Page 39 of Men in Shorts

“Paul and I told him your matches aren’t usually like this,” Lorna said, “but I don’t think it did any good.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Erm—” Lorna raised her hand as if to hold Duncan back. “Okay, but don’t make it worse, all right? He’s in a state just now.”

“I can see that.”I’ll make it better. I hope.

Duncan eased up to Brodie at the bus shelter, cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal. “I’m sorry for what happened, for what those people said to you.”

Brodie’s only response was a hard sniffle. His gaze remained on the mottled pavement with its cigarette butts and unidentifiable stains. The middle-aged man at the other end of the shelter gave them the side-eye from beneath his rain-spattered cap.

“Let’s get a taxi,” Duncan told Brodie. “The sooner you’re home, the sooner I can make your soup and tea.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Get you out of these wet clothes and into a nice warm bed.”

“No.” Brodie lurched past him, out into the rain, retreating to stand against the bright red frontage of the adjacent Chinese takeaway.

Duncan sighed and went to join him under the awning. “Look, it’s absurd for you to be out in this weather in your state. Let me help you.”

“Help me what? Help me get called a ‘faggot’?”

Duncan shook his head, remembering how that word used to carve through him like a dull knife. “You can’t let it frighten you off. If I ran away every time someone called me names, I’d never finish a match.”

“Youdidn’tfinish the match,” Brodie said with venom. “Because there’s violence in you.”

Duncan rubbed the knuckles of his right hand, where he wished his fist had met McCurdy’s face. “There’s violence in all men.”

“Not me. Not like that.” It sounded more a self-indictment than a boast. “I must be defective.”

Duncan had never wanted so badly to hold someone. “You’re not defective, you’re just good.” He set his bag on the damp pavement, then leaned against the front of the takeaway to ease the weight from his aching left foot, which McCurdy had relentlessly trod upon. “I understand if you don’t want to see any more matches. Football’s not for everyone.”

“Youdon’tunderstand,” Brodie said. “It’s not just the matches I don’t want to see anymore.”

Duncan’s entire body went numb. “Are you—you’re breaking up with me, because of what those idiots said?”

“Not because of them. Because of you. Because of the way you smiled after you tried to hurt that man.” Brodie’s breath began to hitch. “I used to love that smile. Now I can’t look at you without wondering if you’ll hurt me next.”

“What?!” Duncan let out a strangled, panicky laugh. “That’s ridiculous! I’d rather cut off my arm than hit you.”

“I didn’t say ‘hit.’ I said ‘hurt.’ Which you could do, so easily, without ever laying a finger on me.”

The groan of a bus engine reached Duncan’s ears. He looked over to see the Number 60 approaching all too quickly.

He turned back to Brodie. “Why would you think I’d hurt you? Where is this coming from?”

“From reality! You’ve had it easy, growing up in the Merchant Fucking City with your annoyingly proud parents. Whilst there I was in a wee north-coast fishing village sneaking about with my secret boyfriend, the one you mocked me for listening to The Smiths with.”

“I’m sorry I was a prick about that. I know you’ve had it hard. I wish you and your boyfriend could’ve been out together.”

“Aye, right,” he growled. “If anyone’d known for certain we were gay, I’d have been beaten senseless and drowned in a sack. And Geoffrey would’ve lost his place in the football team.”

Duncan stepped back, dumbstruck. Had Brodie told him his boyfriend was a footballer? No, he’d only mentioned that the footballers in school had?—

Fucking hell.“Did Geoffrey bully you?”

Brodie looked over his shoulder at the bus nearing the stop. Then he shook his head. “No, but he didn’t stop his mates doing it. He didn’t stand up for me.”

Relief washed over Duncan. He could prove he was better than that. “But see, that’s exactly what I was doing out there on the pitch. I hit that Shettleston player because he threatened you. I defended you, because I’m”—absolutely mad about you—“because I couldn’tnotdo it.”

Brodie stared at him, searching for…Duncan didn’t know what, but he hoped he found it. He hoped what he’d just said could make the difference.

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