Page 225 of For the Fans
BigD1ckDeacon: Do you need a sin for your next confession?
Wanna hear something funny?
I’ve known since I was a little kid that someday I’d win a championship trophy.
Ever since I was old enough to throw a football, this has been my goal. The endgame.
Holding this trophy in my hands and knowing that I helped win it for my team.
I’m fully aware this isn’t something a lot of people can say. It’s pretty rare to have a goal in mind from the time you’re a kid and actuallyachieveit, dodging all the obstacles thrown in front of you and still managing to get there.
It’s weird, and fascinating and incredible, the way life works out sometimes…
But that’s not the funny part.
The thing that’s had me casually stopping to smile over the last couple of hours, while we were celebrating in the locker room, changing out of our uniforms, then piling into our bus andsing-screaming“We Are The Champions”… while Guty literally picked me up and carried me into our hotel room and I was laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe… while I changed into my winner’s suit—the suit I picked out specifically for this party—and made my way downstairs to the hotel conference room that’s been elaborately decorated with maroon and gold, and fully stocked with food… is how all I want, in the whole wide world, is just to hold Avi Vega’s hand.
It’s hilarious to think that after this fantastic achievement, amidst the high of the win, the thing that has my stomach fluttering and my fingers twitching isn’t that trophy across the room… It’s the anticipation of seeing Avi’s smile. Hearing his voice croon about how proud he is, listening to his smartass comments, and watching his flirtatious smirky expressions. Sharing this experience with someone who loves me, and who I love in return… And feeling like it’sright, despite what I’ve spent so many years trying to talk myself out of.
The win would be worthless if I hadn’t fallen in love with him.
It’s a mystifying truth, but itisthe truth. Because after every other game I’ve ever won, the excitement has only been skin-deep. For the first time ever, it actuallymeanssomething.
It’s not about making my dad proud… When he called me, I barely even cared. I just couldn’t stop thinking about Avi, and I’m as thrilled as I am baffled by the way this love has swept me up, like I’m floating on a cloud.
Everything feels infinitely morerealbeing in love with him.
I’m just about to text him again and ask where he is when he walks through the door… and my heart skips in my chest.
Beautiful.That’s the word that thumps with the blood pumping through my veins. As my eyes take in the sight of him in his ripped jeans and a collared shirt, loose skinny tie around his neck. I have to chuckle, because he looks so out of place, and I love it.
Figures that it would take someone like him to breathe me back to life. He’s so…different. Unique, like a mosaic. Complex little pieces glued together to make a purely stunning creation.
When he spots me, he smiles. And I smile too…I can’t seem to stop.He struts over to me, and I walk to him, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself from looking crazy. His eyes are wide and sparkling, a seriousness etching them that doesn’t fit his typically carefree presence. But I assume it’s because he’s not usually comfortable at these football parties, surrounded by jocks he doesn’t relate to. And I know I haven’t made it easy on him in the past…
The regret I feel at how awfully I treated him in front of these people still weighs on me constantly. But I’m on a mission to do better for him. To prove that if he can just be patient with me, I’ll work past the fear I’ve been living with for so long, and be what he needs.
I can do that for him.
Throwing my arms around his shoulders, I pull him close to me in a hug that might look a tad too intimate. But I don’t even care. I just need to feel his body on mine, his warmth and his size… I need to smell him.
My Avi candle.
It takes him a second, maybe from nerves, but he curls his strong arms around my waist and holds me back, releasing a long breath into the crook of my neck.
“Congratulations, superstar,” he whispers, his voice raspier than normal and a little shaky. To think that he’s as emotional over this as I am makes me happy.
He makes me so happy.
“Thank you for being here.” I squeeze him tighter when he goes to pull away. “Thank you for… getting me here.”
When we separate, I catch a crease in his forehead, and I just hope he knows I’m not talking about the football. I’m talking about this…Us.
His eyes are a little bloodshot, and I purse my lips. He’s probably stoned…as usual.But I have no right to say anything…Not yet, anyway.The Avi I fell in love with smokes a lot of weed. It’s not a problem for me if it’s not a problem for him.
“Where’s Bridget?” I ask, slinking my hands down his chest as we put distance between us.
I want to keep touching him… no matter who’s looking. I’m filled with a beaming burst of confidence, from the win, and from seeing him now.
