Trick question. They were all him. He was only one man, but he was being pulled in too many different directions, and he could feel the fissures forming in the center of his soul. He was one man, with one heart—and that heart belonged to Justin, while the world wanted it to belong to football. But it didn’t, and he couldn’t force it. He didn’t want to. He just wanted to love Justin.
If the world ever found out…
The loss of his scholarship would be the least of his worries.
He ran his thumb over Justin’s selfie. Who am I when you love me? Who am I when I fall in love with you?
He shoved his earbuds back into his ears and pressed play. Justin’s playlist started again. Wes pulled up his hoodie and laid his head against the window, watching the yellow line on the center of the asphalt roll on and on and on.
Chapter Eighteen
Justin stared into the mirror overlooking the ballet classroom and wrung his hands. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He was an idiot for inviting Wes. What the hell was he thinking?
His ballet class was a group of thirteen freshman girls, two other gay guys who had hooked up, had a spat, and now weren’t speaking or even looking at each other, and him. Their little performance was nothing more than a series of abbreviated solos, three minutes max for each dancer to perform for whoever they’d invited to crowd around at the back of the room. Most of the people watching were moms.
And then there was Wes, buried so far in the corner in his cowboy hat and his Wranglers he looked like he was trying to merge into the wall. Every mom in the classroom was eyeing him up, long, lingering once-overs of the famous cowboy footballer trying to look inconspicuous in the ballet studio.
Tracey finished her three-minute solo, and her Nutcracker music cut out. The instructor strode out in front of the tiny audience to announce the next dancer. “Next up is Justin Swanscott, a junior, who will be performing Odette’s entrance from Swan Lake.”
He saw Wes stand up straighter. Fold his arms over his chest. Shift his hips and try to look like he wasn’t suddenly as focused on the dance floor as he was at his own games. Even behind the dance partition, Justin could feel the force, the intensity of his stare.
He heard the music start and took a breath. Three minutes. Think of Paris.
He closed his eyes and danced the movements he remembered by heart. This was an intro class, but he wasn’t a beginning dancer, so he didn’t stumble or drop a leg lift. He hit each position cleanly, and his lines were long, and, even though he wasn’t dancing en pointe, he got to his toes and reached for the ceiling. When three minutes were up and his music tapered off, he opened his eyes and looked first at Wes.
Wes stared, his jaw hanging open, lips parted, pupils blown wide. He’d lost his rigid stance, and it looked like a single breath could knock him down.
Justin looked away quickly, in case one of the mothers figured out Justin and Wes were connected. They’d arrived separately and hadn’t said a word to each other, and most of the gossip was focused on whether Wes was crushing on or dating one of the freshman girls.
He bowed as the studio applauded. He thanked the audience and then scampered back behind the partition. His instructor kissed him on both cheeks and told him he was phenomenal and that he had to take Ballet II next time. He thanked her, threw on his warm-ups, grabbed his duffel bag, and slipped out the back door.
Wes met him around the corner, jogging to where Justin had parked in an out-of-the-way spot far from the streetlights. He ran right up to Justin and grabbed him, took both of his shoulders in his massive grip, and backed him against the car.
Wes pressed their bodies together so Justin could feel his erection, achingly hard against his belly. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Wes growled, right before he captured Justin’s lips with his own.
They kissed in the darkness until they heard tires rolling on the pavement and broke apart right before headlights swept over them both. Justin wiped his lips and steadied himself, and Wes braced his forearms on the roof of Justin’s car and bowed his head.