Hot Jocks

by J. M. Snyder

  He tossed the ball at the hoop in one final attempt at scoring a goal, knowing full well even before it left his hands that it would be deflected. Though they were all on the same team at State, for today’s practice they had split into two teams, shirts and skins, and Lonnie stood in front of the hoop on defense, still wearing his shirt to indicate his allegiance. Opposite Jo’s guys, who were all barebacked and would most likely be sporting mild sunburns on their shoulders later in the day. Jo set up for the shot, but Lonnie simply raised an arm and swatted the ball out of the air as if it were nothing more than an annoying insect.

  It was the first shot Jo missed all afternoon.

  “Damn it!” Jo swore, punching the ball away as it sailed back towards him. “Lonnie, shit! Next time you’re on my team. I call dibs.”

  Lonnie laughed. “Your team was full when I got here.”

  True—Lonnie must have been more hungover than Jo was that morning, and dragged himself to the court a half hour later than everyone else. He’d worn sunglasses all day to block out the bright sunlight and stood like a post beneath the hoop, swatting at balls and basically avoiding any real game play. Apparently he’d scored at the party, same as Jo, but when Jo asked for details, Lonnie simply smiled and said, “Her name was Keisha, and man, was she fine!”

  Another teammate retrieved the ball and tossed it to Jo. “Head’s up!”

  Jo caught it and immediately tossed it back. “Sorry, guys, I gotta bail.”

  A chorus of “Aww!” went up around the court. Lonnie chuckled, his face unreadable behind his dark shades. “Yeah, yeah, poor sport. You miss one shot and suddenly it’s game over, is that it?”

  Despite the sunglasses, Jo knew from his teammate’s voice that Lonnie was kidding. “No, that’s not it,” he said, gathering up his discarded shirt and gym bag from the sidelines. “For your information, unlike the rest of you fellas, I have a hot date tonight, and I’ve got to get cleaned up if I hope to get lucky again tonight.”

  Lonnie tipped down the sunglasses to look over them at Jo. “This the hook-up from the party?” When Jo nodded, Lonnie let out a loud whoop of approval. “Woo, boy! Lookit ‘choo, gettin’ laid two nights in a row!”

  Jo smirked. “Yeah, so while you all are playing ball, I’ll be getting balled.”

  The other teammates laughed and hooted appreciatively. Jo headed for the gym, but behind him, he heard Lonnie call out over the noise, “He met that booty call at my party, so if you want some sweet ass, you boys need to hang with me!”

  Jo had a mental image of the entire team trying to squeeze into Lonnie’s tiny Volkswagen Golf next Friday night. He shook his head and laughed at the thought. Let them have their fun—if he went partying again, he had Kevin.

  I already have a guy to ride, he thought with a grin. See what I did there?

  * * * *

  Jo was whistling “Sweet Georgia Brown,” the theme from the Harlem Globetrotters, as he pushed the touchbar on the heavy doors leading into the gym’s basketball court. His mind was on Kevin…again. They’d only met but he was already infatuated with the guy. He wondered if it would look too needy if he sent a quick text, something along the lines of C U soon or can’t wait 4 later, or even a simple thinkin ‘bout u.

  Ah, fuck it. If he wanted to send a text, he should just send one already. He could say hi. What was wrong with that?

  His sneakers squeaked on the polished wooden floor as he crossed the court, making a beeline for the locker room. The air was much cooler in here than outside, the lighting easier on the eyes, but there was something so right about playing in the summer sun, something that made Jo feel young and alive. In a month or two, when the weather changed and the days grew shorter, he’d look back on this afternoon and miss the carefree, easy gameplay, shooting hoops in the warm sunshine, the languid heat burning his shoulders and back, the top of his head hot to the touch. By the time the championship tournament rolled around, they’d be wearing sweats to practice, and bundling up as they dashed through blustery winter winds to and from the gym.

  Now, though, he and his teammates would take advantage of the warm weather as long as they could, which was why the inside b-ball court was empty on such a gorgeous Saturday. Jo didn’t have to pay any attention as he hurried across its length; instead, he focused entirely on the phone he dug out of his back pocket. He’d send a text to Kevin anyway. Really, what was the harm in letting the guy know he was interested?

  He has to already know that, Jo thought, thumbing through his contacts to find Kevin’s number. With one hand, he started typing a message. He’d reached the far side of the court and, with the other hand, hit the swinging door that led into the locker room area behind the home team’s hoop.

  The moment he steps into the narrow hallway leading to the lockers, he hears voices echo down the tiled walls. His finger hovers over the SEND button on his phone. One of the voices is the coach’s, he’d recognize it anywhere, and it doesn’t surprise him to hear it. The administrative office is off the locker rooms, and the coach tends to come in on the weekends to do paperwork. With the new season gearing up to start, Jo suspects there is quite a lot of backlog that needs to get filed and put away, what with the new players and upcoming games, the scheduled practices, and everything else.

  But it’s the second voice that stops him in mid-step. That voice he knows, too, even though he only heard it for the first time the night before.

  Kevin.

  What was he doing here?

  Jo pocketed his phone without sending the text. Moving to one side of the hall, he placed his hand against the wall and trailed it along the cool tile as he inched forward. Slower now, stepping deliberately so his shoes wouldn’t squeak on the concrete. The sweat on his back and head felt chilly and he shivered as he wiped his forehead with the hem of his shirt. Up ahead were the lockers, and on the left was a turn that branched off towards the office. That was where the voices came from.

  At the turn, Jo hesitated. From what he could overhear, the coach and Kevin were shooting the shit—talking about a particular basketball game, but Jo couldn’t tell which one. A professional game they’d seen on TV? Another collegiate team? What was Kevin doing at the gym? Had he come by early to pick up Jo, run into Coach, and somehow got caught up in a conversation about sports?

  That seemed likely; most guys could talk about sports all damn day. But had Jo told Kevin to pick him up at the gym? He didn’t think so.

  The voices grew louder; they were coming closer. Jo didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, so he backed up some and pulled his phone out of his pocket again. Bending over the screen as if checking his e-mail, he scuffed his sneakers against the floor as he charged ahead. He even cleared his throat, anything to make sure they’d hear him out in the hall.

  He didn’t look around when he reached the intersection, just kept his head down, eyes locked on his phone, and was almost across when he heard Coach say, “There he is now. Hey, Jo! Got a minute?”

  Jo let his momentum carry him another step or two forward, then swung back on his foot and turned his head to glance down the hall. He hoped his voice sounded casual when he asked, “Yeah, Coach?”

  His gaze flickered over Kevin but didn’t settle there. He wouldn’t let it.

  Already the two men were approaching. In the brief glimpse Jo had gotten of Kevin, the guy looked completely different from the man Jo had met the night before. Gone were the skinny jeans and the cropped jersey, and the bushy fuzz had been neatly sheared down into a thin cap of tight curls that covered his scalp. The piercing was still there, but everything else about him looked prim and respectable. The pale yellow shirt buttoned up to the collar, the pin-striped black and yellow tie knotted neatly at the base of his Adam’s apple, the neatly pleated pants that did little to hide those round ass cheeks Jo knew all too well.

  If he hadn’t heard Kevin’s voice for himself two seconds earlier, Jo would’ve thought for a moment the guys were twins—last night he’d met the wild and
rowdy one, who loved to party and have fun, and today he was meeting the Poindexter, the smart one, straight-laced, who held down a steady job and would’ve never in a million years had sex in a bathroom at a party with someone he’d just met.

  Then Coach said, “This here’s our star player, the one I was telling you about. If anyone can take us all the way to the Final Four this year, it’s this guy.” One meaty hand clamped onto Jo’s shoulder and turned him around to face them. Easing that arm around Jo’s shoulders in a fatherly gesture, Coach introduced them. “Meet our new assistant coach, Kevin Jones. Kevin, this is Joakim Gaithers. We all call him Jo.”

  Jo glanced at Kevin again and saw a warning flash in those dark eyes. Kevin only hesitated for the barest of seconds—Jo didn’t think the coach even noticed—before extending a hand out towards him. “Nice to meet you. When I was reading up on the team over the summer, I thought your name was pronounced Wah-keem.”

  “Common mistake.” Jo shook the offered hand, which was as strong and firm as he remembered. Did Kevin hold it a moment longer than he should have? Jo didn’t know, but that little extra squeeze at the end was definitely unusual. Was it out of thanks for not saying anything about their little meeting the night before? Or confirmation that their date afterwards was still on?

  If only the coach wasn’t right there, hanging around, grinning paternally to see his best player and his new assistant meeting for what he thought was the first time. Jo had questions—not the first of which was what happened now? But he needed a moment to process things. He needed to think this through…

  God, had he really fucked his new assistant coach?

  * * * *

  Alone in the locker room, Jo avoided looking at his reflection in the mirror. He felt numb with disbelief. One thought kept circling in his head.

  What now?

  He didn’t know, and couldn’t seem to concentrate on the specifics long enough to figure out the answer to that question. Kevin was off-limits now, that much was obvious. He was the assistant coach, and didn’t the school have some sort of conduct code against students and coaches fraternizing? If it didn’t, it probably should have. Screwing one’s coach could kind of be viewed as a conflict of interest, could it not?

  If I were a crappy player trying to sleep my way to a starting position, yeah, maybe, Jo thought as he grabbed a clean towel off the rack and headed for the showers. But I’m already the best player on the team. So sleeping with Kevin won’t get me any special treatment. Hell, he’s only the assistant coach, and he’s new to the team. If anything, he’s going to be the one getting all the glory out of hooking up with me, not the other way around.

  He turned the water on full blast but kept it cool, then stepped under the refreshing spray. With it went all thought—he gave into the moment and enjoyed the shower, letting it wash away the dust and sweat of the day, and the mess he’d made the night before. How was he to know who Kevin was when they met? They’d only exchanged names—first names, at that—and neither of them had said anything about sports or hobbies or work. It’d been primal lust, animal attraction, nothing more.

  Maybe at first, his mind whispered as he ducked under the water, but you want more and now you know you can’t. Or rather, you shouldn’t. So what do you do about that?

  Jo wasn’t sure. Delete Kevin’s number and pretend nothing happened between them? He didn’t want to do that, it would leave things hanging between them, and make the whole season awkward. It wasn’t as if they wouldn’t have to see each other at every practice, every game. He couldn’t ignore the guy forever.

  So what then? Come clean, tell Kevin how he felt, what he wanted?

  What did he want?

  I don’t know, Jo thought as he soaped up a rag and began to wipe the grime off his nude body.

  But following hard on the heels of that thought, his mind whispered, Don’t lie to yourself. You know exactly what it is you want from him. You had a taste of it last night and you won’t be satisfied until you have him again, and you know it.

  True enough. He wanted Kevin—there, he said it, if only to himself. He wanted Kevin, he did, and not just as a one-time booty call, either.

  The real question was, what would Kevin want now that he knew Jo was one of the players on the team he coached?

  * * * *

  Kevin was waiting for him when he left the gym.

  Jo recognized the black Ford Focus sitting at the curb as he pushed through the doors leading out of the gym’s main entrance. His hurried steps slowed at the top of the steps—he hadn’t noticed the car’s windows were tinted, so he didn’t know if Kevin was inside waiting for him or not.

  Cautiously he descended the stairs, one hand on the rail, the other holding his gym bag slung over his shoulder. He’d assumed their date was off, and had been surprised when he got out of the shower that there wasn’t a text from Kevin saying as much. Or maybe Kevin hadn’t had a chance to text him yet, and he’d get the message closer to three, once Kevin was off work.

  Which is about now. Jo’s hand drifted to his pocket to cup his phone through the denim of his jeans. Had he missed the text? Had Kevin maybe asked him to meet up after all instead?

  When he reached the bottom step, the passenger side window eased down and Kevin leaned across from the driver’s seat to peer out at Jo. “Hey. Want to take a ride?”

  Jo narrowed his eyes as he approached the car. “So we’re still doing this?”

  Kevin shrugged. “We’ll see. I think we maybe need to talk first, though, don’t you?”

  Hoisting his gym bag up on his shoulder, Jo sort of nodded. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Then get in.” With a faint clicking sound, Kevin unlocked the doors and sat back, waiting.

  Jo didn’t debate for long. He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he wanted to, and his heart and dick won out over common sense. Reaching for the handle, he opened the door and dropped into the passenger seat. As he slammed the door shut, the window slid up as if on its own accord.

  Without saying another word, Kevin started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  They drove in silence for a good ten minutes, long enough to get off campus and put the gym far behind them. Jo stared out the window, trying not to think of much of anything, but his senses were filled with Kevin—not only the cologne he wore, but the manly, musky scent beneath it, raw and sensual, real, a smell Jo could feel all the way down into the bottom of his balls. From the corner of his eye, he watched Kevin’s every move, aching to feel those hands on him again.

  Could they stay in the car forever, and forget who they were on the basketball court?

  After what felt like an eternity, Kevin turned off the road onto a quiet side street lined with trees. Tonight the radio was low between them, a mellow soundtrack murmuring beneath their own thoughts. They passed several suburban homes, the lawns well-kept and busy with people taking advantage of the lovely end of summer weather to catch up on last minute landscaping. Jo wondered if Kevin knew where he was going, or if he just wanted to drive around for a bit, get whatever was in his system worked out before they talked. He thought it was pretty obvious where any conversation they had would go. Driving around would only prolong the inevitable, wouldn’t it?

  Finally Kevin pulled onto a dirt road, nothing more than two ruts leading off into the woods at the dead end of the cul-de-sac. He drove in a little ways, did a three-point turn, and parked the car so they were facing the road. Cutting off the engine, he pulled up the parking brake and settled back in the driver’s seat, one hand propped across his mouth as he stared out the windshield, obviously lost in thought.

  Jo stayed quiet, letting him think.

  As if on its own, Kevin’s hand eased across the space between them and settled on Jo’s thigh. He gave it a squeeze, then turned his hand palm up, an invitation.

  Jo placed his hand in Kevin’s. “So,” he said, hoping to kick start something that might lead to them talking things through. “Where do we stand now, you a
nd me?”

  Kevin’s response was to pull on his hand, tugging him closer. As he faced Kevin, Jo found himself caught up in a desperate, needy kiss that took his breath away.

  When they parted, Kevin didn’t pull back. Instead, he leaned his forehead against Jo’s and opened his eyes. This close, those chocolate depths seemed endless. With a sigh, Kevin admitted softly, “I’ve been wanting to do that all damn day.”

  “We probably shouldn’t.” Jo tightened his grip on Kevin’s hand, unwilling to let go just yet.

  Kevin sat back in the driver’s seat. “Fuck what we should and shouldn’t do,” he spat. “I didn’t know who you were last night. I got with you because I liked you, no other reason. And now I’m not supposed to? Jesus. If anything, I like you more.”

  Jo’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “Because I’m the best player on the team?”

  “Because you like basketball,” Kevin explained, giving Jo’s hand a tender squeeze. “It’s one more thing to like about you, one more thing we have in common. You’re like my ideal guy. Sexy as hell and a baller, like me. When we aren’t having sex, we can shoot hoops or watch the game on TV. I can’t think of a more perfect date. And now I’m supposed to be all, sorry, we can’t hook up, it wouldn’t be right. But why the hell not, you know? Who’s it going to hurt if you and I see each other off the court?”

  Jo didn’t know. “It’s not like I’m trying to sleep my way to the top,” he said with a short grunt of a laugh. “I’m already there. Someone might think you’re the one using me, though…”

  Turning in the driver’s seat to face him, Kevin said, “You have to believe me, that’s not what this is. I didn’t even know who you were when we met! And listen, I like you, I really do, and I want to get to know you better, if I can. I’m not talking about only on the team, either. I want more than sex, or even basketball. I want to see how far we can take this thing, whatever it is we have, you and me. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready yet to give it up.”