Chapter 8 Andrew #3
“Everyone likes burgers,” Mark counters, clearly having no memory of their past conversation.
“Not me.” Andrew stops at his cubicle, sensing that this is not the end of the conversation when Mark doesn’t move on to his own work space.
“Huh, weird.”
“It’s not weird,” Andrew frowns.
“Kind of is,” Mark says, in that way of his where he decides something is true and barrels over everyone else. “Listen, maybe we could—”
“What’s he doing here?” Andrew interrupts, all thoughts of Mark—and everything else—pushed out of his brain by the sight of Nicholas Whitmore stalking across his office.
Despite technically working for the same team as Nicki, Andrew’s work is done in an office building half a mile from the rink.
There is no reason for Nicki to be here.
In fact, he’s absolutely certain that no player, especially one as famous as Nicki, has ever stepped foot in this building.
Something that everyone else seems to be equally aware of based on the way his coworkers are staring and whispering.
Some are even taking photos on their phones.
“Andrew,” Nicki all but yells, making every single person in their department turn and look at Andrew who balks under the attention.
Seeing Nicki hungover in his sweats or dressed casually in jeans had made him feel almost human, let Andrew create enough cognitive dissonance about the situation that it was easy to ignore that Nicki is not only a professional hockey player, but famous.
Lots of hockey players live quiet, normal lives off the ice.
Not Nicki. He’s heir to a family fortune and massively famous not only for his playing, but also for his off the ice antics and social media presence.
Everyone knows who Nicholas Whitmore is. A reality Andrew is uncomfortably aware of at this precise moment.
“Andrew,” Nicki repeats, tone quieting now that he’s standing right in front of him.
“You have a game today,” Andrew says, feeling stupid for stating the obvious. Clearly, Nicki has a game today because he’s dressed in his game day suit, something that fits his body very well. He really is ridiculously attractive which is kind of annoying, mostly because he knows it.
“I do.” Nicki’s eyes travel over to Mark who still has his hand on Andrew’s shoulder. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Mark,” he answers. “I’m a friend of Andrew’s.”
For reasons unknown, Mark tightens his grip on Andrew’s shoulder, making unease curl itself around Andrew’s chest. Involuntarily, he takes a step away from Mark and toward Nicki who bats Mark’s hand away without a second thought.
It’s rude and also a relief since Andrew didn’t feel capable of doing it.
Once Mark’s hand is gone, Nicki settles his own at the back of Andrew’s neck in a touch that is both unexpectedly welcome and embarrassingly possessive.
“What are you doing,” Andrew hisses.
“Visiting my boyfriend,” Nicki replies, a smug as shit smile spreading across his face when Mark makes a choking sound.
“You two are dating?” Mark gapes. “I thought—”
“Thought what?” Nicki asks, curling his long fingers around Andrew’s neck then giving it a firm squeeze.
It’s oddly comforting, and Andrew leans back into it, embarrassed and confused, and for reasons he can’t understand, kind of pleased, too.
It’s all for show, but there’s something nice about feeling so wanted for once.
“Uh,” Mark starts, no other words leaving his mouth as he stares.
“You can leave now,” Nicki tells him.
“Nicki, don’t be rude,” Andrew chastises.
“It’s fine,” Mark shrugs. “I’ve got to finish up that report anyway. I’ll uh…talk to you later.”
Mark walks off, glancing behind him a few times. Everyone in the office is still staring, still taking photos, and panic tries to well up in Andrew.
“What happened to keeping it quiet?” Andrew says, brain running a mile a minute. “I didn’t plan for this. I—”
“Breathe, princess.” He gives Andrew’s neck a squeeze again, causing some of the tension to bleed out of Andrew.
Logically, he knew people finding out was a possibility at some point, even if they were keeping things quiet. Still, he didn’t expect this. Thankfully, none of his coworkers talk to Charlie, which means he’s got some time to figure out how he wants to handle explaining this later.
“Why exactly are you here?” Andrew questions, hyper aware of his coworkers staring.
“We should talk in private.”
“I’m at work.”
“I’m more important than work,” Nicki declares with the full authority of someone who actually believes it.
“I recognize this might be hard for you to believe, but some of us don’t want to lose our jobs.”
“You’re not going to lose your job for talking to me,” Nicki scoffs.
“Maybe I wouldn’t,” Andrew concedes. “But I might get in trouble.”
He doesn’t add on that the prospect of getting in trouble makes Andrew physically ill. He knows he’s kind of intense about rule following; Charlie and Jason have always given him shit for it. He doesn’t need Nicki to make fun of him, too.
“Who would get you in trouble?” Nicki asks.
“My boss,” Andrew answers, “who is coming this way. Shit. You have to go. Right now.”
“Absolutely not,” Nicki replies, turning to face Andrew’s boss who is walking directly towards them.
Panic floods Andrew’s veins even as he smiles, brain going in a million directions trying to figure out how he’s going to explain all of this. If he’d known Nicki was coming by, he could’ve scripted this conversation, but instead he’s left blindsided and floundering.
“Nicholas Whitmore,” his boss, Mr. Sterling, says. “What on Earth are you doing here? You get lost on the way to your game?”
Suddenly Andrew imagines Nicki being, well—Nicki—and telling his boss to fuck off. He’ll probably get Andrew fired.
“Not lost.” Nicki offers a charming smile as his fingers curl possessively around Andrew’s shoulder to tug him closer. “Just stopping by on the way to the game to visit my boyfriend.”
Allowing himself to be pulled against Nicki’s body, Andrew relaxes into his side, unexpectedly comforted by the pressure of his solid body and the crisp scent of his cologne.
“Boyfriend,” Mr. Sterling repeats, eyes darting between Nicki and Andrew with obvious shock. He can’t blame his boss for his reaction, but the reminder that people are going to look at Andrew and wonder why Nicki would date him makes him grateful he hasn’t managed to eat lunch yet.
“I’m a lucky man, I know,” Nicki says, rendering Andrew as surprised as his boss. Who is this polite asshole, and what has he done with Andrew’s Nicki? “You wouldn’t mind if I borrow Andrew for a few minutes before I head over to the rink for the game tonight, would you?”
“Not at all young man. You borrow Andrew as long as you like, and make sure you win us that game tonight. Me and the missus will be watching.”
“Always trying to bring home that win,” Nicki says, curling his arm all the way around Andrew’s shoulder to turn him away from his boss and coworkers, still all watching this scene unfold.
“They’re staring,” Andrew hisses.
“Of course they are, I’m something to look at,” Nicki replies, back to his normal cocky self. Somehow, that’s oddly calming.
“I can’t believe you just did that.”
“What part, princess?”
“All of it,” Andrew grumbles, exhaling a heavy breath once they’re out into the hallway where no one is watching. He hates people staring at him. That was enough attention to last Andrew a lifetime.
“We are boyfriends now.”
“Yes, and you said we were keeping it quiet. You could’ve at least given me a heads up or a text. Although that would require you to actually use your phone.”
“I use my phone.”
“Guess you just ignored me all week on purpose then,” Andrew sighs, trying and failing to keep the hurt from his tone. This thing between them isn’t real, but the rejection he felt all week sure is.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Forget it. I know you’re busy, it doesn’t matter.”
“The fuck it does,” Nicki counters. “Tell me.”
“You’re very bossy,” Andrew huffs, used to everyone letting it go when he tries to brush aside his own feelings. Even Charlie, who enjoys arguing for fun, never argues with Andrew about this. He’s always assumed that’s what he wanted.
“And you’re deflecting, sweetheart.”
“No.”
“No, what?”
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“No?” Nicki’s smile is smug as shit as he leans in. “Just princess then?”
“Insufferable fucker,” Andrew grumbles, absolutely refusing to admit how much he likes that nickname, mostly because he doesn’t understand.
He should hate it. Nicki was teasing him the first time, but it doesn’t feel like teasing now.
It feels like something intimate, special—things Andrew isn’t used to feeling.
Nicki laughs, but even that is more self satisfied than cruel. “I’ve got your number, princess.”
“Clearly not since you didn’t call me,” Andrew says, instantly regretting it since he brought the conversation right back to where they were before he tried to change the subject.
“Give me your phone.”
For reasons unknown to Andrew, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and passes it to Nicki who scrolls through it with a frown. “This is my business number. I don’t ever check this.”
“That’s what Amanda gave me.”
“Yeah, that’s what she has, but I usually just ignore this phone until whoever needs me calls Amanda or my publicist.”
“The point of a phone is to be reachable.”
“No, I pay other people to be reachable for me.”
“You can’t pay people to do everything for you.”
“You can if you have enough money.” Nicki continues to scroll through his phone. “There, my personal number is here now. Outside of needing to arrange our past rage room date, I don’t check my business phone, so you should have this one. Use it when you need me.”
“I won’t need you,” Andrew insists, taking his phone back.
“Fine, when you want me.”
“I don’t want you.”
“Yet you were calling and texting me.”
“Yes, well—shut up.”
“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Nicki smirks. “I should go though. If I’m late, the coach will have my ass. Are you gonna watch my game tonight?”
“No,” Andrew lies, having already set an alarm on his phone so he doesn’t forget to stream it.
Though he’s been working for the league for months, it wasn’t until his first date—fake date—with Nicki that he watched Nicki play.
He doesn’t understand the rules, or really anything that’s going on, but he understands Nicki is good. Really fucking good.
“I bet you will. I bet you even have my jersey.”
“I do not own your fucking jersey,” Andrew snorts. “Nothing in the world could make me wear your jersey.”
“Not even being my boyfriend?” Nicki arches one eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. It highlights exactly how well fitting his suit is. It’s either incredibly expensive or incredibly well-tailored. Knowing Nicki, probably both.
“Not even that,” Andrew insists. “Go play your little game and hit your little pucks.”
“Fuck off,” Nicki laughs. “And make sure and watch me play!”
“In your dreams,” Andrew yells, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as Nicki walks away.
It’s not until the elevator doors shut that Andrew realizes two things. One Nicki called him cute, and two, Nicki never explained why he showed up here.
* * *
Travel tumbler of coffee in one hand and keys in the other, Andrew makes his way to the elevator in his apartment building, fumbling his car keys into his other hand to grab his phone buzzing in his pocket.
Even without checking, he can guarantee it’s one of his brothers calling this early. Sure enough, Alec’s name flashes on his lock screen as the incoming call. He jabs at the elevator call button before answering.
“Good morning, Alec.”
“Oh, thank god, you answered.”
“I always answer,” Andrew points out. “What’s wrong?”
“How do you know something is wrong?” Alec asks. “You know what, dumb question. You always know everything. Listen, I was wondering if you had time to look over something for me this morning.”
“Something like what?”
“The venue for the wedding sent over our final contract.”
“I’m not a lawyer,” Andrew reminds him.
“I know that, but—”
“You want an adultier adult to look it over.”
“Exactly.” Alec’s relief is tangible though the phone. “Theo’s busy at work with some report, or I’d ask him and—”
“You don’t have to explain,” Andrew interrupts. “I can look it over on my break if you send it to my email.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re the best big brother in the entire world. Have I mentioned I love you recently?”
“Yup.” Andrew answers, stepping into the elevator. “Every time I do you a favor.”
“Well, it’s true,” Alec says. “I do love you when you’re not doing me favors, too though. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” Andrew replies, biting back the urge to point out that it would feel more true if the declarations came at times besides when he’s needed. This thought only makes Andrew feel guilty. He should be grateful his brothers need him at all now that they’re all grown up and starting families.
“I’ve got to head to class,” Alec tells him. “You should come to dinner at our place soon.”
“Sure,” Andrew agrees absentmindedly, taking a sip of coffee while stepping out of the elevator.
This is the third time Alec’s said as much, and while he doesn’t think Alec is lying, he does think Alec is stressed to the max with college and wedding planning and keeps forgetting to follow through on inviting Andrew over.
Maybe he should host a dinner for his brothers and their boyfriends.
There’s no reason he can’t do that instead of waiting to be invited, except sometimes he worries they don’t really want him around.
It’s just his own issues he knows, his brothers aren’t like that, but adjusting to all of them being in committed relationships and moving on to new stages in life while he feels left behind has been hard.
It’s not their fault they don’t know, he hasn’t exactly told them.
Before his thoughts spiral too far, they’re interrupted by the sight of a group of people gathered outside the front of his building doors.
Curious to find out what’s going on, he steps outside and immediately regrets this choice when the thrum of voices rises to uncomfortable levels followed by a camera going off in his face.
“It’s him,” someone yells.
“Andrew King,” someone else adds, several more cameras going off.
Stumbling backwards Andrew falls against the building, the hard cement wall against his back doing nothing to steady him as he struggles to make sense of what’s happening.
He doesn’t have to wonder for long, questions rapidly fired at him as cameras go off again.
Through the confusion and lights one other name being shouted rings clear—Nicholas Whitmore.
So much for having time to figure out how to handle this whole fake boyfriend thing.
Fuck.