Chapter 19 Nicholas #2
“Not just the clothes,” Charlie says, putting himself into Nicholas's personal space in a way only Andrew is welcome. “You don’t see us as interchangeable.”
“The fuck would I think that? You’re like an annoying carbon copy of his perfection.”
Rather than be offended or annoyed, Charlie barks out a laugh.
“I was ready to hate you, but—you like him. More than you like me.”
“Of course I like him more than you,” Nicholas says, so fucking confused by what’s happening.
“Most people don’t. They think he’s—well, I’m not going to say it out loud because it pisses me off, but Andrew’s spent a lot of time not being appreciated or seen. I thought maybe you were the same, but—”
“Anyone who doesn’t like Andrew can fuck off.”
“Oh, I like you,” Charlie grins, throwing his arms around Nicholas.
“Fuck off, Charlie.”
“I think I will,” Charlie says, somehow still not at all offended. “Eden was just getting Andrew tucked in. We watched your game but, well—”
“I played like shit,” Nicholas finishes.
“Yes, that. Andrew told me I wasn’t allowed to say that to you.”
“Andrew has too much tact.”
“That’s exactly what I’m always telling him,” Charlie says. “Man, you and I are so alike.”
“No.”
“Anyways,” Charlie continues, ignoring Nicholas’s protest, “he thinks it’s his fault, and he was pretty upset.”
“Why the fuck would me playing bad be his fault?”
“Because Andrew thinks everything is his fault, Nicholas.” Charlie grabs his arm, but rather than a congenial slap, he squeezes tightly. “I think you’re good for him, I think you appreciate him, but if you hurt him, I will make your life a living hell. Got it?”
For half a second, he thinks Charlie is joking but there’s none of his usual teasing demeanor, nothing funny about the glare he’s sending Nicholas’s way. Somehow, this version of Charlie he respects. This is the level of protection Andrew deserves.
“Crystal clear,” Nicholas confirms.
“Glad we had this talk, Nicholas. We should do it again.”
“No, we should not.”
Charlie’s laughter is loud as he walks away, apparently to go get Eden, based on his external narration.
Thankfully, they come back downstairs quickly, giving Nicholas time to lock up before heading upstairs.
He makes quick work of undressing, stripping down to nothing more than his boxers before lifting the covers and climbing into bed.
Tucked in the center is Andrew, curled into a ball and dressed in another one of Nicholas’s hoodies.
His hair is also damp, meaning he showered, changed and put on Nicholas’s clothes again.
A thrill runs through him as he slips an arm around Andrew’s middle and tugs him back against his chest where he belongs.
“I could’ve been asleep, you brute.”
“Mine.”
“Absolute caveman,” Andrew huffs, but it doesn’t escape Nicholas’s notice that he leans back until his head is tucked under Nicholas’s chin and every inch of him is touching Nicholas.
Taking it a step further, Nicholas slips one of his legs through Andrew’s so he’s not just curled around him, but between him.
Surrounding him. Finally, fucking finally, Nicholas relaxes.
“I missed you,” Nicholas murmurs.
“It was only a few hours.”
“I missed you,” Nicholas repeats, kissing the top of Andrew’s head.
“I missed you too,” Andrew exhales.
Slipping his hand beneath the hem of Andrew’s hoodie, he rests his palm on Andrew’s belly. He’s warm, but unlike earlier, he’s not burning up. Nicholas hopes it’s a good sign.
“Nicki, I’m sorry—”
“No,” Nicholas interrupts, refusing to let him apologize.
Andrew inhales a shaky breath, covering the top of Nicholas’s hand with his hand. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Home,” Nicholas echoes, that single word like a fucking puck to the heart.
“I mean your home. Not mine, but—”
“It could be yours.”
“This was temporary.”
“It was also fake.”
“Was fake,” Andrew emphasizes.
“Exactly my point. Things change.” Nicholas palms the soft flesh of Andrew’s tummy, trying to hitch him closer. If he could literally envelop Andrew and keep him forever, he thinks he would.
“I love this house,” Andrew whispers. “The beach, the colors…that you’re in it. It feels like a home.”
“Stay,” Nicholas demands. “As long as you want.”
Forever, Nicholas hopes.
“It’s a big decision, you might get sick of me.”
“I’m off for the season. You’re about to get real sick of me, princess.”
“I wouldn’t mind that,” Andrew says around a yawn. “I like being around you.”
That simple sentence is the most powerful thing anyone has ever said to Nicholas.
“I like being around you, too.”
Andrew rolls over, his normally tamed hair askew and his dark eyes almost black in the low light that spills out of the cracked bathroom door where a light got left on. Nicholas traces Andrew’s face, memorizing the sharp slant of his jaw and the curves of his lips. Andrew is so beautiful.
“This is crazy. It’s crazy, right? Who moves in with a man they’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
“Someone who fake dates a man they don’t know.”
“Fuck off,” Andrew laughs, a bit of color returning to his cheeks. “It’s not like me. It’s…impulsive and unplanned.”
“Is that what you want?” Nicholas asks, pressing his lips to Andrew’s forehead. He’s still warmer than he’d like, but the fever that consumed him earlier seems to have subsided enough to return some of his clarity.
“I—” but Andrew pauses. “Yes. I want you, Nicki. If you’ll have me. I’m never going to get easier though.”
“Me either.”
“I’ll always be…be like me.”
“I should fucking hope so.”
“So, we’re doing this?”
“Fuck yeah, we’re doing this.”
Andrew smiles, looking at Nicholas like he hung the fucking moon, and he is ruined. Utterly and completely. He would do fucking anything for this man, and it looks like he might be allowed to prove that.
* * *
“Are you sure you’re good to fly so soon after being sick?”
“I had the flu, not a life-threatening disease, Nicki. I’m fine. Besides, it's a little late to be asking me this in the airport.”
Nicholas frowns. Maybe they shouldn’t be going. He’d been so sure he wanted to do this, but the closer they get to boarding, the less certain he becomes.
He hasn’t been back to his childhood home in years.
The last time he saw his mother or father in person was almost two years ago, and it turned out his mother hadn’t invited him to lunch to celebrate his birthday, but to get his signature on the updated terms of his inheritance.
He’s not even sure if she remembered it was his birthday until he told her.
After that lunch, he’d picked up the first couple to jointly seem interested in him at the bar, fucked them in the bathroom loud enough someone called security and made sure he left enough of a mess to get his name splashed across the tabloids.
“Are you nervous?” Andrew questions, blissfully unaware of the kind of snake den he’s about to be walked into. “Do you not like flying?”
“I don’t care about flying,” Nicholas answers, taking Andrew’s hand in his own and pulling it onto his lap.
He’s an asshole for doing this. He shouldn’t be dragging his boyfriend across the county to prove a point to his parents who probably won’t care, yet their pull over him isn’t easily broken, nor is the tiny voice in the back of his head that’s been whispering at him since he was a child, that one day maybe, he can actually earn their attention.
“What’s going on?” Andrew questions. “You’ve been grumpy all week.”
“I’m always fucking grumpy.”
“Grumpier then,” Andrew corrects, rubbing his thumb over the back of Nicki’s hand. “Did you change your mind about them meeting me? I know it was fake before, so it didn’t matter, but now things are different. If you don’t want me there, you can tell me, it’s okay.”
“I want you there,” Nicholas asserts, gripping Andrew’s hand tightly.
“I know you’re not…close,” Andrew starts, clearly choosing his words carefully. “But do you miss them?”
“You can’t miss people who were never there.”
“So we’re going because—you miss the house?
” It’s obvious that Andrew is trying to make sense of why they’re going, which is to be expected given how tight-lipped Nicholas has been about the whole thing.
He really doesn’t deserve Andrew’s blind trust in him, coming on this trip with such little info solely because Nicholas asked.
He doesn’t fucking deserve Andrew, no one does.
“I hate that house,” Nicholas admits, because if nothing else Andrew deserves the truth.
“Right.” Andrew scoots closer so there’s not an inch of space between them, their bodies pressed together from hip to shoulder. He’s got to be frustrated with Nicholas, given what a dick he’s being today—rude and emotionally evasive.
“Nicki?”
Nicholas grunts.
“What’s going on?”
Nicholas chokes on the words he can’t verbalize.
He hates his father. He’s thought it so many times, the words might as well be branded across his skin like his tattoos, yet somehow he’s never acknowledged this truth out loud.
Never wanted to give him the power. Turns out, his father held the power all along anyway.
Before he can confess, their boarding numbers are called over the loudspeaker.
Despite their relative privacy in first class compared to the rest of the passengers, it’s still a damn plane, and while they might have impeccable service and plenty of leg room, Nicholas isn’t stupid enough to have a personal conversation in such a public place.
Not after the shit Andrew’s been through with the paparazzi already.
He’s got to be more careful—patient and tactful in a way he never has been before.