Page 97 of Men in Shorts

“Of course not.” Andrew slipped a hand behind his own back. “My spine hit the edge of the worktop in a funny way.”

Colin took in Andrew’s tense posture. He liked to play the brute, but he was the most sensitive person Andrew had ever met, so it was hard to hide feelings from him.

Hard, but not impossible.

“You all right?” Colin asked. “Still…tired?”

Andrew felt himself flush. Colin was no doubt referring to the fact they’d not had sex since their adventure atop the Auld Keep tower. “I think I’m coming down with a cold.” Wincing at the lie, Andrew slid out of Colin’s reach and started the electric kettle. “I’ll drink some echinacea tea, but just to be safe, I should sleep in the guest room for a few days.”

“Nah, you stay in the master bedroom. I’ll shift to the other room.”

“Don’t be silly.” Andrew opened a cupboard and grabbed his favorite mug, a large black one featuring the Real Madrid Football Club crest. “I’ll move, you stay.”

Colin made an exasperated noise. “Andrew, this is your home.”

“Stop saying that!” Andrew slammed the mug against the worktop. A tiny chip flew off the cup’s bottom rim.

“What’s wrong?” Colin asked in a small, tight voice, one he must have used a million times with his mum.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Andrew snapped, though he knew he should be gentler. “After all this time, you still act like a guest. You belong here in my flat. Iwantyou here. Have I not made that clear?”

“Aye,” Colin said softly, his hand drifting to the part of his shirt covering his wound. “I’m sorry.”

The hurt in Colin’s tone turned Andrew’s chest to lead. “No need for apologies. Just please be careful whilst I’m ill. Wash your hands even more than usual.”

“Okay.”

Andrew sniffled. “And take antibacterial gel with you to the gym. Those places are germ harbors, especially this time of year.”

“Already got it.” Colin pulled a clear plastic bottle from the outside pocket of his kit bag. “See?”

“I see it’s nearly empty.” Andrew reached into the cupboard and took down a bottle of gel. “Here, I promise this one’s fragrance-free.”

“Thanks.” Colin came over for the bottle, but also leaned in for a kiss.

Andrew turned his mouth away. “Mind my cold.”

“I know.” Colin wrapped his arms around him, with a tenderness that made Andrew ache. “I cannae catch a cold from a hug, aye?”

Andrew shook his head, holding in his breath so it wouldn’t escape as a sob.

“Gonnae be late.” Colin released him, then kissed his forehead. With a wink and a thumbs-up, he swept out of the room, grabbing his kit bag on the way.

Andrew stood in the kitchen alone, listening to the echo of his flat’s front door slamming shut, his side still smarting from Colin’s playful grab. He ran his thumb over the fragment of exposed white ceramic on the bottom of the black mug. Now that the cup was chipped, he wanted to smash it to pieces.

The thought made him turn to stare past the wrought-iron spiral staircase leading to his yoga/meditation loft. His gaze rested on the wide, tall window behind the living room television. From here he could see the pane once shattered by a rock his own bodyguard had thrown, in the vain hope that Andrew would blame Colin and his Scottish nationalist comrades.

The electric kettle dinged, making him jump. He opened the tea cupboard, causing several boxes and bags to tumble out of the overstuffed space and onto his head.

Cursing, Andrew snatched up the fallen tea collections, most of which were his own blends. He considered hurling them straight into the rubbish, but instead shoved them into a pile beside the toaster. Then he yanked a bag from the box of echinacea tea and tore off the wrapper.

Out of habit, he checked the teabag tag for today’s bit of “yogi wisdom.”

Live in your strength, it told him.

“Piss off,” he replied.

While waiting for the tea to brew, Andrew went into the master bedroom, intending to collect a few things to move to the guest room.

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