Playing to Win (40 page)

“Yes, it’s grammatically incorrect. Also inaccurate, because clearly my greatness lies elsewhere. But it seemed like a sign.” Though Colin still looked skittish, Andrew reached out to caress his cheek. “I can’t imagine how much you’re hurting, or how hard it must have been to come here tonight. I have to let you mourn.”

“I can’t yet, not until it’s truly over.” Colin kissed Andrew’s palm. “But thank you.”

The film ended just then. Andrew looked at the clock. “Still an hour until Glasgow results at five, but it could come early. Shall we put on the news?”

“Not BBC.”

“I know, I know.” Andrew switched on STV in time to see that No had won Inverclyde by a mere eighty-six votes. When Colin slumped onto his side with a groan, Andrew said, “Let’s just shut it off and go to sleep.”

“You don’t walk away from a loved one on their death bed.” Colin took the remote control and clutched it like child with a teddy bear. “I’m seeing this through to the end.”

“Then I’ll make tea.” Andrew stood, taking the fleece blanket from the back of the sofa. “Or some brandy?”

Colin looked up at him with hollow eyes. “Tea. I’ve a match Saturday.”

Good lad
, Andrew thought as he covered Colin with the blanket.

While the water boiled, another council area near Glasgow declared for Yes, bringing the national total to three. Hearing no comment on the result from Colin, Andrew wondered if his boyfriend had fallen asleep, and if so, whether he should wake him or let him have a brief escape from his misery.

Andrew returned to the sofa with tea just as the news presenter said, “We’re expecting results from Glasgow any minute, and I’m told they will be surprising.”

Colin sat up, wide awake. “What’s that mean? No one knows how Glasgow will vote, so how can we be surprised?” He set down his tea without drinking it and got up to pace. “If after all we’ve done, Glasgow votes No, I think it’ll kill me.”

Andrew didn’t bother saying
It won’t kill you
when Colin looked like a man awaiting a trip to the gallows.

First the broadcast tortured them with Perth and Kinross’s unexpectedly large No vote. But then the moment came. Andrew stood beside Colin, who took his hand, wrapping cold fingers around Andrew’s warm ones.

The graphic appeared on the screen. GLASGOW VOTES YES, it said. Fifty-four to forty-six percent.

Colin gave a half sob, half shout. “We did it!” He turned and hugged Andrew tight. “We fucking did it! Glasgow said Yes!” He ran to the window, lifted it, and shouted into the night. “I love you, Glasgoooooooowwww!”

Andrew went and curled his arms around Colin’s waist, feeling him tremble in his grasp. “You did that. Think of all the people you convinced. You made a difference.”

“It shouldn’t matter, because we’ve lost Scotland.” He gripped the edge of the windowsill and bounced on his toes. “But it does matter. It means this city is on the right side of history. This city is brave. This city is—” His voice choked, but he kept the tears in. “This city is so royally fucked.”

“What else is new? It goes on, and so will you. Now drink your tea.”

They kept watching, curled together under the flannel blanket, until the sky showed its first hints of light. There were no more Yes areas, just a steady stream of No results, most more decisive than expected. With each report, Colin flinched as if taking a punch in the stomach. But still he didn’t cry.

At ten past six, Andrew’s home council area of Fife reported, fifty-five percent for No. Now it was arithmetically impossible for Yes to win. Still Colin didn’t cry.

But when First Minister Alex Salmond, Colin’s hero and the public face of the Yes campaign, gave his concession speech, saying “Scotland has by a majority decided not, at this stage, to become an independent country,” Colin let out a low moan, a moan that grew in volume and strength until it became a keen.
 

Andrew pulled him close and rocked him gently, like he’d never done to another human. He wasn’t a nurturer by nature, yet this fierce footballer seemed to bring it out in him.

“How?” Colin said again and again as he sobbed, clutching Andrew’s shirt. His devastation rolled over them until tears came to Andrew’s eyes as well, and he found himself clinging to Colin in return, taking comfort as well as giving it.

They cried together until Salmond was gone, until the Prime Minister, David Cameron, took the stage at seven o’clock. Outside the sun was rising, gleaming on the university buildings across the square. A cruelly beautiful day awaited them.

Colin took one look at the Prime Minister, excused himself, then ran down the hall to the loo. Andrew shut the reception-room door to block the sound of Colin’s retching.

As he gathered the glasses, cups, and plates accumulated overnight, Andrew half listened to Cameron’s speech. Like Salmond’s before him, it was full of platitudes. There was talk of moving forward, working together, blah, blah, blah, promises to fulfill commitments made during the campaign’s last weeks…

He was washing a teacup when the Prime Minister said, “I have long believed that a crucial part missing from this national discussion is England.”

Oh no.
Andrew turned to his country’s leader and whispered, “Don’t do this. Not today.” England did deserve more powers—unlike Scotland, they didn’t even have their own legislature—but to bring it up now, in the same breath as the defeat of Scottish independence, could drive a permanent wedge between the two nations.

Perhaps that was the intent.

Cameron continued. “The question of English votes for English laws requires a decisive answer.”

Andrew dropped the cup in the sink, where it shattered. He left it there as he stalked across the room to pick up his phone.

The corpse of independence wasn’t even cold, and already Cameron was using the victory to shaft his political opponents and weaken Scotland’s power in Parliament. It seemed a brilliant, calculated move, but Andrew knew it would backfire. If the Prime Minister thought Scotland was cowed, he was in for a rude awakening.

Starting right now.

Andrew opened his YouTube account and selected the video he’d made exactly a week ago, after another long, sleepless night like this one. Many times over these last harrowing hours, he’d been on the verge of sharing it with Colin and perhaps even with the world. But the time never felt right.

Now, the time was either perfectly right or catastrophically wrong.

Andrew’s finger hovered over the screen. With one tap, he would destroy his future. But he might also create a new one in its place.

A minute later, when Andrew was finished, Colin’s phone beeped with the first of many notifications. Andrew plugged it in to charge, then shut off both phones and left them behind.

There was no going back to normal now. There was no more normal to go back to.

He found Colin curled on his bed atop the duvet, facing away from the door, holding his knees.

Andrew went to him and bent to touch his shoulder. “We should sleep.”

“I don’t think I can.” Colin’s voice was gritty, and his breath smelled of toothpaste. “I’m afraid to wake up and realize we’ve lost.”

The hurt in his voice twisted Andrew’s heart like nothing ever before. He wanted to take away all Colin’s pain, or at least help him forget it, for a short while. If only there was something he could give him that would fix it. But no money could buy the comfort Colin needed right now.

“If you won’t sleep,” Andrew said, “then come have a shower with me.”

Colin raised an eyebrow. “You never share your shower.”

“Special occasion.” He straightened up and started tugging off Colin’s socks. “I’ll cleanse you of all the bad vibes. And perhaps it’ll help you sleep.”

“Doubt it.” Colin rolled out of bed. “Seeing you naked is the world’s worst cure for insomnia.”

= = =

Andrew’s shower wasn’t built for two, but he made it work by ordering Colin to stand still while he washed him. An idea was forming in Andrew’s mind, an idea born of all the love and agony he felt watching Colin suffer.

“What’s that stuff?” Colin asked as Andrew opened the jar of his favorite skin product.

“Ginger-brown-sugar body scrub. After last night, you’ll want to be rid of as many dead skin cells as possible.” He scooped out a dollop with the tiny plastic spatula. “Hold the jar and turn round.”

Colin sniffed the scrub. “So this is why you smell like dessert after you shower. Och, that tickles!” he added as Andrew rubbed his back.

“Be still.” He worked the product over the contours of Colin’s lats and delts, taking his time, until he saw Colin’s head drop forward in relaxation (or resignation, Andrew wasn’t sure which).

After Andrew had finished scrubbing him, Colin stroked his own arm. “Nice. Is this how your skin’s so smooth?”

“Did you think I was born this way?”

“I thought it was the fact you’ve never done an honest day’s work in your life.”

Andrew reached for the calming rosemary-chamomile body wash. “Good to see your biting humor has returned.”

“Well, banter is one of the five Glaswegian stages of grief.”

“And the other four?”

“Alcohol, incoherent rage, more alcohol, and ever-deepening cynicism.”

While Colin shampooed his own hair, Andrew lathered him head to toe, feeling Colin’s cock shift and stiffen in his sudsy grasp. His own body responded as well, despite the fatigue of a lost night’s sleep.

Then Colin washed him in return, spreading the lather over every plane of Andrew’s body. Despite the thickening steam and his own rising desire, Andrew could see that Colin’s eyes still held that hollow look.

So he didn’t kiss or caress him as they rinsed off. When they stepped out of the shower, Andrew merely wrapped Colin in a soft, clean towel and let him dry himself. Then he led him back to the bed.

“Let’s just lie down together,” Andrew said as he drew back the covers. “No sleep, no sex. We’ll just…be.”

Colin nodded numbly and mumbled in agreement.

They lay facing each other, Colin’s arms around Andrew’s waist, his face buried in Andrew’s neck. For a while they simply breathed. Andrew let his fingers drift over the smooth skin of Colin’s back and shoulders until he felt the muscles beneath loosen further.

Finally Colin stirred, turning his head far enough to say, “This isn’t working.”

“What’s wrong?” Andrew asked, fearing Colin wanted to leave.

“I feel complete shit, but I still want to have sex with you.”

Andrew rumbled a laugh. “That’s perfectly fine.”

“The thing is, I don’t know if I can. I mean, getting it up’s not a problem.” He slid his erection against Andrew’s hip, as if Andrew wouldn’t believe him. “But I’m just so…”

“Shattered? In every sense of the word?”

“Yeah,” Colin said in a defeated voice.

“Then what if I—” Andrew hesitated, his heart suddenly pounding so hard he could barely breathe. Perhaps this was the worst day to suggest this, when Colin already felt so powerless. Or perhaps this was the best day, when Colin needed caring for. “Maybe this time I could be…be the one to—you know…”

Colin gasped and pulled back to look at him. “Top me?”

Andrew adored his bluntness. “Only if you’d like.”

“If I’d—” Colin stopped, his eyes growing wet, and when he spoke, his voice was raw and husky. “I wouldnae like it. I’d love it.” He put a hand to Andrew’s face, holding his gaze. “Are you sure?”

Andrew hadn’t been sure, not until this moment, seeing the gratitude in Colin’s eyes. “Yes. If you’ll show me what to do.”

Colin smiled for the first time since last night. “Och aye.” Holding Andrew close, he rolled onto his back, wrapping his thighs around Andrew’s before pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss.

Hot, electric desire surged through Andrew at this sensation of power, and he found himself moving against Colin instinctively, simulating the thrusts he would soon make inside him. The heat between them dried the last bits of dampness from their shower.

When they were ready, Andrew opened the cabinet above the bed where he kept the condoms and lubricant, marveling that his hands weren’t trembling from nerves.

Colin sat up. “Need help with that?”

“I think I can manage.” He tore open the condom packet. “It’s been years since I put one of these on my own self.”

“Years? I thought you’ve never done this before.”

“I haven’t, not with a man.” Andrew’s hands stilled. “Do you think me awful for sleeping with girls at school?”

“No, why would I?”

Now wasn’t the time for true confessions, but he’d been the one to bring it up. “Because I didn’t want to,” he told Colin, “but I did it anyway, to fit in. To have something to tell the other lads. To score social-caliber points.” His face went hot with shame. “I was such a monster, like you once said.”

“Andrew…” Colin’s tongue caressed his name as he leaned in close. “You’re not a monster. I’m sorry I called you that.” He reached out and slid the condom from the packet, then carefully rolled it down over Andrew’s cock. “I will say, though, you’re in for a treat.”

Andrew closed his eyes to savor the warmth of Colin’s hand surrounding the snug, silky condom. “I can’t wait.”

“Now then.” Colin patted one of the pillows. “Gonnae lie on your back and let me ride you? That way I still do all the work. Might be easier for your first time.”

The idea was tempting. In that position, there’d be little danger of mishap. Andrew wouldn’t accidentally hurt Colin or make a fool of himself.

But the whole point of this was to give Colin a chance to let go.

“That’s not what I want,” Andrew said. “I want…I want to make you feel the way you’ve made me feel so many times. I want to make every cell in your body glow and sing.” He raised his eyes to Colin’s, then leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I want to work for you.”

A
FEW
MINUTES
later, Andrew was almost wishing he’d accepted Colin’s offer. But he could do this, he told himself as he got into position. He could.