Chapter 12 Andrew #2
The range of expressions that cross Eden’s face—surprise followed by undulated rage—would be funny if Andrew didn’t feel mildly nauseated by the entire conversation.
“God fucking damnit, Andrew.”
“What?”
“That’s not what I meant, you asshole.” Eden punches him on the arm again, a little harder than before. “I meant it explains it all because you never lie to us, but also because look at him, he’s not good enough for you.”
That was definitely not what Andrew expected to come out of Eden’s mouth.
“He’s literally a rich and famous hockey player and, if you haven’t noticed, is also stupidly handsome.”
“He’s stupid alright, with that fucking smug fucking face.”
“Eden,” Andrew gapes, trying not to laugh.
“He’s rude and entitled, and he definitely isn’t good enough for you.”
“I don’t think—”
“You’re banned from thinking today,” Eden interjects.
“Not how it works,” Andrew laughs, reminded why he loves Eden so much.
“It is now. You made bad choices today so I’m banning you.” Eden’s expression softens. “But you’re okay? They’re not making you do anything you’re not comfortable with, are they?”
“I agreed to help,” Andrew offers, which is as close to honest as he can handle right now.
Everything in him is raw and unsettled. Looking around his room, he realizes he’s packing to leave.
Everything is wrong and different, and he’s playing at being important to someone in a way that has unearthed the kinds of insecurities he thought he buried a decade ago.
“You agree to help everyone though.”
“I like helping,” Andrew shrugs, moving around Eden. “Speaking of helping, can you get five of my polo shirts from the closet please? I need to pack some clothes.”
“Where are you going?” Eden asks, moving towards the closet. “And what colors?”
“Just to Nicki’s house for a few days until this blows over. The paparazzi were kind of intense this morning, and Nicki thinks it’s safer if I stay at his place. He's got a lot of security. It won’t be for long. People will get bored quickly. It’s just temporary.”
Temporary boyfriend.
Temporary new home.
Temporary entire life upheaval.
Andrew is going to be sick. He hates temporary, and he hates change, and he hates all of this attention.
“If you need a way out, you know me and Charlie are only a call or a text away.”
“I won’t bother you.”
“And I won’t punch you as long as you never say that again. Get it through that thick skull of yours Andrew, you’re not bugging us.”
The words make sense but they don’t sink in.
Andrew has always, always been the one cleaning up everyone else’s shit, making his parents’ lives easier when their jobs were demanding and chaotic, and his brothers needed more than they could give.
He isn’t the one who causes chaos or messes.
He isn’t the one who is supposed to need things.
“I know a thing or two about deals with men,” Eden says, carrying several of Andrew’s polo shirts to the bed. He lays them down at the end. “If you have any problems.”
“It’s not like that. Nicki just needs someone stable and boring for a thing. He doesn’t want more than that from me, trust me.”
“But you do?”
“What?” Andrew gapes. “No, I don’t—no. You know I don’t do one night stands.”
“I didn’t ask if you want a one night stand,” Eden scoffs. “I asked if you wanted more.”
“That’s irrelevant,” Andrew mumbles, moving to his dresser to take out several pairs of identical, folded khaki pants. He lays them on the bed beside the polo shirts he begins to fold, all while trying not to think about Nicki.
Until this moment, he hadn’t really considered the question.
Why would he? Nicki made it clear Andrew isn’t his type in any way, which is fine.
It makes things easier. Not having to impress him has allowed Andrew to relax around Nicki in ways he rarely does.
It’s just that somehow along the way, he’s begun to see sides of Nicki he didn’t know were there—unexpectedly observant, protective, thoughtful, even if he won’t admit it.
He’d make a good boyfriend for the right person.
Andrew King is not that person.
“You are avoiding the question.”
“Can you get me one more polo?” Andrew requests, ignoring Eden’s statement. “The pink one, please.”
Eden sends Andrew a glare so intense he’d be shaking in his boots if he had any.
As it is, he’s wearing a pair of several sizes too big, designer slides Nicki let him borrow because Andrew was not about to wear his loafers with a sweat suit.
Speaking of which, he looks down at the outfit he’s wearing, wondering if he should change into his own clothes.
Nicki probably would like his back. Andrew smooths a hand down his stomach, allowing himself a moment to appreciate the material before he tugs it off and folds it on the bed, moving towards his closet to get dressed in one of his own outfits.
The moment he pulls on his familiar khaki pants and polo shirt, a little of his discomfort eases.
His brothers always tease him about wearing the same thing every day, but he’s never been able to explain how the sameness of it offers stability, making it easier to put his mask in place each morning.
It’s not just an outfit, it's a uniform—a ‘being a real person’ uniform.
Looking at himself in the mirror over his dresser, he smiles. This is fine. Not everything is different and what is, is only temporary anyway.
At the end of Andrew’s bed, Eden sits perched nervously.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Eden frowns.
“You were thinking something. Spit it out.”
“Do you like him?”
“That’s a complicated question,” Andrew replies, adding several pairs of socks and underwear to his clothing pile.
He’ll need to get a suitcase out of the back of his closet to bring this all to Nicki’s house.
Thinking about how many pairs of socks and underwear he needs is a lot easier than thinking about Nicki.
“Alright, I can see that’s the only answer I’m going to get, but do me a favor. If things change, if you do decide you like him, don’t hold back, okay?”
“Sure,” Andrew replies, having no intention of doing that because he has no intention of falling for Nicki. The only thing stupider than having a crush on your fake boyfriend would be having a crush on the fake boyfriend who made it clear he would never fuck or date you.
Andrew King is many things, but a masochist is not one of them. The last thing he needs, or wants, is that kind of heartache and disappointment. If Andrew is lucky, this entire thing will be made more tolerable by becoming friends with Nicki.
He strongly suspects Nicki doesn’t have any aside from Amanda, and even with her, he seems reluctant to admit he even likes her, though Andrew can tell he cares about her.
If he’s honest with himself, which Andrew always is, he wouldn’t mind another friend—one not connected to his family and his brothers.
That’s probably selfish, but everyone in his life is part of Charlie’s life too, and while he loves it, something about having Nicki all to himself, even knowing it’s fake, has been unexpectedly nice.
He doesn’t have to share him, or censor himself or compare himself.
Nicki is just there for Andrew, and yeah, it’s not going to last, but while he has it, he can at least enjoy it.
Maybe when everything ends, he and Nicki could even stay friends.
He wouldn’t mind that so much. In fact, he even wants it, and Andrew rarely wants anything.
“Andrew.”
Andrew clears his throat, hyper aware of his momentary disassociation. Usually he’s better about not doing that in front of other people, at least no one besides Charlie, who is used to Andrew’s propensity to quite literally get lost in thought.
“We should probably get back out there before someone causes trouble.”
“You mean before Charlie causes trouble,” Eden smirks.
“To be fair, Alec is just as likely, but he comes by it through accidental exuberance where Charlie’s trouble is usually intentional.”
“Alec is kind of like a puppy,” Eden muses.
“Him and Jason both,” Andrew grins. “Speaking of which, Charlie mentioned you and Alec hung out. How did that go?”
“If by hung out, you mean Alec came over to Charlie’s while I was there and played with Birdie and Agnes while talking for hours without stopping, then yeah, we hung out.”
“Pretty sure all my brothers enjoy yapping.”
“He’s loud,” Eden mumbles, twisting one of the bracelets on his left wrist in what Andrew recognizes as a nervous tell.
He knows Eden is still wary of Jason and Alec, but it’s only been about six months since the infamous Friendsgiving debacle.
He can’t expect a lifetime of finding it difficult to trust new people, particularly men, to go away just because Andrew and Charlie tell him their brothers are good people.
“He made me this. Said he and his friends were making bracelets, and he made it for me.”
Fighting off a smile that might be too wide for Eden’s obvious skittishness in acknowledging the gift, Andrew takes in the hot pink beads on the bracelet in question. He can’t make out the letters to see what it says, but the what doesn’t matter, it’s the existence of it at all that does.
“Charlie loves you, so we all do. Alec included.”
“Stupid fucking well-adjusted fuckers,” Eden huffs, crossing his arms.
Sensing Eden has hit his limit on feelings, he settles for dropping a kiss to the top of Eden’s head and guiding him towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go see what kind of trouble they’ve gotten into. Hopefully they haven’t scared Nicki off.”
“If they haven’t, I might.”
“Uh no, you’ll behave.”
“I don’t think I agreed to do that,” Eden says matter of factly, opening the door.
Before Andrew can question him further, he’s stalking into the living room and directly towards Nicki, who appears to be in some sort of stare off with Charlie.
“Hey,” Eden yells loud enough to get Nicki’s attention.