Page 82 of The Locker Room
team, he just didn"t know how to say that anyway at all to the person
who needed to hear it.
So he opened his mouth and let his lover in. He let Christian
Edwards, the most beautiful man he"d ever known, go down on his knees
and pull Xander"s hardened cock into his mouth, and worship him in the
misty North Carolina dawn, because who they were to the world had
become so much bigger than they felt, and who they were to each other
was so much more than words.
THE NBA draft was a blur, a terrible, frightening blur of flashbulbs and
sound bites and uncomfortable suits and people talking to him like he
and Chris would understand all that shit anyway.
If it hadn"t been for Leo Schindler, they wouldn"t have made it.
Leo had been the most persistent agent to track them down, and
what had made up Xander"s mind about him had been an unexpected
thing. He"d been sitting in Xander"s dorm, on the bed because Chris had
the chair, and Xander had been saying for the umpteenth thousand time
that he didn"t go anywhere without Chris.
Leo had been shining them on.
“Now c"mon, boys—no one does that. The odds of getting you
drafted onto the same team? Astro-fucking-nomical. I mean, I can
represent Chris, but other than that, I don"t see what else we can do.”
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Leo was one of the shortest men Xander had ever met. He stood
about five foot three and looked like a leprechaun, with bright red hair
and a ruddy complexion and some of the most flamboyantly gay gestures
either of the boys had ever seen in someone related to sports. Even now,
in their room, he was wearing a natty pinstripe suit with a bright pink
necktie and matching kerchief in his pocket. He sat with his legs crossed,
and his fingers locked around his knee, as though he were presiding over
