The Jock (The Team, #1)

by Tal Bauer

“There’s so much love for the game, but there’s also this ugly hatred. When you’re perfect, you’re a god. When you’re not, there are death threats. People say horrible things. Sometimes they do horrible things.

“No one chooses what risks I take. No one decides for me what I think is worth it. You had no right to make that decision for me.” “But—” “No buts. If you wanted to end us because you wanted it to be over, fine. But if you ended us because you thought you were saving me…” He shook his head. “That’s my job. Respect me enough to let me weigh the risks and make the choice.”

“Wes, the only person so far who has hurt me because of your football career is you. Why don’t you think about that before you go imagining some phantom attacker waiting for me in middle of the night to avenge your lost heterosexuality, okay?”

I fucking love Justin's brutal honesty

Justin was right. The only one who had hurt him was Wes. He’d hurt him badly. Maybe unforgivably.

I just don’t know how to put all the pieces of myself together.

I don’t know how to live with what I did to you. I don’t know how to move on from this. I think about you every moment.”

“I don’t know how to be all those men at once. It’s like I have to put on different faces every hour, when the only face I want to wear is my own. The guy I was in Paris. The guy I am with you. Wes, who loves Justin.”

“I don’t care what you are. I don’t care if you’re a footballer or a grocery store bagger or you work at McDonalds or, hell, you’re a cowboy.” “You hate cowboys.” Justin almost grinned. “I do. Except for one, apparently. And if you were the biggest cowboy to ever cowboy, I would still care about you. I don’t care what you do. I care about you.”

“I’m not. I’m not a good man. I broke your heart. And all I want to be good at is loving you.”

Wes leaned in— “I’m not kissing you. You just puked.”

I am Justin and Justin is me

“You have to tell me not to kiss you,” he said. “You have to stop me if you don’t want this.” Justin grabbed his T-shirt in both hands and yanked him closer. “You damn cowboy. I never wanted you to stop. Kiss me, damn it, and never stop.”

“You’re a good man.” “Don’t—” “You are. You’re always thinking about others and how to take care of them. Even if what you came up with was misguided, your heart was in the right place.”

I would have stayed at your side through all of it. If you came out, or if you didn’t. If someone found out. If things went horrible. If you lost your scholarship. There’s nothing that would have broken me away from you.”

Wes’s heart was hammering, and warning signs were flashing in his mind. He chewed on his words, ground his teeth together. “You keep using the past tense.” “You hurt me,” Justin whispered. “You hurt me like I’ve never been hurt before.”

“I’d take it back if I could. I wish I’d never sent those texts. I wish I’d quit football.” “You can’t quit.” Justin slid his fingers through Wes’s hair. Cupped the back of his neck. “Promise me you won’t quit.” “I would quit for you.”

I don’t know how to live with loving you like this. It will fade eventually, right? Because right now it feels like I’ll love you for the rest of my life, and I’ll just have to learn to live with this hole in my chest forever.”

“I love you,” Wes murmured. “I love you, Justin.” Now that he could say it, he was going to say it over and over, until Justin believed him. And then he’d still keep saying it, tell him he loved him all the time.

“If I let myself love you, are you going to break my heart again?” “No.” Wes slid his hand through Justin’s hair, then ran his palm down Justin’s back. He held him against his chest until their heartbeats pounded in rhythm as if they were trying to reach each other. “Never again. I swear.”

Justin’s chin quivered. But he reached for Wes, and he laced their fingers together. Brought Wes’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles, a mirror of Wes’s movements only a few minutes before. “I love you, too. Damn it, I love you, too, and I can’t stop.”

“People might think we’re friends if we do all that.” “Good. I hope they do.”

“My hat still smells like you, you know. I haven’t been able to wear it since Paris because it smells like you.” Justin dropped a chaste kiss on Wes’s lips. “You can be ridiculously romantic, you know that, cowboy?”

Justin, despite all Wes’s mistakes, still loved him. Justin had beaten some sense into Wes’s head, too, straightened out his broken thoughts. Unkinked his spiraling rationalizations.

Coach had grumbled and told him, “She’d better be worth it,” and, “Don’t get distracted. I told you you’d be flooded with tits and pussy. Eyes on the ball, Wes.” He had his eyes on what was most important: Justin.

The last time he’d felt full had been in Paris. When Justin started cooking for them, and he had all the carbs and protein and dairy he could stuff his face with. And all the extra protein he could swallow, too.

My poor hungry baby

He could remember Paris and not feel like he was dying.

Tho, we never did try escargots in Paris… Next time. His heart skipped about ten beats, and Wes bit his lip as he beamed. Next time. Next time they were in Paris together. Because they would go back, of course they would. Deal.

Omg if they get engaged/married in the city they fell in love in... I will die

“Every time I see you, every time I think of you, my heart goes wild.” Justin bit down on his lower lip. “You might want to get that looked at. Sounds like it could be serious.” “It is.” He squeezed Justin’s hand, then, quickly, lifted and kissed his fingers. “It’s lifelong.”

“I got the impression you really didn’t like football.” “I really don’t like cowboys, either.”

“Is there any epic love story that isn’t tragic?” “Ours.” Wes smiled. “It’s not gonna be tragic. It’s gonna be epic.”

Other than that, all the rest of my time is yours.”

“Want to meet for lunch tomorrow? In the dining hall?” “Yes.” And the next day, and the next day, if Wes had his way. Every day. Always.

If he didn’t put distance between them, he might not care about the team or his scholarship much longer. He might throw it all away, just to feel Justin’s lips on his again.

“Night, cowboy,” Justin said softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.” “Sleep well,” Wes said. “Sweet dreams.” “They’ll be of you.”

Wow. You really did pay attention in Paris. Of course I did. It’s important to you so it’s important to me. Oh, cowboy. You don’t know what you do to my heart. The same thing you do to mine.

They are killing me

There’s a performance scheduled. It’s not important, I mean, it’s intro to ballet, so it’s like, basically the nursery school version of dance. But it’s in six weeks. I mean, if you wanted to come. I’m just letting you know. He pulled up his calendar and put it in, typing “<3 ballet perform.” I’ll be there. I won’t miss it.

I’ll see you in twelve hours, cowboy. He did the math. Eleven hours and twenty-three minutes. But who’s counting. :) I ...

“We have our first game on Saturday, so it will be a crazy week.” “Is there anything I can do to help?” Wes turned his big smile back to Justin. “You already do. You’re you.”

Justin ordered him a Jimmy John’s sandwich delivered to his house, and Wes sent him a line of heart emojis and a sorry I was hangry.

I fucking love Jimmy John's

I was showing off for you. Maybe you were, but you’re excellent all on your own. I’m going to show off for you Saturday, too. Yeah? Yeah. I’m going to win this game for you. <3 I’m going to win every game for you, mon amour.

But this was Wes’s actual jersey. He’d worn it down there, on that field. It was like he was wearing Wes himself. Mine. None of you know, but he’s mine. I love him, and he loves me.

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.

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.

Up in Dallas, his dad was watching the game, too. About to watch his favorite player—and Justin’s boyfriend—dominate.

Cannot wait to see the relationship between Wes and Justin's dad

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.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t do that until it was serious. That I’d use condoms every time, until I was with someone I thought I could be with forever.” A firefly flitted from left to right behind Wes’s head. “I think that man might be you. I know I want him to be you.”

Wes’s hands trembled when he held his bare cock against Justin’s hole. “Are you sure?” Wes whispered. Justin nodded. He hooked his ankle around Wes’s waist. “I love you, cowboy.”

was nothing between them, nothing at all. Wes, the man he loved, was inside him. Touching him where no one else ever had, in a way no one else ever had.

His dad was funny, and insightful at times, and he really loved his Texas football. He was shocked Justin was at an away game—and, more than shocked, jealous. I need to meet this guy that has you going to all these games, Justin. He’s got to be a huge football fan, and you must be crazy about him. I tried for years to get you interested in football.

Well, I need to buy your boyfriend a beer. He got through to you. Football is the best sport of all. And he likes the right team. Imagine if your boyfriend didn’t like Texas. He sent a GIF of a man grabbing his heart and fainting.

Fucking love Justin’s dad

The only thing I ask of my son is he marries a man who likes Texas football. Justin laughed out loud. He took a selfie of himself in the Louisiana stands, in Wes’s jersey, with a Texas beanie on his head and a Texas scarf around his neck. Meet your approval, dad? You make me so proud, son. Crying emoji.