jburrgf - Tumblr blog

jburrgf · 11 days ago

Text

SHE CHOSE ME , JOE BURROW.

“the most beautiful girl that i’d ever seen and she chose me.”

◦pairing: !bengals¡joe x !nurse¡reader

◦summary: friends to lovers, childhood friendship, first love, athlete x nurse.

◦description: after joe and y/n met at the hospital ER, the “first date” day has arrived.

◦n/a: 1. this is kind of a part two from Easily! 2. you can access joe x nurse at the # ▮ !bengals¡joe burrow x !nurse¡ reader ▮

I clipped the second earring into place, then leaned back slightly to look at myself in the mirror.

It was one of those little gold hoops I barely wore anymore—simple, elegant, and just understated enough to not look like I was trying too hard. Which was ironic, because I’d already changed my outfit three times and curled my hair twice, only to settle on letting it fall in loose waves the way it always did when I didn’t overthink it.

The soft hum of music played from the speaker in the corner of my bedroom, something low and slow that made the room feel like a movie scene. Outside, the sun was setting, streaking the sky with deep purples and oranges, casting the first shadows of evening across the walls. And inside, I was still trying to calm the fluttering in my chest.

A date. With Joe Burrow.

After all these years, after the hospital, the kiss, the way he’d looked at me when he said he didn’t want to let me slip away again—here I was, standing in front of my mirror, feeling like I was sixteen again and he’d just smiled at me across the school cafeteria.

But this wasn’t high school. This was real. Grown-up. And somehow even more terrifying.

I smoothed my hands down the front of my dress—navy blue, soft and silky, the kind that moved when I walked—and forced myself to take a breath. My heart was racing like I was about to walk into a job interview or jump out of a plane.

He was picking me up at seven. I glanced at my phone: 6:42. Great.

My stomach flipped again as I reached for my perfume, giving myself a quick spritz behind the ears, then grabbed my purse and took one last look in the mirror. I looked… fine. Maybe more than fine, actually. The butterflies in my stomach refused to settle, but I reminded myself that this wasn’t just any guy. This was Joe. The kid who used to steal my fries and challenge me to see who could hold their breath longer underwater. The boy who turned into a man overnight, who stood in front of me in a hospital gown and kissed me like we were starting something important.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts.

I froze.

He was here.

I stepped out of my bedroom and crossed the small hallway, heart in my throat. When I opened the door, there he was.

God help me.

He looked good.

Not just “famous football player” good—but good in a way that felt completely unfair to the rest of the male population. He wore a fitted charcoal sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a watch glinting on his wrist, and dark jeans that made him look annoyingly perfect. His hair was still a little tousled, like he’d run his hands through it a few times before picking me up.

And then he smiled.

His eyes swept over me. “Wow.”

I laughed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “Hey.”

“You look… beautiful,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck like he couldn’t believe he’d said it out loud.

“And you look better than the last time I saw you,” I teased, motioning to his healed-up face.

He grinned. “Yeah, hospital gowns don’t exactly scream charm.”

“Come in for a second?” I asked, stepping back to let him into the entryway.

Joe nodded, and as he walked past me, I caught that faint scent of him—clean, warm, a little bit like cedarwood and something else I couldn’t name. I closed the door behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of how small my apartment felt now that he was inside it.

“So,” he said, glancing around and then back at me, “ready for that date?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, grabbing my coat and slipping it over my shoulders. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’re not gonna tell me?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a hint?”

“Dress was the hint. You nailed it.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile pulling at my lips. “Fine. Lead the way, Burrow.”

[...]

His car was warm, the dashboard glowing softly in the fading light, and the drive was quiet at first, comfortable. We listened to music for a while, the kind of mellow stuff you’d hear on late-night road trips, and then he started talking—telling me about his nephews, how the game with them had gone sideways fast, how they’d made him play wide receiver even though he was clearly a quarterback.

“They ganged up on me,” he said, laughing as we pulled off the freeway. “One of them said, ‘Uncle Joe, you’re not even fast.’ I had no choice but to prove them wrong.”

“And ended up in my ER,” I reminded him with a pointed look.

“Worth it,” he said without missing a beat, and when I looked over, he was watching me with a soft smile, like maybe he wasn’t talking about the game anymore.

I felt my breath hitch, but then he turned into a narrow road flanked by trees, and I realized where we were going.

“No way,” I whispered as the headlights illuminated the edge of the place.

“Yeah,” he said. “Thought it might feel familiar.”

The restaurant was tucked into a quiet street downtown, one of those places with warm lighting, vintage brick walls, and the low hum of conversation that made you want to stay forever. It was cozy but elegant, and the second we stepped in, the hostess gave Joe a look that made me want to roll my eyes. But he didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he just didn’t care.

He kept his hand gently at my back as we followed her to a table near the window, and once we were seated, he leaned across the table just a little, eyes scanning mine.

“Nervous?” he asked.

I smiled. “A little.”

“Me too,” he said softly. “But… in a good way.”

There was a pause, the air between us warming with unspoken memories.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I said, glancing around. “This feels surreal.”

“I’ve thought about this more times than I’ll admit,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against the edge of his water glass. “Not this restaurant, specifically. Just… you. Us. Getting a second shot.”

Something tugged at my heart.

“You really thought about it that much?” I asked, voice quiet.

He leaned back slightly, looking out the window before turning back to me.

“You were the first person who ever saw me—not the quarterback, not the athlete. Just... me. Back when I was awkward and pale and had that dumb bowl haircut.”

I laughed. “It was pretty bad.”

“I know,” he grinned. “But you still wanted to hang out with me.”

I bit my lip, feeling the honesty of the moment settle between us.

“You were easy to be around,” I said. “You still are."

Joe watched me from across the table, his hand still loosely wrapped around his water glass, the dim lighting from the candles casting soft shadows on his face. There was something calm about him tonight—different from the way he carried himself last night at the hospital. Less guarded. More open. Or maybe I was just seeing him for real now, without the adrenaline of an emergency room night shift in the way.

“So…” he began, swirling the ice in his glass. “How did you end up working nights at the hospital? You always wanted to do that?”

I tilted my head. “The night shift? Definitely not. But nursing, yeah. Always. I liked the idea of being the calm voice in chaos. Of showing up when people are at their worst and making it… a little less terrible.”

Joe smiled like he wasn’t surprised. “That sounds like you.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “You were always the one dragging me off the ground when I scraped my knees playing tag. And yelling at me when I refused to let someone else win at Mario Kart.”

I laughed. “You were insufferable about winning.”

“I still am,” he said, grinning. “But only in games. Real life’s a little harder to dominate.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Funny, coming from the guy who’s won a Heisman.”

Joe shrugged. “I’ve won a lot. Doesn’t mean it was easy. Or fun, all the time.”

There was a flicker of honesty in his eyes, something deeper, heavier.

“What’s it like?” I asked softly. “Being… you. Famous. Always being watched.”

He exhaled, leaning back into the booth. “It’s weird. You get used to it, kind of. But it’s also lonely. I think people think you stop being human when your face ends up on a billboard.”

I rested my chin on my hand, watching him. “That sounds exhausting.”

“It is. You’re constantly expected to perform. On and off the field. Smile, pose, shake hands, give the right quote. But sometimes you just want to be...”

“Joe.”

“Exactly.”

I hesitated, then asked, “Do you ever regret it? The path you took?”

His eyes lingered on mine. “Not the path. But maybe the people I lost along the way.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“You mean... me?”

He didn’t look away. “Yeah. I mean you.”

There was a silence, long but not uncomfortable. I let it wash over us before speaking again.

“I always wondered why we drifted,” I admitted quietly. “I mean, I know life happens. But part of me thought... I don’t know. That you just forgot.”

Joe shook his head. “Never. I thought about you all the time. Especially at night. When things got hard. I’d think about those summers in your backyard, or the time we skipped class and built that fort in your living room.”

“Oh my God,” I laughed, covering my face. “We got grounded for a week.”

“Totally worth it,” he said. Then added, softer, “You were my first everything, you know?”

I blinked. “Everything?”

Joe leaned in slightly. “Yeah. First best friend. First person I told about my nightmares. First girl I held hands with. First time I realized what love actually felt like.”

The words hit me like a wave.

“I was your first love?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “I told you about it... I was Fourteen. I remember it exactly. We were lying in the grass after biking around your neighborhood all afternoon, and you had that awful cherry Popsicle melting all over your hand. You looked over and told me that the sky was your favorite color that day, and I swear to God, I fell right then.”

I covered my mouth, stunned. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know how,” he said. “And then everything got… fast. Football took over. Recruiting trips. Camps. And by the time I figured it out, we were already living separate lives.”

I stared at him, heart racing, feeling all those memories flood back—him sleeping on my couch during sleepovers, passing notes in class, daring each other to jump into freezing cold lakes, building a bond that never quite frayed, even when it disappeared for a while.

“Joe,” I whispered. “I think I might’ve loved you too. Back then. I just didn’t know what to call it.”

He reached across the table, slowly, like he was asking permission. I placed my hand in his before he even had to.

“I'm happy that we met again,” he said, thumb brushing against mine. “So... I’m gonna ask, and you can say no if this feels too fast, but—I want to take you out again. Properly. As many times as it takes for us to find what we missed.”

I smiled, unable to hide how warm I felt inside. “You already found it.”

[...]

We stepped out of the restaurant into the quiet hum of the city night.

It was late—later than I realized—and the streets were nearly empty, save for the occasional car rolling by or the distant echo of laughter spilling out from a bar down the block.

Joe was walking just behind me, his hand grazing the small of my back as we made our way toward where his SUV was parked. The air had cooled, and I instinctively folded my arms against the breeze.

Without a word, he slipped off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders, the fabric still warm from his body.

“You’re cold,” he said simply, his voice low in the stillness.

“Just a little,” I replied, looking over at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.”

That soft tone again. Gentle, sincere.

I paused, the city light catching on the curve of his jaw as he looked at me like he was memorizing something.

The moment stretched—quiet and charged.

“Tonight was…” I started.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “It really was.”

Then, almost bashfully, “I was nervous, you know. Coming tonight.”

I smiled. “You didn’t seem nervous.”

“I was. I didn’t want to screw this up.”

“You didn’t.”

The sidewalk was glowing faintly under the warm orange of the streetlights, and everything around us slowed again. Just the two of us in this little pocket of silence.

Joe stepped closer, his hand reaching for mine as I stood in front of the open door. “Can I—?”

I didn’t wait.

I leaned in, catching his mouth with mine in a kiss that was softer than the night air, warmer than the jacket he’d just given me. His hands gripped my waist gently, pulling me just enough that I had to lean into him, into the feeling I hadn’t let myself fully acknowledge until now.

Joe just pressed his forehead against mine, his hand still resting gently at my waist. I could feel his breath—warm, steady—and for the first time all night, I stopped thinking. About the years we lost, about what this might mean, about whether it was too fast or too much. None of that mattered when his eyes were this close to mine.

“I thought maybe I imagined you,” I whispered, because the words were there, rising up like a truth I hadn’t even known I’d been holding in. “That night at the hospital. That whole thing.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, brows knit. “You didn’t.”

“I know,” I said, smiling softly. “Now I know. But I’d convinced myself I made it bigger than it really was. That maybe I just wanted it to mean something.”

Joe shook his head, thumb grazing the side of my face. “It meant something to me.”

I felt my throat tighten again, this time not from nerves or anticipation, but from something deeper. The kind of ache that comes from realizing someone had missed you too, all along.

“I’ve thought about this,” he said, voice low, like he didn’t want the night to overhear. “Us. Sitting somewhere quiet. You looking at me like this. It’s wild, how life pulls people apart and then… puts them right back in front of you.”

I blinked up at him, heart completely undone. “What happens now?”

His lips curled into a small smile. “Well, I walk you to the car like a gentleman. Try not to fall in love with you too fast. Probably fail.”

That made me laugh, but it caught in my chest, delicate and unexpected.

We stood together, reluctant to break the moment, and when I finally stepped away, his hand trailed down my arm before letting go.

The walk back to the car was quiet in that comfortable, end-of-the-night way.

The city around us had dimmed a little more, grown stiller, and the cool air carried the scent of rain that hadn’t yet come.

“I’ve got a heater in the car,” he said as he opened the passenger door for me, “but I like the chivalry points.”

“Oh, definitely adding those to your scorecard,” I teased as I turned to sit down in the SUV.

But my ankle wobbled slightly on the uneven sidewalk, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, one hand on my waist, the other guiding me gently by the elbow.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

It was instinctual, the way his hands found me. Not possessive, not performative. Just natural. Like they belonged there.

I looked up at him, and the smile faded from both our faces—not because anything was wrong, but because the moment shifted. Slowed. Softened.

Joe tilted his head slightly, eyes searching mine.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

I hesitated, then reached up, my fingers gently touching the collar of his shirt. “I think I’m more than okay.”

That was when it happened. When the space between us collapsed.

He kissed me again—this time with more certainty, more heat beneath it. I felt his hands grip the sides of my waist like he didn’t want to let go, and I reached up to cup his jaw, feeling the slight scratch of stubble under my fingers. The world blurred a little—nothing but us and the night, and the press of his body against mine, solid and warm.

When we finally broke apart, I leaned my forehead against his chest, laughing breathlessly.

“This is surreal,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he said, arms still around me. “But it’s real.”

I nodded against him. “Thank you. For tonight.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me again. “This is just the beginning.”

I smiled. “So what’s next?”

“I pick you up for another date. We find out all the little things we missed about each other. You tell me all your secrets, and I tell you mine.”

“Oh yeah?” I teased. “Like what?”

“Like…” he leaned in closer, brushing his nose against mine, “how I used to write your name on my cleats with a sharpie before games.”

I pulled back in disbelief. “You did not.”

“Swear to God.”

“That’s… weirdly adorable.”