Page 59 of The Jock
Wes was so, so different. So giving. Especially of himself. He was a leader, not just on the field but off. A friend, and a good one, based on the smiles he got from his teammates and the respect in everyone’s eyes.
I can’t break this team. I can’t break us apart. Coach says I can bring them all to glory.
Words Justin had gritted his teeth at and rolled his eyes over. But now, seeing it, feeling it…
He understood.
He was so goddamn lucky Wes loved him and was willing to give their love a chance, even though they’d be hiding. Whatever resentment he might have been feeling, whatever grumbles he hadn’t let out of his psyche, vanished with a pop.
By halftime, Texas was up 21–3. Florida’s one field goal had been a risky fifty-eight yard attempt, the Florida head coach desperate to avoid the humiliation of a shutout.
The teams filtered into their locker rooms. Wes, Colton, and Florida brought up the Texas rear, stopping by the student section to goof around and shake hands and let the students knock on their helmets for good luck. One of the wide receivers leaped up onto the padded wall, falling back into the sea of hands and screaming fans like he was about to go crowd surfing. He could have, too, but after only a few seconds, he jumped back down, and he, Wes, Colton, and everyone else headed to the locker room. Wes spun around, gazing at the student section as he jogged backward all the way into the tunnel.
Justin texted his dad during the half, comparing their thoughts on the game. Total blowout was his dad’s verdict. Proof positive that Wes Van de Hoek was a one-in-a-million player.You don’t see that kind of talent but once a decade, if that. That boy has worked his ass off, and it shows.
Yes he has.
It’s good to see you smiling again. :) I guess you’re there with someone?
You could say that.
I hope whoever you’re with, he’s making you happy. He gets a thumbs up from me if he got you to go to a game!
LOL Dad. Yeah, he’s a good guy.
Bring him home. Happy to meet him.
After the half, the team ran onto the field to even wilder cheers and stomps, the stadium even more energized after the phenomenal first half. Wes jogged to the student section for more high fives and handshakes, then repeated his fist to his heart and point to the stands. Justin blew him a kiss, imagined it sailing down to the field and through Wes’s face mask, landing on his cheek.
By the end of the third, the game was over. Wes put another touchdown on the board, and then one of the receivers caught a deep pass as Wes helped block, giving Colton the extra time in the pocket to set up the perfect throw. When the fourth quarter started, the second string was in the game, and even some of the third string got time on the field. Florida was so tired, so off their rhythm, they could only put one more field goal on the scoreboard. The game ended 34–6.
The stands went wild as the clock ran out. Wes and Colton crossed the field, shaking the hands of the other team captains, and the coaches met in the middle for a handshake as well. Both teams drifted into their locker rooms, and the crowd finally started to make its way out of the stadium.
Out of the stadium and straight into West Campus. It was an eight-block walk to Daisy Lane, and ten thousand students meandered in that direction. Thirty minutes after the game ended, West Campus had turned into a multiblock street party, headquartered at the restaurant. The old houses were decked out in university colors, with banners and posters and flags in every window and on every porch. Windows were open, and stereos blasted music. Coolers of beer were on almost every front lawn, and students milled in the streets, sat on lawn chairs in their yards, lounged on front porches. It was wall-to-wall humanity, and Justin moved with the currents, eventually winding up on Opal Street.
Where, if at all possible, the party was even more intense, since that was where the starting line lived. Music pulsed, so loud he could feel the air quake. Laughter rang from every direction. He fought his way to his front porch and finally found space to breathe.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.Told you I’d win the game for you. <3
You were amazing!!
Did you have a good time?
I loved it. I loved watching you.
He got a heart emoji, and then Wes went quiet for about twenty minutes. Justin people-watched, letting the party vibes flow through him. A frat boy passed him a beer, and he unscrewed the top and shared a cheers. The frat boy told him his jersey wassick, dude,and then he moved on, delivering beer to everyone he could, like a beer fairy on a mission.
We’re on the way. Where r u?
Back home. This is nuts. Is it always like this?
Yeah. :) It’s gonna be more crazy in a minute.
He felt the change when the team arrived. They walked from the stadium, cheered on by the crowds that lingered on the streets. University police cruisers shadowed the players, watching over the party and making sure everyone kept things on the fun side of the line.
When the team turned onto Opal Street, the entire block roared. It was as loud as the stadium had been, as energetic. People close to the players high-fived them and passed them beers. Somewhere, music was turned up. Half the street turned into a dance party.
Justin found Wes first, watching him take, but not open, a beer. He hung with Colton, both of them shaking people’s hands, high-fiving, accepting congrats from guys and girls alike. Colton welcomed the attention, basking in it. Especially from the girls. He let them sling their arms around him and wrapped his arms around their waists. He accepted kisses to his cheeks and to his biceps.
