Page 96 of Men in Shorts

“Everyone knows. When the Warriors do outreach with LGBTQ youth, he tells the kids all about it, and how they should reach out to someone they can trust.”

Andrew felt his heart twist at the thought of a fourteen-year-old Colin lacking thatsomeone. “He had a right to that pain. The things he endured?—”

“Andyoudon’t have a right to feel pain?” Evan asked.

“Nothing happened to me.” Andrew nearly choked on the words. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“If you were fine,” Evan said, “would you be reaching out just now?”

The shower shut off, though Colin kept singing. Andrew hurried into the kitchen/living area reception room, closing the glass-paned door to the hallway behind him. “What makes you so certain you can help me?” he asked Evan.

“Maybe I’ve been through something similar.”

That seemed impossible. “When was this? What happened?”

“The details don’t matter,” Evan said. “What matters is I might understand how you feel. Maybe better than anyone else you know.”

“But Idon’tknow you. Why should I trust you?”

“That’s a fair question.”

Of course it was. Every day Andrew lived with the consequences of trusting the wrong people. People like Reggie and Jeremy.

“I get it,” Evan said with a sigh. “But you should to talk to someone. Ideally Colin, but if you need another…well, you’ve got my number.”

Colin’s singing crescendoed as the bathroom door opened.

“Don’t contact me again,” Andrew whispered into the phone, then hung up. He peeked down the hall to ensure Colin had disappeared into the bedroom. Then he went to stand beside the kitchen worktop, resting his palms on the cool gray marble to calm himself.

His gaze fell upon an advance copy ofFelicity in the Raw, a cookbook by one of his foodie friends who starred in a successful TV show by the same name. Clipped to the front cover was Felicity’s handwritten invitation to her book launch in London later this month.

A chill ran through Andrew, as it always did when he thought of this upcoming event. The venue, an upscale Covent Garden restaurant, would be crammed out with the posh crowd that had once been such a big part of his life. He’d see all the lifelong London mates he’d been avoiding since The Incident, mates who would ask probing questions like,How are you getting on?Mates who could see through hisI’m finefacade.

But he had to attend. He’d written the book’s introduction, after all, so his presence was expected—no, required. Besides, Felicity had not only sparked Andrew’s passion for healthy-but-delicious eating, she’d also given him personal nutritional guidance to help Colin during his recovery. He owed it to her.

It’s eighteen days from now, Andrew thought, opening the fridge to retrieve a stack of fish-food containers.I’ll be better by then.He’d be back at university a week on tomorrow—surely that would help ease him into society again.

As he stood beside his massive saltwater aquarium, dispensing breakfast to his glorious finned companions, he thought about what Evan had said, that Colin would understand.

Andrew was closer to his boyfriend than he’d ever been to anyone. But emotional intimacy wasn’t exactly encouraged amongst the upper classes.Tatlerdidn’t run features on “3 Easy Steps to Baring One’s Soul” alongside quizzes like “How Posh Is Your Face?” Though Andrew’s parents had doted on him, his far-older brother and sister had ridiculed his every shortcoming. He’d fought back by pretending he didn’t care what George and Elizabeth thought of him—or whatanyonethought of him.

Still, he knew it was human to show weakness, to seek comfort from loved ones, to tell the truth. Hiding pain was an animal instinct. Andrew had seen it in his dogs and horses. Even these fish, when ill, would conceal themselves in their coral reef until they either recovered or died.

He should be better than that.

As Andrew returned the fish food to the refrigerator, Colin entered the kitchen dressed in his workout clothes and carrying his black kit bag.

“You showeredbeforegoing to the gym?” Andrew asked. “Didn’t you once mock me for that?”

“I like having my sweat stink a wee bit less. There’ll be loads of it today. Sprints training.” Beaming with anticipation, Colin slipped a heart-rate monitor onto his right wrist and a black sweat band onto the left. “Six days till my triumphant return, and I’m still too slow.”

“You’ve got your stamina back. That’s what matters most.”

“If I were a deep midfielder like Fergus. But I’m not.” Colin swaggered over, backing him against the worktop. “I’m a striker.” He hissed like a snake and gave Andrew’s side a teasing pinch.

Andrew jumped, weirdly unsettled by this touch. “Ow.”

Colin pulled away. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

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