Jay's Loelife Ch. 17

"I'm not being cheeky," I lie again. "Consider it a gift basket of your favorite things."

"My favorite things?"

"Yep. Me, on your sofa, watching sports, wearing your stuff."

"You are my favorite thing. Everything else can get thrown away." He shifts his body and runs his finger over the pouch of fabric covering my crotch. "Except this. This can stay."

I smile. "My dick or the jock?"

"Both."

"I knew you were a freak."

Jay ignores that quip and wraps his arms around my waist. "I missed you."

I do the same, sliding my hands over the hard plastic gear. I breathe him in. He smells like generic shower gel and a hint of stale sweat. "I missed you, too."

With the superhuman strength that a professional athlete of Jay's caliber has, he hikes me up like I weigh nothing and wraps my legs around his waist. "I enjoy coming home from training camp to this."

I'm dying to get him naked. I pull him into a two-weeks-too-long kind of deep kiss.

"I didn't touch myself once at training camp."

"Fuck," I moan. That's sexy. The thought of Jay abstaining makes my balls hurt. It's not like I touched myself much while he was gone, but I was no angel. "Were you hard?"

"Every night and every morning."

"Did you think of me?"

Jay trails kisses down my neck and nips near my collarbone. "Only every second."

"What did you think of?"

He lays me down, deftly removing his sexy practice pads and moves down my body, slowly driving me crazy. He lavishes every inch of my skin before giving me the slowest, laziest, and absolutely mind blowing blowjob.

We only stop when our bodies fail us. Jay lies on his side and lazily drapes his arm across my abs. Fucking paradise if there's such a thing.

"So..." he drawls, his voice deep with sleep. I'm exhausted as fuck, but it's been two weeks. I'm willing to fight the good fight for a few more minutes. "Jay's away, Loren plays, huh?"

"Ah. You can't talk to me but you can stalk my socials?"

"Not me, my teammates."

"You mad?"

He inches closer. "Nah, I liked it. Even if they made fun of me. According to them, I'm a disappointment because I don't have the garage full of cars like I should."

I chuckle because, yeah, he's got shit for cars. He drives a seven-year-old Toyota Sequoia and that's it.

"I had fun rippin' the golf cart around the block."

"I'm sure my neighbors loved that."

"Didn't your teammates tell you? Hank fired up his two-seater and we cruised. Ended up with quite the mob by the end of the day. Your neighbors are badasses."

Jay yawns and snuggles into me. "They might've mentioned it." There's a moment of silence. Jay's clearly exhausted. "Move in with me," he whispers in the half-sleep way one does when they're being pulled under.

"Okaaaay," I laugh. "Time for someone to get some shuteye."

"I'm serious," he mumbles. I don't think he's even awake. Sleep talking, maybe. Hallucinating is more likely.

"I liked the videos. You look good in my home."

I don't comment. I simply run my fingers across his arm until his breathing evens out, then I close my eyes and follow.

****

If his head wasn't in the game when we started seeing each other, it is now. Football or bust. Practice, practice, practice. Hosting BBQ for the rookies, dinner for the veterans, and breakfast for the captains. Jay takes his role on the team seriously and his dedication to being the thread that holds everyone together is well known and well documented.

Pre-season games are in full swing. I still don't know the difference between them and the real thing, only that my attendance is required this year, apparently, for both.

My friends are stoked. If Jay wants me to go, they go.

The sky is blue, the sun is out, but it's windy as fuck. I end up buying an overpriced hoodie from the shop next to the beer vendor. It says WILSON on the back with the number 3. I tell myself it doesn't count. It's still a pre-season game.

The cameraman is setting up his gear. He looks at me and grins when he sees my sweatshirt. "Where are you sitting?"

"H16."

He nods towards the jumbotron. "You mind?"

"And get Jay riled up?" I laugh. "Fuck yeah."

When I get back to our seats, there's an older man standing in my spot. Slacks, Seahawks windbreaker, brown hair. He looks important. His smile is big and genuine as I approach. The guy sticks his hand out.

"You're Jay's boyfriend. Or should I say, Jay's your boyfriend," he says with a wicked smile. "I've been meaning to introduce myself for a while. I'm John, the Seahawks General Manager."

I take his hand. "Nice to meet you." My friends are fucking buzzing because the GM is here, so I take mercy on them. "This is my team; Corey, Isaac, and Cole." Now that we're all acquainted, I expect him to move along--finish making rounds with wives, girlfriends, and families or whatever political stuff he does. Instead, he sticks around.

"We've had an incredible couple of years. I think we have a real shot at Lombardi this year."

I look at my friends for help.

"It's the Superbowl trophy," Corey says with a low voice, filling me in.

"Uh, yeah," I say, as if I know fuck about fuck. "That's what I'm hearing." Lies.

If John thinks it's weird that I have no clue what he's saying, he doesn't show it. "We want to increase engagement. It's not that we're coming up short or anything, but with tickets at an all-time high, we want to reach a wider demographic. Not everyone can afford two-hundred-fifty-dollar tickets."

I whistle.

John nods. It's clear he's aware of the downside of these ticket prices. "That's the starting price."

"There must be a lot of people missing out."

"There is. We're actually hoping to talk you into a collaboration."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Tickets to every game that you can pass along to your followers...including box seats and the fifty-yard-line."

Now it's my friends who whistle. John smiles. He knows these are good tickets.

"What do you gain from this?"

"You have thirty-eight million followers on Instagram alone. Jay has five. We have two-point-seven. We've already seen a small uptick just from your relationship with Jay. If you're actively going to every game and bringing people with you?" He looks at me like 'see where I'm going with this?'

I pull a card from my wallet and hand it to him. "Email me the details."

John looks at the card for a moment. I think he expected me to fall at his feet.

As he leaves, the guys stare at me.

"What? Agreeing with him means I have to come to every game. That's a big obligation."

"Every home game, Loe. Home game."

"Wha'ev. It's still a big commitment. I won't agree just because I'm dating Jay."

I do collaborations on things I'm passionate about. Football means nothing to me. I'm here for one player. Any obligation outside of him needs serious consideration.

****

Jay is smiling. "This makes me happy." He's practically dancing as he cooks a massive pre-game breakfast. It's this happiness that convinced me to work with Jay's team. I don't love the sport but I love the man who loves the sport. His excitement made the deal impossible to turn down.

"Oh oh oh!" Jay rolls over in my lap so he's looking at me, smiling. It's been a long week of practice and media interviews as the team prepares for their first season opener. This is the only real time we get together. "The last question should be where we went on our very first date."

"They won't know," I tell him. "I never shared it."

"There were people there. Someone will guess it."

I make Jay ask the question. People are nicer when he's in front of the camera. Much love for the giant, all-American, boy-next-door, sack master.

"Hey all. It's trivia time. The first person who can tell us where we went for our very first date will get the last two tickets to the season opener this Sunday!"

My phone starts pinging immediately, but it takes almost a half-million DM's before we get the correct answer. Even then, we can't agree.

"I thought Rock Solid was our first date."

Jay smiles and shakes his head slowly. "Our first date was Anchorhead coffee. Remember?"

"Was that even a date? I thought it was a business meeting. You talked about my car's extended warranty."

"It was definitely Anchorhead. You were just playing hard to get."

"I was playing the role of uninterested, which came natural because it's how I felt."

"The role of a liar must come naturally, too," he teases. "Because look at you now...lying like a lying liar. Better go catch your pants because they're on fire."

I laugh. "I guess your failed business pitch can be our first date. Whatever."

"Doesn't look like a failed pitch after all. Biggest commission I've ever made."

Ignoring Jay and his gloating, I look at the account of the girl who guessed our first date correctly. "Hey, she was the barista."

"Told ya, people are always watching."

I tag her in a post, letting everyone know who won. Then I put my phone on the side table and spoon Jay.

****

I snap my fingers in front of his face. "Keep your eyes on the road."

His eyes snap back to the road but the smug smile remains. He's tickled sideways that we get to drive to 'work' together. "This makes me happy."

It's the tenth time he's said it today. The thousandth since I agreed to be an ambassador for his team. See why I couldn't say no?

****

I travel for the next three games. All wins. Then we're home and I have four box seats.

Four wins, turn into seven wins.

Not we, Jay. Jay has seven straight wins, including an OT game against his brothers. He's having a phenomenal year. Killing it. The big heads say it's the best he's played in years.

Watching some of the hits, though, the way he charges into another player, stopping them in their tracks, flipping them like pancakes...that part is hard, it makes my stomach churn. Caring for him after the more brutal games is harder. That makes my heart churn.

He's quick to pull his shirt down when he sees me eyeing the blotches on his chest and side. His body doesn't look all that different from the one I was sporting less than six months ago. That pesky double standard.

"Week eleven is our bye week."

I stare where his battle wounds now lay hidden under his shirt. I look at him. "Bye week?"

"It's our week off during the season. It happens to be Thanksgiving week."

"That's some luck," I say, pulling out my laptop. I'm behind on some editing. I've been so busy being Jay's groupie that I'm pretty behind on my own stuff.

"No one's complaining."

"I imagine not."

"I'm probably going to Wisconsin for the week. Thanksgiving and all. I usually spend most of the off-season there. I only did three weeks this year, and it was all spent training. Mom and Dad are getting antsy to see me."

"Makes sense." He has a close family. They miss him.

Jay kneels on the floor in front of me. He sets the laptop to the side and moves between my legs. He's as calm as he is serious, like he's approaching a spooked animal, which is ridiculous... "I'd really like you to come with me."

Or not so ridiculous.

"Pass."

"Loren..."

"Jay..." I mock. I knew this was coming. I've been preparing. I'm about to meet his parents on a major holiday, which is not how I wanted to do it, but that's how life is sometimes. Not everything about me. That's fine. I take a small breath.

Jay calmly rubs my thighs. "I understand why you don't want to go, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go..."

My knee bounces. Hurry up and ask again. Not that I want him to, but I want to rip the Band-Aid off.

"You and I have been together for a year. We're serious, serious people go to family functions. I wouldn't invite you to go if I thought it was a bad idea. My family is good people. They're kind, thoughtful, and full of love--"

Blah blah blah. He does not need to sell it. It's like trying to get a poor person to buy rice and beans; they may not want it but they have to have it. Just bag it up and take their money. Damn.

"They're all the things I want you to experience. I think it could be really good for you."

Whoa...whoa, whoa, whoa. I put my hands on his shoulders and keep him at a distance. "Good for me?" This I gotta hear.

"Yes. I think it would be good for you to be around them. To be a part of a family that loves the way mine does."

I blink. "Hold up. Wait. You want me to meet your family because--"

Jay tilts his head and smiles softly, like he's Mother Teresa and I'm a child struggling to get the answer. "With everything you've been through, don't you want to? Don't you want to be surrounded with love? I know my family inside and out. They will love you. More importantly, they would love on you."

"Erchhhh. Stop right there. Your family doesn't have the market for being good, kind people. I have family. I have Corey's family. I have Cole's family. I have Isaac's family. I have a whole giant community of people that are kind, thoughtful, and full of love."

"You spend the holidays with them?"

"I don't spend the holidays with anyone."

"Loren..." he says with big, sad eyes. He can't fathom a world where you can be happy and content without a big giant nuclear family to keep you warm on government issued holidays.

I stand up. I'm offended. "You know, if you asked me to meet your family because you love me and want us to meet, I would've said yes despite not wanting to, or feeling ready to, but asking me because you think I need them...because I'm broken? Thinking that I can't possibly survive another year without surrogate parents is really offensive. It feels like a big, giant fuck you kind of offensive."

Jay hurries off the sofa. "Whoa. I didn't--I only meant it to be helpful. It still haunts you," he continues. "I can tell. I just want to do what I can to right those wrongs and give you everything you deserve."

My jaw clenches. "And what's that?"

"Happiness. To know you're good enough every single day. A family you want to spend holidays with. Stuff like that."

Every fiber of my being wants to punch him in his goddamn face and walk away. Instead, I take a breath. He means well; I know he does. It's Jay. He doesn't have a mean bone in his body. But Jesus fuck, his delivery is hitting wrong. He can be so fuckin' obtuse sometimes.

I take another deep breath. "I've spent a lot of years building myself up. You were the first person I was weak for. That's what you do when you love someone, right? You let go of the pride, be vulnerable, all that shit? I didn't want to do it. It was hard, uncomfortable, and honestly, pretty fucking embarrassing. There was even a little shame there. Shame for crying in front of you, not once, but twice.

"My parents didn't see the best in me and now it feels like you don't either. I'm good but I'll be better if I have your family? What the fuck is that? Like, fuck the family that's been here for me? That's some real shit, Jay. Some real fucked up shit."

I scratch my head, roughly running my fingers through my hair. "What were you planning to accomplish with this? I already had nauseating anxiety about meeting your parents. Did you want to hit me on the knees? Cripple me? Fuck. I need to go--"

I collect myself, my keys, and my wallet. Before leaving, I grab the door jamb and turn around. "I need some time. A few days. Maybe a week. I don't know. Then I'll need an apology. Asking me to meet your parents because you think I'm not a complete person is...something I need to talk to my therapist about. Hell, maybe you need a session, too. So, you know, use this time to figure this shit out, okay? Figure it out. I'm begging you."

My knees shake as I walk to the van. My hands shake as I try to start it up. I hold on long enough to get home. As soon as I kill the engine, my whole body shakes. Damn you Jay Petermeyer. Damn you.