Page 151 of Seal the Deal
“I wanted to dress up for you.”
“That’s—oh.” Andrew smooths out a nonexistent wrinkle in his shirt. “Alright then. Well, you look very handsome, Nicki.”
“Do you like it?”
Andrew nods. “I miss seeing the rest of your tattoos but—what are you doing?”
Nicki tugs off his bow tie, throwing it to the floor before undoing the top three buttons. “Better?”
“You don’t need to do that just for me.”
“It was selfish, I assure you. I want your eyes on me all night.”
“They’d be on you regardless,” Andrew grins.
Fuck this man. This perfect, honest, good man who Nicki wants to keep forever. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to take Andrew to meet his parents, doesn’t want to taint the most real, beautiful thing he’s ever experienced in his life with his family who have done nothing but try to downplay or ruin every good thing he’s ever had.
What the fuck was he thinking bringing Andrew here? Bringing him here as a fake boyfriend made Nicki a fucking asshole. Bringing him here as a real one is something infinitely worse.
It’s on the tip of his tongue to tell Andrew they should skip it when he gets another text, this time from his mother.
Rose
You should have been here already, dear. The paparazzi will be watching. Be sure and make us look good.
“Everything ok?” Andrew asks, moving between the spread of Nicholas’s thighs. He skims his nails over Nicholas’s buzzcut, the touch becoming as soothing to Nicholas as it is to Andrew. At this point, he’s developing a pavlovian response to Andrew touching him there, his entire body signaling safety at the simple touch.
“Just my mother. She uh…doesn’t want us to be late.”
Nicholas isn’t sure why he doesn’t just tell Andrew the full truth. He would understand. Yet some part of him doesn’t want to burden him. Andrew takes on everyone else’s problems, worries enough as it is, if he had any idea the selfish reasons Nicholas still made them come, he'd try and fix it, find a way to blame himself. Nicholas can at least spare him that much.
“Should we go then?”
Conflicting desires war within Nicholas—the urge to take Andrew and run far away from this city and the people who never gave a damn, and the need to shove Andrew in their faces and prove he’s not as hard to love as they always made him think.
The second wins, Nicki curling his hand possessively in Andrew’s.
“Yeah, princess, let’s go.”
* * *
“Wow,this is fancier than I expected,” Andrew whispers.
Fancy is an understatement. His father rented out the ballroom of one of the most expensive hotels in New York City, the decor over the top and garish with walls draped in silk tapestries and oversized centerpieces on each table. His mother clearly had a hand in the decorating process, her love of gold apparent in its excess.
“This is just his birthday?” Andrew questions. “It looks like a wedding.”
“Mhmm,” Nicki hums, taking Andrew’s hand in his. Even for Nicholas, who admittedly has no qualms spending money on what he wants, it’s overkill. Then again, he’s always found his parents need to show their wealth stifling. It reminds him of hischildhood home, filled with expensive show pieces and devoid of love. He broke one of his mother’s vases once, and while they could easily afford to replace it, he’d done it while his mother was hosting tea, leading to a lot of yelling.
“My mother likes gold.”
“I can see that,” Andrew says, squeezing Nicholas’s hand. He looks down at where their hands are joined, watching as Andrew traces a circular pattern with his thumb on the side of Nicholas’s hand. Clockwise three times, then counterclockwise three times.
“I’m underdressed,” Andrew mumbles. “Everyone is in tuxedos like you.”
“That’s because they’re trying to impress my father.”
“You don’t want me to impress your father?”
