Chapter 5 Nicholas #3
“Yes,” Nicholas snaps, quickly finding that he does not in fact prefer the ensuing silence.
The lack of conversation when they started eating had felt like a natural product of focusing on their meal.
The silence happening now is because of Nicholas, and it grates on his nerves, sending a fresh surge of agitation coursing through his veins.
He has no idea why he’s so pissed off that Andrew isn’t talking anymore when it’s what he wanted.
More than once he thinks about saying something, but stops himself every time, stoutly refusing to be the one to break the silence.
By the time they’ve finished their meal and declined dessert, the papers that Nicholas was supposed to fill out are still there on the table haunting him, Andrew hasn’t spoken a word except to try and pay which Nicholas loudly and aggressively refused to let him do, and his mood is sour.
Times like this Nicholas is grateful he’s a professional athlete in a sport that praises him not only for his skill with the puck but for his tendency to slam guys into the boards and get in fights.
It’s not really typical for his position as a left winger but Nicholas has always been the first to start or end a fight, his need for attention and control thriving when everyone is screaming and raging.
Three games in a row should’ve been exactly what he needed to purge that from his system, yet somehow sitting in the crowded restaurant watching Andrew quietly stare out the windows at the darkened sea and not at Nicholas, he wants to break something.
It reminds him too much of his childhood—of being ignored when he wasn’t the perfect son his parents wanted.
It was bad enough that they rarely paid attention to him to begin with, often leaving for days or weeks without even telling him.
He’d wake up and the house was empty except for whatever nanny was on duty.
As he got older, their silence became a weapon, and Nicholas learned that it was often lonelier to be with them than without, especially when they flitted through the house as if Nicholas simply wasn’t there if he disappointed them; something he did quite often.
As the seconds of silence tick by, Nicholas digs his nails into his palm, feeling himself close to snapping. Andrew King, with his fucking fake politeness and ugly polo shirts, is not going to ignore him.
“What’s in this stupid quiz anyway?” Nicholas gripes, flipping through the papers once more.
It looks like some kind of test, the kind he would’ve skipped out on or refused to take when he was in school.
“It’s not a quiz,” Andrew corrects. He sits up just a little bit straighter, hands resting on the table in front of him.
“Not exactly. It’s a set of questions designed to gauge our compatibility so I know what the weakest areas in our relationship might be and can better prepare to answer any potential questions from—well, whoever it is we’re trying to fool.
If we can’t make people believe we’d actually date, there’s no point. ”
Maybe it’s the cognac, maybe it’s the twenty minutes of awkward silence that preceded this conversation, or maybe it’s the fact that Andrew respected Nicholas’s request not to ask questions. Whatever the reason, he finds himself offering up the information he swore he wouldn’t.
“My father,” Nicholas says.
“Your father what?” Andrew questions.
“My father is the one we’re trying to fool. Well, my mother too, if she’s there. Fuck knows if she’ll even show up.”
“Show up to what exactly?” Andrew asks.
“My father is turning sixty in two months. He’s having a ridiculously over the top party to celebrate—an elaborate ballroom, a full orchestra, catering, the most elite guest list. Depending on how the rest of the season goes, I might not even be able to make the party, but if I’m not playing then going is required, and I’d rather be prepared. ”
“And you need a fake boyfriend to bring to your father’s birthday which you may or may not end up going to because—”
“The because doesn’t matter,” Nicholas snaps, shutting the line of questioning down. He’s already said more than he meant to.
“Right,” Andrew says, “so we need to be close enough to fool your parents. That’ll be harder than I thought. I’m sure they know you really well.”
Nicholas grinds his teeth so hard his molars ache.
His parents don’t know shit about him. They haven’t spent more than a few hours at a time with him since they shipped him off to boarding school as a kid once they realized he wasn’t going to be their handsome little puppet.
The day they realized he couldn’t be of use to them, either as a show pony or a chess piece, he lost whatever little interest they held in him.
“If you need more time to fill out the questions, you could take it home and give it back to me later,” Andrew offers. “But we should probably go over the contract, there are a few things in there that might be a deal breaker for you and—”
“I’ll sign it.”
“You haven’t read it.”
“So.”
“That’s incredibly unwise.”
“Why, are you trying to trick me?” Nicholas questions.
“Of course not,” Andrew says, the affronted expression on his face almost makes Nicholas laugh. He’s just so earnest.
“Then I’ll fucking sign it,” Nicholas says.
“What if—”
“I said I’ll sign it,” Nicholas interrupts, holding out his hand. “Give me a pen.”
As expected Andrew procures a pen from his pocket. Nicholas uncaps it, flipping through the contract and signing his name at the end.
“Are we all good now?” Nicholas asks.
“Uh, no. Not in the least. We haven’t split the bill or—”
“We’re not splitting the bill.”
“Yes, we are,” Andrew counters. “I picked this place.”
“And I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.
“Yes.”
Andrew’s nose crinkles. “But—”
“I always pay on dates,” Nicholas says in a tone he’s sure will leave no argument.
Somehow, Andrew finds room to argue anyway.
“This is not a date, Nicki.”
“It is now, highness.”
Andrew sighs. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re going to let me pay, aren’t you?”
“Only because I’m too tired to argue,” Andrew says around a yawn.
“Is it past your bedtime?”
Andrew flips him off, and Nicholas feels the first hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For such a boring, particular man, Andrew sure has a feisty streak. The kind of streak that Nicholas wants to test.
“By the way,” Nicholas says, smirking at Andrew, “since you picked our first date, I get to pick the second.”