Got you the usual, waiting downstairs
Prof Fiore keeping you again, huh?
I check my messages again, but Nate still hasn’t answered. I know Nate’s class often finishes late, which is how I can usually catch him on the way to the dining hall. A couple of his classmates pass me, making me worry that I missed him. They throw me short glances. Most continue along their way, but two guys do a double take. I step back against the wall, letting them pass, but they stop in the middle of the hallway.
“If it isn’t the Diversity Hire,” the taller of the two sneers.
My neck strains as I suppress the reflex to look over. They just want to get a reaction out of me.
In the three years since the interview the affronts haven’t softened. Although I have received positive feedback, especially in the LGBTQIA+ Alliance, there have been those that hate my guts—and make sure I know it too. Nicknames like this are just one of their ways of showing it.
“Hey! Does being gay make you deaf?” They snicker when I throw them a glance with a raised brow.
I grit my teeth but manage to keep my voice flat. “Really? Is that the best you can do?”
Some of the more outgoing members of the Alliance would shout something back, would tell them that apparently, they can be idiots without being gay, or something a lot cleverer, but that cannot be me.
Not only is it my job as President of the Bonham College LGBTQIA+ Alliance to lead by example—even if that means meeting insults with politeness—I also cannot risk a quote orvideo landing on social media and getting back to the Rebels. One bad interview is enough.
With a sigh I refresh the app again. Still no message from Nate.
Will save you a seat at the usual spot!
I pocket my phone and make my way to the outside seating area of the campus dining hall. A bunch of my teammates have already claimed a table. I crane my neck, looking around, but there’s no sign of Nate, so I join them. Sliding into an empty seat, I place the plastic bag with two Styrofoam containers on the table. He’s probably just running late. Not bent over a toilet again or anything like that. He’d have messaged me if he got sick again.
“Hey, is everything alright with Nate?” Baker, our left wing, says my runaway thoughts out loud.
I shrug but have to resist the urge to immediately check my texts again.
“What do you mean?”
“Dunno, just that he didn’t even say hello when I walked past him earlier. Looked kinda shit too,” Baker says, picking at his half-eaten pizza.
“He’s fine,” I insist, trying to calm myself as well as my teammates, some of which have looked up from their food.
Baker raises his hands. There’s a slice in one of them, and a piece of pineapple falls off as he gestures.
“Just checking in. We’re playing the Grizzlies on Saturday after all.”
I sigh and nod. As if we don’t all know that there’s a tough fight waiting for us, and after this morning, I share Baker’s concern.
“Hey, shouldn’tgrizzliesbe exactly your thing, Hart?” Hill, our Captain, pipes up, making a kissy-face.
“Huh? Why grizzlies?” one of the rookie D-men asks.
Hill just grins and waves him off. “It’s a gay thing.”
I let out a surprised laugh, along with several others, prompting Baker to theatrically clutch some imaginary pearls.
“Hart isgay?!Oh my God! I would have never guessed. I wish there had been some kind ofinterviewabout it!”
I snort and ball up my tissue to throw at him. Yes, that disaster still hangs over my head, but I’m grateful for how easily my team manages to dissolve the tension.
“Uhbears, sure, but grizzlies might be a bit out of his league.” Baker has dodged my tissue and answers Hill’s question, earning himself more laughs and a few teasing comments.
It’s only when they jump up to playfully tackle and trap each other in a headlock that I notice Nate watching the spectacle from a safe distance.
“Hey Nate, what’s your opinion on bears? Think I could take one?” I ask with a grin after waving him over.
