Page 93 of Off Balance

"Professional sports haven't exactly been known to openly welcome queer athletes. In boxing especially—there's only been one openly gay male pro boxer than I can think of. It's just not something that's widely accepted. But to have a sponsored professional spout homophobic or racist slurs during a primetime event, in front of the media and public? The sponsors are smart enough to know that the general public will create anuproar. I guarantee you it's all over the news already. Some of his sponsors will drop him, and he could lose endorsement deals whether he wins or loses. He's already not a public favorite, because he's a known hothead who says and does offensive and inappropriate stuff regularly. But sponsorships have been lost for less."

"Like what?"

"Like unofficially coming out in a series of leaked cellphone photos and choosing not to defend myself."

"Oh."

Leaning to one side, I touch Cam's cheek to get him to turn towards me. "I don't want to be sponsored by someone that is concerned about what tabloids say about my personal life. I also don't want to be sponsored by anyone who can't find it in themselves to accept that love is love."

When his lips quirk up to one side, I lean forward and take his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss, teasing the edges of his lips with my tongue. Cam turns around in the tub to face me, sliding his thighs against mine as he straddles me.

With his forehead resting against mine, and the water sloshing over the edges of the tub, Cam takes me in his hand and strokes me slowly. "And you love me?"

"Yes, tiny dancer. I love you."

It doesn't bother me that Cam hasn't officially said the words back to me yet. I can see it in his eyes, feel it in his embrace, and hear it in the words that go unsaid. He'll come around in his own time.

We spend the rest of the night in each other's arms, and I don't say it out loud, but part of me is afraid that it'll be the last time.

"Last chance to back out," Dwayne says, only half kidding.

"Ha ha. Nice pep talk, bro."

"You don't need a pep talk. You need to keep your guard up and believe in yourself. I believe in you. And so does he," Dwayne says, gesturing towards Cam, who is standing just inside the door to the private locker room. He's wearing a maroon t-shirt withConnor Bro's Teamembroidered on the breast and a pair of black slacks, just like my brother.

"Well, look at that," I say, gesturing him over. "Don't you look gorgeous in red?"

"Blue is more my color," he says with a smile. "But thank you."

"He's one of the team now," Dwayne says. "He wanted to make sure he could be in the corner with you."

"Always," Cam says.

"Always."

The walk up the tunnel to the auditorium is a blur, and from there, I'm not even sure how I made it into the ring. I don't remember walking through the crowd or climbing into the ring. I don't hear the announcer's voice, or the roar of the crowd.

All of a sudden, I'm here. All the stress and the preparation and work that I've put into training for this match, all the fear over the similarities to my father's death, all my worries about not being good enough for Cameron—it all echoes around me like a bad memory.

The lights are bright when we step into the middle of the ring. Hoyt faces me without doing the obligatory glove bump. While the announcer is rattling off the rules we both know, I look over at my corner, where my brother and Cam are there to support me through this. I zero in on Cam and how beautiful he is.

"I love you," he mouths.

The bell rings.

Dwayne was right that Hoyt would try to dance around me and tire me out. He was also right that he'd punch hard and aim for the maximum impact. Bo Hoyt is out for the kill if he can get away with it.

My recent training is keeping me ahead of him. I've anticipated every move, blocked most of his hard punches, and countered him with as much aggression as he's giving me. The longer the fight goes on, the more tired he becomes, and the more pissed off he's getting.

The bell rings.

Dwayne blots my face with a towel, takes out my mouth guard, and squeezes water into my mouth. Cam rubs my shoulders.

"You're doing so well," he says.

Dwayne says, "Keep dancing, but you need to get a good hit in. You're making him work, that's great. Now take him down."

Hoyt lands a hard punch against my temple. I reel but refuse to let him know it affected me that much. The truth is, my vision is blurring, things are running together like I've crossed my eyes.

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