Hook up 101. Hook-up etiquette # – my queer agenda
Facing the fact that eventually an injury might end everything one day? Just be with me. I reach for his hand, and his warm fingers link with mine.
The smile turns tender, and his thumb continues to stroke mine. Cupping his jaw with my hands, I press my forehead to his.
I want what my parents had, Anna. Yuck at the bar. Football made me what I am.
No one plays ball forever. Our stress levels rose to a pitch during the days before the draft. He is poetry and grace in motion. Drew has his dark days and I have mine.
Tears blur my vision as I scream his name, my voice lost among the many. He throws and it listens. When he was the fourth pick in the first round—to New York, thank God—we celebrated for an entire week.
He leans into it a little as he keeps talking. It scares the shit out of me. But my attention is drawn only to one. And he hugs me back, his breath warm against my cheek as he nuzzles it, breathing me in like he always does.
This is high theater. I press my lips against his temple.
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