Page 66 of Strong Side

He is my peace.

He is my strong side.

“Ready, Campos?”

“Ready, Aldrich.”

“Great game, man,” I say as I pull Arizona’s other player in for a hug. None of us care about the fact that we’re caked in sweat and sand. All four of us here are seniors, and opponents or not, we all absolutely kicked ass out there today. “You guys played amazing. I wouldn’t have wanted to play against anyone else today.”

He steps back and grabs me by my shoulders. “You two earned this. Now go celebrate.”

??1 With that, I turn toward Rocky and yell at the top of my lungs, “WE WON, BABY!”

He’s not within reach for more than half a second before the entirety of the men’s sand volleyball team is piling on top of us, Jackson included.

Rocky and I are stuck beneath a pile of sweaty screaming men as the crowd roars in the background and the Panther’s fight song plays overthe speakers, and I can say without a doubt in my mind that I will remember this moment for the rest of my life.

Finally having enough of their shit, Rocky groans, “Alright, enough. Enough. Let us go get our trophy.”

The team piles off as they chuckle at his usual grouchiness. Rocky stands first, and he reaches down toward me. Grabbing his hand, he pulls me upright and into a searing kiss. His tongue fights for dominance with mine, and after a few moments I relent, more than happy to let him take over. I groan into him as his tongue explores my mouth, savoring the way he feels against me. We only part when Coach shouts, “Would the two of you get over here already! I’m about two seconds from taking this trophy home myself!”

I laugh against Rocky’s lips, “Come on, Baby. We have a trophy to take home.”

Our home.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur as Rocky and Coach Taylor are subjected to an endless wave of congratulations and interviews with local and national news channels.

The majority of the students and opposing fan base have begun to clear out. It’s only then that I see a familiar face standing alongside the bleachers, lurking in their shadows. Likely trying not to sweat through his five-thousand-dollar suit.

How long has he been here?

Whyis he here?

I don’t want him ruining this.

Tapping Rocky on the arm, I look in the man’s direction. “He’s here?”

“Hmmm?” It takes Rocky a moment, but he follows my line of sight and snarls, “What is your dad doing here?”

“Boys, I think we just have one more interview, and then—” Coach Taylor stops mid-sentence as his gaze also lands on Dad’s. Clearing his throat, he pulls his sunglasses off his eyes and sets them atop the brim of his hat.

As much as I didn’t want to involve Coach Taylor, Rocky insisted we fill him in on what happened at the beach. He wanted to ensure that Coach Taylor knew Dad and I were no longer on speaking terms and to not provide him with any details about my life unless I said it was okay.

Coach Taylor didn’t hesitate for a moment. He simply nodded and said I was doing the right thing. But it’s when he said he was proud of me for standing up for myself that a sob caught in my throat. Never once in my entire life do I remember my own father saying he was proud of me. So when the man I have looked up to for as long as I can remember—the one who has never stopped striving to help me be the best I can be while simultaneouslyaccepting me for who I am and am not—said he was proud of me, it quite literally felt like it stole the breath from my lungs.

I could see it on his face, though. He really was proud of me. But right now, when I look at his face, all I see is a simmering inferno ten seconds away from exploding.

“You boys stay here. I’m going to go have a chat with Charles.”

Coach Taylor stomps off, and Rocky chuckles under his breath before mumbling, “Oh, shit.”

My head snaps in his direction. “What do you mean, ‘oh, shit’? What do you think he’s—”

“You son of a bitch!” Taylor’s voice booms, followed by a crack, and by the time my eyes land back on Dad, he’s bent over, hands cupping his nose as blood begins to pool through his fingers.

“Oh, shit,” I repeat Rocky’s words as I take off in a sprint to the side of the bleachers.

“I think you broke my fucking nose! What the hell, Taylor?”

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