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vanwritesfan-fiction · 4 months

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Recovery

Requested by the lovely @harlowcomehome

Request: "I was thinking that maybe something happens where he gets injured during practice and he’s really upset about it. Maybe he just pulled a muscle in his hip or something and the reader takes care of him."

Warnings: language, references to injuries, just really cute fluff, things get a little smutty but nothing too serious

A/N: my first Jalen Hurts fic! Enjoy!

You were the first to wake up.

You took in a deep breath, slowly letting your eyes flutter open to the bright bedroom, sunlight pouring in through the windows. Instead of getting up as soon as you woke, like you usually did, you took the time to ground yourself.

You felt the cotton sheets against your bare skin, smooth to the touch. You listened to the comfortable silence of the room, Jalen's shallow breathing dancing around your ears. You let the scent of Jalen's aftershave flood your nostrils as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck, the weight of his arm draped around your waist a welcomed feeling of comfort.

There was no rush in starting the day, and there wouldn't be for a while until Jalen recovered from his shoulder injury. He suffered a torn rotator cuff during a game and was out for the rest of the season.

You smiled as you lifted your head, noticing how peaceful your husband looked as he slept. The previous days were marked with a painful surgery, frustrating physical therapy sessions and a somber mood that hung over the house. You just needed to get over the rough hump of his recovery, so you could get the energetic and outgoing love of your life back, but there was still a long road ahead of Jalen and moments like this were few and far between.

You gently grazed your thumb over the small scar he had on his left cheek, right underneath his eye. "Do I have something on my face?", Jalen whispered with a smile, his eyes still closed.

"I'm sorry, baby", you giggled, patting his chest, "please go back to sleep."

"I'm awake now." His arm around you tightened, his hand moving to palm your behind. "How did you sleep?", you asked, stroking along his jawline. "Painfully", he grunted out, struggling to adjust comfortably with a sling on his right arm.

"I'm sorry, baby. I wish there was something I could do. Something to take your mind off of everything."

"I have a couple ideas." He hummed. You jumped when he pinched your ass, his hand slowly trailing up the path of your spine.

"J...", you were nervous about injuring him further, so you denied any of his past advances, but it was getting more difficult with each passing day.

"Shhh, shhh, just kiss me." He gently guided you toward him, his hand at the base of your neck as you met for a gentle kiss, your mouth slightly agape as he nipped your bottom lip. You felt a warmth rush over your body as you separated quickly for a breath, your cheeks beginning to heat up. You playfully rolled your hips against his crotch, feeling him get hard against your thigh.

You didn't even realize where your hands had ended up until Jalen let out a sharp breath into your mouth. "Shoulder, shoulder, baby", he grunted out, throwing his head back in pain as realized you were leaning your body weight into his injured side.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry!" You gently rolled off of him and climbed out of bed. "No more touching until you're completely healed, babe. I will not be responsible for you missing any more time than you have to." You grabbed your robe, covering up your silk chemise that you wore to bed. The scowl on Jalen's face made you chuckle. You sauntered over to him and grabbed at his jaw playfully.

"Its bad enough I'm useless right now, and now you wanna take away my favorite pastime?", he pushed out his bottom lip in a pout, knowing it was your weakness. "Don't worry, its not going anywhere", you teased, giving him a quick peck.

You spent the rest of the morning helping Jalen do his normal routine. You made his favorite breakfast, much to his chagrin, as that was something he usually did for you in the morning, and as much as he hated being waited on; his independences was everything to him, you were waiting in the wings to help him whenever he needed.

You were coming up the stairs with his medication and a glass of water when you heard a concerning groan coming from your bathroom. "Ah, fuck!", Jalen mumbled under his breath as he stood in the mirror trying to brush his hair. He had just gotten out of the shower by himself, against your best wishes, and was trying to get ready for the day.

"Baby, let me help you, please." He held up a finger, stopping you in your tracks. "No, I've got it." You watched as he struggled to brush with his non-dominant hand, dropping the brush in the sink. He let out a sharp breath through his nostrils, flexing his jaw out of frustration. "It don't need your help", he bit out, quick, to make sure you didn't try to intervene.

"I'm know." You threw up your hands to signal you understood, leaning against the doorframe. He tried again with the same result, this time, the wooden brush clattered to the floor. "Fuck!" He spoke almost at a yell, gripping the side of the sink.

"C'mon, I've seen enough." You picked the brush off the ground and grabbed Jalen's hand, guiding him to the bed. He sat down with a huff, and you stepped between his legs, his free hand gripping the back of your thigh. Jalen rested his forehead against your stomach, and you could feel him fall into you, his shoulders slumping over in defeat.

"I don't know why you're fighting my help so hard, babe." You brushed his hair from the crown to the nape of his neck, gentle repetitions as he nuzzled against you. His arm wrapped around the back of your legs, pulling you closer as you moved to brush the sides of his head, massaging his scalp with your nails.

"I'm struggling to see the other side of this." He finally admitted after minutes of silence. "I don't know what's waiting for me on the other side of this injury, and it scares me."

"I know, baby. I know." You whispered, rubbing circles on his back as you held him.

Up until today, he didn't want to let himself relax or show signs of weakness because he wanted to be strong in front of you. You were constantly worried about him and knowing that this could have been a career ending injury for Jalen consumed your thoughts. There are risks involved anytime you put yourself in harms way, but you never think it will happen to you, until it does.

"You remember our first date?" Jalen nodded without looking up, knowing the question was rhetorical. He would never forget that night. Jalen pursued you for months after meeting you through a mutual friend and finally, after weeks of asking you on a date, you said yes.

"I think we had only talked for about five minutes before I knew you were the one", you admitted with a chuckle. He let out a humorous breath, wincing in pain as he tried to move around.

"I had heard all of these things about you, how much of a player you were", you lifted his head up to look at you with your index finger, moving to brush his waves forward, "how arrogant you were on the field", you smiled as he looked at you, his eyes softening as you spoke, "so I was planning on blowing you off."

"There was no way in hell I was gonna let you do that." Jalen chuckled. He always got what he wanted, and as soon as he laid eyes on you, watching you walk to your table, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, he knew he never wanted to let you go.

"Do you know why I knew you were the one?" You paused before continuing. "I was giving you some lame excuse for why it took so long to agree to go on the date, and you said, "Its okay, I'd wait for you forever. I don't know how to quit." Jalen bit at his bottom lip as he contemplated your words.

"J, I know that this is hard, but in all the time I've known you, you've been true to your word. You don't know how to quit, especially when it comes to the important things in life." You could see the life return to his eyes as he listened to you.

"I have no doubt that the only thing waiting for you on the other side of this injury, is you playing your best game, and I'll be there with you every step of the way." You cupped his face in your hands, rubbing your knuckles along his jaw.

"I was right, you know." He flashed his pearly whites as he stood, pulling you into his body. "About what?", you asked as you rested your hands on his chest, careful of his shoulder.

"Waiting for you to come around. Best decision I ever made in my life."

#jalen hurts #jalen hurts imagine #jalenhurts #jalen hurts fan fiction #jalen hurts one shot #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 2 months

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Defamation of Character

Request: Enemies to lovers. Yn is a sports journalist and she’s never wrote anything favorable about Jalen but they meet at an event and the sexual tension is…there Requested by the beautiful @harlowcomehome

Warnings: language, use of derogatory terms (bitch)

A/N: I think this is the first enemies to lovers fic I've written, and who better for than Jalen?

"Y/N My office, please! Now!"

You'd just put down your lukewarm, breakroom coffee when you heard the croaky voice of your editor, John, behind you. You took a quick sip, the taste of burnt coffee beans lingering on your tongue as you rolled your shoulders back. You knew this was coming, but you thought you'd at least have the week before John would lay down the hammer with you.

You dumped your bag and coat down on top of your desk, careful not to disturb the disheveled piles of ESPN magazine issues you collected over the year, pages turned to your first articles as a sports writer, and the various notes you had scribbled on cocktail napkins and notebook paper. Your journalism methods were unorthodox, but they worked for you, as long as no one touched the piles.

You slowly made your way down the aisles of desks towards John's office, trying to delay the admonishing you knew you were about to get for as long as possible. For every good thing you heard about ESPN, ESPN magazine was exactly the opposite. A lot fewer bright lights and cameras, a lot more skeezy journalism. You passed row after row of other journalists and junior editors, desperate to find their next story, heads down with terrible posture as they frantically searched the web.

With the introduction of smart phones and social media, not only were you competing against every major news network and publication for a juicy story, you also also running against the clock with Henry from Sarasota, Florida, who happened to snap a picture of a Buccaneers player at their local bar and posted it to their Instagram. You had to be cutthroat if you wanted to make publication, and while it had made you a few enemies in the professional sporting industry, it was a risk you were willing to take.

"I swear to God you're trying to send me to an early grave." John let out a huff as he tossed a pile of papers in your direction as you took as seat opposite him. "Jalen Hurts? You just had to go after the NFL's prince, huh?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, but it did nothing to stop the nagging headache at the base of his skull.

"Oh good, you read it. Find any typos?" You gave him a cocky smirk, messing with the Derek Jeter bobble head on his desk. You flicked your fingers against the helmet, making the spring bounce around. Booiinngg "I was afraid it came off a bit speculative, but based on your response, it was right on the nose." Booiinngg

"Would you stop that?!". He snatched the figurine from the desk, tossing it into the trashcan. "When I gave you the editorial slot, it was supposed to be a simple profile on Jalen, not a hit piece!"

"I talked about his upbringing." You shrugged, sitting back in your chair.

"Oh yes", he snapped the paper straight, looking over the top of his glasses. "Its amazing how someone with such a humble upbringing as Jalen can turn into one of the most overrated quarterbacks of the last 10 years with his only claims to fame being the "tush push" and an inability to close out games."

"You hired me to tell a good story, not to kiss ass, John."

"No, I hired you because I owed your father a favor." Your face dropped as John balled up the piece of paper, landing it on top of the bobble head.

Your father was one of the best sports journalists of the last century, and you had done everything to make a name for yourself in an industry that just wouldn't let you forget you were a nepo baby. "Now, you've proved to be a good journalist, but if you keep picking fights with the people who keep us in business, we're gonna have a problem. I don't know if you've noticed, but print is essentially dead in the water. Everyone wants to get their news in 60 characters or less and this art form is quickly dying." You could tell John needed a stiff drink, even if it was only 8 o'clock in the morning.

You sat forward in your chair, resting your elbows on your thighs. You weren't one to be pushed around by a man, even if they did sign your paychecks. "You can't actually be blaming me for the state of this company."

"No, but it does mean that things are going to change around here", John muttered, his voice overpowered by the sound of the Redbull he was cracking open. He poured it into a coffee cup; obviously regular caffeine wasn't going to cut it today. Your heart dropped into your stomach at his confession. You'd heard whispers about layoff around the watercooler, but that's what they were, just rumors, and no one likes to talk like a journalist.

John let out a sigh as he looked at your face, concern evident. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, but I'm hoping this lights a fire under you." You perked up a the thought of fire, but he shot you down immediately, wagging a finger in the air. "This doesn't mean I want you to go out there unhinged. We're letting half the team go next week, but I haven't decided which ones are gonna go."

You knew that your seat was hanging in the balance. It wasn't a secret that you weren't the most popular person in the office, and until now, you couldn't have cared less. You're weren't here to make friends, you were here to be the best writer you could me. You'd definitely rubbed some people the wrong way, but honestly, fuck 'em. Connections meant even less to you now that you knew you were going to have less competition for prime spots in the spread.

"Ok, what do I have to do to stay here? I'll rewrite my article, try to make a Hurts a little more likeable. It'll be hard work, but I'll do my best." You were half joking, half serious.

John took a swig from his cup, finishing off his drink with a cough as the medicinal taste hit his taste buds. "No, if you pull another stunt like that, you'll be the first to clean out your desk. I have another assignment for you."

****

You let out a hard sigh as you placed the "PRESS" lanyard around your neck and made your way through the crowded tunnel beneath Lincoln Financial Field. You weren't exaggerating when you said that sideline reporting was beneath you. It's grunt work to put it nicely, and with the added potential for injury if a 300 pound lineman comes careening into the crowd, it was the last assignment you wanted today.

"Welcome fans to Lincoln Financial Field where the Philadelphia Eagles will face off against the Minnesota Vikings", the announcer's voice was muffled through inches of concrete. You pushed past drones of photographers and security as the crowd's roar shook the ground beneath your feet. Finally, you caught the fresh air as you reached the field. Even in your salty mood, you could admit that there was nothing quite as electric as stepping onto a football field. The energy surging through your body was unlike anything you've experienced and it was one of the reasons you stayed in this industry so long.

You slung your camera off your neck and bent down to take a couple of photos of the players stretching on the field. Once you were satisfied with your photos, you took a second to look through them. You took a subconscious step back as you saw a couple of players jogging past you into the tunnel and ended up colliding with a hard body.

"Ow!", you grimaced, rubbing your elbow that collided with hardened plastic. You turned on your heels to see the object of your hit piece standing behind you, his signature blinding white smile on display. "Excuse me, Ms. Nosey", Jalen chuckled as he hung his helmet underneath his arm. If you didn't hate his guts, that southern drawl might have pulled you in.

"Hurts, you planning on choking in the fourth quarter, or is that just something you reserve for playoff games?" You were stunned by your own words, the vitriol firing out before your brain could catch up. You caught the flash of hurt on his face before his features softened, once again, giving you a sincere grin that you really didn't deserve. "You have a nice day now." He left you standing on the sidelines, a pang of guilt hitting you in the chest. You shook it off, raising your camera to snap a picture of him as he reached the middle of the field.

****

The game was uneventful, the Eagles wiping the floor with Minnesota and much to your chagrin, you really didn't have much to write an article about. You knew John was just trying to get you off of his back without actually getting rid of you, at least for now, but it hurt to know that your talent could easily be condensed into a couple of sentences some guy would read to catch up on the game while they were taking their midday bathroom break.

You jotted down a couple of notes in your notebook so you wouldn't forget them while the field cleared out. It was at this point that you'd usually head to the locker rooms for post-game comments, but instead you were just going to head home early and finish your write up before the nights end.

Your focus was on your phone as you walked through the tunnel toward the parking deck. You were texting your friend to see if she wanted to grab drink when you heard the sound of laughter roaring to the right of you. You stopped in your tracks to read the PLAYERS LOCKER ROOM placard.

What could it hurt to sneak in and get a couple of quotes from Jalen? You weren't above editing your article to John's liking, especially when you knew what hung in the balance. You flashed your press badge to the security guard posted at the door and hid in the back of the crowd of journalists and videographers.

Of course they were all huddled around Jalen as he sat at his locker, he had a stellar performance tonight, and still he was as humble as ever, deflecting compliments from the reporters.

"Ya know man, its a testament to my team, they've always got my back", Jalen confessed, his toned body stretching the tight white undershirt he had on. You felt your stomach jump as he shed the tank, his ab muscles flexing as he took in a deep breath.

"But you've gotta admit, Jalen, there's no one with the yardage you've got, and your completions put you in the top 10 quarterbacks of all time." You couldn't tell if it was a reporter speaking, or the president of the Jalen Hurts fan club. "I mean, you're just fantastic."

The chuckle you let out was louder than intended, a hush falling over the room as everyone turned to see who wasn't in agreement.

"There you are. My biggest fan!" Jalen laughed as he stood, the crowd parting as he made his way toward you. He towered over you, the mix of sweat and cologne flooding your senses. He had a way of making it feel like you two were the only two in the room, even though you knew all eyes were on you. "Liked what you saw out there?" The way he spoke, his cadence even and smooth, oozed confidence, and that pissed you off.

"Like I said earlier, you seem to reserve your biggest flops for when you're down to the wire. This was just a regular season game, I'm sure you'll rise to the occasion when the time comes." You could hear the snickers and uncomfortable shuffles around you; it wasn't often you got a front row seat to see a lowly journalist go toe to toe with an NFL great.

One thing you had to admit, was this guy was calm under pressure. Even as the crowd dispersed, his gaze was focused on you, sizing you up of sorts. "Did I do something to piss you off?" She stroked at his jawline, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath.

"Is it really a surprise that not everyone is a fan of you?" You pulled out your phone to start recording your conversation. Jalen stopped you just as you were about to press the large red button on the screen. "I'm not interested in giving you a soundbite that you can manipulate for your next story. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. "Its not manipulation when you're telling the truth. Maybe its just not what you want to hear."

"Whatever you say", Jalen turned to walk back to his locker. You found yourself staring as he shed his football pants, his toned backside on display. You turned out of embarrassment, closing your eyes as you held your phone of your shoulder towards him. "Listen, if you have a problem with my article, you're welcome to dispute it with the organization. It wouldn't be the first time."

You couldn't see it, but you knew he tensed up at your jab. Jalen had a history of stifling stories that he didn't agree with. He sighed as he pulled his shirt over his head. "If you're talking about the Men's Health spread, I wasn't gonna let them slander my family."

"Whatever you say", you repeated in a mocking tone.

"You don't know nothin' about me, and still you hate me. Why is that?"

"I never said I hated you."

"What'd you call it then?"

"Healthy skepticism." Jalen let out a humorless breath. "You don't even know me."

"Oh I know you. You think that everything belongs to you. That you deserve everything. I know everything I need to know about you." You felt a push at your shoulder, forcing you to turn around and face him. "You're just like every other guy." You avoided eye contact. Even if you didn't care for Jalen Hurts, your vagina wouldn't let you deny he was fuckin' gorgeous.

You tried to remain stoic as he studied your face for a second. "You know what?", the smirk on his face had your head spinning. "I'm throwing a fundraiser this weekend, and I could use a plus one." You scoffed as you pressed stop on your phone. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"You? Of course not." You felt the sting from his rejection. "But I think that I deserve a chance to show you that I'm not the guy you think I am." You had a hard time believing that a fundraiser full of rich oligarchs was going to change your mind about Jalen, but you had to admit you were interested. "And if I say yes? Purely for the journalism of it all?"

Jalen chuckled as he slung his bag over his shoulder. "Then you'll have a good meal and get to take a break from being such a bitch." You stumbled back as he walked past you, a look of shock on your face. "If you think I'd ever go to an event as your date, you're crazy!" You yelled after him, shoving your equipment into your bag with a huff.

"What an asshole."

****

The next morning you arrived to the office with a raging hangover, the result of two many espresso martinis as you vented to your friend about your interaction with Jalen. He completely rubbed you the wrong way, leaving a nasty feeling you just couldn't shake off. You struggled to get out a bed after staying up late and trying to finish your article on him in a drunken stupor. You didn't even want to think about the editing your work was going to need now.

You barely noticed the whispers and stares as you walked to your desk, nursing a double espresso you picked up on the way in. You felt your phone vibrate in your back pocket, and read the notification that your friend sent you with a link to a TikTok video with a frantic message to "LOOK AT THIS NOW!", but it'd have to wait, you had a briefing in 15 minutes.

You stopped in front of your cubicle at the sigh of the two dozen red roses that were taking most of the space on your desk.

You hadn't been on a date in months, and you weren't the type to garner a secret admirer, so you had no idea who these could have been from. Luckily, the small white card would answer any of your questions pretty quickly.

You unsheathed the card, which was scrawled with prefect calligraphy.

"Jalen Hurts and the KB Foundation invite you to the 2nd Annual Dinner and Gala in support of the foundation's effort to honor the children of Philadelphia. Drinks will start at 6pm followed by Dinner at 8pm. Dress Code is Black Tie."

You bit at your lip as you read the card over a few times. You thought that Jalen was just fucking with you when he extended the invite in person yesterday, and he couldn't seriously think you'd actually attend. You tossed the card and envelope on top of the never ending pile of papers and placed the flowers on a neighboring empty desk.

You were just opening your computer when you heard your name shot from across the office.

"Y/N! Get in my office NOW!" It had to be some sort of personal record, the number of times you'd been called into John's office in the last couple of weeks. You grabbed your notebook and cup of coffee and shuffled to his office with your tail between your legs.

He slammed the door behind you as soon as you stepped foot in the room. "You have some fuckin' explaining to do!"

You sat down, getting comfortable for another one of his lectures. "John, if this is about the flowers, I didn't know he was going to send them. I already got rid of them. I know you don't like joy-"

"Will you stop with the juvenile one-liners?! This isn't about some fuckin' flowers. It's about this." He turned his laptop in your direction. On the screen a video of you and Jalen standing in the middle of the Eagles locker room was playing over and over. You didn't need to hear the sound, you remembered exactly what was said. "I can explain." You swallowed repeatedly to get rid of the lump in your throat to no avail. "I know this doesn't look good."

"You're damn right it doesn't look good!" John huffed and ran a hand through his greasy brown mop. "It looks so bad, we've had our press rights revoked at Lincoln. Turns out they don't take too kindly to press fighting with the players."

"John, there's got to be some way to fix this. I can take an extra assignment, get on my knees and beg." You regretted ever stepping foot in the locker room now.

"You're right, there is a way to fix this." John sat down at his desk, adjusting himself in his seat and closing his laptop. "You're fired."

You thought you were going to pass out. This couldn't be happening. "John, please, I know I can make this right."

"Its too late for that, Y/N. Pack your stuff up and security will escort you to your car."

#jalen hurts #jalenhurts #jalen hurts fan fiction #jalen hurts fan fic #jalen hurts angst #nfl fan fic #nfl imagine #nfl fanfic #nfl fanfiction

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 3 months

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Orange Peel Theory

Jalen is known to be more stoic, especially on the field, but I think around his partner, he's a big ol' softy. The theory states that if your partner peels an orange for you without being asked, it's a sign of true love.

Listening To: Nothing Can Change This Love- Sam Cooke

The afternoon heat was stiflingly hot as you stepped out onto the porch, the humidity immediately drenching you in layer of sweat, your skin sticky to the touch. You wiped your brow with the sleeve of you dress as you surveyed the front yard for Jalen, finding him asleep on the porch swing his grandfather had put up over 40 years ago. You were a couple days into your trip with your boyfriend to his hometown. As soon as the season ended, Jalen spent time with his family and friends back in the suburb of Houston that helped shape him into the man he was today, bringing you with him for the first time.

A strong juxtaposition to the bustle of Philly, Channelview was welcomingly slow and nostalgic, and while you were still weak to the dangerous Texas heat waves, you understood why he couldn't wait to get back here every summer.

You walked over to him, settling down by his legs, draping your own over his lap, his hand resting on your bare thigh, drawing lazy circles on your skin. "What'd you wanna do today, J?"

"This." he chuckled with his eyes still closed, his face shaded by his baseball cap. As soon as he got here, Jalen planned on doing very little but enjoying his rest and spending time with his family before you had to go back to the city and your schedules were crazy again.

Jalen was an old soul. You always joked that it was like you were dating a grandpa; a very sexy grandpa with the body of a Greek God. His demeanor was brazenly southern, with manners that were rare for people his age, and a lazy drawl to his voice that made goosebumps rise on your skin every time he spoke.

You were what your mother always referred to as spirited. Restless and headstrong, you weren't sure you and Jalen were made for each other, your personalities were so inherently different, but here you were, one year into your relationship and stronger than you ever thought possible.

Still, your love wasn't without its hurdles. It took three months for Jalen to ask you on your first date, five dates for him to kiss you, and six months before you two even uttered the words "I love you" to each other. Sometimes you felt like things were moving at the perfect pace, and others agonizingly slow. You wanted all consuming, passionate love, but you wanted it with him, and you knew that meant compromise. He enjoyed everything at his own leisurely pace, including the progressions of your relationship, and you were trying your best to be patient.

"You think you'd ever move back here? After you retire?" You and Jalen had talked about your future together before, mostly at your insistence, but he was always very vague about what he wanted. You could never be sure if it was because he was unsure of his future with you, or something else was holding him back, but you couldn't fight the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach as you left every conversation no more sure of where you stood than before.

Jalen let out a low hum. "I don't even know what I want for dinner, baby, let alone where I wanna be a decade from now." He settled further down against the cushions, crossing his arms over his chest.

You continued to push to see what you could get out of him. "But, you don't ever think about where you'd want to raise your kids? A few little Jalens running across the yard with a football?" You knew it sounded so cliche, wanting the white picket fence and 2.5 kids, a version of the American dream, but you'd always been dreamer.

Jalen could only think about what was in front of him: the next play, the next formation, the next brand deal; it was how he was so successful on the field, but it also drove you crazy.

"Maybe", he mumbled out.

You sighed, realizing you were quickly getting nowhere. No matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't push him to where he didn't want to go. Unfortunately for both of you, you were stubborn as hell.

"So you don't ever think about where you see yourself, where you see us after you're done with football?" The only thing you got out of him was a grunt, so you continued. "I think about us all the time, Jalen." You were going down a dangerous road that could lead to a fight, and that was the last thing you wanted, but you couldn't stop yourself.

"Where we'll get married, what we'll name our kids. Those are the things I want for us in the future. Do you feel the same?" You listened for his response, only hearing the rhythmic buzzing of insects.

"Jalen, did you here me?" Nothing. "Jalen?"

Finally you got confirmation that he didn't hear a word of your rant as a small snore escaped his lips, followed by a louder gasp for breath.

"Of course", you gritted out between clenched teeth, lifting yourself off the swing and heading back into the house with a slam of the door. Jalen barely stirred, adjusting his hat over his eyes before going back to sleep.

Hours later, after the sun had set, dinner was finished and you got a bit of reprieve from the scorching temperatures, you went back outside, settling on the empty swing with an orange in your hand.

Your conversation, or lack there of really, with Jalen earlier still bothered you. Regardless of your impatient nature and his need to control the pace of everything to his liking, you needed a little reassurance from him. You weren't asking for an engagement ring or to move in with him, but just a sign that you were moving in the right direction together.

"There you are, baby." Jalen's voice startled you as he walked through the threshold, the wood beams squeaking underneath his feet, a smile on his face. That grin made you weak every time you saw it, even when you were mad at him.

"Here I am", you muttered, digging your finger into the skin of the fruit. He sat down next to you with a grunt, pulling you into his side. "I wanna show you my old high school tomorrow. Get to see where your man got his start." He massaged your hip with his finger tips, only earning a weak smile from you.

"Sounds good."

Jalen immediately knew something wasn't right. "You okay?"

This was your chance. You could tell him exactly how you felt. The words were on the tip of your tongue, daring to be spoken. You knew he would understand and never say or do anything to dismiss your concerns, but still it felt futile. "I'm fine, just tired." It just didn't feel right. You'd be forcing him just because you couldn't wait. It wasn't fair to him, and it wasn't fair to you.

Out of nowhere it popped into your head. A silly TikTok trend that you'd seen over and over. Wives and girlfriends would try "the orange peel theory" on their significant others, to see if they would peel their orange without having to ask. If they did, it was a sign of their love for you. You felt ridiculous for reducing your relationship to a social media craze, but you were very curious.

You made a show out of struggling to peel your orange, your nail scraping over the flesh repeatedly. Jalen noticed out of the corner of his eye, flexing his jaw. "My grandma has some baby pictures she wanted to show you. I asked her not to show you the ones where I was missing a tooth from playing pee wee football." You giggled at the memory, continuing to pick away at the rind. "I bet you were a cute baby."

"I don't know about that." Jalen chuckled, his eyes still on your hands. "I had a weird haircut and I was short until my freshman year." He grabbed the orange out of your hand, and bit into the skin to start off, peeling the fruit with ease. You smiled as he made light work of it, stealing a segment before handing it back to you. "My grandma has a bunch of my baby stuff here, said we can use it for our own kids if we want to." Your breath hitched in your chest, a rush of excitement coming over you.

"What?", he asked when he noticed the wide grin on your face as you looked at him with such love and adoration. Not only had he passed the orange peel theory test with flying colors, he had put thought into your future. "You passed the test."

"What test?" Jalen looked confused, so you explained the test to him, Jalen letting out a deep chuckle as you finished.

"You thought I don't think about our future?" Jalen knitted his brow together as he looked at you. "Not that you don't, but sometimes I'm just not sure what the next couple of years are going to look like for us, and I get nervous."

Jalen pulled you in tighter, and you rested your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek. "Baby, sometimes I don't know what the next week is going to look like. There are just so many people telling me what to do, how fast to go, how I should play, and criticizing me at every turn, I don't want that in our relationship. I just feel like if we move too fast, I'll make a mistake, and that's the last thing I want with you. I'm trying to protect the best thing I have in my life. That doesn't mean for a second that I don't want a future with you. I just wanna take it one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay." You rubbed his chest, leaning in for a gentle kiss, your noses grazing against one another as you pulled away. You didn't necessarily know what the next couple of years were going to hold for you, but you had no doubt that Jalen would be by your side the whole time, and that was enough reassurance for you. "Baby pictures, huh?"

"Tryna see what those future babies will look like, huh?" Jalen asked in jest. "Maybe", you replied, playing coy. Jalen chuckled, helping you stand up before he got to his feet, leading you back inside.

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