Chapter 30
“CAN YOU GRAB IT?” I ask Vale when my phone starts vibrating just as he was about to get in bed with me.
He gives me a “Yeah” and puts it in my free hand.
On the screen is P é rez’s name and a text: Game’s almost over.
Coach wants us to stay for a team meeting and then we’re going to grab something to eat.
Says don’t worry about coming, just to get some rest. I’ll let you know where we end up for food and see if you want anything.
And then a voice message follows: “And when I say see if you want anything, I mean you and Vale, obviously. Take care of our boy, Vee. I heard some cowgirl is great for football injuries, solo lo digo. Or would it be cowboy for y’all? Anyway, got to get back now. Love you, papi.”
“Classy, P é rez,” I say, handing Vale back my phone.
And then I watch as he takes his shirt and pants off too, and carefully crawls over me, giving me a “Pinche futbolista” when my free hand goes to his thigh as he’s straddling me, and I know I’ve got a look in my eye that’s telling him that maybe my teammate had a valid idea on how to make sure he keeps me awake.
“I don’t like that he had to kick me on my left side,” I mutter as Vale finally settles next to me, throwing a blanket over our legs. “That’s your side. It’s weird, you lying on the right side of me.”
“It’s just for a few days,” he tells me. “And then you can have your side of the bed back. I promise.”
“Pues, at least get closer. I want you on me.”
“You’re hurt.”
“Barely even on this side. Promise.”
Vale lets out a sigh, but his smile gives him away.
He slowly settles half his body on me, his leg draped over mine, his arm around my stomach, just under my sling, and my free arm comes around him, holding him tight.
This isn’t how I imagined coming back from the game.
There’s no celebration, no excitement, no plowing him on this bed.
But at least I’ve got him. I’ve made it through one more game and we’re still here.
“What should we do now?”
“Talk to me,” he says, his head under my chin. “We can get into that philosophy paper I’m sure you’re almost done with. Talk all about how Risieri Frondizi has made you want to double major.”
“Nah. Hell nah. I’ll take the concussion.”
“ Shut up. Then tell me something footballish. Like … who’s your favorite goalie?”
“My favorite goalkeeper ”—I stress the word and smile seeing Vale bite down on his lip like he knew that was going to get me—“is Keylor Navas. Best in the game.”
“What’s special about him?”
“Well, for starters, he’s short for a keeper, like me. I mean, he at least hits the six-feet mark, but still technically on the shorter side for a pro.”
Vale’s head perks up, and he tries his best to gently put some weight on me, just enough to look at me. “I remember you mentioning that on the first day of Philosophy and thinking you were talking shit. You’re not short.”
“I don’t hit six feet. Pro keepers average, like, six-three. Most want to be on the taller side of that number. I’m shorter than Navas is. Think about it; you want someone who’s got the most reach possible at the goal, right?”
“I mean, sure. Yes. That makes sense, but, wild finding out you’re short by some standard. Keep going.” He settles back down, letting out a soft breath when I tighten my hold on him. “Tell me more about Keylor Navas.”
“He’s Latino, got the CONCACAF Goalkeeper of the Year three times in a row and was named their Player of the Decade. And just watching him, you see why he’s considered the greatest. He’s got it all. All the qualities that make a great keeper.”
“Except for the height.”
“Except for the height,” I repeat, a small smile forming on my face.
“Do you ever … don’t you think it’ll be really cool when, one day, some ambitious college footballer is talking about you like this? Smiling the way you smile right now because of how huge of an inspiration you are to him. Imagining you at a goal when they hear the word greatness .”
“You see that for me?”
Again, his head perks up, and I catch his soft smile and how his eyes get sad for a second.
For only as quickly as whatever thought was there crosses his mind, before he’s back.
His face comes close to mine, and he kisses me gently, slowly.
Every single nerve on my tongue and lips wants his touch and attention, calling for him.
“I do. I know it’ll happen.”
I tell him more about Navas. I pull up clips of his games (or, tell Vale what to look up on his phone), replaying five- and ten-second bits, pausing and going into what exactly was so legendary about each moment.
All the while, Vale stays cuddled up close to me, my good arm wrapped around him, my fingers tracing shapes on the skin of his back.
He listens to every word; sometimes when I catch him staring at me as I talk, I’ll go in for a quick kiss and then continue.
Philosophy? Still not my thing.
Goalkeeping? Could give a whole course on it.
Another text from P é rez, and, luckily, a twin-size bed is small enough for Vale to be able to reach over, carefully, and grab my phone.
Well, as carefully as he can while I take the opportunity to start kissing his clavicle and neck and the top of his chest and shoulders, my fingers that were on his back somehow ending up just under the waistband at the back of his underwear as he lets out a “I swear to God, Gabi.”
“They’re getting burgers. Want him to bring you one back?”
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Okay, and—and he wants me to tell you that, if we need him to, he can make Nam go to the Whataburger downtown and he and Kat will eat really slowly, so we have more time to cowboy .”
I let out a laugh as Vale rolls his eyes, putting the phone back. “Y’all are always so horny,” he says. “But while I’m mostly up already, are you feeling okay? Hurting? Got a headache or anything? Want some more water?”
“No headache. The left side of my chest is feeling pretty rough still.”
“Do you need ice? Medicine?”
“Well, I did hear about a pretty good remedy for football-related injuries. Seems pretty legit.”
“VapoRub?”
“No.”
“One of those heat packs?”
“Nope.”
“What are you—” Vale’s eyes squint and then roll even harder when he realizes exactly what I’m thinking. He lets out a sigh, shaking his head as he throws himself down on the mattress. “Got the shit kicked out of you and still horny.”
“Pues, he didn’t kick me in the balls.”
He laughs as he settles back on the okay side of my chest. “Fine. But you’ve got to stay awake after. I better not hear anything about ‘you tired me out.’ ”
“Then you’re just going to have to make sure I stay awake.”
“Horny,” he yells, flicking me on the cheek. “Literally that injury just made you hornier, I’m convinced.”
“ You make me hornier.” My hand goes to his face, my thumb gently grazing his cheek. “And you make me forget about how shitty today was. I … in all seriousness, I’m really glad you’re here to take care of me. Best boyfriend material.”
A breath comes out of his nose with a smile. He leans back down and presses his lips to mine. “Well, lie back and let me take care of you. You’re lucky I’d already prepped while you were playing, thinking we’d get here regardless.”
And, yeah, P é rez was right. He takes off my underwear and then gets up to take his own off before reaching for the bottle of lube under my bed.
He squirts some on his palms and then strokes me for a while, and damn, he knows how good he’s making me feel.
That hot-ass, devious smile on his face as he has my eyes rolling back while I let out a “ Holy shit .” I don’t even feel my injury anymore. Just Vale. Perfect, incredible Vale.
“Baby,” I groan as he starts slowly sitting on me. It comes out breathy, needy. Everything about him is exactly what I needed. How good he looks. The sounds he makes. The feeling of going deeper and deeper into him. Touching him and tasting him and telling him, “You’re so fucking sexy.”
“Fuck.” It comes out almost like a laugh from how good it feels to be inside him.
Another one—this time softer and breathier—comes out, seeing how much he needs this too; how much he craves me, how good I make him feel.
The way his breathing goes erratic and his moans get so desperate when he’s found that angle that’s got me hitting just right.
“Gabi.”
“Vale.”
Yeah. I’m in love with him.
“I’m close, baby. I—”
Even if he tries his best to not take it too fast, and his movements are careful, and I’m trying my best not to go full Super Saiyan on him for the sake of my injuries, it’s still perfect.
He feels so good. I wish this could last for hours.
Fuck the burgers. I want the sight and heavenly rhythm of Vale on top of me, riding me all day long.
“Vale, ba—baby. So perfect. I—”
So perfect I don’t notice the door opening and—
“Oh shit, Pi n a—”