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Chapter 4

Robert tried to keep his composure as he read the latest email from his primary funder. It wouldn’t do to freak out while riding the Number 60 bus.

To be honest, the results of the latest report are highly concerning. I think we should consider scheduling a meeting early next week to review the project’s goals and objectives. My department will want a report before the end of the month so we can make appropriations decisions going forwards.

Catching sight of his bus stop, Robert composed a hasty reply:

Eager to hear your thoughts. I’m available all day Monday.

He hit send just as the bus creaked to a halt. Then he tucked his phone away and disembarked, as always checking his surroundings before heading down Liam’s street. Even in broad daylight, a bit of situational awareness never went amiss.

The scent of fresh-baked rolls wafted out of the corner café—which, despite its dilapidated-looking state, sold the best panini in the city—and on a strip of grass across the busy street, a homeless woman was screaming at a pair of pigeons in sign language.

Robert found it hard to walk among the people of Glasgow these days without seeing them as test subjects, without calculating values for each of their choices:

Biking to work, +10 Lifespan Points. Och, fish supper with extra chips, -15 LP .

Maybe he needed to be a detached observer in order to help them, the way A&E doctors had to see patients as “Knife Wound in Room 3” and “Cardiac Arrest in Room 7.” Still, it felt wrong.

At least there was one Glaswegian he couldn’t help but see as a fully fleshed human being.

“Prepare yourself, lad!” Liam bowed as he beckoned Robert to enter his flat. “Prepare to be awed by art.”

“That sounds promising.” Robert stepped inside and barely caught his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss before Liam spun away and bounced into the living room.

“I know you telt me not to use words,” Liam said, “but I’m a verbal man, so I made a pictograph.” He lifted the poster board from the coffee table and held it in front of his chest. “What does it say I want most from you?”

Robert eyed the board as he removed his coat. On the left, Liam had pasted a hockey stick lying on its side, with matching footballs above and below it. Round the whole arrangement was a red circle with a line through it. On the right, a row of soldiers were arranged, all facing front, standing rigid and gazing into the near distance.

“So you want me to…not play two sports at once, but instead join the army?”

“You’re being pure literal. Think symbolically.” Liam tapped the stick and balls. “What symbol does that look like, Mister Maths Degree?”

Robert squinted at the arrangement. “A division sign?”

“Well done, you.”

“Cool.” This was even more fun than he’d thought it would be. “So you want me to divide a?—”

“Oi!” Liam rapped the red circle.

“Right, you want me not to divide something. Got it.” He stared at the soldiers, who were dressed in the pale-brown battle fatigues used in desert operations. “Is this to do with my views on troops deployment in the Middle East?”

“What? No. Wait, have you even got views on troops deployment?”

“Well…just the basic views.”

Liam shook his head. “As usual, you’re overthinking things. Try again.”

“All right, gonnae be patient with me. I’m not a mind reader.” Robert rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it’s the uniforms. Maybe you want me to…not divide…or not separate…” He blurted what he knew was the wrong answer. “You want me to dress better by matching my trousers to my shirts.”

“Rab, you’re a smarter dresser than I am. How would I have the brass neck to criticize your clothes?”

Robert sighed. “Gie’s another hint.”

Liam patted the right side of the poster. “What are these soldiers doing?”

“Going to war?”

Liam groaned. “What are they doing now ? In the picture?”

“Nothing! They’re just standing there.”

“But how are they standing?”

“They’re standing…straight.” Wait a minute. Robert lifted his eyes to meet Liam’s. “Is this to do with me being bisexual? I thought you were cool with that.”

“Mate, I’m cool with that. Guess again. They’re staaaaanding…aaaaaaat…”

“They’re standing at…attention?”

Liam pressed his lips together and nodded frantically.

Robert took a step back and scanned the whole of the collage. “You want…” Oh God. Liam. “You want my undivided attention.”

“Yaaaaaassss!!” Liam threw the poster board in the air and jumped forward into Robert’s arms. “That was brilliant, mate.”

Robert hugged him, feeling like his chest would cave in. How distracted had he been lately, that all Liam wanted was to be seen? “You’ve got it. All my attention.”

“All night?”

“Of course.” He pulled back to arm’s length and glanced down at Liam’s dark-green tracksuit bottoms. “What’ve you got planned, a strip tease?”

“There’s nae challenge in holding your attention to that.” Liam stepped away, into the kitchen. “I’m gonnae make food for our tea, and then we’ll watch some telly.”

Robert was confused. “And?”

“And you’ll ignore your phone the entire evening.”

“Ah.” Robert did have a nasty habit of checking for messages while sitting in front of the TV. But his primary funder was going to write back with a time and date for that meeting…

“This way there’s no, ‘Liam, what did they just say?’ or ‘Liam, rewind so I can see that bit again. I missed it cos I’m sooooo important.’”

Robert’s neck tingled with shame. “I’m not important.” He went to Liam and touched his arm. “You are.”

“Well, of course I am.” Liam nudged him aside in the cramped kitchen. He opened the fridge and bent over to stick his head in. “Cheesy toast and beans okay?” he asked, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “ Orrrrr better yet, cheesy beans and toast!”

“Either sounds grand.” He considered offering to order a curry, but Liam’s pride would be hurt if Robert provided for them all the time. Besides, the man could make a miracle of toast and beans.

While Liam cooked, they talked pro football, not just Scottish but every major European league. As January was transfer season, there was no end to rumors and breaking news about which players were going where and who was raging about it.

“These transfers are gonnae wreak havoc with my fantasy Premier League team,” Robert said. “I could lose some of my best players.”

“Fantasy leagues take all the joy out of sport,” Liam said, as Robert knew he’d do. “A team’s not a team anymore—they’re just a collection of individuals, and every match is a collection of stats.”

“I know, but I like it, and I’m good at it.” Robert realized with a start that he’d not set his fantasy squads for tomorrow’s matches. He’d tumbled down the ranks recently, when his preoccupation with work had stopped him keeping up with the tsunami of holiday fixtures.

By instinct he pulled out his phone to bring up the fantasy-football app.

A tea towel flicked his hand. “Put that away!”

“Ow.” Robert obeyed, setting the phone screen-side down on the table. “It wasn’t for work.”

“I don’t care. You promised. And listen to me, sounding a wee wifey nipping your head for it. Don’t make me do that.”

“Can I at least set a reminder for tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Liam opened a drawer, pulled out a stack of sticky notes, and tossed them onto the table. “Old-school style.”

Robert wrote FF on the top note, then got up to adhere it to the kettle so he’d see it in the morning. “I’m sorry,” he said, placing a hand on Liam’s back.

“You’ll be sorry.” Liam bumped his hip against Robert’s. “When I punish you.”

Robert uttered a needy growl. “Ohhhh. Tonight?”

“Nah, tomorrow. Give you time to think about it.” He angled a glance through his lashes. “And give me time to procure what I need for you.”

“Can’t wait.” Robert let his hand drop to the hem of Liam’s shirt, which rested atop the curve of his arse. Then he slipped it up underneath to skate his fingertips over the warm skin of Liam’s back.

“You can wait, and you will.” Liam turned to him, then gently took Robert’s lower lip between his teeth and tugged. “But not for everything.”

Their kiss was warm and deep, and for a few moments it became Robert’s entire world.

“Mmph.” Liam pulled away and turned to the hob. “I smell a light char. That’s our dinner ready.” He patted Robert’s arse. “Out of these jeans and into some trackpants. You’re overdressed for a night in.”

Robert took a step toward the kitchen door, then automatically reached for his phone on the table. A warning glare from Liam stopped him.

After he changed into more comfortable clothes, Robert went to Liam’s bedroom window to check the weather. He lifted the blinds, taking care not to get them stuck in a raised position.

Outside, the rain that had threatened earlier seemed to have changed its mind. The road’s uneven tarmac was still dry, and the pedestrians were huddling against only the wind.

From here Robert could see the front window of the nearby community center. It offered a warm, welcome glow in the otherwise forbidding gray streetscape. How long had it been since he’d volunteered there, at the place that had given him so much support growing up?

October, probably, at the center’s Halloween party. That made it nearly three months.

He returned to the living room, where he and Liam sat on the couch to eat and watch TV, the sagging cushions drawing their arses close together, which was exactly where they wanted to be. When they finished eating, Robert drew his legs up and lay against Liam, who tugged the tartan blankets over them both, taking care to cover Robert’s feet.

Robert took Liam’s hand, sliding his fingertips between the knuckles, feeling for the rough spot on the webbing between his third and fourth fingers. Liam tended toward dry skin—a side effect of washing bar glasses in hot water—but this particular patch on his left hand seemed immune to lotions and oils. It was one of many landmarks upon his body Robert couldn’t see, could find only by touch. It felt almost a compulsion to stroke this square inch of skin, proof that this man was truly Liam and not a simulacrum.

Not that someone like Liam could ever be simulated.

“This is daft,” Liam said suddenly. “Your attention’s not undivided if we’re watching TV, is it?”

It sort of had been, as Robert had been more entranced by touching Liam than by the program. “So let’s do something else.”

“We cannae go out drinking or dancing, as we’ve got a match tomorrow.”

“Then let’s stay in.” Robert moved his hand inside Liam’s thigh. “Really in.”

“We’re never at our footballing best the day after a good shag.”

“We could experiment, see how we play after a bad shag.”

“Nae chance.” Liam kissed Robert, then suddenly seized his arm. “Let’s go to the Tesco!”

* * *

Robert had assumed Liam would take their game in some strange directions, but he never imagined that one of those directions would lead to the Shettleston Tesco Extra on a Friday night.

Outside the supermarket, Liam shoved his shopping list into Robert’s hand. “Be right back. Need to pop over to F&F for a wee minute.”

“You need new clothes?”

“Not for myself.” He patted Robert’s cheek. “Only buy that porridge if it’s discounted. If not, I’ll take the own-brand stuff. I’ll be back in time to pay.” He hurried off, hands in his coat pockets, head ducked against the blustery wind.

Robert wheeled his trolley through the automatic doors, sighing with relief at the blast of warm air that greeted him.

He started with the fresh veg, wishing he had his own list with him. It was on his phone, of course, which he’d left behind at Liam’s flat. The lack of device made him feel unnaturally light, so he found himself checking his pocket to ensure his wallet hadn’t been nicked.

He picked the produce Liam needed, staying within prescribed amounts so as not to exceed the budget. He soon created a game for himself, predicting the weight of each veg before putting it on the scale.

“Yaaaass,” he hissed when he estimated the tomatoes bang-on. A short woman in a purple headscarf looked up from the garlic and peered at him over her glasses. “I guessed right,” he told her, his ears warming as he tied the bag shut.

He’d barely made it out of the produce area when Liam appeared beside him, nose reddened from the cold air.

“That was fast,” Robert said. “Find what you needed?”

Liam’s amber eyes flicked from side to side as he tried to suppress a smile. “Ordered it online yesterday, so I just needed to collect it.” He tapped the left side of his jacket, where a plastic bag rustled. “It’s here, close to my heart.”

“It better be good, after this buildup.”

“No, it’s very bad.” He grabbed the trolley handle. “I’ll drive. I know where everything is after they rearranged the aisles.”

Robert followed, reminding himself not to get lost in thought simply because he had nothing to do. He had one very important task: pay attention to Liam.

So he stayed in the moment, watching his partner choose amongst the items on the shelves, muttering calculations to himself, working out which brand was the right choice, considering price and quality. Though Robert excelled at higher maths, his ability to add, subtract, and multiply in his head couldn’t hold a candle to Liam’s. Perhaps the bartending job had made Liam such a deft arithmetician, or perhaps he was simply a master at all things important to real life.

In this most mundane of settings, Robert was reminded of the simple joy of being with this man. Lately, he had to admit, he’d paid close attention to Liam only when they were in bed or on the football pitch.

For instance: It was already mid-January, and Robert was just now discerning Liam’s “winter plumage,” as he called it. His hair had darkened from bright red to a rich auburn, and the temporary, sun-induced freckles had faded, leaving behind only the permanent ones, the ones Robert had mapped and memorized over many a naked afternoon.

And in the dairy section, when Liam pulled off his cap and stuffed it into his pocket, Robert realized he’d missed a major detail.

“Did you have a haircut?” he asked.

“Aye, a week ago.” Liam looked up from the two hunks of cheese he was comparing. “Just the usual. Nothing exciting.”

“Still, I didn’t notice, and I’m sorry.” When Liam shrugged, Robert added, “It looks good.”

“I know.” Liam grinned at him. “Thanks for noticing now.”

Robert stepped closer. “I’d like to take you home and make you feel more noticed than you’ve ever been in your life.”

“Oh. That sounds…” Liam paused. “My ears are turning red, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Robert murmured. “Almost as red as they do when you come.”

Liam let out a low curse, then tossed one of the cheeses into the trolley. “That’s me finished here.”

Robert glanced at the list in his hand. “But you still need?—”

“It can wait.” Liam headed toward the checkout tills at full speed.

“And also?—”

“It can all wait.”

Robert followed, unable and unwilling to argue.