‘You and Brian okay?’ From Elle.
‘Fine,’ he sent, then, ‘What makes you think we aren’t?’
The three dots flashed at him for a moment, then, ‘Observant person intuition.’ Followed by thinking and winking emojis.
Beside him, Brian was tapping at his screen and grimacing. He looked up as if feeling Andrew’s gaze. “Carly,” he muttered. “Being nosy.”
Andrew tipped his screen towards him. “Yeah. Elle too.”
Brian snorted. “I guess they mean well.”
“Annoying as hell, though.” Especially when Elle’s observant person intuition about Brian’s relationship history made Andrew hurt.
“I’m telling Carly that the pair of them can go jump. We can fuck this up well enough on our own.”
A laugh burst out of Andrew before he could stop it.
Brian threw him a sidelong glare and hit send.
It worked because there were no more interruptions to their near silent waiting. Finally, the stadium filled up around them and the ski stunt show started.
The moment James and Troy began their jet-ski duelling, Andrew and Brian cheered and clapped, laughing along as their friends pretended to be deadly enemies on the water. They raced around the lake and flipped and spun and sprayed each other with their wakes. The stunts were bigger and more daring and Andrew held his breath through a lot of them. His mates were absolute professionals though, and it all worked perfectly. Brian slapped a hand on his arm and gripped tightly when, at the end, James and Troy charged towards each other, launched off twin wakes from the speedboat, and flew past each other in mid-air and high-fived. The crowd erupted in deafening cheers.
“I nearly shit myself when they went right at each other at the end,” Brian said as they were leaving the park.
Even forewarned, Andrew had felt a thrill of dangerous expectation in that moment. “It really was a step up for them.”
Discussing the show and their awe for their friends’ talent broke some of the awkwardness, though when they were in the tight confines of the Jag, the excited conversation dried up and most of the drive home was silent.
Brian clicked the garage door opener and drove right in and Andrew didn’t dare to think it meant he was staying. It had probably just been an automatic motion. However, Brian popped the boot and got his sports bag, laptop and satchel out.
“You’re staying?” he asked stupidly.
“Have to do laundry and Carly’s machine is weird.”
Before Andrew’s heart could deflate again, Brian smiled at him and went inside. “Schrodinger! Daddy’s home!”
Andrew sagged against the car and pulled in a shaky breath. Maybe he still had Brian’s friendship after all. He’d take that and hold on to it with all of his strength, even if that’s all he could ever have.
Schrody wasn’t that impressed with Brian’s cuddles and kisses, but he suffered through them long enough Brian didn’t exactly feel completely abandoned. “I’ll never leave you ever again,” Brian promised him. The cat squirmed and Brian put him back on the couch. “I’ll win your love back if it’s the last thing I ever do.”
“He did miss you.”
Brian nodded, still looking at the cat. Why couldn’t he ever seem to find his balance around Andrew anymore? Just when he thought they were getting close to working out how to be in this new reality Andrew had created, something threw him for a loop.
Because who the fuck had given Andrew that hickey?
“He slept on your bed every night,” Andrew continued softly. He’d come to lean on the end of the kitchen counter, arms crossed and gaze fixed on the cat. “Went looking for the Jag every evening. I took him out the front again yesterday arvie and he just sat on the driveway watching the cars goes past.”
Brian swallowed the urge to ask if Andrew had watched the cars as well. Or had he been too busy letting some leech suck on his neck?
“He doesn’t seem to care about me now,” he said instead.
“Feed him a couple of times and he’ll forget to hate you.”
“Probably. I’m going to take my stuff to my room.”
“Want a hand?”
“Nope. I got it.” Brian grabbed all of his bags and lugged them upstairs. Nothing had changed in his room except that the scattering of grey hairs on his bedspread had increased substantially without him there to disrupt it.
He did need to wash a few things so he took his time sorting them out. Carly had followed up on her promise to show him how to use her washer/dryer combo and he’d managed a very embarrassed load of sheets, then stayed the hell away from the laundry. The fewer reminders he had about that wank the better.
Though now he was back around Andrew, it was right there at the forefront of his mind. The impulse to kiss him, touch him, do things with him, hadn’t lessened. He’d thought that maybe whatever aversion Andrew’d had that day had disappeared, thanks to his performance today. Then the hickey had been revealed. Apparently Andrew hadn’t had any reservations about being physical with that person. Just Brian.
He was getting angry again when he carted his load of washing downstairs. Andrew was in the kitchen pulling apart a roast chicken. There was a pot on the stovetop with simmering water and the ingredients for chicken spaghetti on the counter. Schrody sat at his feet, watching his movements with a hunter’s intensity. Andrew held up a small bit of chicken and Schrody lifted his front paws up to reach for it.
“Thought I was going to get to feed him,” Brian snapped.
“It’s just a tiny bit of chicken. He’ll still be hungry.”
Did he always have to be so reasonable?
Grumpily, Brian went and put on his washing. When he came back, Schrody was doing his little begging meows and mashing his face into Andrew’s legs.
“I got nothing more for you. See your daddy.”
Brian rolled his eyes and, nose wrinkling up, got the raw offal from the fridge. “This is disgusting.”
“It’s no worse than the steaks in the freezer.”
So bloody reasonable.
Screwing up his gag flex, Brian grabbed the cat’s chopping board and prepared his dinner. Schrody caught on quick and transferred his easily bought affection to Brian. It did feel good to have his attention, though, no matter the gross things he had to do to get it. Brian took the cut up meat to the laundry and scooped it into Schrody’s bowl. The cat hunched down and greedily gobbled it up.
Back in the kitchen, the human dinner was coming along. Andrew was sautéing the onion and watching the boiling pot of spaghetti. A pile of chicken waited and several cans sat next to it. Brian began opening them.
“Who was it?”
Andrew stopped moving the onion around for a couple of seconds. “Who was what?”
“Who gave you the hickey?”
With a sigh, Andrew kept stirring. “A guy called Eliot. I met him on the build in Brisbane.”
A man. Was that better or worse than a woman? Did it matter? That smouldering coal of anger heated up at the thought of anyone doing that to Andrew. His reaction was partly protective because stroke potential, and partly jealous because . . . just because. Brian grabbed the strainer and tipped the can of corn kernels into it over the sink. “So, are you bisexual?”