Page 3 of Everything's Better With You
Bullshit, Joe. You watched every single one you could. Hell, you even recorded the games he commentated on after he retired.
Joe had thirsted after Les Payton since they spent a magical Spring Fling night together fifteen years ago. Talking. Laughing. Dreaming of the future, but nothing beyond that. No, they’d been on two very different paths and therefore it hadn’t made sense to let anything start. Graduation for Joe was weeks away and Les had already been playing in the NFL for eight years. They’d met at Spring Fling but hadn’t, uh, flung anything together. Over the years, they’d kept in occasional contact, which became more regular—and intimate—and Joe had never stopped wondering.
Two
Leslie
What if?
Many times over the years, Les had asked that question regarding the incomparable Joe Judd. Even though Les had been the visiting hero that Spring Fling weekend fifteen years ago, Joe had been the star, and Les hadn’t been able to take his eyes off him. The dancer played a mean game of flag football, leaping over potential tackles as he ran at top speed down to the opposing team’s end zone, doing back flips in celebration. But later at the bar while folks danced and had too much to drink, he’d taken a seat next to the cocky kid white kid with the dark, brooding good looks, and then spent hours standing in the parking lot. Les had cornered him for conversation, but had refused to take advantage of the tipsy coed.
Joe hadn’t been intimidated by him at all.
No, what Joehadbeen intimidated by was the thought of getting involved with someone. No way, no how was he going to stop movinglong enough to fall for a guy, not as long as he had breath in his lungs and feeling in his feet. He’d made that very clear. So for Leslie, it was a no-brainer. He wasn’t interested in a one-time thing, especially not with someone as incredible as Joe Judd.
But that was fifteen years ago. A lot had changed for both of them since then.
“I would have gotten you tickets, you know. If you ever wanted them.”
“Little old cheerleader Joey?” Joe raised his eyebrows at him and batted his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d even remember me…at first.”
“Yeah right. You know better. I saw every show of yours I could.”
Joe smirked. “You never asked me to get tickets for you.”
Les grinned. “I bought out a whole section at Madison Square Garden. I had to see you dance with JLo. When the team heard about the show, they all wanted in.” Les shrugged and smiled innocently. “What could I do?”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “You could have let me know you were going to be there. You’d only ever tell me after.”
Their eyes met for a long moment and then they broke off, laughing nervously. Leslie was pumped like he’d just scored a touchdown and he couldn’t wait to make the next play. His muscles twitched with their desire to do…something. Anything. Especially if it involved getting closer to Joe.
“It really is damn good to see you.”
“You too.”
Les held the door for Joe at the top of the stairs and he didn’t miss his wince when he climbed the last step.
“Stairs, man, am I right?” He chuckled, but Joe just scowled and brushed past him. The playfulness momentarily gone.
“Hey Caroline,” Les said, giving the secretary a big hug. “You remember Joe Judd.”
She blushed as Les set her back on her feet. “Of course. It’s good to have you back, Mr. Judd. Mr. Payton will see you both now.”
“Darn right he’ll see me,” Les said as he strutted into the President’s office like he was on set at the NFL Postgame Show on network TV but dressed more like a drunken spectator tailgating before the big game.
“Brother Barry,” Les said. He trotted over to the president’s desk with his arms spread.
“Jesus, Leslie, you’ve got a wider wingspan than a pterodactyl.” Barry stood and accepted his brother’s bear hug. Barry was three years older than Les’s forty-five years with buzz-cut blond and white hair, and was about six inches shorter. He looked the part of the responsible older brother, always had.
Les put an arm around him and gestured to Joe. “Joe and I met up in the parking lot. Joe, you remember my brother Barry?”
Barry reached out to shake Joe’s hand. “I was teaching Economics, I believe, when you were a student here. Thank you for coming.”
Joe nodded. “Yes, sir. I had you for Macro.”
Barry grinned. “And of course we are in debt to you for pushing us to make the cheerleading program coed. We’ve won several national championships, and the squads have traveled to Europe and Japan to perform. All thanks to you.”
Joe took the praise with only the slightest hint of a blush.
