Page 1 of Play Hard

Chapter 1

For once in his life,Liam Carroll was fresh out of banter.

After twelve straight hours of pulling pints and playing shrink to what seemed half the population of Glasgow’s East End, he was now left with the headspace for exactly one person. Luckily, that person awaited him in his flat.

He waved goodbye to his boss and slipped out of Hannigan’s pub just as the last bus of the night pulled up to the stop with a groan of metal and a squeak of gears.

Liam gave a silent cheer as he hurried to board. No two-mile walk home for him tonight.

The bus was empty, apart from a pair of dodgy-looking neds in the rear row of seats. They eyed him from under the brims of their knockoff Burberry caps, then glanced out the window at Hannigan’s, which was clearly marked as a haven for fans of Celtic Football Club.

Just in case they were rival Rangers fans looking for a square go, Liam sat up front behind the driver.

“Good choice,” the driver told him. “Everyone’s on edge tonight, cos of Blue Monday.”

This was news to Liam. “Is that another fake holiday? Was I meant to buy a card for my ma?”

“Naw, mate, it’s based on science. They say the third Monday in January’s the most depressing day of the year. Weather’s shite, nights are long, and people are pure skint after spending too much on Christmas presents. Plus, everyone’s chucked their New Year’s resolutions.” The driver patted his stomach. “I’ve not been to the gym in a week.”

Liam gave a grunt of sympathy, then sank down in his seat to see the driver’s mirror so he could keep an eye on the hooligans behind him.

To his relief, they got off at the next stop, and less than ten minutes later, he was at his own flat.

When Liam opened the front door into his wee kitchen, holding his keys together to stop them jingling, he saw a dim light coming from the bedroom. He set his keys softly on the table and took off his coat.

The place was freezing. Liam turned on the heating, then tiptoed into the bedroom, where he found his boyfriend, Robert, asleep under the covers, leaning back against the wall with an open laptop on his thighs. His fingerless-gloved hands had dropped to his sides, palms up as if in supplication. A blue knit wooly cap pressed his nut-brown waves of hair upon his forehead, and his strong, square jaw bore what looked like a week’s worth of dark stubble, stark against his winter-fair skin.

Even sprawled there open-mouthed and snoring, Robert was the most gorgeous human being Liam had ever seen. And even after a fifteen-year friendship and a thirteen-month “romantic partnership,” Liam sometimes still couldn’t believe this man was real.

He picked up Robert’s laptop. The motion interrupted the Celtic F.C. floating-shamrock screensaver to reveal a screen full of code that Liam couldn’t begin to decipher. He gently set the computer on the floor. Then he stripped naked, doing a jittery shuffle to keep warm and suppressing a loud -aaaaaeeeeeeeee!- as the chilly air met his bare skin.

Finally he slid beneath the covers, which currently consisted of the usual pale-green duvet plus every tartan blanket from the couch. The heat from Robert’s body made him shiver, and it seemed he could feel his goose bumps smooth themselves out one by one.

Can we PLEASE go straight to sleep?asked Liam’s aching muscles. Celtic are playing tomorrow night, which means the pub will be jammed.

Ignoring the pleas of every body part but one, Liam wrapped himself round the sleeping form of his favorite person. Though it was technically Tuesday now, he wanted to banish Blue Monday back to the icy inferno whence it came.

Robert stirred, putting his hand under the cover to grasp Liam’s forearm. “What time is it?” he murmured without opening his eyes.

Liam nuzzled his neck. “It’s sex o’clock.”

“Thank God. I don’t need to get up until seven.” Robert turned away but tucked himself against Liam’s body. After a moment he added in a more-awake voice, “Did you say ‘six’ or ‘sex’?

“Oh no! Now it’s quarter past sex.” He threw a leg over Robert’s hip. “We’re late.”

Robert chuckled. “Aren’t you tired from work?”

“Exhausted. So I’ll just lie here while you pound me senseless. Good?” He took Robert’s hand and pulled it back to his own bare arse. “Good?”

Robert squeezed him hard, then rolled over. “Aye, good.”

They kissed, grasping, fumbling, barely breathing. Liam tugged off Robert’s cap. “Why are you so dressed?”

“It’s cold.”

“You could’ve turned on the heating, ya numpty.”

“I know.” Robert sat up to remove his tops. “I was trying to save you money.” His voice was muffled inside the long-sleeved T-shirt and heavy maroon University of Glasgow hoodie he was yanking over his head.

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