Frank turned to his roommate and frowned.
“Okay, I know.” Mark held up his hands as if in surrender. “You think the guy walks on water. But I say he’s just like all the rest—a dumb jock.”
“I know you don’t like him, but why do you say stuff like that? You don’t know him.”
“And you know so much about him? Let’s see, you’ve had one conversation with him about a weight lifting machine, and he calls you Frodo,” Mark retorted, stroking his chin in imitation of Bill in his interview.
Frank didn’t have a comeback for Mark. He just turned and headed for the serving line. Mark was right. Frank didn’t know a thing about Bill except that he was handsome, hot, and apparently, from what he’d witnessed the previous night at the gym, liked guys. That was probably the reason Bill was cruising the athletic locker rooms when he had one of his own reserved for the football team. The other thing Frank knew was that he’d give his right nut to be with Bill in that way.