Page 53 of The Jock

“Night, cowboy,” Justin said softly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sleep well,” Wes said. “Sweet dreams.”

“They’ll be of you.”

Wes floated into his house, barely aware of the world around him. There was foosball going in the den, the TV blared Madden, and someone was cooking in the kitchen. He heard his friends talking, laughing. The floors overhead creaked, bodies moving. Someone flushed a toilet. He drifted up the stairs, light as a feather, and wandered into his bedroom. He didn’t even bother to shut his door. He fell backward onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, his cheeks aching from smiling so wide.

His Paris tableau tickled the corner of his gaze, and he turned on his side and studied the pictures he’d printed, mentally drawing himself and Justin into each one. Instead of agony, joy spun through him, soaked his veins and his muscles and shot straight to his heart.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out.

Miss you already, cowboy.

He grinned. Bit down on his lip. Texted back.Same.

I don’t miss you enough to wear that jersey though. I put it straight in the wash.

Wes laughed.You could probably have given it to Rajas. She’d take it to the biochem lab for sure.

You know, there might have been new lifeforms on it. Too bad we’ll never know. Whatever you grew in your armpits is being sterilized away.

I can give you another.

Oh, honey. I love you, but please. One gift of a sweaty jersey is enough for a lifetime.

He couldn’t stop smiling.I love you too.

Three little dots danced and then stopped. Danced and then stopped. Wes waited.

I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I signed up for a ballet class this semester. I needed another credit on my schedule, soooo… Intro to Ballet was available. I signed up because of you.

You’re amazing when you dance.

I’m not amazing all the time?

You are. I mean, you’re an amazing dancer. You’re so good. You were doing those spin things, from Swan Lake, in your solo.

Wow. You really did pay attention in Paris.

Of course I did. It’s important to you so it’s important to me.

Oh, cowboy. You don’t know what you do to my heart.

The same thing you do to mine.

Anyway. There’s a performance scheduled. It’s not important, I mean, it’s intro to ballet, so it’s like, basically the nursery school version of dance. But it’s in six weeks. I mean, if you wanted to come. I’m just letting you know.

He pulled up his calendar and put it in, typing “

I’ll see you in twelve hours, cowboy.

He did the math.Eleven hours and twenty-three minutes.

But who’s counting. :)

I am. I can’t wait to see you again.

Same, cowboy. Same. Xoxox