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“Kip,” she said, placing her beer into her cup holder. “You do know what you look like, right?” “What do you—?” “You’re hot, Grady. Extremely hot.” “I’m…okay.” “No, listen to me. You are ridiculously good-looking. Do you think I’m happy that you’re gay? I am not.”
LMFAO
The way Scott looked at him then, Kip would never forget it. If they were alone, and if he were someone else and Scott were someone else, he would have expected Scott to lunge across the table and haul him into a hungry kiss.
Boston had their own star center, a hotshot Russian named Ilya Rozanov.
my king
Has he spotted me yet?” “Not yet. You guys need to be a lot stealthier if you’re going to fool anyone.” “What are you talking about? I’m fine. Has he looked yet?” “No. But if he does come over here—Okay, he sees you.” “How can you tell?” “Because he just lit up like the goddamn sun. Jesus. You guys are doomed.”
“I think… I’m gonna head home, all right?”
oh my goddd just talk to him about how you're feeling
“Stay in the closet forever. Got it.” “What’s wrong with the closet? It’s a wonderful place crammed full of professional athletes.”
HELP
Scott grinned. “Kip.” Carter looked suddenly delighted. “Kip!” he said. “That is the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever heard! Are you kidding me with that shit?” “Thank god,” Huff said. “I thought you were gonna say you were secretly dating Rozanov.” “Rozanov wishes,” Scott said.
LMAOOOO
