Chapter Twelve
Andrew
Nick’s taste still lingered on Andrew’s lips when the door shut behind him. Andrew was alone with Rory for the first time, ever. Rory didn’t give him a chance to wonder if it would be awkward or not. He grinned at him, a warm smile tinged with a bit of mischief before he spun on his heel and started walking away.
“Follow me, Andrew.” Rory cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure he followed. “Do you prefer Andrew?”
“I’m fine with anything but Andy.” He followed Rory upstairs. Rory’s house perfectly matched the man who owned it. Tastefully decorated with a flair of color in every room, the only thing in Rory’s house that was more vibrant than the decor, was him.
Andrew followed him down the hallway and Rory led him into what had to be the master bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and stared at the monstrous bed. Instead of something grown up, like a solid color, or plaid, Rory’s bed was dressed in galaxy linens that would’ve looked out-of-place anywhere else, but in here, they worked.
“Come along, Andrew. There’s something I want you to see.” Rory breezed past the bed and exited the room through a door that led outside onto what had to be a balcony.
Andrew passed the bed and did his best not to think of everything that had gone on there, of all the things Nick and Rory did together. His imagination wouldn’t be ignored though, and he could almost see himself there with Nick. Nick pressing him down into the mattress. Nick kissing him and grinding against him. And Rory, watching, his hand lazily pumping his cock until he decided he’d had enough of self pleasure and commanded one of them to—Andrew shoved that particular thought aside and stepped outside.
“This is my private oasis. Even Nicky doesn’t come out here often, but I want to share it with you.” Rory’s slender fingers wrapped around the railing and he looked out at the view. Rory’s house was a bit out of the way, but the extra privacy was nice. Instead of looking out into other backyards, there was nothing but trees. “Sit.” Rory pointed down to a couple of yoga mats that were stretched out on the balcony.
Andrew did as he was told and sat on the mat. He watched in awe as Rory sat, folding his legs into the lotus position.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Andrew’s legs ached just looking at him.
“Not at all. You don’t have to do it. Sit however you’re comfortable.”
Andrew shifted around until he was as comfortable as he was going to get and stared out at the trees. Summer fled slowly this year, but Fall was now edging its way in and the trees were turning from green into various shades of yellow and gold.
“It’s nice out here.” Where they sat they were bathed in the morning sunlight and it took the chill out of the air. It was quite comfortable.
“I do all my best thinking out here.”
Curiosity won out. “You said Nick doesn’t come out here. Why not?” Rory ran his fingers through his hair, he seemed to need a moment to gather that particular answer so Andrew went with an easier question. “Why blue?”
Rory tugged on a strand and grinned. “Oh, this. You see,” he put his hands behind him, his palms flat on the deck with his fingers splayed. He leaned on his sinewy arms. “I am probably completely grey. I don’t know, but I’d guess that, yes, totally grey.”
“You’re what? Forty?”
Rory squawked playfully and shot Andrew a mock glare. “I’m thirty-nine, but for my twentieth birthday I got my first grey hair. I thought it was a fluke, but by the time I was twenty-two I’d started dyeing my hair to cover it. One time, I was pushing thirty, and I decided to stop dying my hair, to see how far the grey had progressed. My roots were completely grey.”
“So you went blue?”
“Steve bought me a bottle of blue as a joke. He said it would make my hair match my mood. Asshole.”
“What’s your natural color?”
“It wasn’t anything special. I wasn’t quite blonde, but I wasn’t quite dark enough to be a brunette. It was this dark blonde mousy color. It was ugly and plain. When I started hiding the grey, I stuck to natural tones. Lots of rich browns, lots of highlights.”
“I bet you looked good.” His compliment seemed to amuse Rory, but it was the truth. Rory was so flashy, so bold and vibrant and Andrew suspected, without his blue hair, he’d be alluring, maybe more so than he already was. He couldn’t deny that there was something magnetic about the man. Something under the surface, under the blue hair and winsome smile. Something that didn’t need to be dressed up with color or accessorized, something that stood all on its own. A force that demanded attention and respect, but not in a loud, in your face, way. A subtle energy that he couldn’t help but notice.
“Thank you.” Rory’s acceptance of the compliment, the way his smile widened a fraction and his eyes sparked with amusement, made Andrew want to compliment him again, but he didn’t know what to say. Nothing he could think of seemed appropriate, so he changed the subject.
“It’s nice out here.” Andrew could use a space like this at home. Somewhere to relax. He had sometimes been tempted to fill Xavier’s vacant bedroom with a roommate, but the idea often seemed like more trouble than it was worth. He supposed he should move into a smaller apartment, the rent would be slightly cheaper and there was little reason for the second bedroom.
“Do you ever stop thinking?” Rory’s voice lilted in an amused way and Andrew flashed him a sheepish smile.
“Uh, that would be a no. It never turns off. I run. I climb. I work, and my brain is always going. Sometimes, when I’m with Nick, it’ll slow down.”
“I want you to try something.” Andrew must’ve given Rory some sort of look because his smile broadened into a grin and he bit back a laugh. “Shit, you’re precious. It’s nothing scary, I promise.”
He forced himself to take a deep breath. “Okay.” He tried to keep the cautious scepticism out of his voice.
“Breathe, in and out, not too slow, not too fast. Close your eyes.”
He closed his eyes.
“Now think of Nick. Concentrate on him and only him. And whenever your mind starts to drift, and you start thinking about something else, I want you to refocus yourself and think about Nick again.”
He popped an eye open and looked at Rory. “And I’m doing this because…?”
“Just do it.”
Andrew suppressed a sigh and closed his eyes. He concentrated on Nick, on the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. He thought of the way Nick’s arms moved when they ran together and the way their footfalls seemed to sync. He thought of the way Nick looked all soft around the edges whenever Rory looked at him a certain way, or whenever Rory touched him, or called him Nicky. Their bond was something special, Andrew could see that. That they brought him into their relationship and wanted him here, it was thrilling and terrifying. Exhilarating and excruciating and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
“Andrew.”
Andrew snapped his eyes open and stared at Rory. Rory had untangled his limbs and moved closer, he had his hand on Andrew’s knee. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” Andrew shrugged. “I don’t think I enjoyed that, though.”
Rory sat back on his bottom and rolled his shoulders. Despite the fact that Andrew suspected Rory might be feeling a little awkward he was still the epitome of fluid grace, it wasn’t a wonder why Nick liked to watch him dance. Andrew tried not to think about it, but then the image was there in his mind and he couldn’t shake it.
Rory, light strobing off his skin as he danced. Rolling his hips, touching people, being touched. It wouldn’t bother Andrew because he knew Rory liked rules, he liked limits, he wouldn’t cross any lines. Sweat would bead on his skin. In Andrew’s mind a droplet ran down Rory’s neck onto his collarbone. It traced the sleek slant.
He stilled. Rory was still talking but Andrew couldn’t hear his words over the rush of his blood in his ears, the rapid beat of his heart, his too-tight chest, which could take air in, but wouldn’t let any out, and the surprising feeling of the suddenly too-hard cock between his legs.
Andrew shoved himself to his feet, ignoring the look of shocked confusion on Rory’s face he stumbled backward toward the door. “I need to go. Thanks for, uh, everything. I’ll see you later.”
He stumbled backward through the door, turned and made a beeline through Rory’s room, making a point of looking at the floor, and not the galaxy bedspread. He tried to get out the front door before Rory caught up to him, but it was no use, he barely made it out of the bedroom before Rory darted around him in the hallway. He held his arms out, blocking Andrew’s path.
“Andrew, wait. What did I do? Please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Andrew wanted his dick to go down. He wanted to look at Rory and not feel that thing, that energy, that pull, that invisible string that tugged at him whenever Rory was near. He shoved his trembling hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “It’s not you… well it is… sort of, but it’s not. You didn’t do anything. I need to go. Please? Can I?”
Rory dropped his arms, and Andrew saw fear flicker through his expression. “Andrew, you need to talk to me. Please. I can’t have you run out of here scared out of your mind. I can’t explain that to Nick. I don’t want it to seem like I’m using him as emotional blackmail, and maybe I am, but we’re a unit, if not a circle, a triangle. If this is going to work, you can’t leave. We have to talk this out.”
Andrew didn’t want to talk, but he never wanted to talk. He didn’t want to talk to his mom about his dad leaving. He didn’t want to talk to Xavier about how unfair his expectations of him had been. He didn’t want to talk to Everett when he’d fallen for him, and all that had ever done was make things worse.
“Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath. In front of him, Rory visibly relaxed.
“What happened, Andrew?”
He couldn’t find the words, so he looked down and gave his pelvis a little thrust. His erection had started to flag but was still obvious.
Rory looked down, then back at him, his expression blank and unreadable, but not uncaring, he thought. It seemed to be blank in a non-judgemental way and some tension eased out of his shoulders.
“Let’s go have a drink and a chat in the kitchen. I have some cookies that Everett brought over the other day, would you like some?”
He shook his head. “He brought me two dozen.”
“That boy does like to feed people. Do you want coffee or tea?”
“Coffee, please.”
Andrew sat at the table and folded his hands together in his lap. He twined his fingers, fidgeted, untwined them, ran his sweaty palms down his pant legs. He watched Rory flit about the kitchen, and after a few minutes of silence, Rory set a cup of coffee down, and sat down across from him.
He sniffed the air. “What’s that?” He asked, staring at Rory’s cup. It smelled a little spicy, and almost sweet. He wrapped his hands around his cup to keep himself from fidgeting.
“Cinnamon and Orange Blossom. It’s my favorite.” Rory brought the mug to his mouth for a sip. “So, are you going to tell me what was so alarming about an erection? We’re both men, Andrew. It happens to everyone.”
Andrew looked down and stared into his coffee. He wet his lips and turned the mug, concentrating on the sound of the ceramic sliding on the wooden surface. “Not to me, not really. I’m not really a pop-random-boners kind of guy. Like,” he sucked in a breath and tried to gather his thoughts. “Okay, it’s hard to explain, and no one gets it. Hell, I don’t get it, but usually, people, yeah, they’re attractive, but they don’t do much for me, that way, unless I like them.” He rushed through his explanation, then sighed. “Unless I like them like that.”
Without missing a beat, Rory chimed in. “Oh. Are you demi?”
He looked at Rory. “Am I what?”
Rory kept his cup cradled in his hands as he answered. “Demisexual. It means you aren’t sexually aroused by someone you’re not emotionally invested in.”
“I—don’t know.” He turned the phrase over in his head. The idea that there was a word for it, stole his capacity to think clearly. “That’s a thing?”
“You bet it is. Sexuality works different for everyone, Andrew.”
Not broken. Not frigid. Not holding things back or keeping people at a distance. He clung to the possibility that he wasn’t the cold and broken person he’d at times felt like. It would explain so much. Why he didn’t like cruising the bars to pick up random strangers for one-night stands. Why he couldn’t get physically close to people as easily as his friends always seemed to be able to.
“And I—I could be that? Be demi?” Letting go of his coffee cup, he wiped his sweating palms down his pant legs.
“It’s a possibility, only you can decide for yourself what you are. I was merely curious.” Rory set his tea down and looked at Andrew. “Now I have one more question, Andrew, and I want the truth, because none of this works without it.” Rory waited a beat and continued after Andrew gave him a small nod. “Did you get hard because of me?”
He didn’t want to answer. It felt disloyal to Nick. He nodded anyway.
“That’s allowed, you know. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He chuckled, and Andrew watched him clap a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t laugh, but… I thought you hated me. Unless that was an unfriendly erection you had earlier.”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I only hated you briefly, when I thought I was in love with my best friend. When he leaned on you when I wanted him to lean on me. I thought, for a long time, actually, that you’d end up together.”
Rory shook his head. “Everett is like a baby brother. He’s sweet, and gorgeous, but not my type.” He raked his gaze over Andrew. “If you didn’t notice, my type is a little different. Like Nick, he’s my type. Tall, handsome, broad shoulders, killer smile, great ass, dark hair, though sometimes I do go for the dirty blonds.”
Andrew swallowed a lump of trepidation. He liked Rory. He was handsome, all sleek and sinewy, shorter and slimmer than Andrew, but strong.
“It’s okay to like me, you do know that, right Andrew?”
“But… Nick?”
Rory smiled at him with a thousand secrets in his eyes. “It will be okay with Nick. Stay until he gets back, you’ll see.”
Andrew, for lack of any other possible response, nodded.