish than they were. 

Reid, being Reid, wanted to keep his attire classy and simple, but JJ and I had strong-armed him into being a little flirty with higher fashion (and decidedly not something from the clearance section at Macy's). The end result was a deep navy suit (because all shades of blue look best on him), and instead of double-breasted buttons, there was a shining silver zipper off-center, along with a silver pocket square to tie into my dress.

We couldn't get him to wear rhinestone-studded Louboutins that matched mine, but alas, baby steps. He looked as effortlessly ethereal as he always did, and I kept my hand resting on his knee, lacing my fingers between his.

In the football world, projecting all 32 first round draft picks and what order they would be drafted in (and by extension which team they'd go to) was equal parts art and science. It was a series of calculated guesses based on player skill level as well as the needs of each team. For example, if the Jets - who owned the first overall pick - didn't need a quarterback, Reid might not be taken first overall. But they desperately did, so it wasn't that outlandish to assume the best quarterback in the draft would be drafted by the Jets.

That's my fucking boyfriend, thank you very much.

Based on those calculated guesses, a good handful of those projected first round players and their families were invited to the draft at Radio City Music Hall and had their own tables to sit at, so they could wear their stylish suits as they walked across the stage after their name was called, hug the NFL commissioner as was customary, hold the jersey of their new team up for photos, then celebrate with their family afterwards. For a lot of guys, this one night changed their life forever. 

Fans were allowed to attend and sit up in the stands, and they grouped them off by team - so all the crazed New York Jets fans in their emerald green jerseys and their face paint, anxiously waiting for the crowning of their new monarch. It was that much worse because we were in New York.

JJ didn't sit with us, but it was easy to spot him across the crowd of fellow draft picks and their families in his baby pink suit and big Prada sunglasses, his mom and his younger brother at his table beside him.

Reid's parents and Lily Lou sat with us, along with Coach Riley who'd been floating around for most of the night. Reid wasn't his only player being drafted, and he was far too much of a social butterfly to stay seated anyway.

"When does it start?" Lily Lou huffed, propping her chin in her hand much in the same way Reid had. Spring had rolled around, so Lily Lou had traded her purple heart sunglasses for a pair that looked like sunflowers (and I didn't have it in me to tell her that they were known to be worn by Art the Clown from the Terrifier movies). She wanted to match too, so she eagerly searched for a 10-year-old version of my dress and begged Reid to buy it for her. He was obviously a sucker - endearingly so.

"About 45 minutes baby." Missy reached over and smoothed Lily Lou's blonde hair back. Lily Lou huffed out a restless sigh.

"I need some air," Reid blurted out before scraping his chair back and bolting towards the side exit.

Missy and I shot each other a look across the table, and I shook my head. "I'll go."

He was my responsibility just as much as he was hers, and she knew that as she offered me a relieved smile.

"I'll go too," Lily Lou jumped up, but Charlie gently guided her back down into her chair.

"How about I get you another Shirley Temple, yeah?" Because this was the only way to negotiate with a high maintenance 10-year-old, but it seemed to placate her.

I got up and wove my way around tables filled with future pro athletes, and yet the tension in the air was more than palpable. Despite all that calculated guessing, nothing was guaranteed. There were always surprises on draft night. Of course, the worst surprise of all was who I managed to bump into on my way outside, just mere feet from the exit door.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I groaned through gritted teeth as Cade Martello held my forearms to keep me from stumbling over. I ripped myself from his grip and stood upright. "You are quite literally the last person I want to see right now."

"And here I thought you'd be happy to see me," he grinned in that sickly way he always did, like he was privy to some dirty secret. He made no effort to hide the way his eyes trailed down the front of my dress. "God damn, Donahue's a lucky guy."

I pressed my hands together in front of my mouth and took a measured breath. "I feel like I'm having deja vu when I say this: the only reason my stiletto is not in your neck is because we are surrounded by witnesses who would in fact say I assaulted you. So to avoid a felony charge, I'm going."

When I side-stepped him, he grabbed my forearm again to stop me.

"Wait...please."

"You have 90 seconds." I have no idea what compelled me to actually listen, but I sat back on my heels and waved my wrist around, motioning for him to speak. Sometimes it was hard for me to grasp just how much I'd changed in the last few months, until moments like this appeared. There was absolutely nothing good I could derive from hearing Cade fucking Martello out, and yet here I was, being the mature and responsible woman I owed it to myself to be.

"I am most likely getting drafted by New England," he began, and I snickered.

"If you're looking for pity, please remember that my boyfriend is about to get drafted by the hapless Jets," I arched an eyebrow at him and folded my arms over my chest.

That got him to crack another grin - less devious than usual - and he continued. "Well, since your boyfriend's hapless Jets happen to be in the same division as my future team, you and I both know that we are going to be seeing each other twice a year for the foreseeable future. And I just..." he heaved out a sigh. "I'm sorry for being an asshole this year. I really just want things to be cool between all of us."

"Okay," I responded without a second thought. "We're cool."

"Seriously?"

I knew he thought it had just been way too easy - and it had been - but I wasn't wasting time or emotional energy on holding grudges. Maybe it was just because I still needed to go get Reid, and maybe a little bit of it was that I believed him. This night really did change people. 

"Yeah," I nodded. "Good luck in there."

This time he allowed me to sidestep him, and I threw myself against the exit doors, into the alley behind the music hall and the warm spring air. Reid was leaning against the brick wall of the building, his mess of hair gently lifting in the breeze and the passing lights illuminated him in flashes of angelic light.

"Hey baby," I said as I approached him, and when he lifted his head up, he offered me a weary smile.

"Hey yourself."

He took my hand and pulled my body into his so we were pressed against each other, sliding his hands down to rest on my hips. Despite the perpetual cacophony of the city, in this moment it felt like we were the only two people in all of Manhattan. 

"You're not gonna believe this," I told him as I pressed my hands into his chest. "I ran into Cade fucking Martello on my way out here. He apologized for being an asshole and said he just wanted us all to be cool. It was so weird, I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone."

That got Reid to chuckle. "Really? Did you forgive him?"

"I did," I sighed out. "I'm mature now."

"Of course you are," he chuckled, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"What about you?" I asked, bringing a hand up to his cheek. "Are you okay?"

He put his hand over mine, leaning into it before shaking his head. "I'm a wreck, Jo."

"Why? What's about to happen to you is thankfully pretty predictable. I don't think there's been any indication that you won't be first overall. There's nothing to worry about."

"That's the problem," he blurted out. "Everyone expects me to be the number one draft pick, which means that when it does happen, everyone also expects me to perform like the number one draft pick. I'm just...I'm so scared of being a bust."

"You're not going to be a bust," I gently reassured him. "You're gonna be great. More than great. But you've also got to give yourself a little grace for now. You can't be worried about what's going to happen in six months. Just focus on tonight."

"I know, I know." He raked a shaky hand through his hair. "Well, concerning just tonight, I've also had this recurring nightmare that I trip on stage and completely rip my pants all the way down the seams, ass totally out on national television." 

I giggled and gave his waist a gentle squeeze. "Well, I could run to the bar across the street real quick and get you a tequila shot or two to steady you a little."

He shook his head with a chuckle. "In theory that sounds like a good idea, but I'm worried it might make me even less coordinated, so maybe save the tequila for afterwards."

"Duly noted," I nodded. "What can I do to help you relax?"

"Well..." He averted his gaze, and it wasn't hard to catch the redness pooling in his cheeks.

"You know, I was in the bathroom earlier..." I smirked as I reached up and gently ran my fingers down the lapel of his suit jacket. "It's one of those really nice ones that has those big wooden doors on the stalls. The kind that go floor to ceiling so...you can't see how many pairs of legs are in them."

He'd picked up on my implications, and the redness in his cheeks deepened. "I didn't...I didn't mean..."

"Just an idea," I shrugged. "I just want you to relax a little."

"Well now that you've said it..." he hissed out a breath, running his hand down the side of his face. "That might...that could work."

Hand in hand, we slunk back inside as inconspicuously as possible and hugged the far wall of the ballroom until we made it to the double doors leading into the lobby. There was enough commotion between media personnel, players, and family members for us to slip through the crowd and down the side hallway where the bathrooms were.

I slipped into the women's room first to make sure there was nobody in there, and then quickly pulled him in. We fumbled to the furthest stall, and the moment he locked the door behind us, we were on each other.

Normally, I would savor kissing him. No matter how raunchy we got or how much we experimented lately, kissing him was always my favorite thing to do. The feeling of his lips on mine and the taste of his tongue was something I'd never get tired of. But we were pressed for time tonight.

"We have 20 minutes, big guy," I reminded him in a breathy whisper between kisses.

"Good thing you know how to make me real hard real quick," he chuckled, grasping for my hips so he could pull me close, pressing his erection into me. I'd probably never get tired of that either.

I unzipped his suit jacket and hurriedly untucked his shirt and unfastened his pants, letting them drop to the floor with a clatter.

"What are you doing?" he asked as I began hiking my dress up.

"We don't have time for sex," I pointedly informed him.

He let out a low chuckle. "I think you are severely underestimating how horny I am."

I held up my hand. "Just...let me."

He gulped and nodded. "Okay."

He then slipped his jacket off and laid it down on the floor so I could kneel on it, knowing there was potential for it to get wrinkled.

Despite how much time we'd spend in each others' beds, I'd only outright blown him one other time, mostly because the size dynamics were a bit of a challenge. But it was his night, and I was determined to make it work.

I pulled his boxers down and took his rock hard cock in my hand first, gently stroking it up and down to the base of it while I cupped his balls with my other hand. 

"Baby..." he moaned out. "Go easy on me, or I'm gonna come before you can even put your mouth on it."

"Shush," I whispered harshly. "Anyone can walk in at any second, and even though they can't see us, they can hear us."

Reid nodded again before bracing himself against the walls of the stall and squeezing his eyes shut. I inched myself forward to slide my tongue down his length, and I felt his whole body vibrate as he swallowed back a moan.

I licked him slowly at first, feeling my breasts swell under my dress and my stomach clench. I didn't realize I'd enjoy the feeling of giving it to him as much as he did receiving it, and there was no stopping the wetness that started to pool between my thighs. I gave his thighs a squeeze before moving my tongue down to his balls, lapping at them gently as they twitched in anticipation.

"Fucking fuck," he hissed out before slamming his fist against the side of the stall.

I snapped my head up from between his legs and gave him a seething glare. "Are you nuts?"

"Are you?" he groaned. "Unless you want my cum all over your pretty dress, because if you keep doing that I am two seconds away from exploding."

"Okay, okay."

"Save that for later," he mumbled with a smirk. 

I sucked in a deep breath before taking him in my mouth as much as I could, letting my hand work the rest of his length. 

"Atta girl," he whispered, and I felt him rest his hand on the back of my head, taking care not to ruffle it too much. He eased me forward gently, and I did my best to loosen my jaw as I sucked and licked him, huge and swollen and eager for me to continue.

"I'm so close," he breathed out. "You gonna swallow for me?"

I nodded, easing my eyes closed as I stroked and sucked him with more fervor, feeling precum start to trickle onto my tongue. He tightened his grip around my hair, and that was the only indicator I needed to amp up the aggression, sucking his cock as if I wanted to suck his very soul out.

"Yes baby," he moaned softly. "Keep going. Keep going. I'm gonna...god fucking damn it..." His whole body shuddered with another moan as he emptied himself into my mouth, and I gulped him down eagerly before finally removing him from my mouth.    

"Fuck," he groaned, rolling his head back.

"Yeah, fuck," I echoed breathlessly. I swiped the back of my hand across my lips, taking saliva and lip gloss and cum with it. 

He helped me to my feet as I grabbed his jacket, and he shook it out before slipping it back on. After we'd helped each other get dressed and adjust what we needed to, I leaned myself into his warm body.

"How do I look?" I sighed out.

"Fucking beautiful," he responded as he smoothed my hair back. "No one would know you just blew me into oblivion."

I smirked and smacked him on the chest. "How are you?"

He smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Never better."

I glanced down at my watch, and my eyes went wide. "Shit, we gotta go."

We tried to sneak back into the ballroom as inconspicuously as we left, making it back to our table with mere minutes to spare.

"Where were you guys?" Lily Lou huffed dramatically.

"Doing tequila shots," Reid responded without missing a beat, then turned to me and gave me a quick wink.

"Oh lordy." Missy put a finger to her temple. "Are you drunk, Reid Allen?"

"No ma'am," Reid furiously shook his head, and I had to stop myself from giggling. I sure as hell felt all giddy drunk, but that was probably just the lingering taste of him in my mouth. "I'm fine. Promise."

I quickly swiped a new coat of lip gloss on just as the entire room darkened, and suddenly all the idle conversation dimmed to complete silence. The NFL Commissioner walked across the stage to the podium, and the jumbo screen behind him illuminated with the Jets logo.

"With the first pick in the 2024 NFL draft, the New York Jets select Reid Donahue, quarterback, Clemson University."

It didn't matter if we'd known it was coming all along, we all still jumped up and cheered all the same. Reid swooped me into a deep, passionate kiss, and if he hadn't been holding me up, my knees would have buckled. What would once be something we actively avoided in front of the cameras became something we wanted to make sure everyone saw. That's love, baby.

"I love you," he breathed out.

"I love you more," I told him with a gleaming smile. "Now go be great."

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DID YOU MISS THESE TWO GORGEOUS HUMANS??? this made me so happyyyy!! reid truly deserves it all, and jo feeling secure in their relationship is everything to me <3

also since this was a bonus chapter i just went full send with the smut, i hope it was goooood (bc i'm still a baby *cries*)

respectfully, fuck the jets, but it made the most sense for several reasons, including one of the reasons i wanted to get this particular bonus chap out sooner rather than later, since our new new york jets quarterback may be making an appearance soon in our other new york based story... *side eyes*