Page 95 of Seal the Deal
“It’s softer than I expected,” Andrew muses.
Nicki hums, eyes closing when Andrew rubs his fingers back and forth over the base of his skull.
“Are you nervous for the game tonight?”
“Rule one of dating a hockey player, never ask if we’re nervous.”
“My mistake,” Andrew says, relieved to note from Nicki’s relaxed body language that he doesn’t actually seem bothered by the question. “Let me rephrase, are you ready for tonight?”
“I’m always ready,” Nicki replies in the world’s cockiest tone.
“That confidence or bravado?”
“Guess you’ll find out tonight.” Nicki turns to smirk at Andrew, his fingers fluttering against the base of his skull. “And princess, one more thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight, the only player you’ll be cheering for isme.”
“Cocky bastard,” Andrew laughs, something in his chest lightening.
Standing in the kitchen with Nicki, sharing breakfast and teasing, the soothing feel of Nicki’s buzzcut beneath his fingers as he freely stims, all he can think is how sad he’s going to be when this all ends.
* * *
“Andrew, you made it.”Mark claps Andrew on the shoulder. Behind him stands Ruben, Steve and Santiago, who offer him cordial smiles. Despite working in the same office, the onlyperson Andrew has really gotten to know is Mark, and that’s only because Mark isn’t very good at boundaries and often traipsed over Andrew’s. Maybe not the worst thing in the world since he’s not always great at making friends, as evidenced by the awkwardness in the air.
“I did say I would be here.” Andrew smooths down the front of his polo, suddenly wishing he’d brought one of his fidgets. He got into his head about being judged, which is stupid but had him leaving them in the car. He regrets that choice, desperately wanting something to do with his hands right now. All around them, people are milling about, excitement filling the air and the noise barely tolerable outside. He can only imagine the noise and crowds inside.
Some days, Andrew can self-accommodate, and other days when he’s overly anxious, he manages to shame himself into not needing the things he knows he needs.
“We can never be sure with you.”
“What do you mean?” Andrew frowns.
“You know how you’re always slipping away at lunch or after meetings,” Steve pipes up. “We know you don’t really like hanging out.”
“That’s not true,” Andrew says. “I just?—”
“Andrew’s just a little antisocial,” Mark finishes with a laugh. Ruben and Santiago join in, and while Andrew tries to smile with them, it feels like more of a grimace. He’s not antisocial, he’s just—exhausted most days and particular about who he spends his time with.
He tries to figure out how to explain that without having to lay all of his cards on the table. He’s not embarrassed or ashamed of being autistic, but he also doesn’t make it a point to tell every single person who knows him, particularly not at work. He is perfectly aware of the internalized ableism built into the society he lives in, especially the capitalist driven work one.Beyond that, he just doesn’t like people knowing things about him. Being perceived by people he doesn’t trust makes Andrew deeply uncomfortable to the point it causes physical pain.
Unfortunately, he’s no closer to figuring out how to point out he is not anti-social when the guys announce they’re ready to head to the line.
Shoving his hands in his pocket, he stands as tall as possible, trying to follow along with the flow of conversation but feeling two steps behind. Somehow, he’d felt less out of place with Nicki’s actual hockey teammates the other night than he does tonight.
“Everyone has their tickets?” Mark asks once they’re close enough to the front of the line to need to have their phones out to scan.
“I thought you had the tickets, man,” Steve says.
“Let me check my e-mail. I think it’s there somewhere,” Ruben adds.
“I got this,” Andrew tells them, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “All the tickets were linked since Mark was the one who bought them. I’ve already downloaded the app and saved the tickets in my wallet.”
“At least we can always count on Andrew.”
Andrew relaxes infinitesimally, at least until Mark crowds into his personal space. His shoulder presses into Andrew’s, which even given the line of hockey fans behind them waiting to get in seems unnecessary.
