40. Love Is…
40
Love Is…
Clayton
I ’m floating on cloud fucking nine. For the first time in my entire life, everything feels… right.
? 1 ? The immense weight I’ve felt lift off of my chest since I walked away from my dad Sunday night at the beach is unlike anything I could have imagined. I’m not going to lie; for the last four days, I’ve waited and waited for a wave of sadness, guilt, or disappointment over the fact that he’s no longer going to be a part of my life. But it never came.
Then, I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me. I mean, what kind of person doesn’t get upset that they are no longer going to have ties with their parents? The two people who are supposed to mean the most to you in this world. It’s then that I realized they no longer mean the most to me.
No. The person that means the most to me is the man currently sitting across the locker room from me; head tipped back as it rests against the locker, eyes closed, as he listens to whatever noise is blaring through his headphones.
He means the most to me.
Rockwell Campos.
My heart now lives outside of my chest. It beats for him, and the life that the two of us will have together means the most.
I no longer have the desire to keep someone in my life out of some misguided sense of dedication simply because they are blood. And that’s okay.
Rocky taught me that.
He has taught me what love and family are supposed to feel like. He taught me that I should never have to prove myself to earn someone’s love. He has taught me that love is showing someone the most vulnerable parts of you; love is a “how are you?” text just because you want to check in; love is listening to each other’s favorite songs even though you think they suck; love is a feeling of belonging; love is watching someone’s eyes light up when they try your new chocolate chip cookie recipe; love is feeling safe enough with someone to let go; love is the feeling I get whenever I look at him.
And I want to chase that feeling for the rest of my life.
Like he always does, Rocky must sense my eyes on him because he cracks one eye open, and the corner of his lips turn up in a soft smile.
Sometimes, I can’t believe I fell in love with a man with a mustache, but here we are.
I also never want him to get rid of it.
Rocky shoots me a wink before closing his eyes again, losing himself in his pregame playlist.
Regardless of how much I want to sit here and daydream about him and his fuckable face, I know we have a game to win. Rocky and I have been dominating all week long, not losing a single set. We’re now set to play in the semifinal game against South Carolina, and when we win, we’ll face off against Arizona State tomorrow. We lucked out big this year as hosts of the NCAA tournament, and having the city of Pensacola show up to cheer us on has only pushed us to dig deeper.
Throwing on my white jersey, I quickly shuffle out of the locker room to head toward Theo’s office across the hall from the weight room .
However, the second I round the corner, I see Jax and Theo talking in the hallway just outside his office door. Actually, let me rephrase that. Jax has Theo pinned against the wall, his hands fisting the front of his blue Panthers polo. It looks like they’re having a heated conversation, one that’s already far too inappropriate for a student and a staff member. But it’s only made more scandalous as I watch Theo’s hands move to Jackson’s waist just as Jax lowers his head and whispers something into Theo’s ear.
Jesus fucking christ.
I clear my throat, reminding these two they’re in an extremely not private hallway. Theo shoves Jax away from him with force. Okay, Theo has a decent amount of muscle underneath that polo because Jax isn’t exactly a small individual. “Knee’s looking good, Jackson. Just keep up the conditioning and you’ll be set for next season.”
I roll my eyes dramatically, letting them know I’m clearly not buying the bullshit. Wait.
“Next season?” I ask, looking at Jax.
“Yeah,” he runs his hand through his messy black hair. “I was going to tell you after championship week was over. I’m using my fifth-year eligibility and coming back to play next year. I have some advanced-level coding and programming classes I could take, and I just wanted one more year to play. I’m not looking to make it a career, but I just—” He inhales a deep sigh. “I just wasn’t ready to be done yet. I want one more year so I can end it my way. Ya know?”
I look at my best friend, then over at Theo, who has his eyes firmly planted on the ground. I know this could very well have just as much to do with him as it does Jax wanting to play, but he hasn’t explained to me whatever the fuck is going on with them. Regardless of the fact that we all know that I know what I know. Jackson looks at me with pleading eyes, silently asking me to both understand and not confront him about this yet. And I won’t. But for all intents and purposes Jackson Baker, is my brother, so I do want to make one thing crystal clear.
“That’s great, man.” I clap him on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, really. You deserve to have a great final season. Just take it easy over the summer.” My eyes look toward Theo, who has finally grown the balls to look at me. I may be talking to Jax, but my next words are directed toward him. “Would hate to see you get hurt. Again.”
Theo pins me with a glare, but my stare doesn’t waver. Understanding I’m not budging, he asks, “Did you need something from me, Clayton?”
“Yup,” I answer with all of the sunshine I can muster. “Just need you to tape up my wrist quick. Tweaked it a little yesterday on a dive and figured better safe than sorry.”
Trying to change the subject, Jax states, “You feel good about today?”
“Great.” I refocus my attention on him as Theo spins on his heels to go into his office to get a roll of athletic tape.
“Don’t, Clay. I’ve got it handled.”
“Got what handled? I didn’t say a word. Just telling you to take it easy over the summer, like the good friend I am.”
His eye roll rivals mine. “There’s just some… stuff we’re trying to work out.”
I huff a sarcastic laugh. “Like the fact that he’s a staff member and you’re a student.”
“It’s not like I’m eighteen years old, Clay. I’ll be twenty-three in August.” Jax shakes his head. “Not that it matters because nothing is going on. Not a damn thing.” He speaks the last words as if they physically pain him to say.
“So you staying here an extra year has nothing to do with him?”
“Don’t make me lie to you.”
I hold Jackson’s face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “I’m here when you’re ready to tell me. I have your back. Always. ”
He nods in my hold, and I don’t miss the way his eyes have suddenly glossed over. Then his voice cracks as he speaks softly, “I know.” Before I can say another word, Theo comes back out, the roll of tape in hand. Jax clears his throat. “I’m going to go find my seat. Emerson said he was sitting by Rocky’s sister, Liliana, and his parents. I’ll see you after. Good luck, and kick some ass.”
Without another word toward Theo, Jackson walks away, forcing me to sit through the most awkward five minutes of my life, alone.
Should have just stayed in the locker room staring at Rocky’s fuckable face.
As South Carolina’s player walks to the back of the court for what could be the final serve of the game, Rocky and I glance over at one another, all while getting in our ready positions, both of us knowing this could be the end of our collegiate career or the moment where everything changes. The sun is blaring down, Rocky and I are covered in sweat and sand, and the stands are full as they cheer us on—The Campos’, Jackson’s, and Emerson’s voices roar above the rest. Hell, even Kevin and Nancy are here.
I have never felt more alive.
As much as I enjoy having a comfortable lead, this is the moment I live for. The one where everything is down to the wire.
It’s our third match. South Carolina won the first set and us the second. We’re now winning 14-13. If South Carolina misses this serve or we get a side out, we win. We’ll be in the championships this time tomorrow.
This is it.
The whistle blows, and South Carolina’s player throws it up in the air. Hitting the ball, the serve sails right toward my outstretched arms. Ready for it, I pass it up perfectly. Rocky’s underneath it in a few quick steps, backsetting it to the number three position in the middle of the net. Seeing an open spot, I tip it over to the front right side of South Carolina’s court, but one of their players is able to dig it up from the sand.
Two desperate passes later, the ball is floating over the net. I easily receive the ball and pass it up to Rocky at the net. He bump-sets to the right side of the net. My foot slips in the sand, so I’m not able to attack it like I wanted, and instead hit it with the heel of my hand, barely getting it over as the opposing player grazes the ball in an attempted block.
“Come on, Clay! You got this!” Lilliana’s screams like a banshee over the announcer’s voice as I gasp for breath, sweat pouring down my face.
I watch as South Carolina sets up for a line drive, but Rocky and I know what’s coming. They’ve been doing it all game. As their player jumps up for an outside hit, Rocky readies himself tight against the right side of our net.
And just like I knew they would, instead of hitting line, they power tip right at Rocky.
“Five, five, five!” he says, just loud enough for me to hear him. In the span of two seconds, he’s quickly setting to the middle, as I’m already mid-approach. And just as the ball crests the net, I make contact with the palm of my hand, sending it into the wide-open back corner of South Carolina’s court.
The ball hits the sand, the whistle blows, and the crowd roars.
We won.
We’re going to the championships.
Mine and Rocky’s eyes connect, both simultaneously realizing what just happened. After everything that happened this year, after where we started, after defying all odds, the two of us are going to the NCAA championship.
In perfect unison, we take two quick strides toward one another. Not caring that anyone else is around, not caring about shaking hands with our opponents, not caring about what we should or shouldn’t do or what people in the stands might think about two men kissing—we wrap our arms around one another and crash our lips together. I faintly hear the crowd silence for a moment before erupting in a roar of screams and applause.
But I don’t give a fuck about any of that right now. All I care about is him. The man I love. My partner. My teammate.
My everything.
1. Nonsense - Sabrina Carpenter