Page 60 of Men in Shorts

Robert laughed, then took a selfie of the two of them pretending to bite off their rival troll’s head. Then they wandered on, finishing their last pair of doughnuts and discussing their fantasy Premier League teams, debating which overpriced striker to transfer out and which surprise young star to bring into their squads.

Football was usually John’s favorite conversation topic, but today it gave him a bitter taste, bringing up memories of yesterday’s Warriors match. Seeing Fergus and Evan on the pitch together—helping each other off the ground, exchanging back-pats and high-fives—had nearly driven John round the bend. He’d thought he’d grown accustomed to Evan and Fergus’s continued association, but ever since the condom argument, John wanted to strangle his boyfriend’s ex more than ever.

Yet every time he tried to shift blame onto Evan, John remembered how he himself had hurt Fergus in the past. John’s secrets and lies were long over, but surely the pain they’d caused still lingered in Fergus’s heart. John couldn’t expect to be trusted until he’d truly earned it.

“Och!” Robert stopped in his tracks beside a toy seller’s stall. “I used to collect these,” he said as he hurried over to a tub of rubber duckies. Ignoring the ones with cute designs like pirates and devils and snowboarders, he picked up a plain yellow duck sitting beside the tub, then turned it over to show John a pair of metal nubs on the bottom. “Watch, it’s got an LED inside.”

He placed the duck in the water, where it began to flash, first red, then blue, then going full rave, strobing through every color of the rainbow. “So cool,” Robert whispered.

John dared not laugh at the sight of this six-foot-three, fourteen-stone footballer enthralled by a rubber ducky. “Buy it.”

“What, for myself?”

“Why not?” John turned to the elderly toy peddler, sitting in the corner of the stall, her lap overflowing with tangled pink yarn. “How much for the flashy ducks?”

She appeared to consider the matter. “Two quid.”

“Are you mad?” Robert asked her. “They’re barely worth a pound.”

The peddler shrugged. “Cost three-fifty in the shops,” she said, returning to her knitting.

In case Robert was planning to haggle, John stayed put and pretended to browse the jigsaw puzzles. The top puzzle featured a photo of the rolling hills of Perthshire, Fergus’s home.

John ached at the memory of their first trip there this summer, how they’d made love in what seemed a magical glade. The thought of anything coming between them cut him to the core. He needed advice. Robert wasn’t gay, but he’d had more relationships than John, which was to say he’d had more than one.

“How long were you and Danielle together?” John asked him.

Robert froze, looking caught out, perhaps because he’d been admiring the tobacco products arrayed on a canvas sheet at the next stall. “Erm…” He turned away from the stacks of cigarette cartons, smoothing his dark, windblown hair as he thought. “Several months, why?”

“Before you broke up, were you, erm…”

“Were we what?” Robert snapped.

“Still using condoms?”

“Oh.” Robert blinked rapidly, as though he’d expected a different question. “Aye, we were. I wanted to stop once we were exclusive, but she vetoed that idea.” He picked up a cardboard box containing the game Operation, then turned to John. “Huh. I wonder if it was because she’d no intention of being exclusive?”

John’s face heated in embarrassment. “Sorry. I didn’t realize?—”

“Neither did I. Obviously.” Robert frowned down at the Operation game’s cover, where a pair of sadistic-looking surgeons were taking electrified scalpels to a man who looked only half-anesthetized. “So why’d you ask about condoms?”

John spread his hands. “Why do you think?”

“Ah.” Robert set down the game and returned to the rubber-ducky tub. “Fergus and John Bareback—sounds like the new hit porno from Dakota Wyatt studios.”

“Except production’s been scuttled on account of Fergus saying no.”

Instead of voicing surprise like John had expected, Robert simply nodded. “I can understand that, considering what Evan did.”

“But Fergus knows I’m not Evan. The fact I’m not tall, blond, and gorgeous should be a dead giveaway.”

“Fergus knows it up here.” Robert pointed to his own head. “It’s his gut doesn’t know it yet.” He lifted his chin and looked past John. “Talking of gut feelings, our man there looks ready to do a runner.”

John turned to see the tobacco seller standing in front of his table now, glancing back and forth toward the market’s entrances. “Probably never paid duties on those cigarettes.” A good portion of Barras merchandise was illegal in one way or another. Half the fun of being here was guessing which sellers would get raided by the police.

He turned back to Robert, who was now transfixed by the pale pink flashy duck sitting on his outstretched palm. “Fergus’s gut is wrong,” John said. “I’d never cheat on him. I love him.”

“Love is temporary.” Robert stared at the duck, the LED light reflecting in his eyes. “Fergus cannae tell himself Evan never loved him, cos that’d be a lie. They were good together when I first met them. But then…” He shook his head. “Things went bad, as things do.”

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