The Front Runner

Leone's, but this is too much. I'm going back to the dorm."
    I lay there under the quilt, watching him pull his clothes on. His face was expressionless, and his movements were deft and precise. He tied the laces of his worn-out Tigers, and pulled on his light red rain parka with a swish of nylon.
    "See you tomorrow," he said in a toneless voice and walked out. I heard the front door slam and lock.
    I lay there for about fifteen minutes, feeling helpless and desolate. The rain ticked on the windows, and the wind soughed in the spruce boughs outside. The clock ticked loudly by the bed. Automatically I reached out and set it for 5:30 A.M. I was just about to turn out the bedside light when I heard his key in the door again.
    He came into the room swiftly, lay down on the quilt by me without even taking off his parka and pressed his face blindly against my chest. The parka was wet, and his hair smelled of rain and autumn leaves.
    "Harlan, they want us to fight," he said.
    He started to cry with strange, creaking sobs, clenching the quilt. He kicked off his Tigers and got under the quilt, pressing his body against me, holding me frantically. His damp clothes made me shiver. I held him as hard as he held me.
    "What is really the matter with you?" he said.
    "We're sneaking around snatching twenty minutes here and there in the dark. Our lives are passing like that."
    "My God, if that's all that's bothering you, I'll move in with you tonight."
    "No, it isn't all. Nothing ties us together. There's nothing to guarantee that we'll stay together a year, five years. You have to understand my jealousy. It isn't as simple as sexual jealousy. I'm terrified of losing you."
    "Guarantees are for new cars," Billy said with his face still buried in the hair on my chest.
    "Look, I'm going to ask you again. I want us to marry."
    He lay beside me, quiet now. After a minute, he said, "I'll do anything you ask but that. Does it occur to you that I'm pretty terrified of losing you? Maybe I worry about you cruising off after some other young studhorse, huh? You've been around a lot more than me, how do I know you aren't totally fickle, huh?"
    I sighed and nodded slowly. Billy was, in his way, superstitious. He was afraid of tempting fate by tying himself to me formally. He had never seen such a marriage last. At the age of twelve, he had seen his father and Frances break up.
    "And another thing," said Billy. "Are you really ready to come out with this? You're so upset about all these rumors. Are you really ready to face the uproar if we married?"
    "No, I'm not ready," I said.
    "Look, I'll move in here tonight."
    "I don't want to live with you without that declaration. I don't want to feel like I'm just shacking up with someone."
    "Well, I don't know what we're going to do, then," said Billy.
    I stroked his head. "I know one thing. It's stupid of us to fight."
    "Maybe we just need more time together," he said. "Maybe once in a while I should spend the night."
    "Anything is better than fighting," I said.
    "Like tonight, maybe," he said, smiling a little.
    He got out from under the quilt, kicked his Tigers over under the chair, and started undressing.
    "Just once more," I said. "You've got to get your sleep."
    ELEVEN
    WE all tried hard to ignore the rumors.
    But a number of parents started trying to pressure Joe Prescott. Two forced their straight boys to drop off the team, although the boys and Joe tried to show them that they were seeing ghosts under the bed.
    Then the NCAA started making noises, at Joe that either I should be dropped as coach or the NCAA would drop the school from membership. The rest of the team were indignant on Billy's and my behalf, and they wrote a letter to the NCAA that they all signed. Joe took a very strong stand, saying that the NCAA had better come up with solid proof of the rumors and reminding them of the Supreme Court decision. The NCAA finally decided that they were on uneasy legal ground, and they shelved the matter. But they then took a few cheap shots, hurting' me by hurting my innocent team—they withheld the travel expenses that they might have paid us to NCAA meets. Joe covered the expenses himself.
    Our little cross-country meet at Prescott was fairly successful, though fewer teams came than I'd hoped for, and it got about one inch of newspaper space.
    Then, just a week after our meet, Billy's and my cover got blown in spectacular and painful fashion.
    It happened when we took Billy to New York to run in