Chapter 10 Andrew
“I think there’s been some kind of confusion here. I’m not moving in with you. I’m just with you for a few hours until it's safe to go home and they’re gone.”
“No confusion,” Nicki counters, exiting the freeway at what is surely an unsafe speed. “The paparazzi are like vultures. They won’t be gone for a while.”
“They might,” Andrew tries.
“Maybe,” Nicki concedes, tone sharp and thick with annoyance. “They’ll be back either way, which is why you’re going to move in with me until all this shit blows over.”
“That could take weeks,” Andrew gapes. “Even then, it’ll likely be a shit show when our deal ends, and we have to break up.”
“We’ll just fake date longer then,” Nicholas shrugs.
“But you said—”
“Stop paying attention to what I say,” Nicki snaps.
“Are you calm enough to be driving?” Andrew asks, not usually one to enjoy being a passenger.
Even in such a nice car. He can’t believe he’s in an honest to god BUGGATI.
He can’t wait to tell his brothers. Jason’s going to be so jealous and Charlie—well, he won’t care.
Or maybe even talk to Andrew. Shit. He’s never kept something like this from his twin before.
“I’m fine,” Nicki says, sounding anything but.
Andrew doesn’t know him well enough to recognize all his tells yet, but the tension in his body is unmistakable even if the exact source is less clear.
Andrew’s not entirely sure if Nicki is mad at the paparazzi, at Andrew needing him, or their relationship being exposed so publicly. Maybe all three.
“You don’t seem calm enough to be driving,” Andrew says in what he hopes is a non-threatening tone. Something about Nicki reminds him of a half-feral animal.
“You’re safe with me, princess.”
Princess. Nicki and that goddamn nickname.
Andrew knows Nicki only uses it to rile him up, to unsettle him, but it’s working.
Yeah, it’s teasing and provoking, but something about hearing that name in Nicki’s thick New York accent makes Andrew feel some kind of a way, and he doesn’t understand it at all.
There’s a hell of a lot Andrew doesn’t understand right now.
“That is not what I’m worried about,” Andrew tries.
“You can lie to yourself but not me. Now stop fucking staring at me, you’re making me nervous.”
“I didn’t know anything could make you nervous,” Andrew replies, somehow soothed by the knowledge that he can unsettle this man right back. It’s the switch he needs to recenter.
“Just look out the fucking window.”
“Have you eaten today?” Andrew questions. “You’re cranky.”
“I’m always fucking cranky.”
“Crankier then.” Andrew concedes. “So?”
“It doesn’t matter if I ate.”
Well, that answers that question then.
“You’re such a delight, Nicki.”
“Just relax and enjoy the drive to your new home.”
“I told you I’m not moving in with you. Also, maybe you haven’t noticed yet, but the word relax isn’t really in my vocabulary.”
“Well, add it to that impressive vocabulary of yours, princess. Relax.”
“That’s not how that works. You can’t just tell someone to relax and they do it,” Andrew objects. “Besides I—” but he trails off when he takes notice of the direction Nicki is driving.
“Besides what,” Nicki prompts.
Apparently, he’s actually paying attention to Andrew, which is new. This is the point at which most people, even his brothers, start to tune him out.
“I forgot what else I was going to say,” Andrew admits, noting the way Nicki’s speed begins to slow.
“Okay.”
“Nicki.”
“Yeah?”
“Where do you live?”
“End of this road,” Nicki answers, following the curve of the street which runs parallel to the massive ocean front properties on Andrew’s righthand side.
Back when he and Charlie were still toddlers and both their parents were working seventy to eighty hours a week trying to make it for their family, his abuela would drive them down this exact road on the way to the nice park on this side of town and say “Mira mijos, one day you’ll have a house like that. ”
It’s always been a pipe dream for Andrew. Even his parents, as successful as they are, could never afford one of these homes. Not in the current market, with the way most of the smaller properties were bought up over the last decade and built up, skyrocketing the prices.
“Which house is yours?” Andrew questions, pretty sure any of them would set you back an easy twenty million, if not more.
“The big white one,” Nicki answers as he slows down further, pulling up to a massive gated home. The security cameras turn toward his car before the gates open to reveal a curved driveway, leading to a stunning home on a corner lot.
The house is sleek and modern, with an expanse of windows that Andrew can tell would afford a perfect view for sunrise or sunset from almost anywhere in the home.
Without stepping out of the car, he can tell the view is magnificent, the home’s position at the end of the lot affording it a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean.
Nicki is talking, but Andrew hardly hears him, stepping out of the car and inhaling the sea air. Immediately, his chest loosens as he follows the sounds of crashing waves. He crosses the driveway and the small side yard to stand at the edge of the cliffside, staring out at miles of sparkling blue.
It’s beautiful.
Moving out of Charlie’s house a few years ago had been one of the hardest things he ever did, both because it was the first time he lived without him, and also because he missed the view of the sea from Charlie’s backyard.
He’d ended up moving out and renting an apartment downtown when he’d accepted that no matter how much he loved Charlie, his chaotic hours weren’t conducive to Andrew having any peace.
While his current apartment is a closer drive to the beach than Charlie’s place, it doesn’t have a view.
As someone soothed by both the sight and sound of the ocean, it’s inconceivable to Andrew that there are people who can live this close.
Being able to fall asleep and wake up to the sound of crashing waves, to an endless blue horizon, would be a dream come true for Andrew.
That there are people who get to wake up and fall asleep to this kind of beauty makes him unimaginably jealous.
Knowing Nicki, the inside of the house is probably as fancy as the car he drives, but as far as Andrew is concerned nothing can surpass this.
“If you could create the perfect date, would you pick a night out on the town or a walk on the beach?” Nicki asks, appearing beside Andrew.
The question takes him by surprise, as does the realization that Nicki must’ve finally read his compatibility quiz—this question is plucked from the first page. He assumed Nicki threw it in the trash or something since he never mentioned it again. Apparently not.
“You took the quiz,” Andrew muses, turning his gaze on Nicki. The wind is blowing hard enough that it’s dislodged some of the hair slicked back on top, framing his handsome face.
“I did.”
“And?”
“I don’t think a piece of paper is going to be able to tell me if someone is compatible with me.”
Andrew tries and fails to smile. He should’ve known they wouldn’t have similar tastes.
“Night on the town then?”
“I love a night on the town. Wining and dining, or hitting a rage room,” Nicki says, “but—”
“But,” Andrew prompts, unsure why his heart swells with hope.
It shouldn’t matter whether he and Nicki are compatible. This thing between them isn’t real.
“There’s a reason I bought this house, princess. And it’s not just because it was a good investment.”
“It’s amazing,” Andrew whispers, mesmerized by it all—crashing waves, perfect views, salt air in his hair and Nicki at his side, the warmth of his arm as it rests against Andrew’s oddly comforting.
It’s so easy to pretend this is real, that he’s here in Nicki’s home because Nicki wants him to be in his space, wants to be around Andrew, for real.
It’s so easy to imagine that it hurts, a physical ache in his chest he hides like always.
“I can send someone back to pack your things.”
“No.”
“Look, it's safer here. This house is private with state of the art security and—”
“Not no, I won’t move in,” Andrew cuts him off. “I meant no, you can’t send someone. I need to pack my own things. I don’t want anyone else touching my things.”
If Andrew was smart, he would say no. Hell, if Andrew were smart, he wouldn’t be doing any of this.
Everything they’re doing is unraveling all the carefully constructed lines Andrew has drawn in the sand.
Here, Nicki is blurring those lines with his brutish kindness, because there’s no mistaking what he did was kind.
He came for Andrew, without question or reservation. He came for Andrew like he mattered.
Moving into Nicki’s home, even if he pretends it’s for the location and views and not to soak up how Nicki makes him feel—protected, wanted, safe—is a recipe for disaster. Andrew is going to be broken beyond repair when all this ends, and if he were smart he’d put a stop to it all right now.
Except Andrew is tired of being smart. He’s tired of being in control and planning and always making the smart, safe choice. Just this once he’s going to be reckless and selfish and let himself have this—have Nicki—at least, until he doesn’t need Andrew anymore.
Later, when he’s alone with no one to call when things get hard, he’s going to regret this.
He’s going to regret Nicholas Whitmore, but right now he wants to pretend.
Andrew wants to pretend that Nicki wants him, not because of the role he plays or what he can do for Nicki, but just because he’s Andrew.
The lie hurts, but not as much as the lie he tells himself—that he can survive being used by Nicki.
* * *