Page 4 of Men in Shorts

“It’s a large flat, and we live at opposite ends of the hall. Besides, he’s probably staying with his parents during exams. They live here in Glasgow.”

“So do mine, but the moment vacation ended, I was back in Murano Street,” she said, referring to the sprawling university village that housed most Glasgow Uni freshers. “Duncan’s coming back today. He said so.”

“When did you see him? Did he mention me?”

“No, we didn’t talk much. It was the day of the cup quarterfinal match.” Her eyes turned sad. “Which was an absolute bloodbath.”

“I saw the result online.” Brodie had wanted to take the next train back to Glasgow to comfort Duncan after the 6-1 loss. “What happened? I thought Warriors were favored to win.”

“They were, but get this.” Lorna tugged him close and spoke so low, Brodie had to bend over to hear her. “Their captain, see, he disappeared directly before the game. He was cheating on his boyfriend—one of the other midfielders—and decided to leave the country with his lover. The team completely fell to pieces.”

“That’s horrible.” Though the mere thought of football made Brodie ill, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for the players. “Is Duncan okay?”

“I’ve been better.”

Brodie nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him.

“Duncan!” Lorna spread her arms for a hug, giving Brodie a moment to collect himself.

Duncan greeted Lorna with an “All right, doll?” as he leaned down to embrace her. “All right, mate?”

Brodie nodded to the span of carpet separating their feet. “Good. You?” There. He’d managed two words without his voice cracking.

“Not so good, as you’ve just heard.”

The raw emotion in Duncan’s voice captured Brodie’s attention. He raised his gaze to meet…

Och, those eyes.A blue so electric it almost hurt to look at them, their color accentuated by Duncan’s rain-speckled denim jacket.

Those eyes widened at the sight of Brodie now. “Are you okay?” Duncan asked. “You look all peely-wally.”

“Brodie had glandular fever!” Lorna announced, loudly enough that the two girls at the closest table overheard. One of them whispered “kissing disease” with a giggle.

“I’m better now,” he told them.

“Already? But—wait, how’s that possible?” Duncan twisted the strap of his rucksack as he stammered. “I mean, when did you have it? Because you were fine when we—erm, before you left for home.” He looked away, which told Brodie that Duncan found this moment as excruciating as he did.

“It started about two weeks ago. I spent most of vacation in bed.”Don’t say ‘bed,’he thought, his face warming at the memory of the two of them writhing shirtless atop a red-and-white-striped duvet, mouths locked, hands grasping. The fact their encounter had been so passionate only made its devastating conclusion more painful.

All he wanted was to get out of here, away from the sound of Duncan’s questions, the sight of Duncan’s discomfort, and especially the scent of Duncan’s hair, amplified by the rain that matted the short brown spikes.

“Anyway,” Brodie continued, “my sore throat, swollen glands, fever—they’re all gone, as of yesterday.” Though he was certainly feeling feverish now.

“What about headaches?” Duncan asked. “Feel so knackered you can’t move or even think?”

“No.”

“Just wait.” Duncan nodded sagely. “You’re in the eye of the glandular-fever hurricane. I had it during my gap year in the States. They call it ‘mononucleosis’ there, you know.”

Lorna groaned. “Yeah yeah, and ‘football’ is ‘soccer’ and ‘trousers’ are ‘pants,’ and you’re the only yin who’s ever spent time in America.”

Brodie relaxed a wee bit. If Duncan was “enlightening” them on American words, and Lorna was having a go at him for it, then things were back to normal.

“Hold on.” Lorna slid a wily glance between the two of them. “Duncan, you had glandular fever—or mono, whatever—only last year? I heard the virus can stay active in your saliva for up to eighteen months.”

Brodie froze, eyes locked with Duncan’s.

“Isn’t that scary?” Lorna continued. “I mean, you really have to be careful who you kiss.”

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