Off the Record
Part 1 part 2:
Beau Maxwell x Journalist Fem!reader
Summary: When a journalism assignment sends her to interview Briar’s star quarterback, she expects a good grade and nothing more. Beau Maxwell has other problems. He just can’t stop thinking about her.
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Two days later, Beau was beginning to think that whatever strange thing had happened to him after that interview was becoming an actual problem. He had seen you around campus three separate times already, and every single time you had somehow managed to be busy enough to make approaching you feel impossible.
The first time, you had practically sprinted across campus carrying a stack of folders that looked taller than your patience while talking on the phone and trying to drink coffee at the same time. Beau had watched from halfway across the quad as you nearly walked directly into a bike rack, corrected yourself at the last second, then disappeared into a building without ever looking up.
The second time, he’d spotted you outside the library sitting with three other students, all of you surrounded by papers and laptops while you pointed at something on a screen with the kind of intense focus that made interrupting feel illegal. Dean had been there for that one and had immediately suggested Beau go say hello, which earned him a look so offended that Dean laughed for almost five minutes straight.
The third time felt promising for exactly thirty seconds. Beau had stopped by a campus coffee shop after practice and was standing in line when he noticed you sitting by the window with a notebook open in front of you. For the first time in days, you were alone. No group project. No phone glued to your ear. No rushing somewhere. Just you, a coffee, and whatever you were writing.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped out of line and started walking over. Then your phone rang. You answered immediately, listened for maybe five seconds, and your entire face changed. You closed the notebook, packed your things, finished half your coffee in one sip, and stood up so quickly that Beau actually stopped walking.
You nearly walked right past him on your way out. At the last second your eyes landed on him and recognition finally appeared.
“Oh,” you said, sounding surprised. “Football guy.”
Beau should have been offended by how consistently that remained his title in your life, but honestly he was just relieved you remembered him at all. “That’s starting to feel less like a nickname and more like an insult.”
The corner of your mouth twitched slightly. “I know your name.”
“You do?”
“Yes it’s Beau.”
The fact that he looked ridiculously pleased about that seemed to amuse you. “Wow,” you said. “The standards are low.”
“You forgot me entirely three days ago.”
“I was just busy.”
Beau laughed despite himself, and for the first time you didn’t immediately start backing toward an exit. You stayed where you were, shifting the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder while looking at him with that same distracted expression that somehow managed to be polite and dismissive at the same time.
“Do you ever stop moving?” he asked.
You thought about it for a second before shaking your head slightly, your grip shifting on your bag like your brain was already dividing itself into a dozen different directions at once.
“No, not really,” you admitted, exhaling a little, “every time I finish one thing something else just replaces it immediately, so I think being busy is kind of just what I am at this point rather than something I’m doing.”
“I figured,” Beau said with a small laugh, but his eyes stayed on you in a way that didn’t quite match his tone, like he was still trying to piece you together properly instead of just joking around, “I’ve seen you around campus a few times this week and every single time you’ve looked like you were either about to save the world or fall asleep standing up.”
“I was probably doing both,” you said without hesitation.
That made him laugh a little more openly, the sound lingering because you didn’t react like most people did when he joked, you just answered like it was completely normal.
“You know, it’s kind of impressive,” he added after a beat, softer now,.
You narrowed your eyes slightly at that, just skeptical but in a tired way. “Being overworked isn’t impressive.”
“No, but not knowing someone’s name after talking to them for almost an hour and still wanting to find them again kind of is,” he said, and this time there was no teasing in it, just honesty that made you pause.
For a second your expression actually shifted into surprise. “You don’t know my name?” you asked like that shouldn’t be possible.
Beau smiled a little, almost sheepish but still steady. “No, I know your major, I know your cameraman’s name is Lucas, I know you hate sports, and I know you’re always in a rush, but your actual name never really made it in.”
A small laugh escaped you before you could stop it, like the absurdity of it finally hit properly. “That’s kind of ridiculous.”
“It is,” he agreed easily, and then there was a short pause that didn’t feel uncomfortable, just open.
You finally told him your name.
He repeated it right after you, slower, like he was making sure it stayed with him, and the way he said it made something in your expression soften just slightly even if you didn’t comment on it.
Before anything else could settle properly, your phone started ringing. The sound cut through immediately.
You looked down at it, already exhaling through your nose like you’d been expecting it. “Well fuck,” you muttered, thumb hovering like you were deciding whether to ignore it or not.
“Everything okay?” Beau asked, watching your face change again.
“Yeah,” you said quickly, though your attention was already splitting, For half a second it actually felt like the moment might continue.
Beau shifted slightly, like he was finally about to say what he’d been holding back, his voice softening as he looked at you properly, “actually I was wondering if maybe you’d want to…”
Your phone rang again.
You froze for a second, then looked down at it with clear frustration building now.
Beau stopped immediately, cutting himself off mid-sentence without even realizing it, his hand dropping slightly like the moment had physically been interrupted.
You looked back up at him quickly. “No, keep going, what were you saying?”
He hesitated, then tried again, a little more carefully this time, “I was just asking if you’d maybe want to grab cof….”
Your phone rang again.
You let out a short breath through your nose, eyes closing briefly like you were trying to keep yourself in the moment.
“Seriously,” you said under your breath, then looked at him again, “I’m listening, just say it again.”
Beau nodded, trying to pick it back up, but the sound started again almost instantly, louder this time, more insistent.
You stared at the screen, then back at him, and for the first time your expression actually softened.
“Sorry,” you said quietly, and it sounded like you actually meant it this time, “this is ridiculous.”
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, even though it wasn’t really, “you should probably take it.”
You frowned slightly. “No, no please you were in the middle of something, just finish.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, forcing a small smile even though it didn’t quite sit right, “you should take that.”
The phone kept ringing again, and you stood there for a second longer like you were trying to decide which part of your life to disappoint.
Beau didn’t push anymore, just watched you carefully, hands still in his pockets, expression quieter now than it had been all conversation.
You finally sighed, your shoulders dropping just a little in defeat.
“I’m sorry,” you said again, softer this time, and there was something in your face that didn’t fully match your words like you didn’t actually want to be leaving.
“It’s okay,” he said, even though his voice came out a little lower than before.
You gave him a small look like you wanted to stay a second longer, then turned away and answered the call while already walking, disappearing into the movement of campus with the phone pressed to your ear.
Beau stayed where he was for a moment, watching you go, the sentence he hadn’t finished still sitting heavy in his chest like it had nowhere to land anymore.
And even though you didn’t look back this time, your pace wasn’t as steady as before, your steps slightly slower like something about leaving hadn’t sat right with you either.
Next time Beau saw you, he was halfway through a conversation with Dean when he noticed you across the room. The realization hit him so suddenly that he stopped listening entirely.
Dean followed his gaze almost immediately because apparently subtlety wasn’t something any of Beau’s friends believed in anymore. His eyes landed on you standing near the kitchen island with a drink in your hand, laughing at something one of your friends had said, and a grin immediately spread across his face.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Dean said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “That’s your girl.”
Beau rolled his eyes before taking another sip of his drink. “I know that’s her and don’t call her that.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” Dean continued. “Because if you knew that was her you’d already be over there. AND you’ve also spent the last two weeks talking about her every single time somebody mentions that interview.”
“I have not.” Beau frowned, even though Dean was ‘probably’ right, he was very annoying at this things.
Dean laughed outright. “You absolutely have. You know how bad it is when Garrett knows who you’re talking about and Garrett wasn’t even there?”
Beau opened his mouth, then immediately closed it because unfortunately that wasn’t entirely wrong.
Across the room you laughed again, the sound carrying faintly through the music, and before he could overthink it for another second he set his cup down.
Dean looked delighted. “I hope this works out,” he said solemnly. “I really do.”
“Goodnight, Dean.” As he started to walk towards you. By the time he made his way over, you'd already noticed him approaching. A smile appeared almost immediately when you recognized him, and Beau couldn't help feeling weirdly pleased about that.
"Well, look who finally found me," you said.
Beau laughed. "Finally found you? I've been trying to talk to you for two weeks, you literally vanished every time I saw you."
You smiled into your drink. "What can i do, i am busy."
"That's becoming your catchphrase."
That earned another laugh, and for the first time he noticed you weren't halfway out of the conversation already. You were actually standing there looking at him, listening, relaxed in a way he'd never gotten to see before.
A little while later Beau came back with another drink for you, and somehow that turned into an hour of conversation without either of you realizing it. You talked about classes, professors, the interview, ridiculous group projects, and somehow even football.
At one point you laughed so hard at something he said that your hand landed on his shoulder for a second, and when you realized it, you didn't move away immediately. Beau noticed. The small smile he tried to hide made it obvious that he noticed.
By the time someone mentioned it was almost midnight, both of you looked around like you'd forgotten there was an entire party happening around you. You checked the time on your phone and stared at it in disbelief.
"We have seriously been talking this whole time."
Beau smiled. "Best party I've been to in a while."
The look you gave him was amused. "You spent the entire thing talking to one person."
"Exactly."
And judging by the way neither of you made any effort to walk away, neither of you seemed to think that was a problem.
Eventually you glanced down at your phone and your eyes widened slightly.
He laughed immediately. “I’ve been telling you we’ve been standing here forever.”
You shook your head, still smiling as you grabbed your bag. “You’re right, maybe we have.”
The two of you slowly made your way outside with the conversation somehow still continuing, and when Beau asked how you were getting home, you told him you were about to call a ride. He looked at you for about half a second before saying he could just drive you, and after everything you’d spent the night talking about, arguing suddenly felt unnecessary.
The drive wasn’t long, but neither of you seemed in a hurry for it to end. By the time he pulled up outside your place, both of you were still talking, and you only stopped when you realized you were actually home.
“Well,” you said with a small smile, looking over at him, “thanks for the ride.”
“Anytime.”
For a second neither of you moved.
Then you laughed softly. “I’m glad my phone didn’t interrupt this one.”
Beau groaned. “Don’t even joke about that.”
Your smile got bigger. “Goodnight, Beau.”
“Goodnight.”
You climbed out and headed toward the building, and when Beau saw you glance back once before going inside, he couldn’t stop the smile that followed him all the way home.
The next afternoon, Beau was sitting with Dean after practice pretending to listen to whatever story was currently being told when something occurred to him so suddenly that he actually stopped mid-sip.
Dean noticed immediately.
“That face means one of two things,” he said. “Either you failed in exam or you’re thinking about her again.”
Beau ignored him. Then ignored him a little harder.
Dean’s grin got bigger.”You didn’t get her number did you”
Beau stared at the table.
Dean immediately started laughing. “You spent an entire night talking to that girl and then drove her home and somehow forgot to get her number?”
“I didn’t forget.” Beau rubbed a hand over his face.
“Then what happened?”
The worst part was that he genuinely didn’t know. The whole night had felt easy. Every conversation had led naturally into another one. Every time there’d been a pause, one of them had found something else to talk about. By the time he’d dropped you off, he’d been so busy thinking about the fact that you were smiling at him and that you actually seemed happy to be there that the thought of asking for your number had somehow never happened. Which sounded completely ridiculous now.
“You’re an idiot,” Dean informed him.
“Thank you, i appreciate that.”
“No, seriously bro. You’re actually an idiot.”
Beau considered arguing. Unfortunately he was pretty sure Dean was right.
A few hours later he spotted you walking across campus.
Beau immediately stood up. Then sat back down. Then stood up again. The movement alone earned him a look from Dean.
“Oh, this is painful to watch.”
“Stop talking.”
Before he could suffer through any more of that conversation, Beau started walking.
You noticed him almost immediately, and the smile that appeared when you recognized him made every bit of the awkwardness worth it.
“Well,” you said as he reached you, “if it isn’t football guy.”
Beau laughed despite himself. “You know, I really thought we’d moved past that.”
“Nope.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“I’m sure you’ll recover.” You smiled so brightly at him it made him forget what he was about to do.
The fact that you looked amused while saying it didn’t help. For a second the conversation settled into the same easy rhythm it had the night before, and somehow that made what Beau wanted to ask feel ten times harder.
You noticed his expression change almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why do you look like you’re about to ask me for a kidney?” That made you laugh at your own joke before he could answer, and somehow that was exactly what pushed him over the edge.
“Okay, so maybe there’s one thing.”
You tilted your head. “Which is?”
Beau suddenly felt far more nervous than someone in his position should.
“I was just thinking that,” he started, immediately hating how awkward he sounded, “considering we’ve now had multiple conversations and I drove you home and apparently keep running into you everywhere…. maybe it would make sense if I had your number.”
For a second you just stared at him you started to laugh before you suddenly stopped, because the look oh his face was so cute it made your smile soft. “You could’ve just asked, Beau.”
“I did ask.”
“After giving yourself a five-minute pep talk first.”
“I hate that you noticed that.”
“I notice everything.”
You took his phone from his hand before he could embarrass himself any further and typed your number in.
When you handed it back, Beau looked down at the screen for a second longer than necessary. Then he looked up at you.
You laughed again. “Congratulations. You finally found me and got my number.”
Beau slipped his phone back into his pocket, unable to stop the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“You know.. the number part was way harder.”
