Page 112 of The Locker Room

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“What"s your name, sweetheart?” God, Xander was bad at this,

but the girl didn"t seem to notice.

“Kristy,” she burbled, just like a little brook.

He looked at Christian as he said it. “Perfect.”

96

Amy Lane

Reckoning

SOME guys wore suits after a game—snazzy, top of the line, slick,

bright ties, newest-cut shirtsuits—the kind that impressed the snot out of

fans and fucks alike, but not Chris and Xander. When they packed their

garment bags for their after-game, they usually put in a nice dress shirt

and slacks. Sometimes, if he"d just gotten a new pair (since about all of

Xander"s clothes were made special), Xander would pack a pair of jeans,

because for him, it was all about fitting in, and jeans were the way he did

it. He still remembered the days of ripped, dirty jeans. It meant

something.

That"s what Xander was packing this night, when Chris came in

with the requisite two condoms. It was always two condoms—two

condoms, one bang. A thicker barrier between them and the horrible

thing they were doing, a way to pretend they weren"t really touching

another human being with their lie, a way to pretend that what they were

doing wasn"t really cheating. Two condoms with the rest of the world,

but nothing, nothing ever, between the two of them. Two condoms to

hide the fact that even though they might be able to get it up, they rarely,

rarely came.

Xander looked at the two condoms this night and said, “I don"t

think I can do this anymore.”

Chris nodded and then shook his head. His eyes were still red, even

after their showers (they never showered together—old habits died hard)

because he had come apart with Xander, and once the floodgates had

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