Page 15 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 15

CLAP YOUR HANDS

Elliot

One year later - Junior Year

“Earth to Elliot…” Chris’s hand waving in front of my face paired with his alarmed voice snap me out of my reverie. “Hey! You zoned out again, man! What the fuck’s wrong with you?” He’s fast to snatch my dark green beanie.

It’s a good thing that the late January weather has been relatively mild or I would have smacked his preppy face. It’s scary how easily my teammate, my roommate, and my best friend detects tiny details that no one else notices. I probably should be more careful around him if I want to keep my secrets safe. Nah, seriously, I would trust this guy with my life… Well, almost every part of my life since a certain hot ginger man with a perfected American accent remains in an alternate slice of my equally hot life.

“I would say I’m boring you, but there’s a sparkle in your eyes that appears every once in a while.” Teasing, he shakes his head in disbelief, stuffing said beanie into his hoodie pocket.

Busted!

Blinking a few times to get my bearings, I feign innocence and roll my eyes at him.

“Look, I’d hate to interrupt your train of thought, but we’re here for a reason, remember?” Chris raises his voice, berating me loud enough for others to hear. Subtly, he leans closer and whispers, “I wouldn't dare interpret the look on your face, but… is there a special someone you wanna tell me about?” His tone is so earnest.

The guy’s been nagging me for details about my personal life, or relationship status to be precise; he couldn’t care less about anything else… Well, he did inquire about my life in France, which he’s never visited.

Football, plus what it entails like working out and Coach’s strategy sessions, doesn’t leave much room to party, and that’s fine by me. I don’t need any distractions. But Chris apparently believes that I can’t live like a monk, and he has to play matchmaker. So, whenever he hooks up with a hot babe, he feels compelled to introduce me to her sidekick, then I’m left playing a role I despise until I bail. I’m not into girls. Period. I’ll never pretend otherwise, especially when I’m lucky enough to have found my dream boyfriend.

I flip him the bird. “Fuck you!” I add in a playful tone as we settle into our seats.

“You wish, pretty boy.” Chris blows me an air kiss, squirming in his seat.

“It’s none of your goddamn business anyway.” Whenever the topic comes up, I overplay it. Harsh words. Amused tone. Closed subject. These are key to making him drop the issue. Locker room banter gets way worse, and I make a point of playing along, although it makes my roommate uneasy; I find his embarrassment cute. Yes, thick skin is a prerequisite, especially in my case. In turn, his hood falls down to reveal his dark hair. He offers me a goofy grin, and I finally register the roars of the fellow fans. The players start warming up on the field. The energy is insane.

Oak Hill. Southwest of downtown Austin. The new ATEX stadium.

The Troopers’ home. A Troopers game. My Troopers dream.

Our entire team is scattered in the 100 level, thanks to Coach Stevens’s magic. He managed to unearth Sunday afternoon tickets as a consolation prize for not making it to the championship. That way, it doesn’t interfere with our tight football schedule and busy academic program. The strategic man surely hopes that witnessing greatness in real life will trigger what’s been missing in our team. Unless a couple of players move to the other side of the country, I doubt that’ll happen.

That said, I’m grateful for this opportunity. Watching the Troopers play live has been on my bucket list for years… However, I’m incapable of staying focused. Chris is right: What the fuck’s wrong with me?

Nothing should be wrong because life is good; I have everything I’ve ever wanted. An honorable football season, despite a lingering lack of team spirit, because of our talented quarterback, Davis. A great GPA, thanks to hard work and Rupert’s tutoring in a couple of my classes where I struggled. A healthy sex life, courtesy of the chemistry my boyfriend and I have.

Actually, strike that. I have everything I’ve ever wanted… minus playing in and winning the Playoff National Championship and getting Rupert to top, that is.

Ever since my epic failure when we first slept together over a year ago, we’ve been challenging each other in the bedroom—and elsewhere—to explore “new frontiers,” as my favorite Star Trek fan calls it. Too happy that he shared religiously watching the show with his mom as a kid, I resisted the urge to open my big mouth and label it corny; I definitely love when my guarded Brit opens up to me. Anyway, we’d never push each other to do something that would make the other uncomfortable, and my stubborn man claims he’ll eventually be on board with topping. Yet, he pretends it’d change our dynamic that we have to fully own first. Whatever.

No wonder I’m lost inside my head more often than not, trying to find ways to make him cave. To no avail, so far. Thankfully, he did listen to my relocation suggestion. After all, Texas has a much stronger country music scene than New York! Within a few weeks, he moved from Chelsea to East Austin. Granted, I demanded that he settle down near West Campus, which would be easier to get to from the dorms. He wouldn’t listen, insisting on some distance, because he prefers the unique creative vibe of East Austin. Meanwhile, I’m mostly the one hopping on my bike to meet him, but he does have a point. Neither of us needs too many distractions, and we wouldn’t want to run into anyone too frequently. Not that PDA is part of our outings; touching strictly happens behind closed doors. Our relationship may be exclusive, but it remains too new to risk being exposed.

In turn, I’ve been neglecting my down time with Chris, in favor of rushing to East Austin. I didn’t want my roomie to get all suspicious and nosy, thinking there was a girl involved, so I partially admitted the truth: One of my brother’s friends had just been uprooted, and I had to help him settle down and enjoy Austin’s scenery.

Riiight , as if I’d seen much of Austin since I landed here. Between studying, playing, and now fooling around, I don’t have spare time to explore the city. If I’m being honest, Rupert does enjoy the scenery whenever he’s beneath me, and I’m slamming into his sweet tight ass, and when he fists my hair when I’m on my knees for him and drink every drop he shoots down my throat. Yep, I’d much rather explore our chemistry than the actual city with the man I had such a hard time convincing to give us a try.

That said, my lover and I recognized that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Hence, he steers clear of a five-mile radius of UT Austin so we can’t cross paths in “my” territory. It saddens me, yet we’re in the same boat: We do not want out of our closet in the near future.

As is often the case, we both had plans of our own today. While I’m fulfilling a dream of mine, he’s surely having a blast rehearsing for a gig somewhere in the city later today. It’s fine, really, we both have busy lives. I’m absolutely not jealous of his blossoming friendship with a couple of his neighbors who also happen to be musicians. I inwardly scold myself for forgetting to ask if the upcoming concert involves them.

Hence, the daydreaming instead of appreciating the experience of seeing some of my NFL idols, guys I hope to be playing alongside in a few years. Now that my focus has returned, my adrenaline’s pumping. I bet this game will demonstrate how far we have to go as college players. We’re all so full of ourselves, so gifted but so clueless.

The game kicks off. They’re playing Indiana, which I’m not familiar with. I only have eyes for the Troopers anyway, and they immediately lock onto their wide receiver. I nudge Chris. “Check out number 11.”

“Parker, right? The new guy.” For some reason, Chris is immune to the Who’s Who of famous players. On an inebriated night when we first met, we attended an out-of-control sorority party, for once, during which he blurted out that he never collected trading cards as a kid. What do they teach kids in school in Oklahoma these days? Even I found ways to get some, even though American Football isn’t a popular sport in France, and they don’t carry football cards, apart from soccer ones.

“Yup! Watch how he runs his routes. Dude’s a machine.”

My teammate leans forward, intently watching Parker, who’s going through a series of cuts and catches. “Man, his footwork is unreal.” He shakes his head in awe. “If we could get half that crispness …”

I agree. “It’s all in the details.” Mesmerized, my eyes widen. “Look how he adjusts his body mid-air. He’s already thinking about where the defender is before he even catches the ball.”

Every play feels like it could shift the momentum. When the home team’s quarterback fires a deep pass down the sideline to Parker, Chris and I both jump to our feet, instinctively mimicking the anticipation of a catch. Parker leaps, snatches the ball out of the air, and somehow manages to drag both feet inbound. The crowd goes wild, including my teammates. Our faces brighten, excitement buzzing in our veins.

“Did you see that?!” I yell over the cheers, turning to Chris. “That’s the kind of catch that gets you a highlight reel. You think we’re ready for that?”

Eyes wide with admiration, Chris hands my beanie back, shrugging. “One day, man.” His Adam’s apple bobs up and down. He swallows, then sighs. “One day… Maybe!”

Throughout the game, our closest teammates, Chris, and I exchange comments, analyzing plays and discussing how we can bring that level of play back to our college team. From the corner of my eye, I see Coach Stevens observing us, and even Davis provides some valuable input. Maybe next season we’ll be able to prove our worth?

Every time Parker or one of the other receivers make a big catch or the O-line makes a key block, Chris and I are right there, soaking it all in. They’re dominating the game; Indiana’s wrestling to do its best to stay afloat.

It’s more than just a game for us—it’s a glimpse of what we’re working toward.

The final whistle blows. I gawk at the score. 31-14. My favorite Texas team dominated the opposition. The teams start clearing the field, and I take one last look at Parker, watching how he interacts with his teammates and fans waiting near the tunnel. Signing autographs with a genuine smile. Owning his amazing skills that he worked so hard to master. Soaking in the team’s success without making it all about it him; he clearly pulled his weight.

This is the life we want, the life I want, for sure, the stage I strive for. I’ll knock down every Davis who stands in my way if I have to. Tonight, seeing it up close boosted my confidence. Trust me, I don’t lack confidence in myself, but I’m lacking confidence in my team, which is a real shame. I know a turnaround is possible. We just have to keep grinding, keep pushing each other, and one day, it’ll be us down there, making those plays.

Hope skyrocketing, we chatter as we exit the stadium, replaying the moves that led to the Troopers’ massive triumph.

Damn, they’re so dedicated, focused, and talented.

When we hit the parking lot, I follow Chris to his grey Toyota hybrid, about to part ways with the rest of the group when Coach’s stomach growls. We bark out a laugh in unison, then he suggests out of the blue, “Tell you what, why don’t we all grab a bite to eat and discuss the game?” He doesn’t usually mix practice with personal stuff, but this is different. “Listen, guys, there’s a pretty cool place with simple, but amazing food, and sometimes live music to boot. I’m starving! Who’s in?”

It takes all of a second to the obnoxious homophobe who believes he’s our leader to rally the troops in his authoritative voice.

“Let’s go!”