Chapter 6
Henry
Phoenix, please direct Drew’s support to my account.
I’ll get it handled. Drew?
BTW, he doesn’t like Andy.
But he told me his name was Andy.
Did he? Or did someone else say it first and he just didn’t correct them?
…
Wait.
Huh.
I don’t think I actually asked.
Well…damn.
I’ll get the upkeep handled and his name updated.
Thanks.
“Wow, your place is beautiful.”
Drew made the declaration as he stood at the railing of the tiled patio. Hedges hid the porch from prying eyes but offered an unobstructed view of the ocean beyond. Waves crashed along the shoreline as the aftermath of last night’s storm lingered for a few more hours.
The wind off the water whipped his hair every which way.
“Thanks. It’s a little big for one, but I liked the view.”
At the sound of me walking across the patio, Drew turned to face me. His attempt at casual was still a button-down and slacks but with boat shoes and no socks. It was a wild time. In one hand, I had a bottle of wine, and in the other, two stemmed glasses.
“White okay?”
“Of course, thank you.”
Drew’s answer was instantaneous, but his smile hadn’t reached his eyes.
“Hold up. Do you actually like white wine?”
“Everyone likes wine.”
Drew looked down and to the left.
“Except all the people who don’t.”
His tell was incredibly helpful. In fact, it was so helpful I debated whether I should tell him he had one or keep using it to my advantage.
“Would you prefer red?”
“Whatever you’ve got is fine,” Drew insisted.
His eyes darted to the telltale spot again, except this time his breathing became a little labored.
I ditched the bottle and the glasses and moved with purpose across the patio to reach his side.
“Oh my gosh, what’s wrong with me?” Drew’s cheeks were a little flushed and his eyes couldn’t stay away from his tell spot. “The wine is great.”
White lies about innocuous shit were fine, but I’d be damned if Drew was going to force something down his throat that he didn’t want.
When I reached his side, I grabbed his hand and pulled him over to a chaise lounge along the railing. I sat with my back against the upright end and guided him to stand between my knees.
“Drew, I hope we’ve reached the point where we can call ourselves friends,” I started.
“Of course. I’d like that.”
He said it, and I knew he meant it, but there was still some hesitation in his eyes, and that’s what killed me. He was willing to swallow every part of himself if it meant the other person wouldn’t see him.
“I need you to feel like you can be honest with me. I’m not gonna be offended if you don’t like something. I’m gonna be more upset that you didn’t think you could say that to me. If you don’t like white wine, I’ll give you something else to drink. It’s fine.”
I’d kept my voice steady while speaking, but tears welled in his eyes.
“It’s not even that,” he choked out. His efforts to keep the tears at bay left his voice scratchy and muffled.
“Explain it to me,” I ordered.
“I can’t even remember what I like anymore.
I like wine, I guess, because I’m supposed to like wine.
I dress this way”—he paused to gesture to his clothes—“because I can’t remember what I dressed like when it was just up to me.
The food I eat. What I drink. Hell, I don’t even remember what kind of music I like. ”
The frustration was written all over his face, and I didn’t know how to fix it for him. Hell, I didn’t know if I could fix it for him.
“Is there a reason?”
“I came out to California because I didn’t want to stay in Iowa, and I met my first boyfriend, and then the next one, and the one after that.
Now, it’s twenty years later, and I don’t even remember who I am.
Do I like white wine? Shit, I don’t know.
Maybe. Or maybe I just drink it because I have for twenty years, and I don’t remember not liking it. ”
“But what if you just started over?”
“Well, unless you’ve built a time machine, I’m probably S-O-L on that.”
“No time machine, but how about we try all the things? No pressure and no expectations. If you like it, you like it. If you don’t, you don’t.”
“These existential crises are getting to be an absolute pain in the ass.”
“I’ve got tortillas. We’ll put your steak in one. It’ll be fine.”
“I do legitimately like tacos.”
Drew gave me a watery smile through his tears.
He probably wouldn’t agree, but with his red-rimmed eyes and pale skin, his hair a little messed up from where he’d run his fingers through it without bothering to style it back, he was the most handsome I’d ever seen him.
Without the polish and veneer of respectability, he’d forgotten to smile like the practiced socialite he pretended to be and looked more like the country boy from Iowa that I was beginning to suspect was the real him.
I liked this version better.
When the tears leaked from his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, the urge to wipe them away was too much.
I used my thumb to trace the wet path down his cheek.
I felt the almost imperceptible tilt of his head against my fingers.
My hands returned to cup his cheeks. There was the faint bristle of stubble against my palms. Drew closed his eyes and sighed a little.
“I don’t know why you’re putting up with me.”
“I’m not putting up with anything. I enjoy the time I spend with you. I like who you are.”
“I’m not sure how you can like me when I don’t even know who I am,” Drew muttered. He pulled his hands away from mine and began plucking at a random loose thread on the chaise cushion we were sitting on.
“I know plenty about you,” I said quietly.
“I know you’re kind. I know you’re always more worried about other people than yourself.
You like tacos. You’re good with kids. You have an amazing ability to talk to anyone about anything and make them feel like you truly hear them.
And you have great taste in food. I’m not sure there’s anything else I really need to know. ”
“You forgot the part where I’m an absolute idiot who didn’t understand how my boyfriends were found, or that I haven’t had a real job in twenty years. I eat dinner in my room every night because I don’t know how to talk to anyone, and I don’t even know if I want to talk to anyone.”
I gave up. I couldn’t watch him be miserable without offering some comfort.
“Oh, sweetheart, come here,” I said before I reached out, put my hands on his hips, and pulled him forward.
Drew snaked his arms around my waist and leaned into my chest. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and squeezed. That was enough for him to let go and let the tears come.
I had no idea how long we sat together on the chaise while he cried, and I let him. Every once in a while, he’d mutter some kind of apology, and I’d shush him. Mostly, though, I just rocked him, ran my fingers through his hair, and used my cuff to wipe away some of his tears.
Over time, the sobs grew quieter and quieter, and when they finally stopped, I realized he’d cried himself to sleep.
Absolutely nothing could’ve forced me to move a muscle. I had no idea how long we’d sit there, but I would hold Drew while he slept until he was ready to get up.
If this was who Drew truly was, then I wanted as much of him as I could get.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Drew said before he shoved himself off my chest.
His eyes were a mixture of horror and sleepiness, but I thought he’d never looked better. Between the messy hair, puffy eyes, and wrinkled shirt, I thought he looked real, and I liked it better than the polished man he usually presented to the world.
We’d fallen asleep. Well, he’d been asleep.
For about thirty minutes, I’d had the distinct pleasure of holding him while he slept.
It was a nice night for spending time outside, and I’d allowed my mind to wander, thinking about what it would be like if he were around more often. I think I’d like it.
“Don’t apologize. I liked being the big spoon.”
I leaned forward until our mouths were only an inch or two apart. Drew looked at me with searching eyes, and I hope I answered every silent question with steady acceptance.
“I’m sorry about getting your shirt wet,” Drew whispered.
I felt the soft brush of his breath against my lips.
My eyes kept dropping to his mouth. His sweet, luscious mouth was just about the most perfect bow I’d ever seen.
His bottom lip was just a little too full, and it made me want to nibble on it.
I could see the faint shadow of stubble beginning to show through in the late-afternoon light.
I imagined he didn’t have to shave that often, but I’d always liked just a whisper of whiskers, and Drew seemed to have the perfect amount.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind at all.”
Drew raised a finger and traced it along the edge of my jaw. His fingertip lightly scratched against my skin, sending a shiver through me.
“Sweetheart…” I murmured. “Sweetheart, what are you doing?”
“I know I said earlier that I wasn’t sure what I liked, but there is one thing I know I do.”
“What’s that?”
“I like how I feel around you.”
His finger drifted from my jaw to the edge of my lips. I parted them slightly, and when his thumb brushed against them, I couldn’t resist running my tongue lightly across the pad of it.
Drew smiled, small and uncertain, but he didn’t pull away.
“Sweetheart, I very much want to kiss you, but I don’t want you to feel like I’m rushing you into anything,” I said quietly.
I’d never been one for playing games. I wasn’t good at them, and they annoyed me. It was so much easier to say what you wanted, and I had no doubt that I wanted Drew. But after everything he’d been through, I didn’t want to rush him, and I sure as hell didn’t mind waiting until he was ready.
“I very much want you to kiss me.”
That was all the permission I needed.
Although I leaned forward slightly, Drew met me halfway. Our mouths brushed against each other in quiet exploration, but it wasn’t enough. One taste of him, and I was already addicted.
With a groan, I settled my mouth over his and slipped my tongue inside.
Drew’s needy sounds stiffened my cock like one of Pavlov’s dogs.
My tongue mapped and explored every inch of his mouth while I slipped my fingers through his hair to anchor him to me.
We both tasted and sipped, and I gave in to the urge to nibble on his pouty bottom lip.
Drew braced himself by splaying his fingers across my thighs. I couldn’t help but wish he’d place them a little higher.
I knew damn good and well kissing was all that would happen tonight, but there was no harm in dreaming about what more would feel like. And I knew the answer would be nothing short of damn good.
When my lungs couldn’t handle it anymore, I pulled back and smiled a little at his whimper.
“Sweetheart, you’re killing me.”
“I could absolutely say the same, but I can think of worse ways to go.”
“Same, but if I did go, then I wouldn’t get to kiss you again, and that would suck. So I think I’m gonna keep you alive,” I said with a waggle of my eyebrows.
Drew snorted.
Honest to God snorted.
His face turned bright red as he clasped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide with horror.
I threw back my head and roared with laughter.
“Oh my God, I am so embarrassed. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. It’s fucking adorable.”
“Snorting while laughing is not fucking adorable.”
“Speak for yourself. You can be wrong about that. I don’t mind. I’ll let you,” I said with a wink.
“You’re getting awfully bossy,” Drew said, his cheeks still pink beneath the faint flush high on his cheekbones.
“You were the one who accused me of going Daddy on you,” I said with a smile.
Truthfully, the idea of him calling me Daddy sounded more and more appealing, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about it, and tonight wasn’t the time to bring it up. He’d just let me kiss him. I didn’t think he’d be up for that kind of discussion quite so soon.
Although, if he was, I’d be down for it. Full stop.
“I think I promised you some food, and I’ve yet to deliver,” I said.
“You did, and you haven’t.”
“Well, in that case, let me go grab the steaks and throw them on the grill. But I do have a serious question for you before I go.”
I kept my voice intentionally somber, and instantly, Drew hesitated.
Well…hell.
I meant it as a joke, but of course he was going to take me seriously. I should’ve anticipated that.
“Do you like wine at all? There is no right answer.”
Drew chewed on his bottom lip before answering in a whisper, as if he were sharing some shameful secret.
“I think it’s all disgusting. I don’t understand how anyone thinks it’s good.”
“Thanks for being honest, sweetheart,” I said with a broad smile. “How about beer? And there’s still no right answer.”
“I… I…”
I realized it was physically difficult for Drew to admit an actual preference, which broke my heart a little. I hadn’t realized just how much of himself he’d shoved aside to make everyone else the center of his attention.
I stayed quiet and let him decide what he wanted to say.
“I don’t like that either.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but I smiled even wider. It felt like my face might crack in half.
I was so damn happy.
Drew looked at me, then slowly returned my grin.
“And the world did not end.”
“It sure didn’t. How do you feel about sweet tea?”
“I love it.”
Thanks for dinner. The steak was delicious.
Thanks! I thought the company was pretty fantastic.
If I say yes, does that mean you or me?
You’re definitely the great company, but I’ll accept myself as alright.
I’m going to leave it at that.
How’s your day going?
Long. Client meeting, studio meeting, three more client meetings, and then maybe lunch.
Followed by more meetings?
How did you know?
Got the psychic thing happening? Very LA.
LA? Or just Cali?
Ha, fair point. Definitely Cali.
How’s yours?
…
…
I ate breakfast downstairs. What an exciting life, right?
Where do you usually eat breakfast?
…
It’s easier to eat in my room.
But today it was downstairs?
Yeah
Proud of you.