Page 98 of Men in Shorts

But once he was there he simply sat, gingerly, on the edge of the bed. Wrapping his arms around himself, he remembered how solid Colin’s body had felt just now as they’d hugged goodbye.

Sitting here alone, Andrew didn’t feel solid at all. But why? The knife held tohisside had never even broken the skin. He’d come to no harm because he’d gone willingly. He’d let it happen. If only he’d run away from Reggie, or screamed to the crowd around them, or even fought back—if he’d done something more thanfreezelike some sort of ambulatory fainting goat—then Colin never would have been hurt.

With a trembling hand, Andrew smoothed the wrinkles in the soft white duvet beneath him. It seemed only yesterday he’d slept beside this bed, in a lounge chair he’d bought for the nights when Colin felt too feverish or achy to bear another body lying beside him.

Andrew could have stayed in the guest room those nights, but he couldn’t bear the thought of being out of Colin’s sight. So he’d slept here, leaving just enough room between the bed and chair for Colin to pass by if he needed the loo.

Most nights, thankfully, the chair had remained empty. Most nights Andrew had held his boyfriend close, pressing his palm to Colin’s chest, letting the rhythm of that courageous heart lull him to sleep.

He rose now, went to the chest of drawers, and pulled out the lowest one. From beneath a stack of summer shirts he took a plain blue notebook, which he opened for the first time in nearly a month, according to the last entry, dated Tuesday, 9 December.

Andrew paged through the sheets, their edges rumpled from frequent turnings, their surfaces stained with tea and tears. Here, in various colors of ink, was the detailed documentation of Colin’s recovery. There were columns for medications and symptoms, as well as food and drink consumption. The far right column contained Andrew’s daily observations, including:

- First day off antibiotics—appetite vastly improved!

- C now addicted to Netflix. Bojack Horseman = his new spirit animal.

- These fucking infections! Must start bathing him in antiseptic.

- Ugh, C scraping bottom of Netflix barrel with “Hemlock Grove”.

- I love him so much it hurts.

To outsiders, and probably to Colin, those days seemed a nightmare: the medication regimen, the pain, the fatigue, the pissing of blood. Andrew’s friends had called him a saint for looking after Colin, but in truth, it had been an honor—and odder still, a pleasure.

He sat on the bed again, hugging the notebook to his chest. For three months, it had been just the two of them, safe as houses. For three months, the real world that had so violated them seemed to disappear behind a mist.

Now, that world was looming. Colin would soon escape this sanctuary and return to a normal life—on the pitch, at university, and everywhere in between. Out there, no one could protect him.

Least of all Andrew.

Chapter3

Fanninghimself with the Friday morning newspaper, Colin fought to catch his breath before entering the flat. The last thing he needed was Andrew worrying he’d exhausted himself with his midday run. He’d already threatened to lock Colin up to keep him from playing in tomorrow’s match.

To be fair, Colin knew heshouldrest today ahead of the game, as his teammates certainly were doing. His manager, Charlotte, would skelp him if she found out he’d gone for a run. But he’d needed to burn off this nervous energy or risk combusting.

When he opened his front door, he heard Andrew’s current favorite song blasting from the flat’s main room. Colin went down the hall to find him dancing his spectacular wee arse off.

“Looks like someone’s feeling better,” Colin said. The head cold that had plagued Andrew all week seemed to have vanished. He looked at the crystal glass in Andrew’s hand. “Is that champagne?”

“Obviously.” Andrew shimmied his hips in a way that made Colin want to yank those yoga pants down to his ankles and bend him over the table. “Come celebrate with me.”

“I’ve got a match tomorrow.” God, how he’d missed saying those words. Colin tossed aside the newspaper and caught Andrew around the waist. “So nae champagne, but I cannae resist a dance.”

“Ooh, you’re all sweaty.” Andrew’s free hand drifted up Colin’s nape to grip his hair. “Don’t you want to know what we’re celebrating?”

“I’m celebrating you rubbing your body against me.” It was a nice change after a week and a half of Andrew keeping him at arm’s length.

“Jeremy changed his plea.”

Colin stopped short. “What?”

“The Procurator Fiscal’s office phoned. My darling brother-in-law has decided to plead guilty after all. Which means there’ll be no trial in April, just a sentencing on Tuesday.” He tapped the rim of his champagne glass against Colin’s chin. “Which means it’s nearly over.”

Colin let go, his head spinning. “Why’s Jeremy changing his plea now, three monthsafterthe crime, which he swore he didnae commit?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” Andrew kept dancing.

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