“Maybe he shouldn’t. Some of us don’t deserve it,” Fin muttered, almost inaudible with the noise around us. The self-loathing in his tone hit me low in the gut, a familiar ache that I’d felt for the last four years. “I don’t know why I care. I have a boyfriend, for Cher’s sake.”
“Where is he by the way?”
He mumbled something about him being busy and wrapped his arms around his middle. It didn’t sit right with me to see him so upset. I shoved him hard enough to knock him off balance, drawing a small giggle as he righted himself and pushed me back. We caught up with the crew as we drew close to the stadium entrance, but my attention snagged on the massive orange and white horned beast ten feet away.
“Holy shit, that’s Bevo,” I blurted. The bovine’s horns seemed much more intimidating in person than in the photos I’d seen,stretching longer than my arm span. He was chewing away on something as people came up to pet him like he was a dog rather than a 2,000 pound bulldozer.
“Oh yeah. I was wondering where he was,” Bash mused. “They bring him out for all the home games. It’s crazy how chill he is around all this. Did you know in the fifties, Bevo actually escaped and charged through the Baylor band?”
“You’re shitting me,” I laughed at the visual in my head.
“I swear! He’s also taken out a car, a cheerleader, and at one point, he stampeded his way through campus.”
“I wonder if this Bevo will be just as bloodthirsty. Maybe if we’re lucky, he’ll break free and charge the Baylor quarterback this time,” Nate interjected gleefully.
“And if he charges Dawson instead?”
“Then Bevo will be sacrificed for the greater good and we’ll all be having steaks!”
We made our way into the stadium and up to the floor that housed the suites. The Hayes suite was centered almost at the fifty yard line. Inside it looked like a luxury hotel room without a bed. It held a kitchenette, a leather couch, a wet bar, and a built-in shelf that was laden with food. Straight ahead were steps down into the four short rows of theater-style seats that overlooked the field and a TV hanging in the corner to broadcast close-ups of the game.
Dawson’s parents were sitting on the couch, chatting with a few people I assumed were their guests. Emilia’s head turned towards us and she jumped up excitedly. She greeted everyone, but her eyes softened when she got to me, folding me into a big hug.
“I’m so glad you came, sweetheart. We missed you,” she said warmly. I hugged her tighter, telling her without words how much I’d missed them too.
She released me and squeezed my cheeks together like she used to do when I was a kid. I brushed her off with a laugh and sauntered down the steps to the bottom row of seats, sliding in next to Dani who was scrolling on her phone.
“What’s up, gremlin? You ready to lose?”
She slowly tilted her head my way and pursed her lips. “You’ve been a Longhorn for all of two minutes, so don’t even with me. But it’s good you’re here. Dawson’s going to need you when we send him home crying.”
“Don’t you worry about your brother, traitor. I’ll be takingverygood care of him tonight, especially when we’re celebrating his win,” I taunted with a wink.
“Nope. Ew. Stop it…I don’t need to hear about any of your celebrations,” she gagged, covering my face with her hand. I licked her palm and she shrieked in disgust, wiping it on my shoulder. The glare she aimed at me quickly dissolved into a smile that reminded me of happier times.
“Does this mean you guys are back together?” she asked hopefully. A grin spread across my face instinctively and she clapped her hands in delight. “Ohmigod, finally! I’ve been waiting for this! Tell me everything. Wait…not everything. Fast forward through the spicy bits.”
I filled her in on the relevant stuff, couching the salacious details and my more embarrassing moments. Soon, the UT band blared the fight song as the players burst from the tunnel, spilling onto the field.
Even from up high, I recognized Dawson instantly. Seeing his lean form jogging across the turf, commanding and fierce, took me back to Friday nights spent in the stands watching him dominate the field. Even in high school, Dawson was a force to be reckoned with, and I was the lucky asshole who got to call him mine.
And yet you threw it all away like the coward you are…how long will it take you to lose him this time? Maybe he’ll be the one to run away when you become too much...
I slammed my eyes shut against the toxic invasive thoughts. They’d been a little harder to ignore this week when Dawson wasn’t around, but I worked to shut them down each time. I pulled Dawson’s ring out from beneath my shirt, the cool metal bringing me a measure of relief.
The first half of the game was explosive. Our offense was on fire, but Baylor matched them play for play. Every time our team pulled off a touchdown, the Bears would come back with one of their own.
Watching Dawson was a religious experience. The way he moved was breathtaking, a holy union of strength and grace, agility and power. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Each time the TV flashed his gorgeous face, my stomach somersaulted and flames of lust licked my skin. Images flickered through my mind of him writhing under me, moaning my name, begging for something only I could give him. When my dick twitched in my jeans, I quickly redirected my wayward thoughts.
Thirteen seconds left in the second quarter and we were tied with Baylor. Dawson caught the snap, searching for an opening before sprinting left and down the field. All of us jumped up, the suite thick with tension and anticipation as we watched him eat up the yards with one of the Baylor players closing in behind him.
He rushed twenty yards, then thirty.
Forty…fifty…fifty-five yards…
Dawson was slammed into from behind, hitting the ground as two defensemen tackled him hard right across the goal line. The referee’s arms shot up vertically and the cheers of the crowd pierced through the viewing glass as we all shouted along in the suite. Dawson sprang to his feet and was swarmedby his teammates, knocking into his helmet and jostling him enthusiastically.
