“That was a good speech,” Justin said, rubbing Wes’s big, broad back. He could feel the tension coiling through Wes’s muscles. “The team is very lucky to have you. Most college stars are in it for themselves.”
Wes shook his head. “Aren’t I in it for myself? I don’t want what everyone else wants. I don’t want the fame or the glory. All I wanted was a college education. Hell, I should have joined the military for that.”
“Then we wouldn’t have met.” He nudged Wes’s hip with his own, playful with a half bottle of wine inside him. He rested his head on Wes’s shoulder. “I don’t think you’re in anything for yourself. You’re staying in the closet for the team. Everything you’ve done, all year long, has been for someone other than you. For me, for them, for the fans. You even brought me Thanksgiving lunch today. You couldn’t be selfish if you tried.”
Wes tried to smile, and he laid his head against Justin’s. Laced their hands together. Downed the rest of his wine. Justin snapped a selfie of them, tipsy and smiling at the camera, heads together, hands interlaced. “I should send that to my dad.”
“Do it. I’m fine with it.”
“No, I want him to meet you. I want to see his face when he sees that I’m dating you.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.” Wes kissed Justin’s temple and wrapped his arms around him. “Want to head inside?”
“Oui, cowboy. Take me to bed.” He held out his hand, and Wes helped him to his feet. They walked inside arm in arm. Justin’s housemate was still snoring.
At the bottom of the stairs, Wes scooped Justin into his arms. Justin yelped but threw his arms around Wes’s neck and tipped his head back. “Oh, cowboy, are you going to carry me to bed?”
“Of course.” He grinned. “Gotta practice, you know?”
“Practice?”
“To carry you over the threshold the day I marry you.”
Justin pulled him down for another kiss. “Presumptuous?” he breathed, laughing after kissing Wes to within an inch of his life.
“Just trying to make your dad proud.”
He laughed, loud enough to interrupt his housemate’s snores. Wes charged upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, Justin still in his arms. He got the bedroom door open one-handed, walked inside, and then kicked the door shut with his toes. He carried Justin to the bed and laid him down, then crawled right on top, biting his T-shirt and dragging it up his chest. He buried his face in Justin’s belly, flicking his tongue in and out of Justin’s navel before undoing his fly and pressing his face to Justin’s crotch. “I’m going to love you all night long.”
“Remember what your—oh—team said.” Justin gasped as Wes’s lips closed around his cock. “You can’t be exhausted tomorrow.”
Wes sucked him deep, hollowing his cheeks, and then popped off his cock. “That’s my secret,” Wes said. “The key to my success this season has been you.”
“Well, then.” Justin spread his legs and dug his fingers into Wes’s hair as Wes’s lips closed around him again. “Time for your protein shot, cowboy.”
They descended into giggles, Wes falling to his side in the middle of the blow job, Justin curling around him as he howled. Laughter turned to sighs, and then into moans, and then they didn’t say anything more for the rest of the night.
Friday morning, their perfect world imploded.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Cowboy in Paris:
The Secret Life of Wes Van de Hoek
By SportsWorld Staff Writer Geoff Brady
Imagine this:
You’re one of the best college football players in your generation. The buzz around you is incredible. The NFL circles you like bees around honey. Your school is begging you to stay in the program. You’re their star player. Your face is plastered on billboards across five hundred miles. Fan mail arrives at the school in ten-pound sacks every day. You’re the hottest man in the entire state, and, according to the internet, you’re single.
Until one wayward photo blows everything up.
See that? That’s a picture of the Marché d’Aligre. It’s a Parisian marketplace famous for its amazing variety of produce, trinkets, and street entertainment. This photo was snapped in June, when a vacationing family took a picture of a street mime.
Did you catch the guy in the background? The one in the cowboy hat? Holding the hand of the guy next to him?
That’s Wes Van de Hoek, holding hands with his boyfriend, right in the center of Paris.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wes woke late Friday morning to the clatter and buzz