Page 48 of The Jock

He chewed on his thumbnail as he waited for Justin to text him back. It was midafternoon, and his stomach roared. He’d already digested all three protein bars and the shake he’d thrown down his gullet. The rest of the team spread out and hit the restaurants around the stadium after practice, but he’d munched the bars Coach had thrown at him instead, and now he regretted not taking another three.

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.

He grinned again, staring out the open window as memories replayed in his mind. Now they were framed in golden sunlight. He could remember Paris and not feel like he was dying.

His cell phone buzzed.I’m in my room. Took a nap. Someone kept me up all night.

Wes squirmed, his cheeks going warm, his fingers dancing over the back of his phone case. He pictured Justin lying in bed, sleep-soft and tangled in the sheets. They’d slept naked after that first night in Paris. What did Justin wear when he was on his own? Those tiny briefs? The ones that cradled his ass perfectly?

He texted back.I should sleep. But I’m too excited to. Too happy.

Oh yeah? Something happen?

Wes laughed.Yeah, you could say that. :)

Justin sent a smiley face back, and then those three dots danced across the screen for a solid minute. Wes waited.

So, what are you up to for the rest of the day? I need to hit the bookstore and pick up my supplies for my clinical rotations. You’re welcome to join me. Exciting, I know. But after, we could get something to eat?

He couldn’t type back fast enough.I’d love to come. And yes, let’s get dinner after. Where do you want to go?

Shrug emoji.What do you like?

Everything.

LOL. Let me think. There are a few places off campus you might like. Anything you can’t eat?

Nope. 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.

Okay, where are we meeting? Do you need to go home?

No, I’m ready. Pick you up?

Sure. Want me to wait on 29th?

The street around the corner from theirs. Off Opal, away from his teammates and anyone else who might start asking questions. Wes sighed. Reality slammed back in, dimming the radiant glow he’d been basking in.That would probably be smart.

Justin texted again.I’m heading out.

Be there in a few.He shifted his truck into drive and stepped on the gas.

Justin was waiting for him, as promised, on Twenty-Ninth. He was sitting on the brick half wall surrounding one of the side yards of an old gingerbread Victorian. Willow and myrtle branches hung over half of the street, shading the concrete and the line of parked cars. It was still Texas hot, and Justin was dressed in a pair of nylon running shorts and a tight T-shirt that showed off every curve and line of his muscled upper body.

Wes’s brakes squeaked as he stopped. He reached across the bench and shoved open the door, grinning as Justin hopped into the cab. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.”

He was suddenly shy. Less than twelve hours earlier, he’d been baring his soul and revealing his fears to Justin, ones he hadn’t even fully figured out for himself until he was confessing them in hushed whispers against Justin’s neck. Now, his tongue seemed to tie itself in a bow.

“How was practice? Did your coach get mad?”

“He made me run. I didn’t care.” Wes turned off Twenty-Ninth and headed toward campus. The bookstore was on the far side, near the student center and a block of bars and restaurants. “I did have to stay after to finalize the roster and the starting lineup.”

“Did you make the team?”