Page 95 of The Jock
“So I worked hard, from day one. From that first day of freshman training camp, when I met most of you guys.” He grinned. Saw grins reflect back at him from some of his teammates. "To hold on to that scholarship, I had to give this everything I had. And because of that, I told myself I’d bury that part of me. I never dated in high school, because I was too focused on getting that scholarship. I wasn’t going to date here, either. I was going to stay focused on football. Finish my degree. What was four years, I thought. I stuck to my plan. Until…”
Again, he looked at Justin. Justin smiled softly.He was made to love the white swan.“I fell in love,” Wes said. “I didn’t expect to, but I did. And it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.”
Silence. No one moved. He didn’t even hear his teammates breathe.
“Coach sat me down over the summer, when I got back from study abroad, and told me about my rank in the league. That I was suddenly a pretty big deal.” His gaze fell, and he stared at the floor. “He also told me that I was responsible for the team this year. That I could elevate the team, and if I did, all of us could see our dreams come true. If I played my heart and soul out and made sure we had a good season, everyone would get what they wanted. NFL scouts would be at all the games. We’d all be in the draft. If I stepped up. ‘You can bring them all to glory,’ he said.”
“Damn,” Art said, in the silence that followed. “He put that on you?”
“He wanted you all to have what you wanted. Have your dreams come true. And I do, too. I want it for every one of you. You all deserve to play in the NFL. You’re all eligible after this year, and if we put up those numbers… I decided I was going to do exactly what he said. I was going to have the best season of my life for you. I was going to bring you guys to where your dreams came true. And I knew, if we were going to have that kind of season, there couldn’t be any distractions. No surprises. Nothing that disrupted our rhythm on the field or in the locker room, or got between us. It wasn’t the time to come out. Not with everything on the line.”
“You hid,” Josh said. He glowered, but Wes couldn’t tell if he was scowling at Wes or at the world. Patrick, next to him, folded his arms across his chest and glared at the floor.
“Yeah. I was trying to give you guys the world, and I didn’t want my life to get in the way of that.”
Silence. Colton stared at Wes across the circle, his face so full of heartbreak it hurt to hold his gaze. Wes looked away. His gaze went blurry as he stared at the line of their coffeemakers, the giant tubs of protein powder he and the guys shared crowding the kitchen counter next to twelve boxes of cereal and five boxes of Pop-Tarts.
God, he loved these guys. And he’d been so afraid of them finding out about him that he’d pulled back and pulled back, until the distance between them was the size of the Grand Canyon. No wonder they thought the worst of him. They didn’t know him anymore. He’d been isolating himself for months.
There was so much pain in that room. Battered, bruised trust, and the wreckage of his secrets.
He wanted to play foosball and beer pong with them again. He wanted to stay up all night on a Madden tournament, heckling Colton and trying to make him lose, even though Colton never lost. Grill in the backyard with the guys and throw the ball around in the street. Bitch in the locker room about Cesar’s snoring or Colton’s stank feet. And then walk out on that field together, like they were meant to. He wanted to feel them come together in that perfect way, feel them become extensions of each other, like Colton and he were making the play happen in the heartbeat they shared. Or he and Orlando were setting up the rush, and he was blocking as Orlando was on the move, and they flowed together like they could read each other’s mind, but no, they were just that in sync, that well tuned to each other.
Hemissedthat so much. He missed his friends, his teammates. His brothers. Tears spilled over his eyelashes as his chest shuddered. Justin’s hand gripped his, and he wrapped his other hand around Justin’s and held on tight. He’d get through this, and afterward, Justin would be there. He’d known, from the very beginning, how it would end. He fell in love, and like all epic love stories, there was a price to pay. He was made to love the white swan, after all.
“Damn, bro,” Orlando finally said. “Damn.”
“Coach shouldn’t have put that on you,” Patrick grunted. “That’s fucked up.”
“We had a good season, though.” Wes tried to smile through the pain. “Until I screwed it all up. But you guys definitely got seen by the scouts. ESPN has highlight reels of you that make some of the NFL players jealous. You guys got great time in front of the league. You’ll all find your next home in the NFL. I know you will.”
“Man, the season isn’t done yet.” Art frowned, looking at Wes like he’d said that the Aggies were the best sports program in Texas. He shook his head at Wes. “What, are you quittingnow? We’ve got another game to play.”
Wes looked at Colton and then back to Art. “I don’t want to hurt you guys any more. I don’t want to hurt the team.”
“You don’t,” Josh blurted out. “You belong on the field with us. We’re a team, like you said.”
Cheers andHell yeahs echoed around the crowded room.
“We started this season together. We end this season together,” Quinton said. “I don’t even want the NFL looking at me if they’re not looking at you, too. It’s all of us, man. It’s not just one of us, or a few of us. It’s all of us.”
More clapping. MoreHell yeahs. A fewFuck yeses.
Colton rose. He gripped the football between his hands and crossed the circle, then stopped in front of Wes.
Wes stood.
“Come back. We all want you with us. We all miss you.” His jaw clenched hard, the muscles around his neck bulging. “Imiss you. It’s not the same.”
Murmurs of agreement, and his teammates nodding in the background, falling in and out of blurry focus behind Colton. His teammates smiling at him. Waiting for him.
What world was this, where everything shattered and then they put it back together? Was this only a figment of his imagination? Was he still in a coma, dreaming of everything he wanted but couldn’t have? He tried to inhale, but his muscles were clenching and his ribs were aching and all he managed was a ragged, broken gasp. He stared at Colton.
“I’m sorry,” Colton said. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. What Coach put on you, and what the world put on you. The fans, and their fucked-up shit. I want to kill those guys who jumped you, man.” His teeth clenched, and his hand squeezed down on the football until it deformed. “And I’m sorry I reacted like I did. You were trying to talk to me in the locker room, and I didn’t listen to you. I had no idea all that other stuff was driving you.” He held out the football. “Can we make this right again?”
Wes grabbed the football with one hand and Colton with the other. He dragged his best friend into a bear hug, clinging to him like he was a life ring and Wes was lost at sea, like he’d been treading water for days and days and days. It felt like he had been. The agony of not knowing where he was going, wondering what would happen. He’d been so terrified of the collapse that he hadn’t thought of the after, and he had no idea how to find his way through the wreckage.
Wes felt Justin’s hand on the back of his thigh, grounding, supportive. He buried his face in Colton’s shoulder as the rest of his teammates joined them. He felt hands on his own shoulder, on his back. Hands covering his where he clung to Colton’s shirt, fingers clenched hard in cotton and muscle. Colton clung to him, too, whispering promises into his ear. Promises to be there for Wes. To be there for Justin. To never, ever leave him alone again. That he’d never let another piece of shit lay their hands on Wes. That they’d never lose a game again, not when they were together, like the brothers they were.
