The camera panned to Dawson jogging to the sidelines while he removed his helmet and shook out his sweaty hair, but when the blinding, perfect smile slipped, his eyes were blank. Joyless. Empty. It was hardly noticeable, easily missed by the crowd. But not by me.
“He looks incredible out there, doesn’t he?”
I turned towards Mr. Hayes as he sank into the seat next to me, watching Dawson on the screen with a mix of pride and awe.
“He always does, sir.”
Even as I said it, I wondered whether anyone else saw what I did. I took in Dawson’s flawless features as the camera followed him and the team to the tunnel for halftime. Outwardly, he seemed confident and at ease, but to me he appeared disconnected, drained of the life that used to shine out of him when he played.
Mr. Hayes loves his son, but he has always pushed Dawson a bit too hard when it came to football, constantly instilling that “commitment to the Hayes legacy” as Dawson put it. I knew how important it was to him to make his dad proud, enough to bury his own needs and problems under his dad’s and everyone else’s expectations.
“I can’t believe that he’s graduating this year. That you both are,” Mr. Hayes continued. “It’s like no time has passed since you were a couple of kids joined at the hip, hauling ass down to that barn of yours and camping out every night. Emilia was convinced you’d both start sneaking stuff out of your rooms to live down there permanently.”
The nostalgia in his voice made warmth bloom behind my ribs. The years we’d spent as a couple were the best of my life, but the years before that were pretty perfect too. Just two best friends against the world.
“Believe me, we definitely considered it,” I confessed with an impish grin. “We even hid some blankets and a stash of snacks out there once. A couple days later, the blankets had been shredded and pissed on by an animal and the box of snacks was covered in ants. Thus ended all our attempts at relocation.”
Mr. Hayes let out a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed on the TV but he seemed to be lost in thought. He finally looked over, pinning me with a pensive stare that unnerved me a bit.
“I’m glad you and Dawson seem to have worked through some stuff. I’m assuming that’s the case since you’re here. I really hope you’re both in a better place and you’re happy.”
“Why do I sense a ‘but’ coming, Mr. H?”
His faint smile did nothing to calm the anxiety that was quickly rising. “It’s not a ‘but’ so much as a…loving warning. Every source I have says Dawson’s on the fast track to the NFL. He’s been working towards it his whole life and it’s finally within his reach.”
“You think I would somehow mess that up,” I replied woodenly.
“Not at all,” he clarified. “Believe it or not, I would love to see you two work out and be able to call you my son-in-law one day. I just want you to be prepared for what that might look like.”
“What do you mean?”
“As you can imagine, being a professional athlete comes with a lot of sacrifice. He’ll travel frequently for games, have a grueling schedule during the season and for off-season training, and he’ll be heavily in the public eye. There will be media obligations and events to attend. It’s a high-pressure and intense life, but it’s also everything Dawson has worked for and deserves. That will have ramifications on your relationship.”
“Such as?”
“For one, it’s likely that your condition will be discovered and become public knowledge, especially since you are a queercouple. That draws attention. And probably most importantly, his job will demand most of his time and energy, which means he won’t always be able to support you like you need with your illness. There is no shame in it at all, but you two can’t ignore that it matters and it will have a big impact on you both.”
Ice slid down my spine and the anchor grew heavier, dragging me down a little further as I struggled against it. I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t against us, that it was out of genuine love and concern, but my brain kept latching onto the negative space, the things he wasn’t saying.
“We aren’t ignoring it, sir,” I ground out as evenly as I could manage. “We’ve talked about my illness and have a plan. We’ve been honest with each other and I…I’m stronger with him. I don’t care about anyone finding out about me. They don’t matter, only Dawson does. He promised to stand by me, and I’ll do the same for him. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to be someone he can rely on.”
His lips curved up at the sides, his eyes gleaming with the same pride he held for Dawson.
“I believe you. And I’m rooting for you both, honestly. Emilia and I will do whatever we can to help, but at the end of the day, you both have to put in the work and take on the risks. I don’t want either your health or Dawson’s path to the NFL to suffer because you two didn’t go into this with your eyes wide open.”
My chin dipped down and I toyed with the ring around my neck. When it was clear I wouldn’t respond, Mr. Hayes gripped my shoulder affectionately before he walked away. I wasn’t sure how to process the last several minutes. I felt ambushed, a microscope aimed at all the cracks and fissures that still ran through my relationship with Dawson.
I was barely aware of the second half of the game starting up. My eyes drifted back up to the screen in the corner, catchinga glimpse of Dawson as he got intoposition behind the line of scrimmage.
I couldn’t shake the sense that something was off with him, and for once, I wasn’t worried it had to do with us. All week, Dawson had been glued to my side every chance we got. He’d stayed a few more nights at my place and though we still hadn’t crossed that final barrier when it came to sex, it was more than I’d allowed myself to hope for.
We were happy. I trusted us. Trusted what we were rebuilding. I wouldn’t let outside doubts blind me to what was real, and Dawson’s love for mewasreal. He had proven it everyday since he took me back and that’s what mattered. Everything else was white noise.
My attention was drawn back to the field. Dawson pivoted smoothly in the pocket, waiting for his moment, and then lobbed the ball fifty yards downfield for a passing touchdown. Another wave of thunderous applause rippled around the stadium.Whether he was truly happy with it or not, Dawson was in his element out there and it was the biggest fucking turn-on.
I crossed my legs to hide the growing erection in my jeans, but it was useless. The TV flashed a shot of Dawson whipping off his helmet to run a hand through his damp locks and his biceps flexed temptingly. His football pants clung to his form, highlighting his firm, toned ass, and once again my dick took notice.
I’d wanted something to distract me from the shit of the day and by God, if it wasn’t delivered on a silver platter in the form of a two hundred and nineteen pound walking wet dream in cleats.
