Page 20 of Men in Shorts

“Nope.” Duncan chewed the end of his pen, then scribbled on his notepad. “Just letting you simmer.”

All day, between bouts of studying, eating—and in Brodie’s case, napping—they maintained their flirtatious Facebook patter with hourly updates. Others had noticed, posting dozens of replies that fell into two general camps:LOLandSTFU. It had been a proper lark, easing their revision-week boredom. Still, Brodie couldn’t tell if that’s all it was.

Are you as confused and turned on as I am?he wondered that night as his gaze bored into the back of Duncan’s skull.Give me a sign.

“Who’s Clyde?” Duncan asked.

Brodie shook his head, which was already pounding from eyestrain. “Sorry?”

“Is there a Clyde at the library?”

“He’s the mouse in Level Ten. Why?”

“Erm…you’d better have a look at theSpottedmain page.”

Brodie opened his Facebook app to see a new anonymous post.

To Brodie and Duncan, the callous bastards who hijacked my sincere post to my ex-boyfriend: I envy you two. It must be nice not to know what love is, to never feel the pain when the person you want more than anything in the world won’t even look at you, much less touch you again. Wherever you are, all I wish is that ONE DAY SOON you’ll know what it’s like.

Brodie swallowed as he tapped theRead More…link to see the rest of the post:

Also, if I ever spot you cocksuckers in this library again, I will knock you both flat and introduce Clyde to your rectal cavities.

He looked at Duncan. “I felt sorry for her until that last part.”

“I’m going to apologize. I’ll say that you mistook her post for one by me about you—which is true—and that I played along. That I pretended the post was mine to spare you the awkwardness of your mistake.”

“That makes me sound pathetic.”

“I could say her post was so beautiful that I wished it was mine.” He met Brodie’s eyes. “I could say it felt like something I could’ve written.”

Brodie shivered inside. He wanted to ask if that were true, but feared the answer would be a laugh and anOf course not!

“I can’t let you lie.” Brodie quickly thumbed in a response to the new post.

Brodie Campbell: Sorry. :(

Duncan glanced at his tablet. “‘Sorry frowny face’?”

“I feel vaguely bad, and nothing expresses that like ‘Sorry frowny face.’”

“Aye, but now ifIsay ‘Sorry frowny face,’ it’ll look like we’re mocking her.”

“Then come up with something better. You are, after all, the lead bastard cocksucker.”

“Hey! At least I’m not a Bed Hog,” he said, kicking the side of Brodie’s mattress.

“Then you’re part of the Bed-Hog Police, which is arguably worse.”

“Fair point.” Duncan scooted his chair closer. “I should probably reassess your bed-hogging tendencies and file an official report.”

Brodie’s comeback died as he realized what Duncan meant. Speechless, he shifted over to make room, offering half his pillow as well. Duncan picked up his tablet, then slid beneath the covers.

As they lay there, side by side on their backs, Brodie fixed his gaze on the ceiling, wishing for the courage to make something,anythinghappen. The inch-wide gap between their arms, legs, and hips hummed with energy.

Finally Duncan clapped his hands together once. “Terribly sorry, old chap,” he announced in a posh English accent. “I grievously underestimated your bed-sharing abilities. I shall attempt to salvage your reputation post haste.” He awakened his tablet, displaying theSpottedpost.

“Leave it. There’s been enough drama for one day.” Brodie squinted at the bright white display, then put a hand to his pounding temple. “Och, I cannae look at any more screens.”

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