Jo was whistling “Sweet Georgia Brown,” the theme from the Harlem Globetrotters, as he pushed the touchbar on the heavy doors leading into the gym’s basketball court. His mind was on Kevin…again. They’d only met but he was already infatuated with the guy. He wondered if it would look too needy if he sent a quick text, something along the lines of C U soon or can’t wait 4 later, or even a simple thinkin ‘bout u.
Ah, f**k it. If he wanted to send a text, he should just send one already. He could say hi. What was wrong with that?
His sneakers squeaked on the polished wooden floor as he crossed the court, making a beeline for the locker room. The air was much cooler in here than outside, the lighting easier on the eyes, but there was something so right about playing in the summer sun, someth
