I do my little touchdown dance—always to the sound ofMe!by Taylor Swift and Brendon Urie because there’s clearly no one quite as awesome asme. As I dance, I soak in the cheers from the crowd because Iearnedthem. That I made that catch, landed on my feet, and kept going… ooh. I’m on fire.
My teammates congratulate me because with nineteen seconds on the clock, we just won our eleventh game of the season, putting us at eleven and two so far.
The whisper of being Super Bowl contenders yet again has been dancing around us since our season got off to a solid start, but I’m doing everything I can to tune that out.
One game at a time. Thinking about anything more than that is a great way to blow our season. We all want a shot at comingback after a bruising loss last year. Our former starting QB was a piece of shit who sexually assaulted women and beat his wife. Mark, Brian, and I caught him in the act of assaulting a woman shortly before the Super Bowl last year.
He and Mark ended up in a fistfight on the sidelines of the big game. The press had a field day and blamed Mark until the investigation into our former QB was made public and the truth came out. Now Mark is the golden boy again, and we’re all hungry to write a better story this year.
Even as one of the cockiest guys on the team, I’ll be the first to say we can’t make that happen if we rush or get complacent. We have to stay where we are and focus on each game as it comes.
Mark throws his arm around me and smacks me on the helmet as we get in position for the point after touchdown kick. And as the ball sails through the goalposts, the high of winning hits again.
The locker roomis loud as the guys dick around and talk about the best plays of the game.
Sure, we’re all grown-ass men, but after a good game, we revert to little boys who love throwing and catching balls. And winning.
“That was one of your best plays this season,” Wendell Pierce says. He’s the old guard here and has been playing with the Bandits for their entire thirteen-year franchise history.
“Thanks, man.” We bump fists, and I silently revel in the praise. Getting it from a guy who was one of my heroes growing up always means more.
I’ve always looked up to Wendell, not only because he’s a talented Black athlete, but because he’s an all-around great person.
He and his wife have been together since they were twenty, and they have a strong marriage. They started a foundation supporting trans kids when their daughter came out as trans. And Wendell continues to set the example for what teamwork and sportsmanship should be. I might be a cocky little shit sometimes, but at the end of the day, I strive to be humble and remember how lucky I am to be here—to have gratitude. People like Wendell help ground me and remind me of that.
“That better mean you’re coming out with us tonight,” TJ says. “No better way to celebrate than with drinks and jersey chasers.”
And then there are the guys who are the complete opposite of Wendell. Not that I’m anti-partying, but TJ always manages to make it sound sleazier than it should be.
A lot of the guys say things in agreement, but I’m torn. On one hand, the person I prefer to celebrate with is Brian, and going out isn’t his jam. But Christy’s words are also dancing in the back of my mind. I’m not going to understand what my feelings are unless I challenge them and examine them.
Before I have a chance to respond, Brian slings an arm around my shoulders.
“He’s right. We’ve barely been out with the team this season. Let’s do it.”
I side-eye him. He is not a partier by nature. Only by force. I used to drag him out all the time until one night at the bar he was twitchy and looked like he was crawling out of his skin. I was worried there was something wrong, so I offered toleave with him, and he finally admitted that it could be a major struggle for him to be out when he was already overwhelmed or overstimulated. Since then, I’ve made it a point to stop forcing him. But that led to less time spent together, so I started staying in too.
I don’t know if he’s suggesting it for my sake or not, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to.
“You sure?” I ask.
“Yes, I’m sure. A night out would be good. Let’s all go celebrate the wonder that is Ryan Hardison.”
I turn that grin right back at him. “Well, when you put it like that… let’s go.”
Drinks are flowing,I’m tipsy as fuck, and I’m dancing with my boys—and a group of girls whose names I don’t know.
They’re all dressed similarly in short dresses, heavy lipstick, and high heels, and they’ve got the classicyes me, right nowvibes most jersey chasers give off.
That used to be my go-to. Even Brian would hook up now and then when I first met him.
Which takes me back to Christy’s words again. Why haven’t I hooked up? Why hasn’t he? At least, I don’t think he has.
Maybe we’re both leaning too hard into the comfort of our friendship and not getting what we actually need.
And maybe I’m not wasting any more thoughts on that tonight. Tonight is about letting loose, having fun, and saying fuck everything else.
I wrap my arm around one girl’s waist and grind against her.
