Page 9 of Playing to Win

Colin felt his entire head warm under Andrew’s gaze. “That’s how it grows, out instead of down. The hair follicles, I mean.”

“What, like cowlicks? Let me see.” Andrew moved to stand behind him. Then he ran his hand up through Colin’s hair, nails gliding along his scalp. Chills shot down Colin’s spine, awakening his cock again. “Ah, yes.” Andrew’s fingers drifted over Colin’s nape, tracing the patterns. “Here as well. It swirls all over the place. Makes you look as though you just hopped out of bed.”

“Aye…” Colin cleared his throat, dislodging the great lump of longing. “I cannae cut it too short, or it looks like someone’s taken a hatchet to me.”

Andrew chuckled. “Now who would want to do that?” After a quick squeeze, he let go and stepped away. Colin swayed a bit—he’d been unconsciously leaning into Andrew’s caresses, like a dog against its master’s hand.

Another group of ravers passed by, shuffling toward the back of the queue. They greeted Colin with smiles, back-pats, and hand-grasps, inquiring after his injured knee. He gave vague answers, hoping they wouldn’t mention the reason they were asking. He wanted Andrew to be…surprised.

“That’s the fourth bunch who’s recognized you,” Andrew said. “You’re dead popular.”

“Colin has loads of fans.” Danielle beamed at him. “He’s universally adored.”

“Not universally,” Robert said. “He’s got a few haters as well.”

Andrew’s lips tightened. “We’ve all got those.”

“Aye, but sooner or later, this bam’s gonnae kill someone.” Robert shook his finger at Colin. “Most likely his own eejit self.”

“Oh look, the door’s open.” Glad for the diversion, Colin pointed to the head of the queue, which was finally beginning to move. A muted cheer of relief rose from the crowd.

Andrew stepped in front of him as they approached the door. “Let me pay your cover.”

“What if they cannae change a hundred?”

“It’s okay, I found this in my trouser pocket.” With a wink, he displayed a tightly folded English twenty-pound note.

On their way inside, Colin tried to psych himself up, get into the spirit of the evening. After all, he was at a rave put on by one of the UK’s foremost underground DJs. He was with his best mates amidst a friendly crowd. Best of all, he was with a delicious lad who wanted to dance with him and possibly get naked with him.

But Colin’s fingertips still itched for the cash he’d given to the homeless man. He’d pretended it was easy, but Andrew was right—Colin did need the money. His father and gran needed it. So did his wee sister, Emma. A hundred quid could buy a week of groceries, even if they needed expensive items like toilet tissue or washing powder.

But to that homeless man, a hundred quid could mean the difference between life and death, or at least hope and despair. Though Colin was often submerged in a pool of self-pity, he occasionally remembered that others had it worse.

And Andrew? He’d flicked that hundred-pound banknote out of his wallet like it was nothing. There’d been several more just like it inside. The injustice made Colin want to cry, or break things, or both.

Och…He dragged his hands over his face. This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t a brooder. He was the life of the fucking party!

As if on cue, the music began. The bass shook the warehouse’s dark, dusty floor, sending quakes up Colin’s body. The treble laced down his spine, out his limbs, all the way to his fingernails. Even his left knee, confined to the supportive brace he wore under his jeans, seemed to pulse with longing, saying GONNAE GET ME ON THAT FLOOR NOW.

Aye, he had missed this. Five weeks of rehab, including eight days hobbling about on crutches, had filled him with so much pent-up energy, he thought he’d explode.

The moment they reached an open space, he grabbed Siobhan’s and Katie’s hands. “C’mon, wee lassies, let’s show ’em how it’s done!”

“No way!” Katie yanked on his arm. “What about your knee?”

“My physio said bouncing and flexing is fine,” he shouted as he demonstrated. “Just no twisting.”

She pointed two fingers at her eyes, then at him. “I’ll be watching.”

Colin closed his eyes and let the music take control. Soon sweat poured in rivers down his neck and back, but the heat only amplified his euphoria. Besides, everyone else was just as soaked as he was, and no one cared.

The only thing that mattered was This. Fucking. Moment. For one night, Glasgow’s youth was taking back this city from the invading tourists, making it theirs again. For one night, there was no tomorrow.

When Colin opened his eyes, he found Andrew dancing beside him, eyes closed, arms raised, mouth slack in a smug-free smile. He was…so fucking beautiful.

As if hearing Colin’s thoughts, Andrew opened his eyes and looked straight at him. They stopped dancing and just stared at each other, panting. Colin reached out and pushed Andrew’s black-framed glasses back up his nose. Andrew’s smile was so sweet and genuine, it almost made Colin feel they were the same.

Almost.

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