Page 151 of The Locker Room

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ran past the half court, ran even into the bushes, and sighted the place he

wanted to dunk from, as though everything in his body wasn"t shaking

with exhaustion and dehydration and cold.

Leo placed himself right in front of that spot, and was yelling at the

top of his lungs, and Xander couldn"t hear him over his own labored

breathing, and, dammit, he didn"t want to stop. Didn"t want to stop.

Didn"t want to stop. The sound of the ball splattering with each dribble

started to eclipse the tortured breath roaring through his lungs, and his

stride lengthened and his body flew, and he had a vision of Leo"s eyes

growing as big as basketballs when he realized what Xander intended.

Xander had to give it to the little guy, he didn"t move. He just

dropped to a crouch at the last moment as Xander vaulted right over him,

legs scissoring to give him air, and threw the ball straight into the

dripping net from the height of his chest. He grabbed onto the rim there,

130 Amy Lane

suspended, not wanting to come down because it was as close to flying

as he could get without a hang glider on his shoulders, and then the

muscles in his arms gave out and he came crashing to the ground. He

lucked out, because his knees couldn"t hold him, and they gave as his

feet touched down. He rolled to his back, howling triumph and

exhaustion and pain and rage, until his body was too spent for even that,

and he simply rolled sideways and stayed, panting, in the water running

off the court.

A pair of patent leather dress shoes interrupted his vision, and then

Leo"s face, dripping water and still a bit wide-eyed, as he crouched down

to see if Xander was still living.

“Happy with yourself?” he asked dryly, and Xander swallowed and

nodded.

“Ecstatic,” he muttered, and Leo rolled his eyes.

“Chris plays in about five minutes,” he said. “I thought, you know,

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