Alive and Kicking

Steve smiled. “Think you could handle a little one on one? We could just play to six points, or something?” Something really light and bubbly started floating in Billy’s chest that Steve took notice of Billy’s improvement in his recovery. Steve was able to gauge how much would be too much for Billy when it came to moving day -- how many boxes Billy could carry and how long Billy would need for breaks. He noticed when Billy was short of breath and slowed his pace without saying a word. And he even helped Billy with his rehab exercises. “Alright. Don’t know if I’ll be able to wipe the concrete with your ass like I used to, but if you don’t plant those goddamn chicken wings in my ribs maybe I might have a shot.” Steve held his hands up in the air. “First of all -- I’ve never chickenwinged you. Maybe if you didn’t ram into me like a coked-up raging metalhead mulleted bull, my elbows wouldn’t even touch your delicate skin. Second -- fine. No elbows. I promise.” Billy felt a bit of fire stir in his gut at Steve’s words. He stuck his tongue out and gave his lips a nice, long lick. Steve trailed the motion with his eyes.“Fine. You’re on, pretty boy.”