Andy Squared (10 page)

Andrew sighed. “I don't think it's that. He's jealous. I know that.”

“Jealous?” Ryder snorted. “Of what?”

“You?”

“Because of you?”

“No, no. Nothing like that.” But Andrew's heart pumped harder just thinking of it. “Sarah hangs all over your every word. Don't say you turned her down,” Andrew said, holding up one hand while the other gripped the steering wheel tightly. “I know, and he knows. But she still makes her interest clear, and Charlie gets annoyed. And then there are all the other girls that follow you around.”

“Yeah? So what? You know better than any of them why I haven't asked any of them out.”

The reminder of Saturday's kiss put color on his cheeks and he stared intently at the road. “I know,” he finally said, softly.

“So…”

“So,” Andrew responded and left it at that.

They rode in silence for longer this time, and Andrew began to drum his fingers against the wheel. He pulled up to a stop sign and sat there, despite the clear roads. Ryder scanned the roads, and then looked at him, a question in his eyes.

“I thought a lot about that kiss,” Andrew finally blurted out. “Shit, it's all I've been able to think about. And…God, I don't know, Ryder. It's ridiculous. I don't know how I feel.”

“But you're not disgusted,” Ryder pointed out, leaning toward him.

“No, I'm not at all disgusted,” he said.

Ryder just let the words hang in the silence of the truck cab.

“I don't know. I don't know what to do. If I should do anything. I shouldn't. I mean, it was just an experiment, right?” He flicked a glance at Ryder.

No answer.

“Right? Curiosity. It happens. And it wasn't bad; I liked it, and that's fine. It doesn't mean anything.”

“No?”

“Kisses don't have to mean anything,” he lied.

“But sometimes they do.”

Andrew expelled a breath. “Ryder, I just don't—”

“Look, Andy, we could go slowly. Just give this a shot and see where it goes.” The silence ticked by. “We don't have to tell anyone.”

Andrew gripped and released the steering wheel. Gripped and released. Gripped and released. “I've never, you know, dated a guy before.”
What am I saying? Am I actually considering this?

“Obviously,” Ryder teased, the sparkle back in his eyes.

“I'm not gay,” Andrew argued softly.

“But it's not exactly working out with the girls, is it?”

How could he argue that? Ryder did have a point. “No…it's not.”

“So maybe you are, maybe you're not. Maybe you're bisexual. Maybe you just haven't had enough experiences in life to know what you want.”

“That's a lot of maybes.”

“Life is a lot of maybes.”

“Don't most people know what they are?”

Ryder nodded. “Most do, but not all.”

Andrew hesitated and bit his lip. He glanced out the window to his side, the roads still clear. He twisted to look back at Ryder but found he couldn't meet his eyes, so he focused instead on the windshield. It was safe enough. He considered all the options. “We wouldn't have to do anything I didn't want?”

“I wouldn't ask you to. We don't even have to ‘date.' We could just…see each other.”

“We see each other every day.”

“It's different.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So? What do you think? You know, no pressure. Nothing exclusive if you didn't want it to be.”

The back of Andrew's neck prickled. “You're going to see other guys?”

Ryder smiled, so gently that Andrew's chest squeezed. “No, Andrew. I'm not.”

They sat at the sign through the entirety of an obnoxiously cheerful country song about young love before Andrew pulled away and continued the drive to the farm. It stood just on the other side of a little rise, and already he could see smoke from the chimney. Abruptly, Andrew cut the wheel and pulled off the side of the road. He glanced around to make sure no one could see them and then pinned his gaze on Ryder, who stared back at him with wide eyes.

Andrew's heart slammed against his chest, nearly ready to burst from his body.

“All right.”

“All right?” Ryder tilted his head to the side.

Andrew nodded once. “We'll do this. We can ‘see' each other or whatever we call it, and see where it goes.”

“You're sure? You're serious?”

Andrew eased out a breath. “Yes, I'm serious.”

A slow grin pulled at Ryder's face, but it flicked out and he turned serious a second later. “What made you decide this?”

“Like I said, I've thought a lot about the kiss. What we did didn't really bother me. I thought that it should have, but to be honest, it didn't.” He cut his gaze to the floor for a moment. “Okay, more than that. It was…good. And I thought about Cynthia and Danielle and how they didn't work out, how dating never works out for me. Maybe this won't either. But I don't know. And…I want to know. What I felt was enough to make this worth giving a shot. Okay?”

“And you're sure you're not doing this just for the hell of it? You're absolutely serious? You won't cry foul later if you decide being with a guy isn't your thing?”

“Yeah. I am. And no,” he said with a small, breathless laugh, “I won't cry foul.” Andrew checked the mirrors again and leaned toward Ryder. And then kissed him. Ryder leaned into it and put his hand on the back of Andrew's head, pulling him closer. Only when Andrew pressed a hand to his chest did Ryder let go.

“Damn,” Andrew said in a shaky tone, turning his attention to the wheel and pulling back onto the road. His cheeks were several degrees hotter than the rest of his skin. His hands were trembling as they clutched at the steering wheel and he thanked God he didn't have to drive much farther.

Seeing where this went with Ryder? Yeah. Yeah, he was sure.

*

“That's it!” Ryder cried, pulling Cobalt alongside Magpie.

They were in the west field, and after Andrew had finally stayed in his seat while trotting, Ryder convinced him to put more pressure on the horse's sides. The mare had taken off at a gentle run, and after an initial near fall, Andrew managed to stay on.

Laughing along with Ryder, Andrew let out a whoop and held on tightly with his legs. Beneath him the horse rocked, his body moving in sync with hers.

“You're really catching on fast,” Ryder called. He motioned for him to slow down and Andrew reluctantly did.

“That was the biggest rush,” Andrew replied breathlessly, eyes wide with delight. “Let's go again!” he yelled, turning Magpie around and kicking her into a canter. Andrew rode ahead of Ryder for a while as they headed back to the barn, but he knew Ryder was going easy on him. Ryder was so skilled in the saddle, there was no way Andrew could actually win against him in a race. His suspicions were confirmed when Cobalt overtook Magpie in a sudden burst of speed.

Andrew yelled as Ryder burst ahead of him. He glared with good humor as they dismounted.

“You cheated.”

“How did I cheat?” Ryder teased. “I won, fair and square.”

“Yeah, but you were letting me win until the end!”

“Would I do that?”

They brought the horses into the barn, groomed them, and set them free in their stalls. Andrew leaned against the wall and watched the mare sampling the grains in her feed bucket. He tensed when Ryder's body leaned up against his. Frowned when Ryder's lips brushed into his hair.

“Ryder…”

“Mmm?”

“Could you…not do that? It's weird.”

“Sorry.” Ryder stepped back and leaned against the wall, looking up at the rafters.

“Taking things slowly, remember?”

“I remember. I know this is really, really new to you. I'm just…excited.”

“I know.”

They watched the horses in silence for a few minutes, before Andrew worked up the nerve to reach out and take his hand. The two of them stood that way for a long time; Andrew leaning up against the stall door, Ryder with his back to the wall, still staring at the rafters. The sensation was new, but comfortable, and at that moment Andrew didn't doubt the decision he'd made to give Ryder a chance.

“I'm excited, too,” he said softly. Too softly for Ryder to hear, he thought, until that piercing green gaze met his.

Thanksgiving had always been a busy affair at the Morris household, and this year would be no exception. Andrew's maternal grandparents came down every year to join them, as well as his father's brother, Richard. Though it seemed like there weren't many people, they were loud, and the area they usually hung around in had limited space. After their late lunch, his grandfather, father, and uncle would gather in the living room for the game. Usually one or two of the neighbors would stop by and bring beer.

Reds, golds, and yellows decorated the dining room. The tablecloth added to the theme with a dark yellow color, and a red runner ran down the center. The napkins had little harvest scenes imprinted on them that matched the plastic cornucopia his father had picked up a few years ago at a craft store. At the time, Andrew's mother had thought it tacky, but it had soon become the staple centerpiece to the table—before the turkey, anyway.

That year, his mother had made most of the dinner, and his grandparents brought an assortment of pies and desserts. Andrew sat at the table after dinner finished, staring at the desecrated remains of the turkey, the empty dishes of mashed potatoes, turnips, squash, corn, and green bean casserole. A single piece of pumpkin pie remained, and he eyed it, shifting a bit to see if he had any room left. Just the thought of putting another bite anywhere near his mouth in the next, oh, three days sent his stomach rolling dangerously. He groaned and flopped over.

“That's what you get for overstuffing yourself, Andy,” his grandmother teased, knocking his head lightly with a wooden spoon. He reached up to make sure there wasn't any food residue in his hair.

“But it was so good,” he said, in a reverent voice. She laughed and leaned down, kissing his cheek.

“You never could say no to Grandma's pumpkin pie. Any word yet on which college you're going to?”

Andrea passed through the room and grabbed the last roll out of the basket and broke it apart, eating it with relish in front of him. She raised her eyebrow as if expecting to get in on this discussion about their college plans, but the ringing of the doorbell saved him from having to answer.

“I'll get it. It's probably Sarah,” Andrea called, and stepped into the hallway. He heard the door open and the muffled sound of voices in the entryway. Someone laughed and boots stomped on the ground.

“No word yet, Grandma. We haven't decided. It's a tough choice.”

“Make sure you let us know when you do,” she said, patting his hand.

Andrew recognized the voices as they trailed past the door to the dining room and into the living room where the football game was just about to start. There were hellos and other greetings exchanged, and then the snap of beer cans being opened. Andrew started to stand when a hand dropped down over his eyes from behind. He smiled.

“Guess who.”

“What do I get if I win?” he asked slyly.

“Oh, I don't know. A surprise? Maybe a piece of pecan pie?”

Andrew groaned, his stomach protesting. “No more food, Ryder. I'll explode.” He pushed the hand off his face and stared up into the face above him.

“Yes, we don't want him to explode, so don't feed him anything else, please,” Andrew's mother said from the kitchen.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Mrs. Morris,” Ryder said. His aunt already hovered in the kitchen, adding her pie to the counter decorated with desserts.

“You too, Ryder, thank you. Why don't you boys go watch the football game in the other room?”

“I'm not really into football,” Ryder admitted.

“Finally, someone else who doesn't think it's the only thing in the world that matters on Thanksgiving,” Andrew said, not bothering to hide his pleasure.

“You wouldn't think so,” his mother teased, “soccer player.”

His grandmother laughed and fussed over the new pie. “This looks delicious!” Her voice faded as Andrew stood and tugged Ryder over to the stairs.

“Let's go to my room. Maybe we won't go deaf from the—”

Someone yelled
“Touchdown!”
from the living room. Half the room cheered while the other half groaned loudly. Jeers were called from one side to the other.

“I see your point.” Ryder grimaced. “Is this some sort of tradition?”

“Yeah. My grandparents and uncle always come down for the day. We eat. Overeat. Then eat some more. And then the television is turned on and nothing is allowed on but the games.”

“Games? Plural?”

“Oh yeah. They'll watch at least two, three games while they're here.”

“Damn. I didn't realize that many games were on today.”

“Yeah. I'm glad you're here, though. I'd be forced to watch them if you weren't,” he said with relief threading through his tone. Ryder clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Cool air flowed out from the bedroom when Andrew pushed the door open, and he paused at the thermostat to adjust it higher. Ryder looked around the room and took in the two beds, his face puzzled. One side of the room was neat and organized while the other had clothes on the floor and makeup on the dresser.

“You share a room with Andrea?”

Andrew sat down on his bed and looked around at the messy side, realizing he'd never really talked about his unfortunate bunking situation with Ryder. “Yeah. Temporarily. Dad started putting new hardwood floors in the house, and they ran out of supplies halfway through mine. That wouldn't be so bad, but the walls had to be gutted in my room when the roof leaked. So I moved into Andrea's room on a long-term, temporary basis?” He shrugged. “The roof, at least, has been fixed, and Dad said they're finishing it this winter, but I don't mind too much. We get along, give each other space when we need it.”