Page 77 of Men in Shorts

“I lied. Besides, I already do enough for those wee monsters to earn Best Big Brother hunners of times over.” He sat beside Robert and swept a dusting of crisp crumbs off the edge of the bowl. “You like?”

“No. I love.”

Liam lifted his gaze to meet his, and for an instant it seemed as though Robert’s telepathic desire had been received—and returned with joy. It seemed as though the most natural thing to happen next would be a caress, then a kiss, then…anything, everything.

“Cool!” Liam said. “So you remember having these when you were a kid.”

“Of course I remember.”

“That’s a relief. It’s been a wee while, after all.”

Robert’s nod was a lie. At this moment—unlike so many moments these past weeks—it didn’t feel a wee while since they’d become the best of friends. The blinking, bobbing ducks had made time fold in on itself, bringing him and Liam back to each other as they’d been more than a dozen years ago: two lads starting the adventure of life, vowing to travel it together, forever.

* * *

The fuck waswrong with Robert’s eyes? Lately his gaze was too intense, his pupils too wide within the midnight-blue irises.

“Are you on drugs?”

Robert blinked at him. “What? No, of course not.”

“You can tell me. I’d understand if you needed a bit of speed to get you through that thesis that’s taken over your life.”

“I’m barely even drinking these days.” Robert ran a hand through his disheveled dark-brown waves of hair. “Probably why last night hit me so hard.”

“Mate, last night hit you hard cos you hitithard.” Liam frowned as he took in his tiny living room. The couch was a raft on a sea of beer tins and empty crisps packets. “If I feed you, will you help me tidy up?”

“I’ll help you even if you don’t feed me.” Robert put a hand to his stomach. “Some dry toast wouldnae go amiss just now, though.”

“Perfect! My specialty.” As he stood, Liam reached out to offer astay-right-hereshoulder pat. At the same moment, his friend leaned in, and Liam accidentally batted the side of his head.

“Ow, fuck.” Robert’s arm jerked, spilling tea into his lap. “OW! FUCK.”

“Sorry.” Liam grabbed the nearly spent roll of kitchen paper from the side table. “Here, let me blot that for?—”

“I’ve got it.” Robert snatched the end of the kitchen paper. The roll itself bounced across the floor, unspooling like the world’s mankiest red carpet.

“Clearly you’ve not got it.” Liam moved to pick up the kitchen roll.

“Aye, I do. Now away and make some toast. Let me see to my own mess.”

“Why so jumpy?”

“I’m not!” Robert crumpled a sheet of kitchen paper and sopped up tea from the blanket on his lap. “I’m just…” He didn’t seem inclined to finish the sentence.

“Did it soak through to your trousers?” Liam asked. “I’ve got spare trackies you can wear while they dry.” Without awaiting an answer, he went into his bedroom and opened the wardrobe.

Wait,didhe have any clean tracksuit bottoms? “Just a second while I rummage.” He checked every drawer, then the floor on the other side of the bed, with no luck. “Sorry, you’ll have to wear these.” He stripped off his own flannel sleep trousers and headed for the living room. “I’ve only just put them on, so?—”

The room was empty.

“Rab?” He leaned around the doorpost to check the bathroom, which was dark and silent. Robert had left the flat.

Sighing, Liam stepped back into his jim-jams. “Fine, then, just abandon me to the chaos.” He picked up his own tea and looked around as he sipped. The tartan blanket was still there, dripping tea onto the floor. Robert’s half-empty mug was there. The bowl of water was there.

The ducks, however? Those silly wee rubber duckies that had turned Robert into goo?

The ducks were gone.

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