Page 81 of Out of Bounds

Altshuler stumbled for a second before regaining his cool, not used to Cliff biting back. “College basketball is different. It’s the big leagues. You still have a lot to learn. You’re not the hot shit you think you are.”

“And neither are you.”

“Your passing is kind of sloppy-”

“No, it isn’t. I’m a good point guard, Altshuler. I know how to work as a team, not feed my own ego.” Did this guy really need to come to his room at ass o’clock in the morning to try and start shit? Cliff and Brennan could’ve had morning sex.

“I’m trying to give you some valuable feedback and guidance.”

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to get in my head, and it won’t work. You think I don’t realize what this early morning visit is about? If anyone needs valuable feedback, it’s the point guard who loses games and the respect of his teammates because he can’t stop hogging the ball. Maybeyoucan use your free time to study these.” Cliff shoved the playbook back at him. “I know you don’t like me, but that’s your problem, not mine.”

Altshuler’s face turned to stone. His eyes darted past Cliff to scan his room.

“Have a good workout.” Cliff shut the door and locked it. He listened for Altshuler to limp away.

Cliff stewed in his anger for a second until he heard a familiar voice:

“Can I come out of the closet now?”

He opened the closet door. Brennan stepped out and wrapped Cliff in a bear hug. If only coming out were that easy.

“I didn’t know you were such a badass.”

Cliff motioned for him to keep his voice down. His teammates were not as diligent about going to the gym as Altshuler.

“That was awesome.”

“Altshuler’s a prick, has been since day one.”

“How do you not let him get to you?”

“It’s a classic move. Elder player is threatened by new blood on his team, tries to psych him out so he doesn’t get overshadowed. Point guards especially are possessive of their turf. Altshuler isn’t the first. Do you remember Jason Shaw from high school?”

“I remember the way he looked in his jeans.”

Cliff did, too. He also remembered watching him walk around the locker room in the buff. “He tried doing the same thing, but he eventually mellowed out and became a solid teammate.” Cliff shrugged, surprised how intently Brennan was listening. “Athletes are competitive. It is what it is.”

“Are you like that?”

“I like to think I’m one of the good ones, but I’ll admit that I felt this small twinge of insecurity when I was a senior and I watched the new point guard in high school land this insane slam dunk at a freshman game.” Cliff had to laugh. “You really find this fascinating?”

Brennan’s eyes crinkled at the sides with a smile. “I’m realizing art and sports are not that dissimilar. That professor I told you about at my old school...”

“The one you…”

“Yeah.” Brennan blushed. “He treated me and my work like shit, made me think I was untalented. And he lived rent free in my head. Still does.”

“You know what my dad once told me? There will always be people who try to make you feel less than. The trick is making sure your own voice is louder than theirs.” Cliff appreciated all the bits of wisdom his father bestowed on him. That was part of why he wanted so badly to succeed and be a good son for him. He wanted him to know that his efforts weren’t in vain.

“You are wise, Clifford.” Brennan sat on the bed and pulled Cliff onto his lap. He let those soothing brown eyes mesmerize him.

“Do you want to grab breakfast?” Cliff rested his head against Brennan, the lines of their foreheads synching up.

“What a gentleman. Does your dorm have a dining hall?”

“Maybe we can go to the student union. Better food.” And also not where all of Cliff’s teammates would be eating. Cliff felt a pang of remorse, especially as the look of realization on Brennan’s face told him he came to the same conclusion.

“Can I borrow a shirt of yours?” Brennan asked. “We used mine last night to mop up.”