The Locker Room (8 page)

heater and a shower for two to his list for being a grown-up. Hell, some

of the other stuff looked like it might come true, even if Chris was the

one with the car at this point.

Work seemed to crawl by, and that was unusual and frustrating.

Xander liked being functional, liked scraping grills and producing

something and measuring his progress by the ding of the bun-timer and

the number of hamburgers put in a box. The people around him usually

played at their work, too, and he enjoyed being immersed in

conversations that had nothing to do with him, but that he could follow,

anyway.

And of course, watching Chris at the counter was always a treat.

“Here ya go, Ms. Oscar!” Chris always bounced on his toes, and

since Ms. Oscar was their next-door neighbor, he was extra enthusiastic.

“Now, you know, we could always deliver this to you, right? Xander and

I usually get off at ten on Saturday nights!”

Ms. Oscar smiled gently and waved to Xander in the back. “Hullo,

Xander!” Xander waved at her, a nice woman with a pretty smile

somewhere in middle age where eighteen-year-old boys stopped

wondering about age at all. “I couldn"t let you do that, honey. You two

are supposed to be out partying this summer. Aren"t you supposed to be

leaving soon?”

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Amy Lane

“Six weeks,” Chris confirmed. “It was going to be eight, but I got a

car for graduation, and Xan and I are gonna road trip back east.”

Ms. Oscar took a deep breath in what was clearly enchantment.

“Oh, that"s wonderful, Chris. You two will have so much fun!”

Chris grinned at her and said goodnight, and then turned to Xander

and waggled his eyebrows. Xander laughed, and the girl next to him let

out a disgusted puff of air.

“Could the two of you
be
more gay?” She"d been hitting on Chris

ever since she"d started, and Xander had a feeling that she could get ugly

if she found out the truth.

“I can think of one way,” he said mildly, and it was the complete

truth. Not only
could
he think of one way to be more gay, but he
had

been thinking of it, pretty much nonstop, for the past six hours.

Gabby rolled her eyes. “Seriously! The least you could do is help

me out here! I"ve been hitting on that guy for two months, and I"m

getting nowhere. Could you at least tell me what he likes?”

Me! He likes me! He loves me, and he wants nothing to do with

you!

“He likes to laugh,” Xander said instead. “He likes it when

someone can share a joke with him, or watches a funny movie.” Xander

could do that—but only with Chris. With Chris, he could watch a funny

movie and laugh until he spit soda up his nose. By himself, or with

Chris"s parents, he let out a courtesy chuckle, because while inside it

might seem hilarious, on the outside, it wasn"t worth laughing without

Chris.

Gabby stopped examining her fingernails through her clear

protective gloves. She looked at Xander and smiled brightly. “Thanks,

Xander! I guess you"re not completely retarded after all!” And with that,

she wandered up front and struck up a conversation with Chris about

Austin Powers II,
that lasted for the rest of her shift.

Eventually, though, she left, and half an hour later, Xander and

Chris were ready to go. They climbed into Chris"s “new” car—a five-

year-old Toyota with not quite enough leg room for Xander—and Chris

grabbed Xander"s hand after he"d started the car toward home.

The Locker Room

41

“God, I thought she"d
never
shut up!” he muttered. “All I wanted to

do was tell her I wasn"t interested, but
Jesus,
it never
ended
, you know?

Whatever I wanted to say would be halfway around the state before it

even got out!”

Xander clenched his hand, only partly aware of what Chris was

talking about. He wasn"t threatened by a girl, certainly not
that
girl, who

wasn"t particularly nice unless she wanted something and who said

nasty, mean things to people who didn"t have anything she wanted. Even

if Chris ever fell in love with a girl, or another boy, it would be with

someone better than Xander. Someone infinitely more worthy.

No. He wasn"t threatened by a girl, but he had thought of

something as she"d played with her frosted black hair and batted her

pretty, almond-shaped eyes.

“Are we going to have to pretend?” he asked, and Chris, who had

been whining some more about how totally boring that chick really was,

stopped talking abruptly.

“Pretend?” He asked the question so carefully that Xander knew he

had already thought of it too. Suddenly, the air conditioner was stifling,

even though the Sacramento valley floor still hadn"t cooled off entirely.

Xander pressed the window button and let the humid air blow over his

heated skin.

“You know exactly what I"m talking about,” Xander said, his voice

barely carrying over the sound of the wind, and Chris sighed—but he

didn"t relinquish Xander"s hand.

“Yeah, I do. And the answer is probably. But I don"t want to think

about it.” Chris"s voice became pleading, and Xander couldn"t resist

him, even a little. “Please, Xan? Please, tonight… tonight of all nights,

can we not think about it?”

Xan nodded and kissed the back of Chris"s knuckles. Then he let

go and cranked up the radio. “Kryptonite” was playing, and 3 Doors

Down
was one of Xander"s favorite bands.

They got into the house and each went to shower again—alone. It

was ritual. Something about the patina of fast food and sweat was just so

unpleasant on the skin. It was just like after a game—both of them were

desperate to get the reek of themselves off of their own skin.

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Amy Lane

When Xander emerged, wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a T-shirt,

and freshly shaved, Chris stuck his head down the hall. “C"mon up here

tonight, "kay?”

Xander padded up the carpeted stairs, one hand on the rail, marking

the way the rest of the house was still in starlight. It was odd—the house

was never still. There was always the comforting murmur of Andi and

Jed, talking after hours. There was always the patter of Penny on the

keyboard as she worked late into the night, struggling into all of the

excelled classes that so badly eluded Chris. There was always the sound

of Chris"s iPod, playing just sub-audio, but Xander knew what was on it.

He knew every song on it, even when Chris got new ones. He knew what

Chris played when he was in a bad mood, and what he played when

they"d won a game, (“Jesus is Just All Right” by the Doobie Brothers.

Xander could never figure out why.)

Tonight he had the iPod plugged into the jack, and what was

coming out was “Small Things” by Blink 182. Of course it was.

When he walked into Chris"s room and looked around, he realized

what a kids" room it still was. Their pennants were on the walls from

taking State two years running, and Chris had three years of best

sportsmanship trophies on his mantel as well. He also had, Xander

noticed, a little surprised, all of Xander"s MVP trophies, as well as the

plaque he"d gotten when he"d gotten his scholarship and athlete scholar

of the year. There were posters of individual Kings players: Vlade Divac,

Peja Stojokowicz, C-Webb, Jason Williams, Scott Pollard; and one

poster of the whole team.

“Peja"s my favorite,” Chris said now into the silence. “You"ll look

just like him when you get all grown and everything.” He was sitting on

the bed, and Xander sat next to him, taking in the way his chest gleamed

a little in the moonlight. Of course Chris wouldn"t wear a shirt. Pretty

Chris, with the hairless chest and the model cut to his chest and arms and

stomach.

Xander grimaced at the choice of Peja. “I"ll need like, a personal

body wax every weekend, you realize that.”

Chris laughed and leaned back on his elbows. He flexed his

stomach, and Xander realized he was preening. “So which one am I?”

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43

“Jason Williams,” Xander replied promptly, because obviously,

he"d thought about it.

“"Cause I"m short. Ha ha.”

“No!” That wasn"t it at all. “Because he"s loyal. He"s got his wife,

right? And they"re like, inseparable. It"s legendary. You"re like that.

You"re like, thick and thin, right?”

Chris"s hand was suddenly on his, and it was a whole different

thing than what they"d been stealing in odd moments for the past two

years. It was suddenly serious in a way they hadn"t been before, ever.

“You can trust me, then,” he said quietly.

Xander shrugged. “Of course.”

Chris shook his head, then lay down on his queen-sized bed,

tugging on Xander"s hand to do the same. Their feet hung off the edge,

when they weren"t sleeping diagonally like Chris usually did, but they

ignored it. He rolled over to his side and leaned in, kissing Xander"s

bicep.

“No,” Chris said softly. “You don"t. You hold me, and kiss me, but

it"s more than just our age that"s gotten in the way, Xan, and you know

it.”

Xan turned his head and looked at Chris, those dark eyes deep and

eternal in the starlight. “I will love you for as long as we live,” he said

softly, meaning every word. “And I will love you if this is as close as we

ever get.”

“Why wouldn"t you want to get closer to me, Xander? This is us.

It"s been us for four years. Why wouldn"t we want to finish this?”

Xander swallowed. “Because it"s you and basketball, Christian.

Only one of you can break my heart.”

Christian nodded, and propped himself up on his elbow, the

moonlight haloing that golden hair behind him. “I don"t love basketball

nearly as much as I love you,” he said softly, and lowered his head for a

kiss.

That would have to be enough. It
was
enough as his lips touched

Xander"s. Chris"s lips were so soft, and he always tasted… sweet. Like

sunshine and cookies. Maybe it was his nature, or the fact that he trusted

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Amy Lane

everyone, just trusted that it would be okay, but Chris always tasted like

sunshine and cookies.

Xander"s soul fed on that taste. He devoured it, pulled it inside. In a

moment, less, he"d rolled Chris over and had taken control, pinning

Chris to the bed with his mouth and the widening breadth of his

shoulders and chest. Chris moaned under him, and this time it was Chris

who wrapped gangly arms and long legs around Xander"s shoulders and

hips, and Xander who thrust against him. He was almost lost, almost out

of control when Chris pulled back.

“Naked, Xander. I want us
naked.”

Their breathlessness cooled as they both rolled on their backs and

kicked off their sleep shorts. When Xander"s boxers were off, Chris

helped him to pull his shirt off, and their heads hit the pillows side by

side as they lay naked next to each other. Chris turned and grinned, and

then passing up all of the preliminaries, reached for Xander"s groin,

where his cock was still hard and stretched out in the nest of black hair.

Without a hello or how-are-you, Chris wrapped his hand around

Xander"s hard flesh and squeezed. Xander"s head thumped back against

the pillows, and he saw stars.

“
Waaahhh… God!”

“Good, huh?”

Chris could pick up a basketball using just the hard pressure of his

fingertips, and his hands were not that big. He squeezed firmly, and

stroked from the base of Xander"s cock to the tip, then rubbed softly over

the end. Xander groaned again, and Chris was shifting, moving, and

suddenly, oh God… his head was there, over Xander"s groin, and the

head of Xander"s prick was in his mouth.

Xander shoved the palm of his hand in his own mouth to keep from

making too much noise. His other hand knotted in Christian"s hair, not to

control, but just to ground them, to keep himself on planet Earth, with

Chris, before he rocketed himself off into the stratosphere.

Chris was shameless. He squeezed with his hand and sucked with

his mouth, swirled with his tongue and hummed in his throat, and

Xander was all the things he ever feared: helpless before him.

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45

It didn"t matter. He couldn"t have run away if Chris suddenly let go

of him and ran off to take a leak. Chris didn"t, though. His ass was

pumping against the bed as he sucked Xander off, and Xander reached