“I could maybe lay down on the couch,” he says, tempted to go to his bed but knowing he would never be able to lay down there without showering and changing first, and he definitely doesn’t want to do that with Amanda. The couch is a compromise his brain will allow.
“Sounds like a plan. I’m gonna grab my Mac from the car and work in the kitchen. I’ll wake you up when Eden gets here.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’m sure,” Amanda tells him, ushering him into the living room.
Andrew stares at the couch, the memory of him and Nicki watching a movie there just last week flashing in his brain. Moving to the exact same spot, he grabs the couch pillow, curling his arms around it and closing his eyes. Just to rest for a few minutes. That’s all. He probably won’t even sleep.
* * *
Soft voices rouseAndrew from sleep, but with this comes an uncomfortable awareness of his own body. He tries to roll over, but his limbs are heavy and his head throbs. This is exactly why he doesn’t nap. He never, ever feels better after.
“Is he okay?” Someone, he thinks Eden, asks.
“I don’t know.” That’s Amanda. “I made him lay down for a little bit since he looked exhausted, but then he just didn’t wanna wake up. I tried when I got the security alert you were here. Where’s Addy?”
“Ella wasn’t feeling good. There’s something going around the school and a bunch of her classmates are sick, too. Even though Charlie and Mrs. King said they could still watch her so Addy could come today, she just wanted her momma.”
“Poor thing, hopefully she feels better.”
“Yeah. Maybe Andrew is sick.”
“I’m not sick,” Andrew interjects.
Being sick is disgusting and deregulating. He refuses to be sick.
“Maybe—” Amanda starts, but Andrew cuts her off.
“I just slept hard. I told you I haven’t been sleeping much.”
“Is Nicki being a dick?”
“No more than usual,” Andrew jokes, but it falls flat when Eden glowers. It occurs to Andrew that aside from Amanda and Denise, Eden is the only one who knows the truth about him and Nicki, which means he deserves to know the truth now.
“You don’t need to worry so much, Eden. Things are…good.”
“Good, how?” Eden asks.
“Good like…good. I really like him, Eden.”
“No shit?” Eden whistles, turning to look at Amanda who shrugs.
“Wow. That’s unexpected. I mean, I know what I said, but that was more because you deserve someone, not because he does.”
“He’s not that bad,” Andrew objects.
“He is a man, so…” Eden shrugs, picking at his flaking nail polish.
“Not all men are horrible,” Andrew points out.
“Men are the worst. I hate them.”
“Charlie’s a man.”
“What’s your point?” Eden grumbles. “Nicholas isn’t good enough for you.”
“Given that we’re standing in the middle of his multimillion dollar beach front home, and he’s both independently wealthy and famous because he’s a professional hockey player, I feel certain that’s not true.”
