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“My roommate, at the time, found out that I was interested in men. He threatened to reveal that fact publicly. My teammates knew; to them, it was not an issue. But as I saw it, the risk to the team as a whole was too great.”

I stared at him, horrified.

“We live in different times, Eoin, I know that. And yet I’ve come back, again and again, to what I said before: that many things which were true then, remain true today. Including a need for caution.”

It was fraught - he’d almost exploded at me the last time I’d dared to bring it up - but I had to know.

“That night, when you saw me at the club. The man you were with...”

For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. Coach’s expression frozen, his whole body still.

And then he exhaled.

“Saying ‘boyfriend’ seems a little ridiculous, at our age, and after so long together. We started dating in our junior year; in secret, naturally. It was one poorly-timed intimacy which gave my roommate the evidence he needed to blackmail me, or attempt to.”

“That’s horrible.”

A slow nod. “It was, though my reaction to it was all my own choice. My partner never saw me wrestle, not in person. I was too worried about his presence, too concerned that I’d forget myself; in the heat of the moment - with the thrill of triumph, perhaps - make it clear that he was more than just a friend.” He made a face, the expression fleeting. “Patterns built on caution are difficult to break. He’s never been to a match for a team I’ve coached, either. After all, a cunning opponent won’t limit themselves to exploiting their direct competitor’s weaknesses, not if there are other opportunities available.”

I thought about that night, in the club. Stepping forward to the edge of the stage, the afterglow of my orgasm conspiring with the thrill of the attention. The way that man - Coach’s partner, I knew now - had grinned as he tipped me, and the utter dismay on Coach’s own face as he pulled him back.

“Did you tell him? The night you saw me, I mean. Did you tell him that I was on your team?”

Coach looked embarrassed.

“He was... shocked, when I explained to him how I knew you. I considered keeping it a secret, but he’d seen my reaction, the extent of it. For him, I think, the startling part was the blurring of worlds. Whether by agreement or appeasement, he always respected my desire to keep my work separate from my home life.”

“I’m sorry I made that harder,” I told him, and meant it.

Coach watched me, steadily. His face unreadable. And then he sighed.

“You know, another sort of person might have tried to use this new knowledge to their advantage. Insisted that my history, my clear bias had prejudiced me in my decision to throw them off the team; demanded that I reconsider. Instead, you’ve apologized for making it harder for me to continue what, by now, I know full well are my own dysfunctions.”

I chewed my lip, not sure what to say to that.

“And the problem I have,” he continued, “when faced with a thoughtful young man who doesn’t instantly prioritize himself in every situation, is that I know the world outside of this office, and the locker rooms, and the practice mats beyond them, can be harsh and unforgiving. And there is a part of me, Eoin - as your coach, yes, but also as someone who can’t help but see some of himself in you, when he was about the same age as you are now - which wants very much to be able to protect you, out there in that world. Maybe not from a bigoted roommate, no, but hard times and cruel people evolve, they don’t disappear.”

I swallowed, momentarily overcome.

“I think,” I said, slowly, finally, choosing my words carefully, “that I’m very lucky to have people looking out for me. And I appreciate that, and their patience as I figure out who I am, and where my limits are.”

He stared at me a moment longer, then nodded. Just once, and suddenly he was Coach again, and not this unexpected - and unexpectedly fascinating - man with a history and hangups of his own.

“I’ll see you at training tomorrow, freshman,” he said, briskly. “You’ll probably want to get in early, given you’re cleaning out the supply room.”

“I am, sir?”

He gave me a look; one which suggested my innocent tone hadn’t been at all convincing.

“You sure are. For the next month, I think, at the very least.”

Fighting the urge to grin at him, I nodded obedience and hurried from the office before he could conjure up further punishments.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I thought I might suffocate on muscle.

Not, as ways to expire went, the very worst I could think of. A group hug so enthusiastic, so all-encompassing, I couldn’t keep track of whose pecs, whose biceps, whose abs were pressing into me. The scent of my fellow wrestlers - recognition of which had already baked itself deep into the most primitive levels of my animal brain - filling my lungs, as they squeezed me between them.