Page 53 of Built To Perform

Only they hadn’t done that. Hadn’t belittled me, or disparaged my abilities, or pulled together like some spiky, mistrustful clique. And while I could recall the hazing - the prank they’d played, telling me a butt plug was in fact a biometric probe that Coach expected me to wear during training and matches - I could also recall, with equal if not greater clarity, what came after it. How Jefferson and the others had unlocked some fresh awareness of my body and what made it feel good.

No, I could hardly claim to regret any of it. Just like I couldn’t regret what I’d done to help Brayden, even if it’d helped get me to the situation I was in now.

I raised a hand, steeling myself, and knocked on Coach’s office door.

A beat.

“Come.”

The same hectic desk, the same sense that I was interrupting something. Coach slashing across the paperwork in front of him with an angry cut of his pen, the gesture sharp enough to make me startle.

I waited, still standing. Simultaneously desperate for him to focus on me, and terrified of it.

Finally, suddenly, Coach looked up.

“You owe me a wrestling team, freshman.”

I frowned at him, blinking confusion. “Sir?”

He spun the pen between his fingers, watching me.

“This is a small office, and yet they all managed to squeeze in here. Every single one of them, like fish in a goddamn sardine tin, to tell me that if you were off the team then so were they.”

‘An ultimatum,’ Jefferson had called it. I’d been too distracted to even ask what that really meant.

“They...” I closed my mouth, tried to thread the excuse. Something which might go some way to repairing the damage my big bros had done on my behalf. “They’re very loyal, sir.”

It was the same flaying stare familiar from practice. When you just knew that - for all you’d tried your best - Coach had seen right through it, to the inevitable mistakes. The only question was whether he’d call you out on them, or wait for you to own up to them yourself.

“Your teammates tell me I may have been too... hasty.” He looked at me steadily. “And yes, I realize that’s the sort of statement you can’t exactly agree with or deny. Not without somehow damning yourself either way.”

I bit my lip, willing my voice to be steady.

“I disobeyed you, sir.”

A slow nod. “You did. And just so we’re entirely clear, freshman: whatever reassessment I might be doing right now is regarding the extent of my punishment for your disobedience. Not whether you deserved it in the first place. I’m very glad you recognize it for that.”

“It wasn’t...” I paused, trying to find the right words. “The others, on the team. They told me not to do it, too. But I didn’t listen.”

“Because?”

The question hung there, heavy between us.

“Because I was worried about Brayden, sir.”

He nodded again. “I don’t presume to know your sexuality, Eoin. I don’t really think it’s all that important for you to be sure of it, yet. And I believe I’ve made pretty clear, before now, that I don’t have a problem with what the men on this team do together. As long as it’s safe, and consensual, and doesn’t reflect poorly on the reputation of the wrestlers at the school.”

“Yes, sir. You made that clear.”

Coach sighed. “I was on my college wrestling team when I was your age. I suspect you already know that.” He waited for my nod. “A lot of what was true back then is also true today. You can’t succeed without hard work, and determination, and some degree of sacrifice. Trust - in yourself, and your teammates, and the coaching staff - is the foundation upon which everything else is built. And there can be no room for weakness, or straying from those strengths.”

Curiosity got the better of me. “Were you team captain, sir?”

He frowned, looking away. “There was talk of it being a possibility. However, I left the team in my sophomore year. If I’m being honest, it’s the decision that I probably most regret having to make in my life.”

“So why did you leave?” I remembered myself, just in time. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir.”

It was a wry smile; more, I suspected, at how clear my interest was, than at the memories he was dredging back up.