Page 48 of Out of Bounds

“I should’ve known you were a front-row-of-the-bus type of kid.” Brennan shot him a sly smile that sent even more currents into Cliff. “The cool kids sit in the back.”

“We’re still playing that game?” Cliff preferred to sit in the middle rows on his school bus. Who knew what went on back there? He’d heard rumors all through high school, and as someone dead set on not making waves, he avoided trouble.

Tonight, he broke tradition and plopped down in the last row next to Brennan. Their arm hairs brushed together in the middle. Neither retreated.

The shuttle took off, lurching down the quiet roads. The street lights set Brennan’s face in an amber glow.

“You really love it,” Cliff said.

“What? Sitting in the back?”

Cliff shot him a look. He always had an answer at the ready, didn’t he? “Art.”

“I hope I do. Otherwise these student loans are all for naught.”

“How do you know you love it?” Cliff leaned his shoulder on the seat to better face Brennan. “Seriously.”

Thoughts flickered in his dark eyes as he gave the question a genuine consideration. “It’s something I’ve always liked, something I was good at. Like you and sports. Painting and sketching - hell, creating anything, period - gives me a sense of control.” Brennan looked out the window, a sour taste on his lips. “My parents had a really shitty marriage. Do you remember that?”

Cliff had picked up clues here and there, bits of conversations he’d heard between Alex and his parents. He remembered they would honk from the street when it was time for Brennan to go, and Brennan would tense up at the sound.

“It was before I moved to town. We were next to broke. My dad couldn’t hold down a job; my mom worked crazy hours at the salon. They were always tired, always angry at each other, always on their last nerve.”

Brennan continued to look out the window as he spoke, his jaw tight. Cliff put a soft hand on his arm. He wanted him to know that he was here, he was listening, even if he didn’t have the right words to say.

“When I was in kindergarten, I stopped speaking. I don’t know why. I didn’t say a damn word for two months, not even with threats from my dad. The school made them take me to see a child psychiatrist. And when I didn’t say anything in our meeting, the shrink had me draw. I drew everything I couldn’t say. My first works of art were drawings about living in that house, that loud house. Even after I started talking again, I kept on drawing. It’s like...I get to tell my own story.”

The sky opened up with rain. Drops streaked down the window. Cliff’s hand didn’t leave his arm. His gut told him that Brennan hadn’t revealed any of this before, not even to Alex. He didn’t take it lightly. His heart broke for little Brennan in class not saying a word. He had a fierce desire to protect him.

“I’m sorry.” Cliff rubbed his hand over his arm.

He shook off the apology. “Not every family can be like the Warners.”

Cliff knew he had a lot of privileges in his family, and a lot he took for granted. But he never thought he lived in paradise.

“At least the silver lining is that you’ve become this amazing artist. Your parents should be proud of that.”

“They don’t care. They’ve never come to one of my exhibitions. They each have their new families.” Brennan lifted his lips slightly in a feigned smile before leaning back in his chair and shutting his eyes for a moment.

Cliff wanted to say something to cheer him up, but he knew that wasn’t possible. He reached out for Brennan’s hand to let him know he was here.

Brennan interlocked his fingers with Cliff’s and squeezed tighter than Cliff expected.

Brennan opened his eyes. “Why do you like to play?”

“Same reason you like to paint.” Cliff felt a comfort with Brennan he had never felt with anyone else, and he wasn’t going to waste it. “When I get on the court, I’m in control. All I have to think about is getting the ball in the hoop. I don’t have to think about what the school wants from me, or the community wants from me, or what my parents want from me, or why I’m not attracted to any of the cheerleaders like my teammates, or whether something I said or the way I moved my wrist gave me away.” Cliff took a deep breath as if he ran an emotional marathon. “I just have to get the ball in the hoop.”

Despite saying things that he had never told anyone, converting feelings that haunted him into words for the first time, he didn’t feel scared. He felt safe. He trusted Brennan, who looked at him with whole, warm eyes.

Cliff wished their shuttle ride could last all night.

“When did you first know?”

Cliff decided there was no room for lies here. He had already shared so much; it was addictive.

“I, uh...do you remember the night before you left for college when I accidentally walked in on you...you and Alex had just gone swimming and you were changing.”

Cliff could practically hear him flipping through old memories. Until his eyes popped with recognition.