Page 17 of Men in Shorts

They wanted to beat that wrongness out of you.

A single tear slipped from each eye. Only his exhaustion was keeping him from a complete meltdown. His murky mind didn’t know which emotion to latch onto: fear, grief, or rage. All three twisted together in a desperate, sea-gray whirlwind.

His phone buzzed with a text, then a moment later buzzed again, which usually meant a long message had been split into two parts by his message app. It couldn’t be his mother—he’d blocked her number, and anyway, she didn’t text. Perhaps it was Geoffrey warning him their secret was out.

Brodie slowly reached down and picked up his phone.

Duncan

Can’t pop by tonight, but never fear! Ordered a takeaway for you. Put some fucking clothes on and meet the dude from the curry place in our lobby in 20 min

utes

Chapter5

“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”Duncan shouted as he swept into Brodie’s room at eight a.m. His mood had skyrocketed late last night, and he couldn’t wait for Brodie to find out why.

Brodie rolled over in bed, rubbing his drawn face. “Fit’s that smell?”

“Which?” Duncan held up the cardboard tray of Starbucks cups in his left hand. “The heavenly aroma of burnt coffee?” He lifted the bag in his right hand. “Or the tantalizing scent of dwarf breakfast wraps?”

“Another Yank food chain. What’s next, Taco Bell?”

“That’s a brilliant idea. I love their breakfast burritos.”

“Och.” Brodie clutched his stomach melodramatically. “Never say the phrase ‘breakfast burrito’ in my presence again.”

“The curry was a wee bit spicy?”

“I couldn’t feel my tongue for hours.”

I’d like to feel your tongue for hours, Duncan thought as he handed Brodie his tea and breakfast, then sat at the desk.And now I’ve a notion the feeling is mutual.

“I will pay you back for this one day,” Brodie said.

Duncan kept a straight face as he replied, “This is me paying you back for infecting you in the first place.”

Brodie coughed, then took a sip of tea. “You don’t need to stay, though.”

“Are you giving me the boot?”

“No! I like having you—I mean, it’s fine if you—erm…yeah.” He gave a twitchy shrug. “Whatever.”

Brodie’s blush told Duncan he could easily push the teasing too far. “Frankly, my room’s not the happiest place at the moment, with all that football rubbish hanging everywhere. I’d rather not think about the game just now.”

“Ah. Sorry.” The corners of Brodie’s mouth drooped, then suddenly lifted. “I’d another funny dream about the library last night. I dreamed someone posted on theSpottedFacebook page that they missed me. Something about the lad in the Passenger shirt, how they loved the way I smelled after a shower.”

Here we go.“Then what happened?”

Brodie thought for a moment, then laughed. “I replied! Aye, now I remember. In the dream, I thought you were the original poster, and I wanted to have a bit of fun. So I wrote, ‘I’m still waiting for my sponge bath.’”

Duncan pulled out his own phone and turned it toward Brodie. “You mean Spongebob?”

Brodie’s smile vanished. “Wha—” He grabbed the phone, then thumbed the panel, eyes widening as he read the anonymous original post, his own reply—which was not a dream—and several others beneath his, most riffing off his accidental Spongebob Squarepants reference. “Fucking autocorrect again!”

“You thought I posted that I missed you?” Grinning, Duncan swiveled the desk chair from side to side. “A bit cocky, aye?”

“It was a dream—I mean, I thought it was. Haven’t you ever dreamed you’ve said something stupid on Facebook?”

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