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even though he was used to standing out, apparently they didn’t make men his size in France, because Lord Almighty, he was stared at.
But an opportunity to spend three weeks in Paris covered by his scholarship? He’d grabbed that with both hands.
Things like this didn’t happen to West Texas farm boys.
There were only two ways out of West Texas: on the gridiron or in shackles, bound for Huntsville.
Sheesh
Where he was from, kids sometimes waited years before they felt actual rain on their faces. It was hard and dry and bitter in West Texas, and most people quit,
When he was four, he played dirt ball with other kids, tying kitchen towels to their belt loops to mimic flag football.
He hefted his suitcase up the six flights of wooden stairs to the top floor. The staircase was so narrow he could touch both walls with his elbows.
Sheesh, sounds like trash
His metal key was like a Hollywood prop, something he’d only ever seen in old movies.
and he shoved open the warped door
Yep, trash
headed for the bathroom. He had to turn sideways to slide through the door, and there was no room at all to bend over.
His knuckles were gnarled at twenty-one. Cracks split his skin already, canyons that had scarred over into ditches and furrows and white lines.
old mattress. The ancient springs groaned beneath his weight.
His sultry, pouty look that worked wonders in Texas didn't seem to translate in Paris. He wasn’t used to the men here, how they flirted, what they said.
Why did Wes have to be his roommate? Why couldn’t they put him with a nerd, one of the IT majors who smelled like Doritos and Mountain Dew?
Lol what
Wes smiled, and Justin nearly hit the floor, nearly sank to his knees and wept like his mom’s friends did on Sundays at their church.
And he sent them all to his parents.
Ok that’s just stupid and disrespectful.
“Why didn’t you sit her down and look her in the eyes and tell her? She deserved to hear the truth from you like you loved her, not have it thrown in her face like you hated her.”
EXACTLY!!!!
His dad had sent him a check for five grand for these three weeks in Paris.
He was being all kinds of stupid, sacrificing his plans to tag along with Wes, a straight cowboy from Texas. Straight cowboys were a dime a dozen back home,
He was one of four guys on the drill team, and they were all very, very gay. He’d lost his virginity to one in the back of the bus on the way to an out-of-town football game.
Yuck
He knew which of the running backs had the best butt, and which quarterback had gotten drunk over spring break and let a guy give him a blow job.
Did he take any of school seriously?
he declared to his father he was going to marry the ranch foreman or one of the cowboys down from Montana. He’d been young enough to get away with it, get called hilarious instead of a freak. He’d been laughed at.
Who the hell was he to break that focus? Strike out from the team, be himself? The selfishness of that thought made his stomach turn inside out, made his lungs stop and his heart stutter.
when a hundred other guys depended on you, being yourself wasn’t an option.
He’d be damned if he was going to be the one who shattered everyone’s dreams because he was different. Different didn’t work on the team.
There was no room for his own dreams, his tender hopes. He kept his mouth shut, like he’d learned when he was five.
Like he was going to float off the earth every time Justin looked at him with that light in his eyes. It was probably just the sun. It probably wasn’t what he wanted it to be.
Even if Justin was into guys, why would he ever be interested in Wes? He wouldn’t be. He’d want someone fun and bold and hip, someone who knew about dance and pop culture and the world.
If he didn’t screw this up, if he was a good enough lover for Justin, if he could captivate Justin half as much as Justin captivated him, then, maybe, Justin would want to keep him.
Wes was full—after eating a pound each of chicken and pasta, along with a whole baguette.
Geez
“I’ve never been. I have no idea if it’s my scene or not. But I know you like it, and I want to take you. Can you show me what it’s like the way you see it?”
I’m big, I’m intimidating, I’m scary. I learned to stay away from everyone, especially at night, and especially girls. They call the police if I get too close. Or, worse, pull their mace out.
What???
That’s what people see when they look at me: big, scary, dumb hick in a cowboy hat.”
Oh that’s awful
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.
You think you’ve had pussy before? You’re about to drown in pussy. Girls will be throwing themselves at you faster than you can blink.
Oh yippee
know, you say you haven’t decided. But listen. I already have six NFL coaches calling me asking about you.
Now might be a good time to switch that major of yours. You’ve got no free time anymore. All of your minutes are mine.
a fan had stalked one of the university’s quarterbacks. He’d staked out the quarterback’s truck at the stadium and waited for him after practice,
By the time the linemen got there, the quarterback was on the ground with two punctured lungs and an eviscerated belly bleeding all over the pavement,
Jesus Christ
His shoulders were only large enough to carry everyone else’s dreams, not his own.
His mom hadn’t wanted to hear about dances after he came out. She’d made a comment, once, about why he’d even go to homecoming if he wasn’t going with a girl.
Oh wow
Wes. He looked terrible.
And Wes wasn’t looking for him, either. Why would he be? Justin was one face among a hundred thousand. He was forgettable, ignorable.
Football was Colton’s soul in a way it wasn’t quite Wes’s. Colton wanted the lights and the stadium and the NFL.
He had an ancient laptop from the librarian at his high school, a gift when he graduated.
His life was not his own. Not anymore.
Why was his skin on fire, lit from the inside? Why did it feel like someone’s eyes were tracing his shape against the glow of the porch light?
despite Coach’s heavy sighs and his cajoling, Wes stuck with his major. Coach looked at him like he was making the biggest mistake of his life.
Eat more calories, the nutritionist said.
Pay me, he wanted to shout at the phone. If I’m your best player, give me more to eat than just snacks at practice and protein powder to take home.
