Chapter 5 Nicholas
“I don’t want to fuck you anyway,” Nicholas drawls, perhaps a bit too loudly if the way the couple at the table next to them stares while Andrew flushes.
“You’re such an asshole.”
“We’ve established that,” Nicholas says, unsure why being called that makes him feel calmer.
Trying to be liked is exhausting. It’s so much easier for people to dislike him right off the bat. Keeps the expectations where they belong, on the floor. Can’t disappoint people when they expect nothing from you, and no one can disappoint Nicholas when he expects even less from them.
“I don’t know how Amanda puts up with you,” Andrew mutters.
“I pay her well.”
“I don’t think you could pay me enough to put up with you.”
“And yet here you are,” Nicholas smirks, leaning his elbows on the table and allowing himself to take Andrew in. “Maybe you were just desperate to get another look at me in person. You certainly stared enough at Amanda’s.”
“You were sitting across from me.”
“And you sure knew it.”
“You’re annoying.”
“Mhmm,” Nicholas hums.
Before coming tonight, he’d been agitated and out of sorts and exhausted.
Three games in a week takes it out of him and even after sleeping in today he was still dragging his ass when he woke up.
Usually the adrenaline rush after an intense sequence of games, especially ones they won, leaves him feeling revved up.
Desperate to get another spike of adrenaline before the impending crash, he’d planned to head to a club and find someone to pick up for the night, but Amanda called him no less than half a dozen times threatening to drop him as a client if he stood up Andrew.
So now he’s here at some out of the way seaside restaurant instead of driving towards Los Angeles to find somewhere to disappear.
To say he was dreading tonight is an understatement.
After their disastrous first meeting, he was certain Andrew was not the right person for this job.
He’s nothing like anyone Nicholas dates.
Come to think of it, he usually dates people like himself—slightly self-centered, gorgeous and also more concerned with getting off than with who it’s with.
It’s a great way to get laid. Except this time getting laid isn’t what he needs.
He needs something different, needs to shove in his father’s face that someone wants him.
Maybe it’s not true, but his father doesn’t need to know that.
It’s why he’s here having dinner with someone who looks like they do taxes for fun rather than slutting it up.
At least Andrew has good taste. This restaurant is exactly the kind of place Nicholas enjoys—upscale dining accommodations, picturesque views and judging by the menu he glanced at on the way in, his type of food and drink.
Despite the nice accommodations, the company is still not his first choice and that familiar prickle arises—a need to act out, to regain some semblance of control he feels lacking.
“Can I ask you something?” Nicholas questions.
“Sure.” Andrew sits up a little straighter and smiles.
He’s so boringly nice, it’s stupid. He’s got to have some kind of ulterior motive in all this, and Nicholas needs to figure out what that is.
According to Amanda, he’s here because he’s a good friend, but no one is that nice.
There’s got to be something Andrew wants out of all this, he just needs to figure out what.
And do something to help his plummeting mood.
“Did you buy stock in that?”
“In what?” Andrew asks, looking down at himself.
“Polo shirts and khakis.”
Andrew flushes and Nicholas grins. He’s so easy to tease. It’s kind of thrilling, in a way Nicholas normally only experiences when on the ice or fucking. Suddenly, the evening is looking up. Maybe he can just annoy Andrew all night. It’s not fucking, but it could be fun.
“Not all of us dress for attention.”
“Does that mean I got your attention?” Nicholas questions, making sure to lay it on thick. He expects Andrew to blush but all he does is tut.
“You know, you kind of remind me of my brother.”
“That’s kinky.”
“It’s really not,” Andrew replies. “He also has a pathological need for attention. Though unlike you, he’s an absolute sweetheart with a heart of gold.”
“That sounds tedious.”
“You think kindness is tedious?”
“I think being fake is tedious.”
“My brother isn’t fake,” Andrew challenges.
“Whatever you say, highness.”
“Just Andrew.”
“Whatever you say, your highness.”
“So witty calling the man with the last name King ‘highness’. Your creativity astounds me.”
Nicholas can’t help but laugh. He’s never met someone so goddamn particular. Getting a rise out of him is far more enjoyable than Nicholas could’ve anticipated.
“You’re such a dick,” Andrew grumbles, following it up with, “Nicki.”
Nicholas should hate being called that. He can’t stand it when Amanda does it. So why does he want to hear Andrew say it again in that smooth, haughty voice of his?
Before Nicholas can reply, their waitress appears.
“Can I get you two gentlemen a drink before we take your order? Perhaps one of the on tap beers, or maybe you’d like to see our wine selection.”
“I’ll take a cognac.”
“Did you want to see the menu or—”
“I’ll take the Corvoisier,” Nicholas finishes.
“Of course, sir.” She turns her attention to Andrew. “And for you?”
“Just water please. Bottled, not tap, no ice.”
“Absolutely. Let me get those drinks, and I’ll be back to take your order in a few minutes.”
She departs, leaving Nicholas to wonder why Andrew is staring.
“What?”
“Just curious, do you only drink top shelf liquor?”
“Asks the man who invited me to one of the most expensive restaurants in Santa Leon.”
“They have good sushi,” Andrew bristles, narrowing his eyes at Nicholas. “What?”
“Nothing just—”
“Just what?” Andrew interjects, as if waiting for an argument. Something about the narrowing of his warm brown eyes makes Nicholas’s pulse pick up.
“I didn’t peg you as a fine dining kind of man.”
“Why because you met me once and decided that my clothing made up my entire personality?”
“Technically I’ve met you twice now,” Nicholas points out, solely to annoy Andrew. “If you want to be accurate, which I suspect you do.”
“Because you know me so well,” Andrew deadpans.
“I know enough. You’re—” but he’s cut short by the return of their waitress bringing their drinks and taking their order before leaving them alone again.
Andrew reaches for his water, taking a large drink that draws Nicholas’s attention to the hollow of his throat where the top button of his pale pink polo shirt is undone.
It’s kind of a hideous shirt, but the color accentuates his bronze skin, making Nicholas wonder what he’d look like without the shirt on.
Beneath the boring clothes and nit-picky personality, he’s actually kind of hot—not something Nicholas needs to be thinking right now.
Trying to drown out thoughts about licking the hollow of Andrew’s throat, he gulps down a much too big drink of his cognac.
“Don’t get drunk,” Andrew instructs. “We have things to discuss tonight.”
Nicholas hadn’t planned on getting drunk over dinner since he drove, but Andrew telling him not to do it makes him suddenly want to do it. Keeping eye contact, he lifts his drink to his lips and smirks before taking another much smaller sip.
“You look tense, highness. Maybe you need a drink.”
“I enjoy the occasional drink to accompany a meal or for a special occasion, not as a coping mechanism, and definitely not over a business meeting.”
“A business meeting,” Nicholas snorts. “This isn’t a business meeting.”
“We’re meeting to discuss the formation of a joint venture to aid you in acquiring a temporary boyfriend for still undisclosed reasons.” Andrew straightens the silverware in front of him, moving his water cup into the exact same position it was before he took a drink. “Therefore, business meeting.”
“You wound me, highness. Here I thought we were on a date.”
“I would hope you’re more punctual when you’re on a real date,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, I’m a good fucking time on a date.”
“Uh huh,” Andrew hums, reaching for his water. He takes a small sip before returning it to the same place. “I’m sure.”
“I am,” Nicholas argues, unsure why he cares what Andrew thinks of his dating prowess.
“I’m sure you absolutely astound your dates with punctuality and manners.”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a sarcastic fuck?”
“My brother tells me that at least once a week.”
“The heart of gold brother?”
“No, my…other brother.”
“How many brothers do you have?” Nicholas questions.
“Three. Alec is the baby of the family, though not really a baby since he’s getting married this summer. Then Jason is two years younger than me and Charlie.”
“Charlie,” Nicholas repeats. “Wait, Amanda’s pain in the ass client?”
“You’re the pain in the ass client,” Andrew counters. “But also yes, that’s him.”
It occurs to Nicholas that he normally ignores everything about Amanda’s other clients, and he suddenly wishes he paid more attention when she complained about this Charlie fellow.
“When you said you and Charlie, are you two—”
“Twins,” Andrew finishes.
“Fraternal?” Nicholas asks.
“No,” Andrew answers. He sits up just that little bit straighter, jaw tensing.
Interesting.
“Does he look exactly like you then?”
“Yes and no.” Andrew fingers the edge of his cloth napkin. “We’re identical twins but our styles are…different.”
“Different like—” Nicholas prompts.
“He’s an artist. His style is a lot brighter and bolder than mine.”
Nicholas hums, trying to picture another version of Andrew. Somehow he can’t.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You hummed.”
“Which was not saying anything,” Nicholas points out.
“Speaking of not saying anything, you ignored my texts and emails. This would’ve been easier if you’d filled out the questionnaire I sent you.”
“What questionnaire?” Nicholas asks.