Joe Football

by Autumn Sand

  “Ready to go?” I ask.

  “Umm yeah. But what was that all about?” He pulls me to his side.

  “I think it is a beginning of friendship.” That is the short and sweet of it.

  “Okay. I can accept that.” He kisses the top of my head, his eyes never losing sight of where Jameson sits. “I’m starved. Let’s get something to eat.”

  “Pizza?” I ask.

  “Sure, babe. Anything you want.” He looks at Wayne. “Coming with?”

  “Nah, three’s a crowd. Besides, I have to meet someone shortly.” Wayne and Brice pound it out, and Wayne leaves the field.

  “Looks like it’s just us.” He smiles at me.

  “Always.” I kiss him quickly, and we walk towards the parking lot.

  ****

  Later, back at Brice’s dorm, I lay in his arms on his bed. I love these moments with him. It feels like the rest of the world has faded away and it’s just the two of us. Egon is with his band, practicing for tomorrow’s show at the game.

  “Nervous about tomorrow?”

  He inhales deeply before answering. “To tell you the truth, no. I’ve trained as hard as I could. I’m ready for this, and so is the team.” He squeezes me tighter. “Also, I have the added benefit of you in my arms.”

  “I’m your lucky charm?” I smile at him as my toes curl.

  “You're more than just my lucky charm. You are everything to me.”

  My heart bursts with joy at his words. How did I get so lucky to find a man like him? I hope to always have this feeling. “You’re everything to me also. I love you, Brice Walker, with all of my heart.”

  “I love you too, Miss Hollister.” He kisses me gently, but as I wrap my arms around his neck, trying to bring him in for a deeper kiss, he pulls away. “I was thinking about something.”

  I pout, not a Jana pout, but a ‘horny girlfriend gets rejected’ pout. “Hmm? What?”

  “I don’t think I like your name.”

  I lift to look at him, trying to hold back a smile. “And what’s wrong with my name?”

  “I think Favor Walker sounds more the way I like it.”

  “Favor Wal-” Hold up. Wait a minute. Rewind. “Did you just propose to me?” My eyes narrow at him as I try to wrap my head around what he just said.

  “I don’t know. It depends on what your answer would be.” He searches my eyes for the answer.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, I answer him. “Yes, my answer is yes.” I play with my future name in my head. Favor Walker. If I was alone, I would practice writing it on a piece of paper. I debate if he would laugh at me if I do it now.

  He kisses me again as relief washes over him. “Good. Starting next week, we shop for a ring. I’ve saved up enough to place a rock on that dainty finger of yours.” He lifts my left hand to his lips and kisses my ring finger.

  I’ll always belong to him, and he’ll always belong to me. I already know the date I want our wedding to be. The day we met by the pond on the night of the bonfire. Though technically it would be the second time we met, it’s when I knew I had an attraction to him. And then reality hits me; we’re still in school. “Let’s wait to get married until after we graduate.”

  “Absolutely. I just want my ring on your finger to show the world that you belong to someone.”

  “Do you think it’s too soon?”

  He cups my face in the palm of his hands, and I see myself, or at least my future self, in the pupils of his eyes. “No. I knew you were the one from the moment I set eyes on you. Being with you these past few months has only confirmed what I already knew. You and I were always meant to be.”

  And he’s right, we were always meant to be. I, in my own way, knew it all along. Somehow, I know Trevor would approve of this as well, and that somehow makes it easier to make the decision.

  Sitting up on his bed, I straddle him as I take off my pajama tank top. Passion fills his eyes as he sits up, and sucks on my breast before moving to the other one. With my arms wrapped around his neck, I throw my head back and let the sensations carry me away. If my body were an instrument, he would be a world-class musician. My screams from the orgasms he gives would be the music, and together, we make this undeniable harmony; a symphony of sorts.

  He sucks on my pebbled nipples until I feel it in the core of my stomach, and even further down. “This belongs to me and only me.” He says the words as an affirmation.

  He flips me gently on my back and removes my pajama bottoms and panties, letting the rumpled clothing fall to the floor in a heap. Bending his head to my lady parts, he licks as if I were chocolate ice cream, his favorite flavor. “This belongs to me also,” he murmurs.

  I clutch a handful of the bedsheets and moan loudly, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. He removes his pajama bottoms, freeing himself. His shaft is long and hard, veins pulsating. I lick my lips at the sight of him. He is quite the sight to behold. Body sculpted like a Greek god and the face of one too. And more importantly, he belongs to me. All of him.

  “Liking what you see?” he teases me with a wicked grin. He knows I do. I often salivate when I look at him, and tonight is no different.

  “And if I don’t?” I tease him with my words. He quirks an eyebrow at me.

  “If you don’t, then we will have to do something to change your mind about that.” He bends his head and kisses my belly button. Oh God, that is my spot. And he knows it. Brice has made it his mission to know every part of my body and what I like. Let’s give the boy a gold star for that one. He begins to move his kisses and licks up my body. Sweat coats my skin as my heart begins to race faster. His pupils are dilated as he looks up at me, all while laying more and more kisses up my body. I arch my back because the need for him is so great. He takes his time making his way up my body, the two of us savoring each moment, until he reaches my mouth and places one soft kiss on my lips.

  “Oh, by the way. These lips belong to me as well,” he says to me before he slams his mouth back onto mine. His kiss is frenzied with emotions, and I take because I’m greedy, and give because I need to.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, he lets out a groan. “I know I should be making love to you after a proposal, but I don’t think I’ll be able to go slow this time,” he apologizes to me, and I feel as if I should be the one to apologize because that is exactly what I want from him right now. Our love isn’t the slow burn. We are fast and frantic, needy and greedy, so why shouldn’t our consummation be the same today, of all days?

  Lifting himself with his arms, he positions his cock at my entrance and slowly glides his way into me. My walls instantly contract around him, pulling him in deeper until he can’t fill me anymore. His pace begins agonizingly unhurried, and I instantly want more; that’s the needy part of me. I squeeze my legs around him, signaling him to go faster; the greedy.

  He gives me a lazy smile and playfully nips at my ear. I moan out loud and close my eyes. “I want to hear the words. Say it for me.”

  I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion and then it dawns on me. “Favor Walker.” But because I’m moaning, it sounds more like ‘Fawor Waaalker’. But he understands, because that was the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on his beautiful face.

  Another deep thrust inside of me, this one I swear I feel in my stomach. “Again.”

  “Fav-" I’m unable to finish because he chose that time to pull out and push deep inside.

  “Again.”

  I’m panting, and my heart is going to beat itself right out of my chest. Can he feel it?

  Another thrust. “Again.”

  “Favor Walker.” I manage to say this time.

  “Again, Mrs.” A bead of his sweat drops in my mouth, and I savor it like a person who was in the desert for months.

  “Mrs.- Oh, my God.” He swivels his hips, giving me the deeper penetration that I freaking love.

  “Didn’t know you were God, babe. Or were you calling me one?”

  I try to buck my hips, but I can barely move him
an inch. His chuckles feel like a vibrator on my clitoris.

  “One more time, Mrs.,” he teases.

  I gulp in some air, as if this would help. “Mrs. Favor Walker.” I’m finally able to complete my future name.

  The love that shows in his eyes is overwhelming and consuming. He touches his forehead to mine, our bodies fused in so many different ways. But it’s no longer just our bodies. It’s us. We are one, our souls are one, our heartbeat is one.

  He and I are us, and us is we, and we are one.

  Chapter 24

  Favor

  The following day, Brice and I are up early. He has to go the stadium earlier than the rest of his team to talk with the coach about plays. Standing in front of the stadium with him before he goes in, we are locked in a kiss. I won’t see or speak to him until after the game, so we are getting in our quality time now. Not that we didn’t do that last night and then some.

  “Good luck, baby,” I murmur against his lips.

  “Who needs luck when I have you?” He smiles at me, and I want to melt.

  “I know it’s just a few hours that I won’t be able to talk to you or see you, but ugh, I hate that. I miss you already.”

  “Every touchdown I get, it’s for you. Besides, look at the jumbotron. I have a surprise for you.”

  “What’s the surprise?”

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, nosy.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

  “You better go inside before Coach Vega has your ass on a platter.”

  “You’re right. Gotta get to work, babe.” He kisses me quick and releases me. My God, this man's kisses are swoonworthy.

  I stand by my car, watching him walk inside the stadium. I won’t be able to touch or kiss or feel him until later tonight. Hopefully, it’ll be riding on the coattails of a win. Getting back in my car, I head over to my dorm. I park my car in the lot and begin to head towards my room. I see Wayne standing in front of his car with the hood open.

  “What’s going on?” I ask him.

  “My car would pick today, of all days, to conk out on me,” he groans out.

  “Fuck. You’re supposed to be headed to the stadium for the team meeting, right?”

  “Yeah, and Coach is going to have my ass for this if I’m late. Hell, I’m lucky that I got back on the team in the first place. Fuck me.” He slaps the palm of his hand on his head.

  “Come on. I’ll drive you.” I jingle my keys in front of him.

  “Thanks. Greatly appreciated.” He closes his car hood and grabs his gear out of the trunk. We walk over to my car.

  On the drive to the stadium, I ask him, “How are you feeling? I know this is your first game since…” I’m unable to finish the words.

  “I don’t know how I feel. I’ll miss playing with him. It won’t be the same. But I promise you, with this second chance that I’m getting, I won’t take it for granted. It is so easy to lose it all in the blink of an eye.”

  His mouth is downturned. I reach over and take his hand in mine, squeezing gently. “I think he is proud of you now. I know I am.” I smile warmly at him.

  “Thanks. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

  I pull into the stadium’s parking lot for the second time today. Wayne thanks me before grabbing his gear and getting out of the car. Sitting there, I watch him walk towards the stadium. My heart catches in my throat at the sight of my father. I haven’t seen him since the Christmas Day fight, and I wonder for a moment why he’s here. But then it dawns on me. He’s here to stop Wayne from playing his first game. I jump out of my car and run towards what is about to become a collision course.

  “I heard you were back on the team. I thought you would’ve had the decency to crawl back into the hole you came from, and died.” My father's eyes are cold and harsh, I involuntarily shiver when I look at him.

  Wayne’s body goes rigid, his shoulder slumping.

  “Dad. That’s not fair.” I scream out as I just reach them, panting.

  My father looks at me, his lips curl and his nose wrinkle. “I’m no father of yours.”

  Now it is my turn to look stricken, though I don’t know why. He said it to me before; you would think I should be used to it. But how, how do you get used to your father disowning you? My face drops, and a hand touches my arm. “Mr. Hollister, I understand why you hate me, sir. But don’t take it out on Favor. She doesn’t deserve that.” Wayne’s voice is pleading for compassion from a compassionless man.

  “Don’t.” Spittle shoots from his lips, and he angrily wipes at his mouth. “Don’t speak to me about what she deserves. How could you possibly understand why I hate you? You don’t understand. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

  “But I do.” Wayne lifts his hand and turns his index finger towards himself and stabs at his chest. “I may not understand on the level of a parent who has lost their only son, but I understand on the level of losing a loved one. He was my best friend, since we were little kids. He was like a brother to me. So yes, I do understand.”

  My father lifts an angry fist and shakes it at Wayne. “You’re a disgrace to his memory. A disgrace to be in my presence, telling me you understand, when you can’t possibly. I died that night when you killed Trevor.” My father’s body shakes with anger, and pain.

  “I died that night, too. I tried everything to save him. But it was too late. Just too late.” Wayne’s voice cracks with emotion.

  “Dad, we should move forward. That’s what Trevor would want,” I plead.

  My father’s eyes look haunted as he stares at us. He turns his head slightly and looks to the ground. “I can’t forgive either of you for what you’ve done.” He shakes his head as if he’s in a daze. I take one step closer to him, but stop myself when he says, “I can’t…I can’t…forgive myself.”

  I feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. Surprised, I look up at my father. “Forgive yourself?”

  He’s no longer aware of our presence; he’s been transported somewhere we can’t reach him. Perhaps he was always in that remote place, and we were the ones that were just passing by. “It’s my fault.” His words float through the air, as a strong wind picks up and spins the debris a few yards away in a circle.

  I give that spinning debris my full concentration, as dirt and dead leaves turn in its own miniature version of a tornado. For a moment, I wonder if it’s my brother making his presence known.

  He lowers his head, and his shoulders collapse. “We argued that day. He told me he didn’t want to play football anymore.”

  My mouth falls open at this confession. I’ve never heard Trevor and my father argue a day in my life. It was always me who argued with our parents, me who didn’t understand them. Trevor was the good child in the family that obeyed every word our parents said.

  He looks up with red-rimmed eyes. “I…I got angry at him. I threatened to disown him and stop paying for college if he left the team.” He winces. “You see, he was supposed to be my legacy. He was supposed to be…” His words drift off.

  I look at Wayne, and I can see in his face that he already knew about this. All this time, and he never said anything.

  “He told me that he hated me and the game. Can you believe that? My son? The son of Kyne Hollister would never say such a thing. But he did. He told me he was tired of living his life for me. The last words he spoke to me were to tell me he hated me. And hours later, he was…he was dead. I will never get to make it up to him. I will never get that second chance just to earn his love again.” He lifts his hand and points a finger at Wayne. “You took that from me. My second chance.”

  I think back to the eulogy on the day of Trevor’s funeral. The Reverend made a point of saying the very last conversation Trevor had with our father that day ended with him saying ‘I love you, Dad’, and how that is all God’s love the reverend preached about. Because nothing can break the bonds of a child's love of their parent. I remember how family and friends were able to find solace in the knowledge that Tr
evor said ‘I love you, Dad’ to our father. If our father had died that day, he would always have his son’s love. But now, finding out that Trevor’s parting words to our father weren't ones of love but of anger and hate, my legs become weak, and I stumble. Wayne catches and holds me up.

  “Mr. Hollister, you have to work on forgiving yourself. I had to do that. Before I was able to move on, truly, I needed to forgive myself.”

  My father stares at him for a long moment. “I can’t do that.” He turns and heads back to his car.

  I slowly push away from Wayne, needing for him to look me in the eyes when I ask. “You knew about the argument all this time?”

  His face is crestfallen. “Yes.” He says the word as if a burden has been lifted from him. “I didn’t say anything because it wasn’t my secret to share. Trevor has always hated football. But he did it so he could receive love from your father.”

  My mother’s words from a few weeks ago haunt me as Wayne recounts the events of that day.

  “Finally, he had the courage to tell your father he was done with it all. Your father, as you can imagine, didn’t take it well.”

  I nod my head in agreement; I can only imagine how dad took the news. And ‘not well’ isn’t even close.

  “First time I ever heard Trevor raise his voice was on the phone that day.” He pauses for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts. “After the argument, Trevor wanted to go to a party in the next town over. Something that he never would normally do. He was never into the party scene.”

  Trevor and I are both alike in that way. I never did understand, when we got the news, why Trevor was at a party to begin with; but now, now it all makes sense.

  “He drove that night and got plastered. I was pretty lit too, but not half as bad as him. When we were leaving, he tried to get behind the wheel, and I stopped him.” Tears fall down his cheeks, and he takes a few calming breaths before finishing.