“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it was. Even with what I just said, about concussions and injuries, I still felt like I had an identity. A place to be. Training like that, being that young was the most challenging thing I ever did. But I got it. I knew how to fight. I knew how to win. There weren’t a lot of gray areas or nuance. It was a lot more comfortable at the gym than in high school where I didn’t feel like I had a clue how to act.”

It made a certain kind of sense. I knew from our support groups what Dean had experienced—homophobia toward his family, bullying at school. He was shy, on the quieter side when we were growing up. I wasn’t naïve to the darker elements of having a social life in high school.

“I was happy that my weekends were busy with boxing,” he said. “Although I did miss out on things like hooking up in a car at the Phillies stadium parking lot during off-hours.”

We got out of the car and walked to the base of the art museum steps, the ones that became famous after Rocky. There were a couple of stray tourists taking pictures in front of the statue. But other than that, it was almost peacefully hushed. The air smelled sweetly of rain, storm clouds getting closer.

I gazed up at it like a mountaineer admiring a mythical peak. “I’m feeling pretty confident about my victory.” I leaned against the stone post and stretched one hamstring. “You gonna warm up?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

I shook my head. “Dean the Machine. Undone by his own hubris.”

His dark eyes were playful as they stared down at me. “You never said if you’d had any make-outs at the stadium. I’m assuming you had people lined up to escort you there in their cars.”

I scratched the top of my head. “I never did it either.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yep.” I smacked my lips together. “I thought it sounded so glamorous and adult when we were in school. The stadium parking lot. Where all the coolest kids had mediocre make-out sessions and then had to sneak back home after curfew.” I pulled my other leg into a stretch. “No heavy petting for me until I got to college. I had crushes on people for days, but whenever anyone asked me out, I said no. It wasn’t the best, being in the front row seat of my parents’ divorce. My sister eventually went off to Temple and lived on campus, so she missed a lot of the…” I cleared my throat. “More colorful details of living in a house where there’d been adultery and lies and a lot of hurt feelings. In hindsight, I was doing everything I could to avoid ending up like them.”