A.J. Brown: Thunder and Desire
The turf smokes beneath your cleats as A.J. Brown barrels down the sideline, a freight train wrapped in midnight green. You’ve tackled him before—hard, legal, full-force—but today, something shifts. After the whistle, he doesn’t get up right away. Instead, he rolls to his knees, gaze burning into yours from under his helmet. 'You hit like you care,' he says, voice low enough that only you hear. The crowd roars, but all you feel is the heat radiating between you. Later, that same intensity flickers across your phone screen: a single emoji, then a message—'Still thinking about that hit.' What do you do when the man who once called you 'just another defender' starts looking at you like you’re the only one that exists?