Page 59 of Men in Shorts

The Barras was nothing like the sedate markets of Fergus’s genteel Highland town. Back in Pitlochry, one could browse an organized assortment of quality wares—all acquired legally and sold at nonnegotiable prices—without having to guard one’s wallet from pickpockets.

The Barras was utter chaos, and Fergus loved it.

“You know what I could go for?” Robert asked.

“A blowjob?” Liam deadpanned. It had been a running joke ever since Robert—the Warriors’ only straight player—had quit smoking last month. Liam himself had quit at the same time with relative ease and had grown weary of Robert’s constant whingeing about craving a cigarette.

“Thanks, but nah, I’d rather have one of those.” Robert pointed to the doughnut shop to their right.

“Oh yes,” John said, “there will be doughnuts.” He looked up at Fergus. “Sorry, love, but Sunday is carb day. So are Monday through Saturday, but especially Sunday.”

Fergus balked at the scent of fat-soaked flour. The lard seemed to coat the very air he was standing in. “You go on. I’ll stand back here so I don’t need a shower afterward.”

As Robert and John went for the doughnuts, Liam stayed behind with Fergus. “I’ll just nick a bite of Robert’s.”

“You think he’ll let you?” Fergus asked. “You two seem fallen out all of a sudden.”

Liam darted a glare at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Yesterday’s scoreline, for starters. You and Robert were a mess. You used to be the most reliable part of our team, with your center-back telepathy or whatever.”

“It’s not telepathy, it’s just…knowing each other.” Liam shrugged, hands in his front jeans pockets. “Comes from all those years on the pitch together.”

Fergus often felt jealous of the closeness Liam and Robert shared. He’d lost touch with most of his own childhood friends after moving to Glasgow eight years ago for university, then coming out shortly thereafter.

“I dunno where Robert’s head is at these days,” Liam said. “He seemed okay when he and Danielle first broke up last month, but lately he’s…gone off life and all.” He turned to Fergus, his face lighting up. “I know! I’ll get him a wee gift to cheer him up.” He jabbed his thumb toward Robert and John, who were heading toward them now, doughnuts in hand. “Let’s ditch them so it can be a surprise.”

Fergus agreed, then took John aside to explain the plan. John simply nodded and smiled, mouth too stuffed to reply with words.

“So what brings you to the Barras today?” Liam asked Fergus as they entered the market’s indoor section. “Your latest salvage-art project?”

“I’m making us a new headboard.” Fergus had been itching to start another piece of furniture or decor ever since John had moved in. He wanted something in the flat that would betheirs, that would somehow reflect where they’d been and where he hoped they were going. “We sort of broke the one we’ve got.”

Liam barked out a laugh, drawing the attention of the counterfeit Coach–bag peddler to their left. “Belter, mate. Glad to hear married life hasnae taken the spark out of your sex life.”

Fergus let the “married” dig pass without comment, like all of Liam’s remarks about him and John living together. A champion player in every sense of the word, Liam didn’t believe in monogamy.

“So which of you Hulks out during sex?” Liam asked, surfing his palm over stacks of used paperbacks as they passed a bookseller’s stall. “My guess is John, based on those biceps and pecs.”

“Why are you looking at my boyfriend’s pecs?”

Liam snorted. “Cos I’m human.”

Fergus tried to smile as he and Liam approached the fabric peddler’s stall. But he couldn’t forget the relief in John’s eyes as he’d turned away just now. Things had been tense at home since Thursday morning’s condom discussion. John hadn’t mentioned it again, but his usual broad smile had turned thin and tight, and the few times Fergus caught his gaze, it would flicker, then dart away, his eyes turning down at the corners in what looked like sadness.

It ripped Fergus apart knowing he’d put that sadness there. John was right—Fergus didn’t trust men, which meant he couldn’t trust John. Not yet, at least. One day, Fergus knew, he’d find the courage to risk everything in the name of faith.

The question was, would John find the patience to wait for that day?

* * *

“Need a new Rangers shirt?”

John felt an elbow nudge his side. He looked up where Robert was pointing, to the children’s football jerseys arranged in a row above the nearest stall.

“Looks like they only come in Small these days,” Robert added.

“Very funny.” John was trying to be a good sport about his beloved team’s recent poor form. “One day, mate, the wheel of fortune will turn again, and it’ll be Celtic disgraced.” He picked up a pair of Rangers and Celtic troll dolls. “And on that day I shall simply smile quietly to myself, whilst you and Liam and Fergus wallow in gloom without benefit of my commentary.”

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