The Butterfly Effect - Joe Burrow

0.3

She found herself back in her studio the following evening; the heat for her to write this next song was back on her, and she found herself scrapping everything she had worked on, hating everything.

"This is hopeless," She crumpled up the piece of paper with horrible lyrics on it and threw it into the trashcan, "I can write songs about being a strong, independent woman for days, but no, it needs to be a love song."

She glanced at her phone, remembering she had gotten a certain quarterback's phone number the night prior; she smirked. Distracting herself seemed like a great option at that moment.

She opened the messages app and saw that Joe had sent himself a text before she was pried away; a laugh escaped her lips as she read "Sierra McCoffree" in a blue bubble. She was about to start typing when she saw the three dots pop up, showing that Joe was already typing, making her exit the chat faster than she ever had.

She placed her phone on the table and waited for the buzz; she ran a hand through her hair and tilted her head back, "Sierra, you are a strong, independent woman who doesn't need to get excited over a guy texting you. You are twenty-three years old, no longer a giddy teenager who–"

She was cut off as her phone buzzed, making her jump straight up and grab it, seeing his name on the screen before unlocking it. She hesitated to open the message, her thumb hovering over the unread message, but she put on her big girl pants and quickly tapped it.

Joe: Hey! 👋🏻

A smile peeled its way from her lips, and she chuckled; she wasn't much of an emoji person, herself, only using them for her closest friends and family contacts for endearment. She thought it was cute that he used them, though.

She bit her lip as she texted back,

Sierra: Hello there, Number 9.

She saw the immediate seen pop up under the message and decided to stay in the chat. Smiling, the dots popped up again.

Joe: What's got you up at this hour?

She glanced at the clock on the wall, which read Eleven PM.

Sierra: It's only Eleven. Are you back in Cincinnati?

Joe: Ah, yeah. Jet lag. I was only in California for two days, and my body reset to California time.

She giggled, tucking her legs under her body.

Sierra: Well, I'm trying to write a song, but it's a topic I'm not familiar with, so I am struggling.

Joe: What is it?

Sierra sighed, pursing her lips together.

Sierra: A love song. My label wants to melt the "Ice Queen" rumors and thinks that if I write a love song, then it'll help with that. The only issue is I don't know how to write a love song.

She stood up from her chair and started pacing around the room; feeling the buzz in her hand, she lifted the phone to look at it.

Joe: There are types of love that aren't romantic. There's friendship love, familial love, self-love...

It clicked in her head as soon as she read the message. Of course! Familial love, she hadn't written a song about everything her eldest brother, Axle, had done for her and their brothers. Her heart felt fuzzy, and her stomach flipped as the words came like a flood.

She laughed; finally, she was out of a funk. They did say it had to be a love song but never said what kind of love song it had to be.

Laughing lightly, she finally responded to Joe.