Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

HANSLEY

W e adjusted our plan for the barbeque competition. I had the teams on board for donating all proceeds to the football team, but when Lemon told me about his anonymous donation, I figured money wasn’t stressing him quite so much as it had been.

Zarek suggested that instead of giving all proceeds away to the winners, we make a department fundraising account we can start depositing money into and keep it earmarked for a rainy day when our specific funds dry up and we have a need. Or we can use it for department celebrations or whatever.

I liked that. Every one of these sports had something very expensive about them. My rink, for example. If something damaged our arena, we’d have a very big debt to cover to rebuild it. Lemon’s field and stands and posts. All the other sports fields.

A rainy day fund sounded good.

Alka took an anonymous poll (via email so Lemon obviously knew nothing about it, since I’m pretty sure he’s allergic to email) asking the athletes a series of questions along the lines of why they’re interested in these department fundraisers.

I was surprised to read that the results were not overwhelmingly monetary prizes. They cared more when the money was earmarked for their teams rather than individually. I’m not na?ve enough to think that at least half of them aren’t starving college kids. But the biggest reason they want to win is for bragging rights. They like the good-natured taunt of being the best over the other teams.

Keeping this in mind, we decided to alter the prizes so the winners always get bragging rights in the form of a large, loud trophy they can display in the front of the athletic building. Quin’s department built us a case for these specific trophies—separate from any team championship awards.

The buzz among our students being excited to fill it was contagious. I heard the women’s hockey coach, Morris, giving Denis a hard time that his girls were going to kick ass at the barbeque. Then the women’s soccer coach, Juliette, got on board and told Morris that her girls were going to drown Morris’ players in barbeque sauce.

I love the laughter that now fills our halls. The new friendships among the teams—players and coaches. It feels more like a home and community within the bigger one than it had when I arrived. It’s humbling to think maybe I had a part in creating it.

“Ready?” Alka asks. I turn in time for him to shove the big blue cooler into my arms.

“Yep. You have some recipes and shit?”

He chuckles. “Yep.”

I joined forces with Alka, Declan, and Roux. We’re in matching aprons and hats; thankfully we apparently have a whole big plan in place, complete with assignments and timing and shit. All thanks to Daddy Quin—Declan’s words, not mine.

Setting the cooler on the ground toward the front table, I look up and grin. I may have made sure that Lemon’s team was close by. Just so I can see him throughout the long day. Currently, he’s standing back and watching his boys with amusement. When I told him Declan and Alka asked me to join their team, his immediate response was jealousy.

I kissed him until he forgot he was jealous, then encouraged him to participate. To show his team that he’s on board with the entire department.

While I know now that his refusal to get involved is self-preservation of his feelings, I’m really proud that he worked through that and agreed. I could actually see the struggle to convince himself to join in the fundraiser when we were talking about it.

I rewarded him for his bravery by giving him a very well-deserved, intense orgasm that left him boneless across my body for almost an hour after. Good thing we were in a hotel room. Have I been dragging him to games with me? More than I should. But my team has decided having Lemon along is luck. Win or lose, Lemon is luck.

Lemon joined three of his kids and he’s currently watching them with amusement as they press their heads together and look at something that I can’t see. His gaze flickers up and touches mine. I love the way his smile changes. Sweet. Happy. All for me.

“Stop making dopey faces and get your head in the game,” Declan orders. “Honestly.”

Alka shoves at him. “You have exactly zero room to talk. I still get nauseous around you and Zarek.”

Declan smirks, shrugs, and turns away. “He’s getting irritated that other departments aren’t allowed to get involved, you know.”

“Maybe he ought to do something about it,” I tease. “Math and science department fundraising wars. Humanities fundraising wars. Trade fundraising wars. This could be a movement.”

All three of them look at me and then each other. “I swear, you’re trying to redesign the way this school runs from the ground up,” Alka says.

I laugh. “Okay, you three good for a minute while I check in with the others?”

“Yeah, but you best not be running away throughout this thing,” Declan warns me. “That’s not how you play a team sport.”

“Says the guy with no loyalty who bounces between sports,” Alka mutters.

“Hey! That’s my job!”

Roux rolls his eyes, glancing at me for a minute. I have a feeling these two bicker somewhat frequently if Roux’s reaction is anything to go on. I leave him with a grin and seek out Denis. Because I joined a team, I needed someone else to run around and be the coordinator. Putting out fires and getting things that were forgotten.

Denis volunteered, so he and several others—a mix of coaches, assistant coaches, trainers, and players—are really the ones running the show. That doesn’t mean I don’t feel the compulsion to check in with them. After all, this was kind of my and Alka’s brain child.

“Everything is fine,” Denis says when he sees me approach. “Go back to your team, Hansley.”

I laugh and stop at his side. “The judges are here?”

“Yes, and set up.”

“There’s enough security at the gate?”

“Exaggeratingly so.”

“How does the turnout look?”

Denis levels me with a look. “Go away.”

I laugh again. “Fine, but if you need anything?—”

“We’ll figure it out. Go away.”

Sighing, I turn. “Fine. Okay. I’m going.” I don’t head right back to my station, though. There are close to thirty teams and a fuck ton of donated food. When we put out a general inquiry to local and state businesses explaining what we hoped to accomplish, as with everything this year, the response was overwhelmingly positive.

Part of me wonders if it’s because we’re a progressive school. We’re a glimpse of what the world could look like without hate and supporting everyone equally, regardless of gender, orientation, race, or anything else. We represent peace.

We open that peace up to the bigger community of Glensdale. While it was always a college town and they were proud of RDU, it wasn’t until Quin Stommer showed up and started putting together festivals that the college pride really took over. When the college started inviting the community to join us.

And now they’re almost foaming at the mouth to do something with the school. We’re careful not to over-ask the same companies repeatedly. We don’t want to be greedy, nor do we want to put others off with the idea that we don’t welcome their support too.

So yeah, we have a growing network of supportive companies that are reaching as far south as Sacramento. There are days when I just marvel at the things we’ve accomplished this year, and it's only Christmas.

Which reminds me. One of the twists we added to this event because it’s so close to the holiday, being held the first day of break, is that there has to be some item that is holiday themed, be it a drink, a dessert, a sweet treat of some kind, or even a traditional side dish (could be from their own personal traditions or a wider cultural tradition for a different holiday this time of year).

I stop at Lemon’s table before crossing the wide aisle to my own.

“Spy! Spy!” Peyton calls out, using his big body to block my view. Not that anything is out yet. We’re not allowed to begin until told. There are people watching!

Lemon shoves him aside. “Help them. I’ll handle the spy.”

Peyton gives me a narrow-eyed look before turning away as Lemon walks out. “You’re going to make him paranoid.” His hand rests on the middle of my chest. I wonder if he can feel the way my heart races when he touches me.

With my hands on either side of his neck, I press my lips to his until I feel him sag into me. “Good luck,” I murmur. “I’m really glad you decided to participate.”

He grins, his eyes fluttering.

“You’re going to render him brain-melty. That’s sabotage,” Peyton yells from his station.

Lemon sighs. I smirk. “Good luck too,” he says.

“I have a surprise for you later tonight. Make sure you’re home after this.”

His smile widens. “I plan to be.”

I kiss him again because I simply can’t help it and then let him go. “Good luck, boys. I can’t wait to taste.”

“Wanna promise a tradesies?” Peyton asks with hopeful eyes. “Plate for a plate?”

“Yes. Definitely. Don’t forget the Christmas extra.”

“Not a chance,” he says, smiling. They wave and I return to my booth. Beside us are three of my hockey boys—Hakeem, Seth, and Braxton. On the other side are some of Alka’s boys—four of them, though I don’t know their names.

“Okay, two things,” I say as I join them. “One, I set up a trade with Lemon’s team. Plate for a plate.”

“Hell yeah. I was wondering how we were going to manage food,” Declan cheers.

“I’ll check with Tim,” Roux adds, nodding toward the soccer team to our right. “I bet we can trade there, too.”

“Awesome. Seth will too. But second, I’m still unconvinced that there needs to be so many of us when a lot of this is just waiting for the meat to cook. Do we really need to be here for seven hours?”

Alka sighs. “If you need to sneak off for a fuck, we’ll cover you.”

“Are you looking for the same?” Declan asks, looking between Alka and Roux. “Losing one person for a quickie is different than losing two.”

Roux flushes and bows his head, trying to contain his smile.

“I’m going to stop you from answering and say we’re not doing that. I’m just pointing out that seven hours for one meal is a ridiculous amount of time when you eat for maybe fifteen minutes, and then it’ll be another hour to clean up and get this stuff packed away.”

“It’s a competition, dude,” Alka says. “Time constraint is part of the challenge.”

Obviously, I’m unconvinced, but I don’t argue again as the speaker hums to life. We listen to the introduction of the judges—local restaurant owners and our very own Provost, Kendrick Keller. Denis further acknowledges and thanks every single vendor who participated or donated in some way today. He says a little more that makes me feel a little sappy about how the sports department has come together this year as a family. I know I’m not the only one feeling that way as I look at Lemon across the aisle and meet my players’ gazes next to us, and then Alka’s and Declan’s.

Before this man can manage to bring a whole boatload of jocks to tears, he begins the timer and everyone is moving far quicker than I think the time really warrants. Declan keeps us on task according to Daddy Quin’s instructions.

My attention is drawn to Lemon a lot, though this taskmaster keeps us busy, so I don’t get to admire him. At three hours in, I’m wondering why I’m freaking stressed when we have four hours left, but it feels like we have two minutes.

This reminds me of my college days when my list of subjects and assignments to tackle was always long and it just kept getting longer. I’d finish one and two more would tack themselves onto the bottom.

The competition is much the same. Quin, Zarek, and the rest of their household stop by to chat and watch us. I’m momentarily distracted when I meet Damon because I swear, for just a second, Declan somehow hopped the table and landed in front of it without his apron. It’s almost eerie how identical they are. Especially when they share twin smirks as I look between the two of them.

I meet an enormous pink Viking in a pretty skirt who I’m equally impressed by when he stops to shyly say hello to Declan with a group of four men and three kids. Declan sneaks them all tastes before rushing them off.

“The big, sweet guy is Vulcan. He’s the blacksmith instructor and Quin’s best friend,” Declan tells me.

“I’m sure I’ve never seen him around,” I note, watching him go. “Nor did I realize there’s a forge on campus.”

“His forge is on his property. He has students there. Quin says the liability for a forge on campus is astronomical, so for now, they’re not trying to change it. But they were at the festival.”

“That’s pretty badass,” I say.

Declan nods. “You’re getting sloppy, Bardot. Pay attention.”

I sigh as I return my focus to mixing something. I’m not even sure what I’m working on at this point.

Alka and Roux’s man stops by to say hi too. He has two guys with him who I’m told are also porn stars. I definitely watch them for a few minutes out of curiosity. The fact they look like regular guys and not thirst traps online is kind of a trip. Really says a lot about online sex culture that you expect them to always be out in skimpy underwear and fluffed, as they walk around doing normal, everyday things, as they are in their videos.

By the time the buzzer sounds, I’m fucking exhausted. Fuck, I need to sit for a minute. Seven hours on my feet is not for me. I’m not a young man anymore.

A few minutes later, Seth stops at the side of our table and offers us a plate. Honestly, I’ve forgotten all about it, but Roux has it under control as he exchanges. Lemon crosses the aisle with his and I sneak a kiss before he nearly runs back. That makes me grin.

Alka returns from dropping off our entries with the judges, and we pick at the plates while we wait for everyone else’s to be evaluated. I’m not sure if I’m fucking starving right now or this is really damn good, but I am so impressed. I’m not even sure which I like best, though I’m going to tell Lemon it's his. Hell, it might be his.

We only get a bit of a break because as soon as it’s called that the last entry has been submitted, the booths are now open to those who want to purchase samples while the judges do their thing.

I’m seriously going to wish I had a hot tub when I get home.