Chapter Two

 

 

“WELL, THANK you, Mrs. Dibson, I’m happy to be here. And your daughter Jennifer, she’s got a lot of potential.” Brian shook Mrs. Dibson’s hand. “Speaking of, I think she’s ready to go.” He nodded toward the door, where the young redhead waited with her friends.

Mrs. Dibson laughed. “Oh, they’re so impatient at this age. Will you be at the fundraiser next weekend?”

“The headmistress did mention it.” He nodded again and tried not to shove her out the door after her daughter. Come on, people. The day job is over. I have a gymnast to train.

Chris had flown in late yesterday, and they hadn’t really had time to discuss training at all. He’d brought Chris up to speed on the job, and they’d both hit the sack. Now he was eager to get to it.

Mrs. Dibson finally headed off with a last wave, and Brian followed to lock the door behind her.

Then he turned back to the gym. “All right. The place is ours!”

Chris still looked a little shell-shocked. His hair was ruffled, and dark circles showed under his eyes, but he was smiling. “Okay. How do you want to do this?”

“Stretch out and loosen up, and then let’s play for a bit. Then dinner and we can talk game plan.” The gym was quiet without a dozen teenage girls in residence. “You like music while you train?”

“Sure. I’m a fan. There’s always noise at a meet.” Chris started stretching, using the wall to support himself, to let his muscles pull.

Brian went over to his boom box and pulled out the boy bands medley he’d had on for the girls, stuck in a little CCR, and started stretching as well. “You been able to do any training since I last saw you?”

“Not officially. I paid the janitor to let me in the gym.” Chris started working his glutes, eyes closed, focusing.

Brian chuckled. “I like your initiative. Or is it stubbornness?”

“Does it matter?”

Brian considered that a moment. “As long as you get the job done, no.” Some days it would be like flying; other days it was going to take pure fucking stubbornness.

He had too much spare energy himself today, and he took off across the mats, doing a couple of flysprings, some tumbles, basically playing around.

Chris stretched a while longer and then headed for the horse, chalking up his hands.

Brian did a couple of somersaults and then settled on the floor near the horse, observing.

Damn, as much as he loved moving, doing, being a gymnast, there was something about watching someone like Chris move. Someone who could make it look so fucking easy.

Chris still favored that right side. He’d looked into all the records—Chris’s springboard had malfunctioned in a training vault. His left ankle had snapped, along with his right collarbone and shoulder, and three discs had herniated.

The discs had probably been about to go for months. Hell, most gymnasts at Chris’s level fought that, but it was normally in the lower back, not in the middle. It was amazing Chris could run through drills, let alone make it look so fucking good.

It meant the competing, the flying—they were in Chris’s blood.

“Let’s see the backward scissors again.”

Chris nodded, started traveling, fighting to get his legs up.

He was compensating for his right side, and it worked okay on the front scissors, but it was letting him down going backward. “You can’t favor the right side, Chris.”

“I’m not trying to.” Chris pushed harder, frowning.

“You are, though. Stop a sec.” Brian stood and made his way over. “Let’s see if it’s actually weaker, or if you’re unconsciously protecting it.”

“Okay….” Chris watched him, curiosity in those odd eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

Brian held his arms out. “One hand on each of mine and try to press them together, as hard as you can with both.”

“Sure.” Chris pushed and yeah, yeah, that right side was weaker. Either that or it hurt like hell.

“Is it hurting?” Brian asked, starting to push back a little, watching Chris’s face.

“It aches.”

Uh-huh. That’s what that tic was from. Aches.

“Tell you what. Take your shirt off and let me go at it for a while. Then we’ll do supper and get an early night. And I want to know when something aches, when it hurts.”

“But I haven’t worked out….”

“I say you need the massage, food, and sleep more than you need to push it right this second.” Brian grinned. “And I’m the coach, which means we do it my way.” And wasn’t that sweet? There were definitely advantages to working the coaching side of things.

“Are you sure about that?” Chris winked, then turned to let him see that sore shoulder.

“Hey, that’s the way it always worked when I was the gymnast.” He helped Chris get his singlet down and got his first look at Chris’s back.

There were two little scars on the right shoulder, then a series of surgical scars alongside Chris’s spine. He could see the tension in the right side, those muscles tight, hard compared to the other side.

He dug in with his thumb. Damn. “Oh yeah. A massage is definitely going to do you more good than trying to work out like this. You want to settle on the mats, go to the changeroom, or go home first? This is going to take a while.”

“I… I feel like a slacker, giving up my first night, man.”

Brian shook his head. “So I can see that my main job isn’t going to be pushing you, but making sure that you don’t push yourself too hard, isn’t it?”

He turned his fingers into a claw and dug into the hard-packed muscles. “You want the relief right here, right now, or you want it at home where you can relax and enjoy it and be a zombie or whatever after?”

“Oh.” Chris’s knees actually buckled, the sound he made close to bliss. “I…. Home. God.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah. We’ll pick up some Chinese takeout or something, and you can let go.” Christ, how long had Chris needed someone to take care of this shoulder for him? It sucked that he hadn’t been getting proper care. Brian was going to have to find room in the budget for a physical therapy session or two, get them to do that ultrasound and electric therapy.

“I found this great little place a block and a half from the apartment. Food’s awesome.” He did a quick visual check, making sure the place was neat for tomorrow, and then grabbed his bag and led the way to the changeroom. “How often does it hurt as bad as it does right now?”

“Late in the day. It’s usually better in the morning. I’m jet-lagged too, a little. New bed. I’m not too bad off.” Fuck, it was almost painful the way Chris needed Brian to believe that he could do this.

“Well, you’ll be better off if you admit it when you need some work done on your shoulder and back. I’m not going to disappear just because you’re not a hundred percent yet, okay?” He looked Chris right in the eye. “I’m not Harry or Jeff. And I’m not looking for the next big thing, because you are the next big thing.”

“Yeah. I know. I just… I…. Fuck. I don’t want anyone to think I’m not committed. I don’t want you to change your mind on me.” Chris tugged on a shirt, leaving on the pants. “I need to call my folks tonight. Let them know where to get hold of me.”

“I’m not going to change my mind, Chris.” Brian grabbed Chris’s bag, as well as his own, as soon as Chris was done with it, leading the way out to his little beat-up red bug. “You got other people you need to call too?”

“No. Mom and Pop will call my sisters. Robin I called from the airport.”

Brian unlocked the passenger door and stopped. “Robin?” Wow, why hadn’t it even occurred to him that Chris might have a boyfriend? And why was the idea vaguely disquieting? Chris was obviously extremely committed to getting back in the game.

“Uh-huh. My brother. Med student at Johns Hopkins.” Chris grinned suddenly, eyes rolling. “We’re twins, so the names are a joke, yeah? Christopher Robin. Too bad the nurses put the wrong name with the wrong baby, huh? I’m the baby, but I got the Chris.” Chris winked at him. “Only time I ever got to be the first.”

Brian blinked. “You’re kidding me.” He started to chuckle, the sound turning into a full-blown laugh. But it sobered him, as he climbed behind the wheel, to realize how relieved he was that Robin had turned out to be a brother. “Twins, eh? You two close?”

“Oh yeah. He flew in from Maryland for my surgery, was there for a month. He’s my best friend.”

“That’s awesome, having someone you can count on like that.” Brian started the car and headed toward home. “Is he specializing in sports medicine?”

“He hasn’t decided yet. He only started the whole thing a few years ago.” Chris chuckled a little, stretched. “He’s still hung over from my graduation party, I bet.”

“Oh-ho. Suddenly your ‘jet lag’ makes a lot more sense.” Brian grinned.

“I actually didn’t get drunk, believe it or not. I had two beers and crashed like a lead balloon.”

“You’re a cheap date,” Brian noted, chuckling. He turned onto their side street, leaves blowing around the car in the breeze.

“God, yes. Rob is way better at drinking than I am. He started earlier and didn’t have to deal with random drug testing.”

“Yeah, that does put a damper on experimenting with mind-altering stuff, doesn’t it?”

Brian pulled up in front of the old house that had been converted into apartments, one of which was theirs. It was a nice short commute, one of the reasons he’d chosen a place here, even if the neighborhood was… dilapidated.

“Come on, I’ll order supper. You can strip and get the laundry going. I’ll meet you by the couch for your massage.”

“Works for me.” Chris followed, flipping his cell phone open and pushing buttons. “Hey. Mom? … Yeah. … No. It’s Chris. … Is it? … Oh, he’s a little ass. He’s always pulling tricks….”

Wondering idly what that was about, Brian dumped their bags by the door to the closet that held the washer and dryer and grabbed the landline phone. He found the magnet from the Chinese food place on the fridge and made a mental note to add it to the phone’s memory as he dialed.

Making a quick calculation of how much cash he had on hand, he ordered enough for leftovers for at least tomorrow, if not the next day as well.

A half hour. Perfect.

He changed quickly into sweats and a comfy T-shirt with Property of UCLA Gymnastics on the front and wandered back into the living room with its big, ugly but comfy as sin wine-red couch.

He could hear Chris’s voice, low and husky, amused. “Robbie? You’re a shithead. You took my phone. … Yeah. I’ve got yours. … No, I don’t guess it does, asshole, but before you call phone-sex lines, Mom already knows we’re switched.”

Brian chuckled and settled on the arm of the couch, waiting patiently. He figured it must be nice to have siblings. On the other hand, as an only child, he’d had his folks’ full attention, help, and money for pursuing his gymnastics. Though he’d been nearly twenty before his father had stopped trying to convince him to go out for hockey or football or baseball or wrestling or boxing. One year it had been snowboarding.

“No. … No, man. Well, yeah, he’s cute. I showed you pictures of him, but you know me. Never again.” Chris chuckled. “No, dickhead. You can’t pretend to be me and seduce him. … I need to go. Supper. … Yeah. … Love you, bro. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Brian blinked and fought a blush. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. And he certainly hadn’t meant to listen in while Chris called him cute.

He was very busy examining the TV listings in the paper when Chris came into the room. The fact that they didn’t actually have a TV didn’t need to be mentioned.

“Laundry’s started.” Chris plopped down at Brian’s feet, stretching. “Mom says my stuff should be here day after tomorrow.”

“Cool. Does one of us need to be here to accept delivery, or will they leave it? The lady on the first-floor corner—Mrs. Anson I think was her name—seems like the local gossip, but I bet she’d let them in if we asked nicely.”

He encouraged Chris to shift slightly and then straddled his firm ass, focusing on that mass of tight muscles on the right side of Chris’s back.

“That’s cool. There’s a TV, some DVDs, that sort of thing. Nothing… oh, don’t stop… nothing earth-shattering.”

“Oh, a TV. Cool. We should join Netflix. And I’m not stopping until I’ve got this tightness all worked out.” Brian pressed and pushed, kneaded and rubbed. Chris’s skin warmed right up under his attentions, the muscles slowly loosening for him.

“Okay. I can handle movies.” Chris groaned, sinking into the cushions. “Oh man. That feels amazing.”

“I knew those electives in massage were going to serve me well.” Brian shifted up a bit to really get at the ball of Chris’s shoulder and was suddenly conscious that his groin was snugged into the small of Chris’s back.

“Oh. Oh. Oh,” Chris moaned. Brian wasn’t sure if it was pain or pleasure or a mixture of both.

“This is the spot, huh?” He alternated soft with hard touches, keeping the skin and muscles warm. They needed a heating pad. His had given up the ghost a few months ago, and he’d not bothered to replace it. “Don’t let it get this bad again without saying something.”

Not that he wasn’t going to make this a regular part of their routine, but there was no reason for Chris to be suffering like this.

“Uh-huh.” Chris was still, panting beneath him, hands opening and closing over and over. That panting was loud in the apartment, Brian’s own breathing a slower counterpoint to it.

He rolled a little, getting his whole body into it, kneading as deep into the muscle as he could. He almost heard it when Chris went boneless and melted. Oh yeah. Good man. He didn’t say anything, though, simply let Chris ride the moment, keeping the touches good and strong, making sure that Chris’s muscles were going to stay loose for a while.

Yeah, they’d do this every couple of nights. He had a hunch Chris was going to be surprised by what a big difference it made in keeping the “aches” away.

He was almost in a trance, rolling, rubbing, digging in, rubbing again, when the doorbell sounded and he jerked hard, totally startled.

“Good timing,” he noted, giving a last pat to Chris’s relaxed form before heading for the door. Where’d he leave his wallet?

Chris didn’t move, didn’t even shift as Brian answered the door, paid the cute little twink, and got their food. He put the food on the table, glancing over at Chris and chuckling. That was a fabulous look on Chris.

Completely fabulous.

Brian opened the bags and started taking out the little boxes of food, the sauces and chopsticks, spreading their feast out for them. Oh yeah, plenty of leftovers.

Then he settled on the floor with his back against the couch and grinned at Chris. “Do you do chopsticks? Hell, do you even have motor functions at the moment?” he asked, chuckling some more.

“Not hungry. I’ll die happy.” Chris almost opened his eyes, and Brian laughed as Chris’s stomach growled loud enough to hear.

He snagged a bit of Szechuan chicken with his chopsticks and held it out to Chris. “Eat. I happen to know your coach is going to really put you through your paces tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” Chris opened his mouth, groaning as he chewed. “Oh. Yum.”

“Yep.” He had a bite of the Szechuan himself. Oh yeah. That little Chinese place was going to get a lot of business.

He grabbed an egg roll and offered it up to Chris as he had a mouthful of noodles and snow peas himself.

Chris actually sat up, peeled the skin off the egg roll, and snarfed up the insides. “Is there beef?”

Grinning, Brian grabbed the box of beef and broccoli and passed it back with a set of chopsticks.

He was more of a grazer when it came to Chinese, going for a bite of this and then a bite of that, slowly tasting his way through all the dishes.

Chris ate well, avoiding the rice, eating the veggies and the strips of beef. “Fucking good. Thank you. How much do I owe you?”

“Ten bucks’ll do it. We’ll set up a grocery fund. Hell, we need to put together a budget for rent, utilities, and crap, pool together what we’ve got to make it stretch.” He tossed his chopsticks on the table and passed Chris a fortune cookie. “But not tonight. Tonight’s for relaxing, getting un-jet-lagged.”

“’Kay. Mom and Pop gave me a little to start on, so I’m okay.” Chris crushed the fortune cookie in one hand and dug out the fortune. “‘Your life has just begun.’ Cool. Go me.”

“Oh, that’s excellent!” Brian sighed happily, stuffed and completely lazy. He split his own cookie in two. “Your search for love is at an end.” He snorted. When exactly had it begun? He’d been in the closet so long, he hadn’t had a date in forever.

Chris hooted. “See? I knew that Mrs. Dibson woman was the one for you.”

“Oh, ew! She’s got tits, man!” He laughed. Damn, he was glad he’d told Chris about the gay thing. His mouth snapped closed. Or had he? He’d never actually said, only sort of danced around it, and Chris had been busy doing some dancing of his own.

Shit. He risked a glance over at Chris.

“No drag queens for you, huh?” Chris grinned, one eyebrow arched, looking wicked as shit.

Oh, thank goodness he hadn’t put his foot in it. He grabbed a pillow from the end of the couch and tossed it at Chris’s head. “That would be a no. I like all the bits… male.”

Chris caught the pillow, flung it back. “Dangly bits!”

He ducked but shot his hand out so the leftovers didn’t go flying. “The danglier the better!”

And damn, that was a nasty image and not at all what he’d meant, which had him making faces and laughing harder. “No. I mean…. Never mind.” He reached for the pillow and aimed it at Chris’s head again, then watched it sail over the back of the couch.

Chris laughed hard, knees drawing up as he rolled. “Shit! I’m glad you’re not a baseball coach!”

“Oh God! All those bats and balls? I’d be in so much trouble.” He fell back against the couch, giggling like crazy. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun simply hanging out.

Chris snorted and cackled. “Yeah, but think of sliding into home….”

He had a sudden vision of doing exactly that, Chris spread out beneath him, and he made himself laugh some more to cover the blush that was fighting to heat up his cheeks.

“I should get this cleaned up and the leftovers in the fridge so they don’t spoil. You want a drink while I’m up?”

“I’ll help.” Chris grinned and started gathering containers. “I brought some iced coffee in a cooler. You want some?”

“Cold caffeine? You betcha! It’s my drug of choice, and I love it cold.”

The kitchen was small, but they worked around each other, putting away the leftovers and finding a couple of glasses from his mismatched dishes. “I don’t suppose you’ve got plates and stuff? I’ve got this real hodgepodge thing going.” A plate from Friendly’s, taken on a dare, a couple of big plastic cups from some Burger King promotion, two bowls from his mom’s set when she’d replaced hers. He could tell you where each dish had come from, though, which was kind of neat in a dorky sort of way.

“Yeah. My folks sent this whole ‘gee, you’re a bachelor with your own place now’ thing. Pots, a pan, four plates and glasses and forks and all. There’s also a shower curtain and this weird welcome mat my sister Trina made.”

“Oh cool. Looks like we’ll actually be fairly well equipped between the two of us.”

It had never been much of a priority, but Brian had to admit that living with a roommate, being as far away from home as they were here, it was nice to have the place done up right. And God knew he was getting old enough to stop living like a college kid in a dorm room anyway.

“Cool.” Chris poured two iced coffees, heavy on the milk, and passed one over.

“I’ve always been either in the dorms or at the coaches’. They had a good place, but I only had a bedroom, so it was kinda like being at home. Oh, there’s no sugar in it; if you want some, you’ll have to add.”

“Nah, I’m good. The sweet’ll keep me up, which I know is fucked. It’s the caffeine that’s supposed to do it, but I’m fine unless I have sugar in it.” Brian shrugged and headed back into the living room to settle on the couch, leaving plenty of room for Chris. “It’s not like we need the place to look like Better Homes and Gardens or anything, but it’s nice to have it feel like home and not something temporary.”

“Yeah, well….” Chris blushed a little, shrugged. “When my folks come? Mom’ll get stuff for it. I know ’cause Rob sent pictures of his apartment.”

“Well, not to be mercenary or anything, but that’s cool, yeah? When are they coming? We’ll have to make sure we clean up the day before.” Because underwear on the doorknobs and parents didn’t mix well. He’d found that out the hard way. Of course, it was his mother’s fault for showing up unannounced….

“Probably in July. They’re going to drive from Kansas City over to Phoenix to see my sister next weekend and are staying until the baby comes. Then they’ll head here.”

“A baby? Wow. Is it their first grandkid? I think that was the hardest thing for my mom to accept about me being gay. No grandkids. But I guess your folks have lots of other kids to pick up the slack there, so no guilt for you.”

His mom’d come around, but the first couple of years had been hard, and he hadn’t had anyone to lean on. And now he was feeling sorry for himself, which was a load of crap because here was Chris, who’d suffered a near-career-ending accident, and he was pressing on.

“Well, I have three sisters. All three are married. Trina has three kids, Suzy has one and is newly pregnant, and Carol Ann is having her first.” Chris grinned, shrugged. “Me and Rob, we were the babies, and we’re kind of the black sheep, you know?”

“Wow, that’s a ton of family. I haven’t even got a lot of cousins—my mother was also an only child and my father has a sister with four kids, but her husband’s in computers and working in Saudi Arabia, so we never see them.”

Brian stretched out, laying his head down on the back of the couch as he looked over at Chris. “And black sheep? Does that mean Robin’s gay too?” He’d heard that twins were really similar, that even those who’d been separated at birth had the same childhood diseases at the same time, went for similar types of women, same jobs.

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s uh… very into sex.” Chris’s cheeks were bright red.

“Yeah? Does that mean you are too?” And his own cheeks were starting to heat, but he wanted to know, so he didn’t take it back.

And just like when thinking Robin was Chris’s boyfriend had unsettled him, so did the thought that Chris might want to bed a different guy every weekend. And yeah, too much focus on getting laid would seriously fuck with Chris’s training. Something told him it was more than that, though, but he didn’t know what.

“No.” That was short and flat and sure. “After that last deal, I decided I wouldn’t… indulge until I retired.”

“That last deal? You mean the rumor that you were hitting on other gymnasts? I thought you said that was only a rumor?” He grinned wryly. “Or am I still missing half the details? I really haven’t kept up on the gossip.”

“I wasn’t hitting… I mean, I’d been seeing another gymnast, and I thought it was something. You know. He was just playing politics, though. Setting me up to get caught in a compromising position.”

Brian sat up straight, anger going through him. “What? He set you up?” He was nearly growling, just plain mad that someone would do that to another gymnast. That someone would do that to his gymnast. “I hope his dick rots and falls off! People like that don’t deserve the good things in life.”

“Well, he got what he wanted, I guess.” Chris looked a little wounded, a little ashamed.

“You didn’t turn him in, did you?” He shook his head and reached out, laid a hand on Chris’s thigh, and squeezed a little. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I mean, it’s one thing if things don’t work out, but that… well, it sucks big-time.”

“No, man. I…. That happened around my accident. I had other shit on my mind.” He gave Brian a quick grin. “Besides, Rob dealt with it for me.”

Brian couldn’t help smiling back; Chris’s smile was infectious. “Your black sheep twin? This I have to hear.”

“Oh, I was in the hospital, on my stomach, trying to heal, and Rob showed up at this guy’s door, looking like a goddamn ghost. Apparently the guy almost peed himself.”

Brian laughed. “Oh man. I’d like to have seen that. Asshole deserved more than that, but I sure would like to have seen it. He sounds like a real card, your twin.”

“We get along great. He’s a good guy. I’ll probably fly out to see him on our first break so we can visit, screw off.”

“Break? Someone told you we were taking a break?” He winked and stretched back out on the couch. “We have four days without work for the July Fourth weekend. If you promise to do workouts, I can let you go.” He didn’t have any plans himself—his folks spent most of the summer on cruises, had ever since he was sixteen.

“That’s when my folks will be here. I was thinking between summer and school starting.” Chris shrugged and winked. “I might con him into coming here.”

Brian didn’t examine why he was so pleased to know he wasn’t going to be on his own for the holiday, because he wasn’t sure if it was that or if he was specifically glad that Chris was staying. “Oh, so the two of you can play tricks on your old coach?”

“I bet you’ll be able to tell us apart by then. Rob’s a different kind of athlete—he got his scholarship in tennis.”

Brian had a hunch he’d be able to tell them apart already. Chris had the build and carriage of a gymnast. Not everyone was built like that. “That sounds so… upper crust,” he teased.

“Doesn’t it?” Chris chuckled, moving to the floor to stretch out, slowly working his hamstrings with a lazy familiarity that spoke of real habit. “My dad was a dentist until he retired, and my mom is a piano teacher. We were stuck firmly in the middle class. But the local tennis coach was Catholic and had nine kids and one old piano. So if we wanted personal tennis lessons, we got them for free.”

“Quid pro quo, huh?” Brian watched Chris moving, enjoying the easy play of the man’s muscles. He liked it, the friendship, the easy companionship…. He hadn’t expected this when he’d gone to ask Chris to let him be his coach.

“Yeah. We did lots of stuff that way. My mom likes it. Rob blew out his Achilles tendon three years ago in a tournament, so he’s in med school now. He’s a hell of a lot smarter than me.”

“Wow, med school as the fallback? I’ve gotta admit, that’s pretty impressive.” He chuckled, stretching out on his belly on the couch as he continued to watch Chris stretch. “If he’s the smart one, that makes you the good-looking one.”

“We’re identical. I’m the driven one. He’s considerably more laid-back.” Even as he said it, Chris rolled to his back and lifted one leg up to stretch beside his ear.

Brian reached out and put his hand on Chris’s leg, giving him something to press up against. He used to be able to do that. Maybe still could if he worked up to it. And it made him feel guilty now and then that he hadn’t continued training and pushing himself hard. It had been such a huge part of his life. “You’ve got to be driven to get to the top.”

“Thanks.” Chris nodded, eyes closing. “Yep. I want to go until I can’t anymore. Then I’ll find a place and put my degree to work.”

“Hey, what’s your degree in?” And did that make him superfocused or a jerk that he hadn’t asked before? That he’d all but memorized Chris’s medical records and stats from the last four years before the accident but hadn’t a clue what Chris had been studying.

Chris changed legs, looking over at him quickly. “You swear you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?” Brian put his hand on Chris’s other leg to give him that same resistance.

“Because I have an art degree. Painting, even.” Chris pinked, leaning into the stretch. “Fuck, that’s tight. Push harder.”

“You paint? That’s kind of cool.” Brian pushed harder, wrapping his hand around Chris’s calf, feeling the muscle working against his palm. “What kind of stuff do you paint?”

“I….” Chris was starting to sweat, and Brian frowned. No heavy workout now. Light, easy stretching. “I like to do portraits. I did a series of sports images for my honors class.”

“Oh, now that sounds cool.” He slid his hand away, petted Chris’s shoulder. “Enough with the stretching. It’s time to relax. You play Go? I have a board.”

“I don’t know how, but I can learn.” Chris rolled over and back, pressing into a handstand.

Show-off.

Brian got off the couch and resisted the very strong urge to do one as well. He wasn’t competing with Chris—he wasn’t competing with anyone.

He grabbed his Go game from the shelf and set the board up on the coffee table, explaining how you used your own stones to surround and capture your opponent’s pieces. It was a fun strategy game that could take ages to play, and it had been a while since he’d had a regular playing partner. And maybe playing would keep Chris from pushing himself when it was time to relax.

Maybe.