“Okay, Michaels, turn loose and let the kid up!”
Sydney Michaels does as Coach Waynright instructs and releases his head-hold on his opponent.
Both sweaty young wrestlers scamper to their feet.
“Take a shower, Michaels,” coach says. “Loor, you stick around for just a minute.”
Sydney Michaels again does as instructed and heads for the locker room. Coach Waynright waits patiently, arms folded, until Sydney disappears into the locker-room access corridor on the far side of the gym.
“You should have seen that takedown coming from a mile away, buddy,” coach tells Cooper. “You’re rusty as hell and need some fine-tuning before you’re up to my standards.”
“I’m good at playing catch-up, coach,” Cooper promises. “As usual, I just need time to get back into a regular work routine after my dad’s latest base transfer.”
“I’m not saying you can’t be brought up to speed,” coach says. “In fact, I’m actually impressed by what I see. That said, later today I’ve a couple more kids trying out for the one available slot. I’ll take a look at them and have my final decision to all three of you by first-period tomorrow.”
“Great.”
“So, go take a shower and don’t be late for your next class. Grade-point is important for any kind of ongoing participation in extracurricular sports, here, at Flicker High. I can’t tell you how many good athletes I’ve had to let go because they thought brawn and not brains was all they needed on a wrestling mat.”
Coach Waynright nods toward the locker-room access corridor, turns, heads for the weight room in another direction.
Cooper peels off his sweaty T-shirt in the corridor. At his locker, he discards his shoes, sweaty sweat socks, sweaty shorts, and sweaty jockstrap. He picks up a fresh towel from the convenient wire basket stuffed full of them and wraps his sweaty neck with soft terry-cloth.
In the shower room, Sydney Michaels showers down the way. Cooper turns to the plumbing just inside the doorway. He hangs his towel on the pipes and reaches for the water release.
“Hey, Loors, get your studly ass over here,” Sydney calls and pats the wall tiles of one of the two shower spaces immediately beside his. “You and I have to talk, and I don’t feel like screaming.”
Cooper retrieves his towel and walks the distance.
For not the first time, he’s impressed by Sydney’s physique, tanned, and now made sensuously glossy by soap slick and water. He wonders if his classmate came by his great body naturally, because of good genes, or if he, like Cooper, has had to spend long hours bulking up. Intuition tells him it’s a combination of both.
Cooper hangs his towel, turns on the water, steps into it.
“You ever again hand me a takedown on a silver platter, and I’m going to beat the living crap out of you,” Sydney says. Sounds like he means it. Definitely looks as if he can at least give it a good try. “I don’t need hand-outs to pin your sorry ass to any mat.”
“Actually, I didn’t hand you anything,” Cooper says. He reaches for the soap and begins lathering his tightly muscled chest and belly. “I’ve just been off my regular training regimen, that’s all. Although, I can see where you might think the new kid on the block is out to brown-nose Mr. Popularity in order to gain social acceptance sooner than later.”
“Obviously, you have me confused with my older brother. He’s the one you should be kissing up to if you want quick acceptance around here.”
“Nah, he’s way too unapproachable. Besides, he’s obviously fond of you and includes you in just about everything. Sometimes, it’s just easier for a wannabe to try the backdoor approach.”
Sydney laughs. It’s a nice laugh; low-key and very-very sexy.
“Obviously, you did your homework and know I’m gay,” he says, turning in the spray to face, more directly, his possibly soon-to-be teammate.
“I know you’re gay, and I know you’re the ward of a vampire.” And doesn’t that make Sydney’s attractively square jaw drop just a bit. “And I…” The soapy index finger of Cooper’s right hand reaches out and almost, but not quite, touches down on the deep indent at the base of Sydney’s throat; it slowly air-traces a line down the middle of the young man’s chest to Sydney’s slightly innie navel. “…am a bisexual diviner who divines that you and I are going to become the very best of friends.”
Copyright 2009 W. MALTESE
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