Page 6 of Out of Bounds

“Understanding? Of course! You’re queer, you’re here, get used to it.”

Brennan knew that wasn’t the alcohol talking. Alex proved his best friend bonafides yet again.

“So what happened with Paul?”

“I don’t want to get into it.”

Alex made a motion like the memory was tossed over his shoulder, never to be heard from again.

If only it were that simple.

“Well, you’re going to love it at Browerton. I’ll make sure of it.” That was Alex, always taking care of his people. “Who needs sun and beach when you have slushy wintry mix, aka snow diarrhea?”

“Are you minoring in poetry? Because that was beautiful.”

* * *

An hour later,the two friends departed Don Pablo’s. Alex went back to his dorm to FaceTime with his girlfriend Rosie, who was about to embark on morning classes in Paris. Brennan returned to his loft, an awesome place he had scored through diligent scouring of online listings and a willingness to live farther away from campus than most students. He didn’t need the rah-rah on-campus college experience. He’d rather have his space.

Giant white beams etched with custom molding stretched from the hardwood floors to the ceiling. In one corner was Brennan’s easel set up, cans of splotched paint bottles lined up on a rickety table at its side. Up against the far wall was a semblance of a kitchen: a counter stuffed with a toaster, microwave, and weathered fridge capped at the end. With his limited culinary skills, the setup would suffice. Exposed brick lined the walls. Brennan prided himself on this find.

He whipped off his Hawaiian shirt and retreated to his artist’s corner, hoping the buzz from the alcohol unblocked his creativity. Brennan’s style of mixed-media art involved traditional painting and collecting artifacts from the world and adhering them to the canvas, almost giving the piece a three-dimensional quality.

He thinned out his brush and stirred the paints, awakening them. He enjoyed creating a version of their world that was recognizable but slightly off.

The blank white of the canvas was begging for a story to be etched onto its fabric. He picked up his brush, dipped it in the paint, brought it to the canvas, and…

You really think you can do this?Paul’s voice said in his head.I’m sure it’ll be fine, but far from greatness.

He remembered what Paul used to say to him, right as their relationship took a turn for the worse.

Art is about talent. Some people have it, most people don’t, and everyone thinks they have it. It’s my job as a professor to find the true talents and nurture them. And to be honest, I just don’t know if I see true talent in you.

Brennan held up his brush to paint, searching his brain for an idea. All he had to do was start.

Maybe art is just a hobby for you, and that’s okay…

He blinked hard. He gripped the brush with such force that the wood dug into his skin. He tried everything he could do to focus.

It was a losing battle. Brennan dropped the brush into the bucket and walked away. He lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wished he could evict Paul from his head, but there he was, smirking at him with his stuck-up grin.

You can run, Brennan, but I’m still here.

3

CLIFF

For his first college party, Cliff expected a cramped, musty apartment rank with the smell of beer. What he got was a sprawling mansion behind a gate and perfectly manicured lawn.

He made his way down the driveway with his fellow freshman teammate Dell, a lanky Black student with the sweet, everyone’s-my-friend energy of a golden retriever. They’d met that afternoon at their team orientation. Students hung out on the wraparound veranda, smoking and drinking. He wondered, perhaps, that it was an apartment building. A very nice apartment building.

But no. It was one house with one owner, a very wealthy owner who was most likely not a Browerton student.

“Do you see that? They’re drinking out of actual glasses.” Dell blatantly pointed at two girls passing by holding pint glasses. “I thought there’d be Solo cups.”

While the setting might have been different, the hallmarks of a party shined through. Loud music blared from a speaker system installed around the house. Loud conversation echoed from well-decorated rooms. Liquor was still being had - name-brand liquor, but still liquor.

“Who’s house is this?” Cliff asked as they waded into the festivities. “Do they know it’s been crashed by college students?”