Page 58 of The Jock
And then there was his jersey. Wes’s jersey. It fit him closely—not skin tight, since it was made for Wes, but it was fitted and looked like the real deal, especially next to everyone else’s. He’d put it on over a long-sleeve gray Under Armour, and he’d thought he looked especially badass with his pompadour teased up higher than usual.
“Hey, man, that’s an awesome jersey! Where did you get that?”
Apparently other people thought he looked good, too. “Oh, I got it from a friend,” he shouted to the frat boy.
“Cool.” The guy gave him a fist bump and moved on, downing his beer as he went.
The best part about the jersey? It had Wes’s name on the back.
Sure, so did a lot of other jerseys around him. He counted at least twenty Van de Hoeks in his line of sight. But this was Wes’s actual jersey. He’d worn it down there, onthatfield. It was like he was wearing Wes himself.Mine. None of you know, but he’s mine. I love him, and he loves me.
Justin pulled out his phone and took a selfie, and then another, trying to look sexy and happy for the camera, and capture the wild crowd around him. He sent the best to Wes, along with a text.In the stands and so ready to watch you play. You’re going to kick ass. Xo
He didn’t think Wes had his phone on him, but he also had no clue what the team was doing down there before the game. They’d finished warm-ups and run-around drills half an hour ago. According to the countdown clock, there was fifteen minutes before kickoff. Inflatable tunnels were being pumped up outside the team tunnel entrances. Cheerleaders had already taken the field to pump up the crowd. The marching band, a few sections away, was making a racket, more noise than music.
His phone buzzed. Wes.What section are you in?
Student section. It was the only one left that had any tickets.The entire rest of the stadium was sold out. Over one hundred thousand people, all there to watch Wes and his team play.
I’ll find you.
Cute words, and Justin grinned, bouncing on his toes. No, Wes wouldn’t, not in this crowd, but he’d look, and that’s what mattered.I’ll be watching you, love. You and your cute butt.
He got a heart-eyed emoji back, and then Wes texted,Got to get lined up. Text you after. ILY
Je t’aime, cowboy. Kick ass!
A few minutes later, the smoke machines started at the Texas tunnel entrance. The music changed to a pounding, anticipatory beat, and then the announcer’s voice boomed throughout the stadium. Everyone leaped to their feet, screaming, roaring. The bucket drums went wild.
“Welcome to the field your Texas players, led by team captain Wes Van de Hoek!”
Justin jumped up and down, screaming and grabbing the hands of the frat boys next to him, stomping his feet and roaring with the crowd as the football players burst out of the tunnel through the lineup of cheerleaders. They barreled into the middle of the field, Wes at the very front. The crowd was wild, beyond anything Justin had ever experienced. Everyone was screaming Wes’s name, chantingVan de Hoek! Van de Hoek!
Wes ran backward. He faced the student section, and as he jogged, he tapped his gloved fist to his chest twice and then pointed to the crowd.
Deafening applause. People leaped to their feet screaming Wes’s name, waving signs and posters and cardboard cutouts of eights and sevens. The crowd was so wild that they blocked Justin’s view of the field and of Wes.
They thought Wes was giving his love to them, the student body. Their number-one player, the nice guy who never minded when people came up to him and wished him well, who never had an unkind word for anyone. Of course his love was for them.
No, it was for Justin. Wes had done that, in front of everyone, for him. He nearly sagged into his seat, weak at the knees. Wes was about to play his first game of the season, and he’d sent his love straight to the stands, to Justin.
He texted Wes, even though Wes’s phone was in his locker.I love you so much. And so do the fans.He took a quick video of the wild craziness, attached it to the text, and sent it.
He even texted his dad, sending him a selfie of him smiling in the crowd and wearing Wes’s jersey, right before kickoff. His dad sent back a line of exclamation points, and thenMaybe I can drive down and we can go to a game together! :)
Yeah, Dad. That’d be cool.Up in Dallas, his dad was watching the game, too. About to watch his favorite player—and Justin’s boyfriend—dominate.
Wes and Colton won the coin toss and got possession to start. From the very first drive, it was obvious that they, and the team, played a totally different game than the rest of the conference. The university had switched from the Big Twelve to the Southeastern Conference so they’d have more competition and they could play stronger, better, more challenging teams. But from the first snap, it looked like Wes and Colton and the rest of the offense were picking apart a pee wee league, not Florida, last year’s top-ranked program in the FBS.
Wes alternated between blocking and slant routes, and the offense marched down the field as if the defense weren’t even there, like the game was just another practice and they were executing perfect timing drills. In under two minutes, Colton threw a fade to Wes in the end zone. Wes leaped to pluck it out of the air in between two defenders and came down with an easy triple step for a picture-perfect touchdown. A SportsCenter moment.
The team’s defense was equally hot, and they shut down the Florida offense after only two first downs, forcing a punt. Wes and the offense took the field again, and they were even better than in the opening drive.
Every time Wes came out of the huddle, he turned to the student section. The stadium cameras caught him smiling behind his face mask, and that was the image that ended up replayed over and over and over on the jumbotron. Wes, gazing up at the student section, a wide smile breaking over his face before he turned those big shy eyes back to the game. One of the screaming dots in the student section behind Wes was Justin, bellowing his heart out for the love of his life.
Everyone else watched the game, but Justin watched Wes, even when he wasn’t on the field. After his plays, he jogged right to the coach’s side, downing water as he mopped his sweat with a team towel. He and his coach compared notes, Wes sharing his thoughts from the field as the coach listened, then gave his insights. Wes listened to his coach and to the offensive and defensive coordinators, and then he would move off. He headed to his teammates and high-fived each, then crouched down to chat. He stood with Colton and mimed throwing the football for him, focusing on his feet. Colton nodded, then laughed. He and Wes giggled on the sideline like the boys and best friends they were.
Justin’s heart swelled. He was going to die before this game was over, either from an aneurysm or from overdosing on his love for Wes. It felt like he'd injected pure Wes into his veins, like being in the stadium was stepping into Wes’s soul. He’d used to roll his eyes at the football players on his high school campus, so full of themselves, like they were the hottest shit to set foot on the earth. Stuck-up, arrogant pricks. All football players were that way, he’d decided.
