Page 20 of The Jock
“Figured I should know a little bit about football if my boyfriend is, like, playing.” Justin shrugged, pretending to look annoyed. “Turns out my boyfriend is kind of a big deal. He’s made a few touchdowns or baskets or goals or whatever.”
Wes’s smile melted Justin’s spine. He stared into Justin’s eyes, those dimples on full display, his cheeks darkening to shades of burgundy, even the tips of his ears going red. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“Well, if you insist.” Justin bit his lip. Smiled. “I could be persuaded.”
They were in a corner of the airport, off the main path, tucked into an empty gate area, but still. He didn’t expect Wes to do anything. Certainly not lean in, cup Justin’s cheek in one of his giant hands, and press their lips together. Justin kissed back, trying to chase Wes when he pulled away. He ended up leaning against his chest, tucking his face into Wes’s neck. Inhaling. Breathing him in.
The boarding announcement for his flight shattered the moment. He clung to Wes, irrationally afraid to let go. What if this was it? What if, when he turned his back, everything they’d shared evaporated?
What if he never saw Wes again?
Ridiculous. Of course he’d see Wes again. All he had to do was turn on the TV. He could see him every Saturday, and on SportsCenter every week, and on a million YouTube clips. He’d see Wes for the rest of his life, whether he wanted to or not.
But oh, how he wanted to. He wanted to wake up every day and see his face, watch the morning sun wink over his twitching eyelids, watch him come awake slowly, face half buried in the pillow as he fought for those last few seconds of sleep. Wanted to see his eyes roll back in his head when Justin decided to wake him up the fun way. Wanted to kiss him good morning and good night, to cook breakfast and dinner for him, feed him ridiculous amounts of calories, then help him burn it all off with cardio and wild sex. He wanted to watch Wes in the shower, maybe even join him sometime if they ever found a stall large enough. He wanted everything with this man, everything he’d spent the past three weeks savoring, and now it was about to end.
“Text me when you land?” Wes whispered.
“Of course. You, too?” Wes would land first, in New York, and then transfer to his flight to Austin, where he’d take a bus back to campus. Wes nodded. “Let me know about the team. Your position.”
Behind Justin, the gate agent started rattling off boarding zones, moving with alarming efficiency. He’d counted on the process being slow, giving him a few extra minutes with Wes. He’d been greedy, wanting every second he could steal.
“I will.”
And then the gate agent called his zone, and a minute later, the line of people boarding his flight was nearly gone. They started the final boarding call next, announcing the names of missing passengers. “Justin Swanscott, please come to gate 29 immediately. Your flight has completed boarding.”
“Fuck,” he hissed. Tears bubbled up again, and he squeezed Wes’s hands. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Wes stared at Justin, his lips thin, eyes wide and shining, as if he, too, was trying to fight back tears. His fingers hadn’t released Justin’s, and he was holding on like he wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let Justin walk away.Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go.
He pressed a quick kiss to Wes’s cheek, then grabbed his carry-on and turned toward his gate. The gate agent noticed him heading her way, and she waved him on, a plastic smile on her features as she told him to hurry. Then she froze, eyes wide, and stared beyond him.
“Justin.” Hands grabbed him and spun him around, and he was face to face with Wes, Wes’s body pressed as tightly to Justin’s as they’d ever been—closer, even, than when they were making love. Wes’s hands slid around his waist, rose to the center of his back. “Justin,” Wes rumbled. His eyes darted from Justin’s eyes to his lips.
He kissed Justin then, deeper, harder, than he ever had. Nothing, not even their first kiss, was as hungry, as desperate, as the kiss Wes laid on him there, in the middle of the concourse, no longer hidden in a corner and out of sight. There he was, Wes Van de Hoek, one of the top college football players in the US, laying one on Justin like he was trying to give Justin part of his soul, break off a piece of himself and slide it inside Justin for him to keep. Justin dropped his carry-on and threw his arms around Wes.
Their lips brushed as they caught their breath. Justin blinked, the roar of the airport a dull hum behind him, the people and the overhead announcements and the airplanes racing down the runways all so distant in comparison to the feel of Wes in his arms, the taste of Wes on his lips.
That kiss felt like forever. Like a promise. Like a vow. Like everything he’d wished for, all in one moment. He brushed his nose against Wes’s. Smiled, and felt Wes smile against his lips in return.
“Mr. Swanscott?” This time, the gate agent came to him, hovering at his side instead of calling him over the intercom. “We need to board, Mr. Swanscott. Everyone else is already seated. Will you be joining the flight?”
“Yes.” He pulled away slowly. Held on to Wes’s hand as he grabbed his carry-on. Held his hand as he backed away, one, two, three steps, until their arms were extended and only the tips of their fingers were still touching. And then not, and Justin pulled his fingers to his lips and kissed them, then blew his kiss to Wes, who stood like a brokenhearted cowboy alone in a sea of humanity, people rushing around him like water breaking over a rock as he watched Justin walk away.
Justin let the tears fall as he settled into his coach seat. Let them rain down his face and soak his T-shirt while the preflight announcements filled the cabin. A flight attendant slipped him a box of tissue and a little travel bottle of vodka, and he gave her a shaky smile as he squeezed her hand.
He closed his eyes as the plane lifted off. He felt his heart fall free, sink back to earth, stay behind. He’d lost his heart to Wes, and he wouldn’t get it back until they were together again.God, I love you, you big cowboy. I’ll see you again. Soon.
Chapter Seven
Wes wasa bleary-eyed mess when he finally tumbled off the bus at campus. He hitched his duffel onto his tired shoulders and walked the mile to his dorm. He hadn’t slept a wink on either flight. He’d stared out the window for hours, replaying memories of him and Justin, trying to hold on to every second, too afraid he’d forget the sound of Justin’s laugh if he closed his eyes. Too afraid he’d fall asleep and wake up sandwiched between two businessmen who wanted to type on their laptops, and realize everything, all of it, had been a dream.
Now he’d give anything for a few minutes of rest.
When he made it to campus, he found his truck in the back of a long-term parking lot and pulled down the rusted tailgate, then threw himself into the bed. He hadn’t worried about the truck while he was gone. No one was going to take this clunker. It was more rust than paint, coated in a patina of mud and deer blood from the ranch. Even his teammates didn’t want to bum a ride with him. They’d rather walk.
He lay on his back and stared at the sky. See Coach Young. Text Justin. Grab caffeine. He could make it a hundred miles before he needed to pull over and sleep for a few hours at a truck stop. It would cut the trip home tomorrow to only seven hours.
Groaning, Wes hauled himself up, dug out his keys, and dragged himself into the cab. The old rust bucket started up on the first go, and he smiled at the duct-taped dash. “Good girl.” It was only a six-minute drive to the stadium, and since it was summer, the parking lot was a ghost town. He passed an athletic trainer and the team doc as he made his way up to the coaching offices and the executive suite, on the same floor at the skyboxes. He spun his keys, his exhaustion replaced with a formless kind of anxiety, a buzz in his bones and a hum that bubbled his blood. He didn’t know if he was going to float away or collapse. He’d worked hard his whole life, always achieving everything he’d set his mind to. Always moving up. He’d wanted to be the best in his school, and then the best in his division, and then one of the best in the state. And he was. He’d wanted a scholarship, and he got one. He’d decided to become a starter on the team when he first arrived on campus, decided he was going to be the first-string tight end, and now… he was right on the cusp, the very edge of that dream.
