Page 50 of The Jock
“I fell for you exactly the way you are. I like that you’re out. I like that you’re proud. I admire you for that. Please, if you would have bought this before, buy it now?”
Silently, Justin took the pin and added it to his basket. “One day,” he whispered.
One day, I’ll buy one for myself, too. “Yeah.”
Justin was quiet as they kept wandering, but his pace picked up a minute later, and then they were in the sports section. Team merchandise blanketed the back half of the bookstore. Football dominated, filling multiple aisles with cups and mugs and photo frames, bobbleheads and bottle openers and coozies. Justin traded his plain university-branded lanyard for one with footballs on it, then snorted and giggled at the Wes Van de Hoek bobblehead.
Then came the jerseys.
Justin beelined for them, flipping through the racks until he found the 87s. They were NCAA-official jerseys, and they came in the school colors, and in pink, red, green, and even a wild tie-dye. “Which one is like yours?”
“None of them. These are way too thick.” His jersey was mesh, more air in the fabric, lighter and elastic so it would cling to his pads and taper to his body, his waist. These were made for fans in the stands, not for players sweating their butts off on the field.
Justin made a face. “I want to wear your number when I go to the games. Which one should I get?”
“You want to come to my games?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I got the impression you really didn’t like football.”
“I really don’t like cowboys, either.” Justin winked, still riffling through the racks. “You know, I ordered a jersey like this over the summer. I mean, when I got back. Actually, I ordered it on the flight home.” He shrugged. “I left it in Dallas. It arrived after…”
Wes’s heart twanged again, another broken string going sideways. A mom and a daughter were looking at the basketball gear nearby, so he couldn’t take Justin in his arms like he wanted to. Instead, he laid his hand over the hangers, stilling Justin’s search. He stepped close, his face almost next to Justin’s. “I have something better. Something just for you.”
Justin moved away from the jerseys. He walked the aisle one more time, laughed at the university-branded lug nuts, grabbed an insulated tumbler, and bopped the Van de Hoek bobblehead. “You’d think you’d get paid for all this.”
Wes shook his head. Pursed his lips. “We’re not allowed to make money on the sport while we’re in college.”
“But the university makes…” Justin eyed the jerseys and other merch, so much of it plastered with Wes’s face or an image of him leaping for a catch or holding the ball as he faked out a defender. “They’re raking it in, thanks to you.”
“We’re supposed to be grateful for the chance to play. And for the free college.”
Justin snorted.
While Justin got in line to pay, Wes waited, spinning a display of touristy postcards next to a rack of bumper stickers. The stickers were the usual mix of university logos and boasting about a son or a daughter at the school or on this or that sports team. Near the bottom, there were brag stickers about academics, too. And then intramurals. He spotted two with the university logo and the wordDance, one with a man and the other with woman striking a pose. He grabbed the one with the male dancer.
Another sticker caught his eye:I <3 my Texas Nurse, with the heart shaped out of a cardiac rhythm. He grabbed it and got in line behind the mother and daughter.
At the register, he added two bottles of water and a protein bar. Justin waited at the door, eyebrows quirked. Wes passed Justin a bottle of water and smiled, then led him back to the truck.
“Got you something.” He fished the dance sticker out of his bag. “Thought you could put it on your car.”
Justin’s lips parted. He took the sticker and stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Justin shook his head. “It’s just… My parents don’t even know I dance.”
“Oh. Well, you don’t have to put it on your car if—”
“No one has ever understood why I like it so much. Or supported me in it…” Justin interrupted him, tracing the male silhouette.
“But you were on the drill team in high school.”
“It’s not like my parents put out a yard sign bragging about that. Or a bumper sticker. They didn’t like it. They wanted me to keep playing baseball.”
“I like when you dance.” Wes chewed the inside of his lip. “I really like when you dance. And I liked it when you taught me about the ballet, too. I liked seeing it from your perspective.”
