“I think you know why.”
“No, I don’t. Stop thinking about them.”
“As if it’s that easy,” Andrew mutters, eying his phone on the seat. He can see it light up with an incoming call. He stares at it, debating telling Nicki to unlock the door when Nicki’s voice—deep and gravely—washes over him.
“Remember what I said. Eyes on me, princess,” Nicki says, grabbing Andrew’s jaw and tilting his face up. This kind of touch should be uncomfortable, unwanted, yet something in Andrew stutters in confusion because while the act might be aggressive, the way he grips Andrew’s jaw is anything but.
“You are a brute,” Andrew huffs, swatting at Nicki’s hand.
“That’s right. No pretenses here. I know who I am, do you?”
Andrew says nothing, but the answer is loud all the same as Nicki lowers his hand from Andrew’s jaw. For reasons unknown, Andrew keeps his face tipped up towards Nicki.
“Let’s get you inside so you can pick a room. Whatever they want can wait.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Nicki all but growls.
Andrew could argue. If it were anyone else, he would. But does he really want to? Maybe just this once he can let Nicki be in charge, do whatever Nicki wants. Maybe for a little while he can let the rest of the world exist without him.
“Follow me,” Nicki demands, not waiting for an answer before resting a hand at the base of Andrew’s spine and gently pushing him towards the house.
“You this grabby with all your boyfriends or girlfriends?” Andrew asks.
“Sure,” Nicki answers with a shrug.
His indifference is so very Nicki and also expected. Of course this is just how Nicki would be with anyone he’s seeing. Nothing about Andrew is special or the cause of this behavior. Even if their relationship isn’t real, Nicki is bound to naturally revert to his default relationship behavior, which means Andrew shouldn’t read too much into it. Why that hurts, he’s not sure. He knew what he was getting into when this all started.
Despite the sting, Andrew can acknowledge this is for the best. While it’s a little painful to know it’s nothing about Andrew causing this behavior, it’s a needed reminder of where the lines lay. Nicki has been nothing but honest with him, both about Andrew not being his type and about what he wants and needs from this fake relationship.
Nicki is using Andrew, with permission at least. There’s no reason Andrew can’t do the same. They’re not actually together, it’s not like Andrew even wants to date Nicki, but his bearish ways are growing on Andrew. He’s oddly easy to be around now that Andrew knows him better. He says what he means and what he wants, and he’s not expecting Andrew to be anything he’s not.
Knowing Nicki doesn’t want Andrew for real stings, but it soothes too. There are no illusions on either side here. He doesn’t need to try and impress Nicki or worry he’s going to get sick of him. There's an expiration date on this already, and Andrew being himself won’t change that.
He doesn’t have to worry about Nicki suddenly deciding Andrewishis type. There’s nothing Andrew can do to make Nicki like him more or less, which is freeing in a way Andrew isn’t used to.
“Are you ready to pick a room?”
Were it anyone else asking, Andrew would say yes, solely because it’s the polite thing to do. But with Nicki maybe he doesn’t need to be polite. Maybe he can just—be.
“No.”
Nicki arches an eyebrow. “No? We arguing about this again, princess?”
Andrew shakes his head, unsure when that nickname went from grating to affirming. He’s not the boss around Nicki. Not a King. Just a princess. One that apparently smashes rage rooms and hides from his brothers and demands what he wants.
He won’t get this again. He knows he won’t. Might as well enjoy it while he can.
“That would imply anything you said could sway me, and it won’t.” Andrew toes off his shoes in the grass, eyes drawn to the top of the staircase at the edge of the property.
“What are you doing?” Nicki asks.
“I’m going to the beach.” Andrew bends down, rolling his pants up as far as they’ll go. Admittedly, that isn’t very far given their slim tailoring, but he manages to get them a few inches above his ankle bone before he takes off, the sound of Nicki trailing behind him making him smile.
The closer he gets to the sea, the less everything seems to matter. Somewhere between his bare feet hitting the sand and the frigid water lapping at his ankles, everything falls away.
Hovering a few feet away in his designer jeans and shoes, Nicki looks entirely out of place, and Andrew suddenly wants to change that.
