45 - Fallon
~ 45 ~
FALLON
“The NFL,” I repeated, relieved. “Of course.”
“Exactly,” said Emerson, nodding his head. “Dalton’s going straight in, first round, zero doubts in my mind.”
“Or mine,” I admitted.
“Good,” Emerson nodded, looking relieved we were both on the same page. “But right now there’s a problem. And we could use your help with it.”
I was confused as he reached for the phone and fired off a quick text message. Almost immediately I heard a door open in the hallway, and then Trey walked in.
“Nice,” he smiled, his eyes shifting to me. “I was hoping you’d still have her up.”
“Trey—”
He began peeling his shirt off, while stepping out of his shorts simultaneously.
“You hold her down for me, I hold her down for you?” Trey offered. “Just like last time?”
“Yeah, sure,” said Emerson. “In a few minutes, though. Right now, we were talking about Dalton.”
Trey walked over and sat down on the bed. It should’ve been strange, two mostly-naked men sitting on the same bed, having a conversation with me without any clothes on. But after all these times together, it seemed fantastically natural.
“Dalton is good ,” Emerson explained. “Real good. Good enough to start for any team in the NFL.”
I leaned back, pulling my legs up so I could cross my arms over them. “So what’s the problem?”
“The problem,” Trey added, “is that he doesn’t believe it.”
I frowned in confusion. It didn’t make sense.
“Wait, why? He’s been amazing.”
“This season especially,” agreed Emerson. “Each year he gets better. Sharper. More focused. The kid’s going places. I’m psyched as hell for him.”
“Don’t the coaches tell him?”
“They do,” said Trey. “But what does it matter if he doesn’t believe it?” He exchanged worried glances with Emerson. “And worse than that, he’s not preparing. He’s not even applying. ”
My eyes narrowed. “What do you mean he’s not applying?”
“Exactly that,” said Emerson. “He was already late on declaring eligibility, which he could’ve done months ago. He finally did, but we had to practically sit him down for it.”
Trey grunted his full agreement. “There are all kinds of scouts buzzing around him, man. I’ve seen them everywhere, at all the games. But he barely makes note of them.”
“He keeps wanting to ‘wait,’” added Emerson.
“What the hell’s he waiting for?” I blinked. “It’s his senior year.”
“I dunno. But every time we talk to him, we get the same brush-off.”
The boys went silent, and my mind spun to come up with any reason whatsoever Dalton would be behaving this way. I couldn’t think of a single one. He’d been playing football since he was practically in diapers. He’d lived and breathed it, along with his whole family, his entire life.
“If he ditches the regional starting combine, how’s that going to look?” asked Trey.
“Not good,” Emerson shook his head.
All of a sudden, fear gripped me. Was something wrong with him? Was he holding something back? No matter what angle I looked at it from, it just didn’t make sense.
“So what does he have to do?” I blurted. “I mean, if he actually wants to play… what’s next?”
“National NFL combine,” Trey said flatly. “Four days, first week of March. Only just over 300 players are invited.”
“Okay, okay,” I nodded. “So… do you think he’ll get an invite?”
The two of them looked at me solemnly.
“He already did.”
My mouth dropped all the way open.
“AND HE’S NOT GOING!?”
“Well, he didn’t say that,” Trey mumbled. “He’s uhh…umm…”
“He’s ‘still deciding’,” Emerson finished. “For fuck’s sake.”
The revelation was as sad as it was shocking. I couldn’t come to grips with it.
“This… this just doesn’t seem like him,” was all I could say. “Dalton’s always been the king of confidence.”
“Oh, he’s the absolute shit,” Emerson spat, obviously frustrated. “Always has been. The guy is never off, and always there for anyone who needs him. You couldn’t ask for a better teammate. And in every other way, he’s our best friend in the whole world.”
He let out a sigh of such frustration it turned into a roar.
“But on this? He’s stubborn. He’s weird. He’s impossible to reach.”
“Which is why you need to reach him,” Trey added softly. “Your friendship with him is different than ours. We’re hoping he’ll open up to you. Tell you things he won’t tell us.”
I nodded numbly. “Of course I will.”
“You will?”
“Oh he’ll talk alright,” I swore. “I’m going to make him talk. And if he’s still ‘deciding’ whether to throw away one of the greatest gifts in the world, by the time that combine starts? We’ll duct tape his hands and feet, and the three of us will drive him there personally.”
Trey’s smile was worth a thousand words. He looked at his friend, as they both nodded appreciatively.
“There’s our girl.”
The big linesman leaned in to kiss me, and at first the kiss was sweet. But eventually our lips parted, our mouths opened, and our tongues rolled.
Our girl.
The words gave me a tingle. But an even bigger tingle swept over me as Trey’s hand slid to my thigh, and my palms began wandering that broad, beautiful chest.
The kissing grew frenzied, and the touches grew bold. And as hot as it was, the whole thing was made hotter — as always — by the fact it was happening in full view of Emerson.
In time, a hand grabbed my wrist, pinning it behind my back. Almost immediately, another pair of hands grabbed my other.
And then I was down on my stomach, buried face-first in the pillow. Arching my back and stretching my body into a very familiar and amazing position, as I gave myself over to whoever fought to have me first.