He pulled me tight against him, holding me. “Fuck, Avery,” he said. “God damn. I nearly blacked out. Fuck, your pussy is incredible.”
“You’re incredible,” I said, kissing his lips.
“I aim to please.”
I pressed my head against his chest. The orgasm had passed and I was back to reality. I couldn’t help but wonder if someone had heard us, but it didn’t really matter.
All that mattered was that I was in his arms. The moon was bright and clear in the sky as we stayed there, hidden behind the statue. I felt like we were in our own little world out there as he pressed me close against him.
Maybe it was just the orgasm, but I felt so completely at peace. The thought of my parents, the stress of being pregnant, everything with Gibson, it was all gone.
There was just him and me. That was perfect.
19
Gibson
The ball left my hand in a perfect spiral.
I threw again and again, hitting the targets each time. I practiced my footwork, dropping back and maintaining balance, before throwing the ball like a laser.
Throw after throw, ball after ball. I kept thinking about that night, about Avery’s body in the moonlight, about the way it felt to press myself deep between her legs. Playing football and fucking weren’t so different, really. It was all about body mechanics, about doing the right thing at the right time. Of course, in fucking there was that extra special layer of passion and desire that you couldn’t really replicate through practice.
The ball left my hand, a tight spiral. It hit the receiver in his hands. I was sweating, my body tired but strong, as the ball left my hand and hit the receiver.
Sunday morning practices after a game were light and easy. There was no hitting, no hard running or lifting, just basic skills stuff. I was throwing and doing footwork drills, but nothing that left me exhausted. My body still ached from the game, but it felt good to move around.
Last night, after we had dressed, I walked Avery back to her apartment. I’d wanted to tell her about what was in the duffel bag, but I was afraid of how she’d react. We barely knew each other, and I figured she might freak out if she knew what I had done to help her out. Still, I wanted her to know how far I was willing to go for my child.
It never came up, and so we never talked about it. I had kissed her goodbye at her door and then left. She showed up at my place before practice to take my vitals, walked me to the field, and left when I went inside. We talked about nothing in particular, but there was a comfort that hadn’t existed before.
I needed to fuck her. I needed to feel what it was like to be inside her again. I needed to remember that, to remind myself why I wanted this girl so badly. It was more than just her body that I wanted, but her body made it so much sweeter.
Drills slowly wound down, and eventually we headed into the locker room. Coach took me into a back room and set up some game tape for me to watch to prepare for the next game.
But today was something different. Instead of tape for the upcoming game, Coach put on tape of the previous game, in particular the first half.
“Watch,” Coach said as he started the game. I saw myself dropping back to pass. “See this?” I stepped up and threw the ball, but it was wildly overthrown.
I remembered doing that. I had done it on purpose.
“What happened there?” he asked.
“I didn’t judge the distance,” I said. “I was getting rushed.”
“You don’t look rushed,” he said. “You were eyeing the receiver the whole damn way, and you still overthrew him.”
He switched over to another play. This time I was dropping back to pass as the defense was closing in on me. I tried running at the last second, but it was way too late, and I got knocked to the ground.
“See that?” he asked. “You didn’t scramble. You saw them coming and you didn’t move. Plus, you had Reggie wide open.”
“I didn’t see him,” I said.
“Bullshit,” Coach answered. “Bullshit you didn’t. You’ve never missed a throw like that in your whole damn career. What happened to you yesterday?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him the truth. He’d throw me off the team, and my entire career, everything I’d worked for, would be ruined.
I hated lying to Coach Taylor. He’d brought me into MD and molded me into the player I was. He was a serious man who took things hard, and I couldn’t imagine disappointing him. I knew he cared about all his players, but he would never forgive me if he knew the truth.
“I had the first-game jitters,” I said. “I was nervous, thinking about pro scouts.”
“Fuck the pro scouts, Gibson. You’re good at this, son. You need to just play your game.”