He sat at the foot of the chaise and pulled Colton’s feet in his lap, removing his shoes and socks. Colton clearly took care of his feet and Dean felt his mouth begin to water. He desperately wanted to suck on his toes, licking and teasing every one of those little piggies. He licked his bottom lip and began the massage.
“Wait…is this weird?” Colton asked.
Dean shot him a stern look. “No. Why would it be weird? We’re friends, and friends help each other out. It’s not like I’m trying to give you a blowjob or something.”
Colton laughed. “True.”
“Unless that’s what you really want.” Dean winked, leaning forward, waggling his eyebrows.
“No. A foot rub is just fine.” Colton snickered.
Dean began rubbing his feet and Colton completely melted into the chaise, closing his eyes with a deep sigh.
“So, tell me about your day. How was practice?”
“Oh myGod, that feels so good!” Colton groaned with a little smile. “Practice was grueling, as usual. We’ve got ahugegame coming this weekend. If we win, it puts us in first place in our division.”
“Wow. That sounds like a lot of pressure. Do you think you’re ready?” Dean asked, massaging his heels and insoles with his knuckles.
“Yeah, we’re ready. We’ve got a great team this year. All we have to do is execute the way Coach tells us, and we’ll be golden.” Colton sighed. “Dean, that feels fucking amazing! Don’t tell me you also worked as a masseur before your music career?”
Dean laughed out loud. He loved that he could make Colton feel this way, like putty in his hands. But what did it really mean? Could they be more than friends? Was he willing to take the risk to find out? Maybe…but not today.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do after football? You know, when you decide to retire?”
Colton thought for a moment. “Well, my degree is in journalism and communication, so hopefully I can become an announcer or commentator for one of the networks. That way, I’ll still be connected to the game.”
“That sounds like it would be ideal for you. I can totally see you calling the game on a Sunday night. I’m sure it will happen, but you’ve got a few more years before you have to worry about that.”
Dean began squeezing and twisting Colton’s toes, causing his eyes to flutter back in his head. “Okay, serious question. What do you fear the most?”
Colton snapped his head forward. “Not fair! You can’t make my brain go all jelly-like with this foot rub and then ask serious questions.”
Dean chuckled. “Sorry. But really…what scares you?”
Colton opened his eyes and looked out across the bay. “Disappointing people, letting them down. That’s what scares me most.”
“That’s pretty broad.” Dean tilted his head, still rubbing his feet. “You can’t be worried about disappointing the fans. SomeNFL fans are crazier than a sack of badgers. Most of them will be disappointed in you no matter what you do.”
Colton snorted. “That’s true. But I hate the thought of disappointing my team, my coaches, or my family. After a bad play, or a bad game, that look of disappointment from the coach is soul crushing. My whole life, I’ve been conditioned to be the best, give 150%, never settle for second place. It can be overwhelming sometimes.”
Dean looked toward Colton, slightly pursing his lips. “Yeah, I can imagine that’s a lot to carry on your shoulders.”
Colton quirked an eyebrow. “Okay you don’t get off so easily. What scares you?
Dean’s mind spiraled. He’d thought about this, many times, but he’d never said it out loud, and certainly never to another human being. His fear was irrational, but it crippled him when he allowed it to creep into his psyche.
“Dean?” Colton’s voice pulled him out of his spiral.
He realized he’d stopped rubbing Colton’s feet and was staring at his hands.
“Sorry. Got caught up in my head.” He looked up with a sheepish smile. “My biggest fear is that I’m actually not that talented. That I’m just some schmuck who got lucky a few times and scored a couple of hits. And the biggest part of that fear is sort of like imposter syndrome. That people will soon realize that I’m a talentless hack, that I’m ridiculous on stage, and I don’t deserve respect or recognition for my work.” He sighed deeply. “That scares the absolute shit out of me.”
Colton scowled. “Dean, you can’t be serious. I’ve seen you work in the studio, and I’ve seen you perform on stage. You are incredible! You are a natural born entertainer. I wish I had your talent!”
Dean cracked a tiny smirk. “Thank you. I like to think I’m good at what I do. And I’m normally pretty confident, but my innersaboteur is a little son-of-a-bitch. And when I let him get into my head, he tells me I’m not good enough, that I’m not worthy of my success. It doesn’t happen often, but when he does, it’s a battle to get him out. I just have to tell that little fucker to fuck right off!” He gave a slight shrug of his shoulder. “Why do you think I practice so much? So I won’t look foolish or incompetent when I perform.”
Dean realized he was still staring at his hands, Colton’s feet in his lap. “Sorry, Colton. I didn’t mean to drag our conversation into the mud. I’ve never told anyone that before. Let’s talk about something happier.”
