Page 72 of Out of Bounds

Brennan texted him sometime during the night to congratulate him and offer his loft for the after-after party. As truly amazing as that sounded, Cliff had no idea when he would leave the party. He couldn’t sneak away like he’d done previously as the anonymous freshman.

Everyone noticed him tonight.

Including girls.

Lots of them.

Smiling at him, stroking his arm, telling him how amazing he was.

Their perfume and fruity shampoos did a number to his nose.

They ranged from flirtatious to outright propositioning him.

Turning them down nicely, without giving a hint that it was because he was gay, was an exhausting social exercise that left him queasy.

“Hey. There you are!” And then there was Dell. He came up to Cliff with a bottle of water when Cliff was at the bar ordering a rum and Coke. Dell looked surprised at his drink choice, but Cliff needed something to relieve the stress of the spotlight.

“I haven’t had a chance to congratulate the man.”

There was a reason for that. Cliff had been avoiding him and his gender-neutral pronouns all night. The truth was the last thing he wanted to face tonight.

“Thanks.” Cliff took the water from him.

“You’re drinking now?”

The question pinched a nerve in Cliff’s head.You don’t know me, Dell.

Cliff shrugged defiantly and took a sip of his beverage. “Some of the guys wanted to talk about the plays from tonight. I’ll see you around.”

Dell’s dejected reaction made the exchange harder to stomach, but he told himself this was about self-protection.

The next morning, he woke in his dorm room with a headache, a ferocious appetite, and a text from Coach Trainor asking to meet in his office in twenty minutes. He brushed his teeth and threw on jeans and a hoodie. He grabbed three breakfast bars from his desk drawer, grateful to Past Cliff for making a quick run at the campus store last week. The bottled water Dell gave him sat on the floor. He yanked it open and gulped the whole thing down in seconds.

Cliff arrived at the athletic department’s offices just before nine. Whereas most academic departments lived in old buildings and converted old houses, the Athletics Department had a brand-new three-story brick building on the river. It copied the aesthetic of the older buildings on campus, but let you know that it was shiny and new.

“Altshuler’s going to be out for at least six weeks,” Coach Trainor told Cliff once in his office. “He tore a ligament in his foot.”

Cliff cringed at the visual.

“Yeah, it’s not a fun injury.” Coach Trainor looked out the window. His office had the basic furniture, but his desk had no mementos, and his bookcase was mostly empty. He didn’t seem like someone who needed to make his office feel like a home. That was what the court was for.

“While Altshuler recuperates, you are the new first string point guard for the team.”

Cliff figured this was coming, but it was still a shock to have it formally stated.

“You up for it?”

“Absolutely,” he said without missing a beat.

“You’ve been doing good work on the court. Great job last night. That was a hell of a final pass. I got a ton of messages congratulating the team and asking who the hell you are. I got the coach for the baseball team emailing me asking if you’re available in the spring.”

“I’ll think about it.” Only Michael Jordan could get away with playing basketball and baseball.

“Someone from theBugleis going to reach out to you, too. They want to interview you. You’re a man of mystery.”

Cliff blushed at the new attention. He just wanted to play the game.

“Being a starting point guard will be a different experience. Whether you’re ready for it or not, the other players will look to you for guidance.”