Jalen knew how to pose for cameras - it was easier to do so in his pads and uniform, filming hype videos for social media and the jumbotron in the stadium, but he could keep a smile on his face and hold still on red carpets like this one, too. Once he got inside, though, he found himself far more relaxed than he had on the steps the moment before. He wasn't really sure where he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do - hell, he wasn't sure why he'd been invited to this in the first place, but here he was.
When he spotted Maj, though, his eyes lit up. "You look fucking gorgeous," he whispered, as if saying it any louder would break the illusion that Semaj was there. He wanted to kiss him, wanted to put his hands on the lapels of his jacket, to hold him, touch him, be his, but Jalen knew better. There were crowds that he felt more comfortable in - if he and Semaj were walking down the street of the West Village, maybe. Where people were both more openly queer and less likely to recognize football players. But here, where they were both more their names than their personalities? It was scary, for Jalen. Nevertheless, he trusted Semaj to know when they were truly alone - this was less anxiety-inducing than their make out sessions in the Ohio State locker room had been.
"Please, you know my stylist would kick my ass if I didn't show up lookin' my best," he joked, a fond smile on his face. "You..." he whistled under his breath. "You're a whole-ass meal in that." Seeing Semaj in formal attire was something Jalen would never get enough of, especially in contrast to how he'd gotten to know him - sweaty and in athletic gear, or in uniform. "I missed you, too..." It hadn't even been 24 hours since they'd seen each other, but Jalen was still missing him enough to make up for the eight years they'd gone apart. "Can't believe I got an invite to this thing - I think they might've put my name on the list on accident."
