Not tall, but broad-shouldered. His flashing smile, his bright blue eyes. His shock of beach blond hair. Josh in his sports kit, which didn’t seemed...big enough to contain him, the shorts hugging the muscles of his thighs. There was a picture of him going the rounds. Socks around his ankles. One sleeve rolled right up to his shoulder. His arms and legs tanned by a Mediterranean sun. It was passed round the girls of the class from phone to phone till we all had this little trophy of him. In. "I haven't been hiding anything," I insisted. It was a weak, unconvincingdenial. It didn't take a "gift," to see through it."My name is Malcom. Come with me," he said, and started walking awaytoward the Hilton lobby. I followed immediately, not bothering to finishmy drink or pay the tab.He led me through the lobby, straight to the elevators, not once lookingback to see if I was following. Into the elevator we went. I didn't seethe floor he selected. I couldn't take my eyes off of him.When we. More

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