Page 213 of The Locker Room
into what felt like his perma-hard-on, since Chris had come back into
their bed.
184 Amy Lane
Chris groaned, leaning into Xander"s bigger body, into his
encompassing shoulders and his long, long arms. “I like it that you"re all
over me,” he moaned softly, and he and Xander went up into the
bedroom and didn"t come down until their run early the next morning.
Chris had a ten o"clock flight out.
He had his first shot of vodka in his orange juice with breakfast. He
had his second (when Xander wasn"t looking) after the girls had all gone
about their day and they lingered over their croissants. Xander got up to
go let the dogs in, and he came back to see Chris"s glass taller, and the
orange juice thinner, and the tell-tale smell stronger than ever.
Suddenly, everything that had been warm under his skin ran cold.
“Chris…,” he said, softly, and Chris turned to him, his goofy smile
askew, his pale face flushed with the second drink, and his eyes
unfocused and wandering.
“I… I hadn"t had any. I promised you I wouldn"t, right?” he said
back. “But… but last time, I got on the plane, and it hurt so bad… it hurt
so bad… and I asked for some Scotch, and it didn"t hurt quite so bad
anymore.” That skewed smile twisted, grew bitter. “So I kept drinking.
Cliff had to peel me off the floor when the car got me home. I
figured….” He looked away, and Xander saw two boozy tears trickling
down the side of his nose, and his entire stomach cramped, but not with
laughter.
“I figured I"d start early this time. Maybe… maybe I"d be walk-
able by the time the plane got there, you know?”
Xander held out his arms, and Chris burrowed into them, weeping
softly. Xander clutched him to his chest and wept, too, without even the
alcohol as an excuse.
