“You’re not in the small town leagues of Iowa anymore.”
“Wisconsin.”
“Same difference.”
Cliff resisted every urge to roll his eyes and put this guy in his place. For the good of team unity, he bit his tongue.
Althsuler held onto him for an extra second until his lips curled into a thin smile. Cliff was not a fan of unexpected spotlights. “You don’t say much, do you?”
“I talk when I need to say something.”
Mr. Grey Goose slid the three drinks down the bar. Dell and Carpenter picked up their mixed drinks in heavy, sturdy glasses, while Cliff grabbed his bottle of Coors Light. Altshuler held up his glass.
“Salud, gentlemen.”
Cliff took a sip of beer, but Altshuler tipped it back and forced it into a gulp.
* * *
Cliff realizedhe made the right choice with beer. After just three-quarters of a Long Island iced tea, Dell’s voice volume went up while his grammar skills went down. Cliff nursed beer number two on the deck outside. He knew from experience that at three, he crossed into drunk territory. While that was the singular goal tonight of most partygoers, Cliff didn’t want that to be the first impression he made at Browerton.
He once had too much to drink at a party to celebrate the team making it to the playoffs. The next day, one of his teammates joked that he “got a little handsy.” He laughed it off as Cliff being a fun drunk, but Cliff sensed the downright fear underneath his light-hearted, sarcastic-but-still-Midwestern tone, as his eyes pleaded for reassurance that Cliff was messing around. Cliff knew well enough not to let that genie out of the bottle anytime soon.
Outside, Cliff huddled around a fire pit with Dell and Carpenter. Bistro lights were haphazardly strung up around the columns of the pergola - definitely not by the actual owner, he figured. He wondered if Brennan was enjoying his luau at this very moment, the playful night breeze mussing up his hair.
God, he looked good tonight. He liked that Brennan remained taller than him, even if only by an inch or so. He would forever be the cool, strong older kid. Cliff had had many fantasies about Brennan over the years, which had gotten progressively steamier as Cliff explored the world of internet porn. But now Brennan was a real person again. And straight. Cliff told himself to wash those thoughts out of his head, so that he didn’t get a raging hard-on if he ever bumped into Brennan on campus. Although what would Brennan do if that happened? Would he tie Cliff up and punish him?
Cliff put down his Coors Light. That was enough alcohol for tonight.
He chatted with Dell and Carpenter about where they came from, their old teams, favorite pro players. Carpenter hailed from a tiny town in Maine where he and his brothers hunted and fished regularly. Dell was a city boy from Los Angeles who prided himself on being a legit Lakers fan; he grew up down the street from the Staples Center and could hear the roar of the stadium as he drifted to sleep as a child. Dell and Carpenter almost got into an argument about Celtics versus Lakers, but Cliff quickly changed the subject to what classes they were planning to take.
“It all depends on what’s left. Freshman get scraps.” Carpenter poked at the dying fire with a stick and blew on the smoky wood.
“I’m hoping I get into FunDac,” Dell said.
“What’s FunDac?” Cliff asked.
“You’re going to kill the fire, dude.”
“Fire needs oxygen to grow,” Carpenter said in a Boy Scout flex.
“Then how come it snuffs out my birthday candles, hmm?” Dell cocked his eyebrows.
Carpenter ignored him and blew into the base of the fire. Beads of glowing embers flew in the air and clung to the wood. And just like that, there were flames. He cocked his eyebrows right back at Dell.
Dell turned to Cliff, refusing to give Carpenter his due. “FunDac is Fundamentals of Acting. I know--” he held up a hand to stop any incoming objection. “I don’t want to be an actor and recite Shakespeare and shit. It’s for our arts distribution requirement. I heard it’s super easy. The professor loves shooting the shit with us, makes him feel cool.”
Cliff had teachers like that in high school. They were trying to either recapture their glory days or make up for being uncool. Some of his high school teammates leaned into this more than others to keep their grades afloat, but Cliff got his A’s all by himself. That made him even more catnip to the faculty. Teachers drooled over smart athletes.
“Pretend to be a monkey for class. Act out a scene fromThe Crucibleor some shit. You basically get to goof off for college credit and watch other kids take it really seriously.” He laughed into his drink. “Easy stuff.”
It sounded easy on the surface, but his description managed to make Cliff’s heart race with a flash of panic. There had to be a less embarrassing way to come out of one’s shell.
“Boo!” Altshuler popped out from the bushes behind them.
Carpenter screamed. Cliff didn’t know he was capable of such a high-pitched sound.
“You’re a little early for Halloween, and Carpenter needs his diaper,” Dell said.
