Page 139 of Playing to Win

“I want tobehere. I just don’t want to document the whole thing.”

“We won’t document the sex. Just the talking.”

Colin laughed, finally relaxing. He waved again, this time adding a wink and a smile.

“Gorgeous.” Andrew paused the camera. “Let’s go inside the walls where the wind won’t blow against the microphone.”

Colin gave an eager grin, then reached for Andrew’s hand to pull him along. It was a relief to feel Colin’s strength again, after his difficult eight-week recovery. He’d needed two more abdominal reconstructive operations and now possessed thirty percent less intestines than before. His doctors said it would take months to regain his stamina, but he’d vowed to be back on the pitch by New Year’s.

After the stabbing incident, Colin had become a national hero. Not because Andrew was a national treasure worth saving—though Lady Kirkross would disagree—but because Colin had laid down his life for another human. It helped that the human in question was already famous.

More famous than ever, in fact, if Andrew’s social-media followership was any measure. Though he still suffered cyber-harassment—mostly from his former political allies—on the whole, the public seemed to admire his loyalty to Colin and his determination to break down the walls of class division for the sake of love. Seeing Andrew was now an ex-Tory, many Scottish National Party members had pressured him to join them, but after the referendum madness, he’d had enough of politics to last him the rest of…

Well, the rest of this year.

They climbed a grassy bank to sit between two of the sixteenth-century tower’s three remaining walls. From here they could see all the way to the town of Buckhaven in one direction and Wemyss in the other.

“This is so cool.” Colin slid his palm down the crumbling stone wall. “Just think—in a few hundred years, Dunleven will look like this.”

“Maybe not that long.” Andrew sighed. “I hope it’s replaced by something equally grand, like a spaceport.”

“Naw, think of all the tract housing that could fit on those twenty thousand acres.”

“Or think of how I could push you off this cliff and make it look an accident.”

Laughing, Colin put his arm around Andrew and pulled him close. “That’d be a waste of all your grand efforts to keep me alive.”

As they kissed, Andrew thought what a gift it had been to care for this man each day these last two months, and to lie beside him each night. In contrast to his previous stance on cuddling, Andrew now found it hard to sleep without at least a hand or a foot touching his boyfriend, to make sure he was still there.

If Colin had been stolen from him, Andrew would have never forgiven himself. He didn’t know if he’d ever forgive Reggie, despite the bodyguard’s agreement to plead guilty in exchange for testifying in Jeremy’s trial, scheduled for next year.

A swift, swirling breeze cut into their sanctuary between the castle walls. With a shiver, Colin let go of Andrew and pointed to the phone. “Right, let’s do this.”

His shoulder still pressed tight to Colin’s, Andrew hit Record. “This is Colin MacDuff. He and I are…” Andrew’s voice trailed off as he tried to find the words to describe what they shared.

“Frequently fucking.” When Andrew punched his arm, Colin said, “What? You paused, so I thought I was to finish your sentence.”

Still recording, Andrew said, “We’ll try again. He and I are—”

“Notorious sodomites.”

“He and I are—”

“Monstrously in love.”

Andrew met Colin’s eyes on the screen, as if standing side by side facing a mirror. A warmth flowed through him, a warmth no firth-side wind could diminish.

“Yes,” he whispered, then looked at the camera again. “I was going to say, Colin and I are different in all the obvious ways, that is to say, all the ways which don’t matter.”

“Different can be good, though,” Colin said. “Think of the things we’ve taught each other.” He turned to the camera. “Andrew’s taught me how to reel, and how to eat pasta with just a fork—nae spoon and nae knife.”

Andrew gave an exaggerated shudder. “Definitely no knife. And in return, Colin has taught me to see all of the world.”

“Even the crap parts.”

“Especially the crap parts.” Andrew kissed Colin’s cheek and gazed at him, hoping his adoration would shine through on the video. “Tell them more about yourself.”

“Right.” Colin cleared his throat. “I was a starting forward for Woodstoun Warriors, an all-LGBT football club based in Glasgow. After I recover from getting stabbed in the gut, I will return to the starting eleven. I study business and management at Glasgow Caledonian University, which aye, is a real fucking university.” He glared at Andrew. “I’m taking a wee break this trimester, thanks to all the surgeries. Pretty much my full-time job is recovering from being stabbed. I do not recommend this as a vocation, kids.”

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