and they"d looked at each other in horror.
How could anyone watching that not know they were lovers?
They hadn"t watched any more tape after that, unless Coach made
them watch game tape. For some reason, watching game tape was
different—clinical—like the difference between feeling each other up in
the stolen darkness or getting their prostates examined by the doctor.
Either way it was naked, like the whole world got to see a part of them
they wanted hidden from everyone but each other, but for some reason,
on the court, no one saw it for what it was.
The press, in its relentless quest to make men"s basketball the game
for warriors, had dubbed them “the happiness twins,” and speculation
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69
abounded on whether the two of them would manage the impossible,
odds-shattering feat of being recruited by the same team. Xander had
been courted by an agent already, and he and Chris had agreed on it.
They would play nowhere if it wasn"t together.
So Xander knew exactly what Penny was talking about, in spite of
four years of denial as he and Chris had tried hard not to think about it.
“No,” he said softly. “We don"t watch the sports shows.”
Penny took a deep, shuddering breath. “You guys, me, Mom,
Dad—we may be the only people on earth who know who you are. Who
youreallyare, and what you mean to each other. Maybe you should man
up, tomorrow, and just be who you really are. Because the whole world"s
going to be watching you, and seeing what they want to see. Wouldn"t it
be nice to have people who love you for yourselves?”
Xander had needed to close his eyes then, blocking out the pleasant
late twilight, magnified off the gray hush of the sea. The terrifying
blackness of the world beyond the microscope lens was before his eyes,
and he shivered, just shivered, trying hard not to cry like Penny was,