When Wyatt sets me back down, my knees feel like Jell-O. Winning a home game with the stands packed, and then getting the life kissed out of me by him is an emotional roller coaster I don’t ever want to get off of.
“You were amazing.” Wyatt’s face is still so close to mine, and I realize with a sudden fierceness that I want to kiss him again. And again. The thought that maybe I can spend the rest of my life kissing that face is a terrifying one. His lips felt the same as they did before: soft and warm, but this moment was different. A kiss before leaving the country is a low point. A kiss on camera for a laugh at the rodeo is lighthearted. A kiss after winning a big home game is the highest I’ve ever felt.
I look around the stadium, buzzing with fans, and the whole Hurricane gang coming behind Wyatt, then look back to him. “Thank you.” I can’t find any more words, but I hope he knows that I mean for being my best friend, for doing this for me, for bringing his teammates here. For asking a favor of them when just a year ago he wasn’t thrilled to be a Hurricane. For kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before.
His eyes search mine. What they’re looking for, I don’t know. “Nash, I–”
“Photos!” Chrissy yells. “Get together, guys. I want all the Hurricanes and all the Moons.” She motions with her hand, telling us to all squish together. We stand in front of the net, under the bright lights, arms around one another. Wyatt scoots in next to me. His right arm over my shoulders. I look up at him and I’m hit by the memory of us at flag football. It’s crazy to think that photo inspired all this. Now we’re all together on the hardwood of the volleyball court, hopefully on our way to a winning season, smiling and sweaty. At the beginning when I was full of uncertainty and unease, he was there. Here he is again today, holding me up while I climb to the top.
“Say Houston,” Chrissy calls. Several H-Town hand signs—hand facing you, just the pinky finger and pointer finger up—appear around me.
“Houston,” we say together, smiling at Chrissy’s phone camera.
When Chrissy is satisfied with the pic, the Hurricanes and the Moons mingle. It’s a bit hysterical seeing some of the shorter football players getting towered over by the volleyball goddesses.
Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find Colin, Chrissy, Noah, and Audrey. They each hug me in turn, and I feel bad cause I’m super sweaty.
“You did so great!” Audrey has a brand-new Moons shirt slung over her shoulder. She must have just bought one from the merch table.
“This is my first volleyball game, but it won’t be my last, that’s for sure,” Colin says.
“Thank you, guys, for coming.”
“Of course,” says Noah. “We support all women’s sports.”
Audrey nods her agreement. “I loved watching you play! Your moves out there are how cool I think I look at yoga, but I definitely look nowhere near as graceful as y’all.”
“I’m sure Noah doesn’t think that.”
“He doesn’t,” Noah says. Audrey looks up at him with so much love in her eyes that it chokes me a little. What must it be like to have that? To bare your soul to someone and have them accept you for exactly who you are? When I had to be overseas, I couldn’t let myself want that, but now that I’m home and I’m hoping for permanency…maybe I could?
Wyatt puts his hand on the small of my back. “We can stand here all night, but I’m ready for my post-game burger.”
I start to head toward the locker room to get changed and grab my stuff. “I’ll be right back.” My stomach growls and I’m shocked at how hungry I am all of a sudden.
Whataburger with my best friend—I mean, faux boyfriend—is calling my name.
Moons Chase a Championship!
Texas Sports News
The 13 and 3 Houston Moons are on the hunt for the championship. Their upcoming games against Atlanta and Omaha will be crucial to securing their trip. The 12 and 5 Starfire are right behind them in prime position to be the Moons’ biggest opponent.
The Moons’ Nash Green and Daly Acosta are leading in kills and blocks, respectively. They’re currently playing in the United Care Center. Their next home game is this upcoming Saturday, or you can stream them free on YouTube.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WYATT
“Why do we have to be here at ten-thirty in the morning for lunch?” I ask as we step into a quickly forming line at a BBQ place. Nash insisted we continue my Texas lessons after the crawfish boil last month, and today is a beautiful day to…stand in line, apparently. The restaurant looks like a house with a big wraparound porch, but the smells wafting from it are unlike any home-cooked meal I’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling.
“Because when you’re the only Michelin-starred BBQ joint in Houston, you sell out fast.” Nash gestures at the line we’re in. We take a minuscule step forward, and I look toward where it winds around the wooden porch. Seeing my thousand-yard stare, she reassures me. “It’s worth it, trust me.”
It takes us two hours to get to the front of the line.Two hours. I was hungry when we got here, but I’m starving now. At least you get the delicious smell of smoked meat the entire time, for free.
When we step up to the counter, I don’t know what to get, so Nash orders us a little of everything she likes. We take a seatat the picnic-style tables and wait until they call her name over the speaker. When they do, I get up and grab our tray from the guy in the window. It’s huge and full to bursting with brisket, pulled pork, juicy turkey breast, potato salad, and baked beans.
I set it on the table in front of her and take my seat. It’s been absolute fucking torture smelling this the whole time we were in line. Not even a plate of free bread while we waited to sate my appetite. Nash has her face buried in her phone. “Nash, it’s time to eat. Come on, we’ve been waiting for hours.”