Page 23 of The Locker Room
Amy Lane
shoulders. Coach sighed and backed away as Christian helped him
hobble off the court, and Xander found himself sat down hard on the
bleachers while he decided if the black spots dancing in front of his
vision meant business or were just fucking around and promising nausea.
Nausea would probably be a lot more likely if he wasn"t so damned
hungry, huh?
Xander blinked as a penlight was shined directly into his eyes, and
Coach"s broad, dark fingers probed his skull. Coach was a thirtyish black
man with a wife, a kid, a spreading middle, and a smart mouth, and most
of the kids would lie down in traffic and die for him. He didn"t hear
outbursts like Christian"s often, and Xander blinked hard and tried to
read the man"s expression.
“You didn"t hit your head,” Coach said with authority. He probed
Xander"s ankle, and although it was a little bruised it was definitely still
functional. “Ankle might keep you down for a day, but it"s not fatal.
Care to tell me why you were down there so long, Karcek?”
Xander tried to focus again, and got lost. “Tired,” he grunted.
“Sorry, Coach.”
“Mmm-hmm. Alright, you two. My office. Now. Jakari?”
An alumni student, who had a good job now but loved the game
enough to be Coach"s second, nodded and blew the whistle to start drills
again. Xander struggled to his feet, only to find Chris under his arm,
helping him along. He was just tired enough and needy enough to keep
his arm around Chris"s shoulder under pretense. Chris"s tight, muscular
body felt so sweet next to his, and, oh God, when they were touching he
wasn"t alone.
Together they struggled through the side door of the gym to the
white hallway, and into Coach"s office. When they got there, Coach sat
them down on his battered red couch, then offered them each a bottle of
