“Are we all good now?” Nicholas asks.
“Uh, no. Not in the least. We haven’t split the bill or?—”
“We’re not splitting the bill.”
“Yes, we are,” Andrew counters. “I picked this place.”
“And I’m paying.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.
“Yes.”
Andrew’s nose crinkles. “But?—”
“I always pay on dates,” Nicholas says in a tone he’s sure will leave no argument.
Somehow, Andrew finds room to argue anyway.
“This is not a date, Nicki.”
“It is now, highness.”
Andrew sighs. “You’re a pain in the ass.”
“And you’re going to let me pay, aren’t you?”
“Only because I’m too tired to argue,” Andrew says around a yawn.
“Is it past your bedtime?”
Andrew flips him off, and Nicholas feels the first hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For such a boring, particular man, Andrew sure has a feisty streak. The kind of streak that Nicholas wants to test.
“By the way,” Nicholas says, smirking at Andrew, “since you picked our first date, I get to pick the second.”
6ANDREW
Drivingdown the 101 at sixty-five miles an hour—cruise control on, thermostat set to a perfect sixty-three degrees and his playlist on—his nerves are shot to shit.
“Where the fuck am I going, Nicki?” he mutters, eying the navigation on his dash for the umpteenth time.
Nicki, not Nicholas, because Andrew is so mad he is now going to think of him using that nickname too, left a voicemail while Andrew was in a meeting telling him to get on the 101 at exactly six forty-five and drive north.
The request was one that he had no plans to comply with, until he remembered that Charlie and Eden were on a family date with Eden’s best friend Addy and her daughter Ella. While they’ve all made it clear Andrew is invited, he sometimes doesn’t want to play the fifth wheel. Being the third one is bad enough.
He tried to call Nicholas back half a dozen times, but he never picked up or returned Andrew’s messages. Even Amanda was unavailable. Given that it’s her and Denise’s anniversary, it made sense but didn’t make Andrew happy.
Now he’s driving down the freeway, pretending he doesn’t want to throw up because he has no idea where he’s going. Andrew hates surprises. He hates not knowing what to expect.He hates not being able to mentally prepare for what’s coming so he can try and figure out a plan. The only time Andrew has any capacity for spontaneity is when he is the one being spontaneous. The second other people are changing the plans or refusing to make any in the first place, Andrew feels like a fucking metal rod while everyone else is relaxed and flexible.
Most of the time Andrew is fine with his brain. It’s detail-oriented, it finds solutions to problems and it allows him to read a lot of really good books without getting distracted. Sometimes though, sometimes his brain spirals, and he’s reminded how much work it takes him just to wake up and be a person every day. Sometimes his brain feels like a flag blowing in the wind and fraying at the ends, and one too-strong gust is going to send him blowing into oblivion.
Abandoning all pretenses of playing it cool, he calls Nicki again, hoping he will answer. He doesn’t. He’s watching the freeway signs indicate an upcoming merger with the Ventura freeway, which eventually leads to several more merges and splits before he would hit the I-5 at which point he’s going to end up in Los Angeles. Nicki better not be making him drive to Los Angeles on a Friday night.
After three more rings, the phone picks up.
