Fic: Mine, All Mine (1/4) -- Sweet Home Alabama (movie)
Mine, All Mine
My loss, my lonely
My mistake, mine only
Mine all, mine all, mine (mine)
Hoah, and it's my bad, my broken
All my should haves left unspoken
Mine all, mine all, mine
Mine, All Mine -- SheDaisy
Andrew stared at the Golden Cherry Motel from the seat of his rental car, hands still wrapped tight around the steering wheel. He knew he should go inside. Knew he needed to get in, get his stuff and get checked out before the reporters descended. At least some of the guests must have left by now, and no doubt many of them eagerly shared the humiliating scene of the wedding-that-never-was with the vultures masquerading as journalists hovering beyond the security perimeter.
They were probably already racing to get a quote, a picture, an exclusive interview. Andrew had spent his whole life in the spotlight thanks to his parents. He knew exactly how it worked. Knew they wouldn’t be satisfied until they drew blood. Or they caught the scent of a juicier story.
But going in there, telling some clerk with an accent he could barely understand that he no longer needed the honeymoon ‘suite’ would make it real. Would make it over. Final.
His head fell forward, resting against the cool, curved leather of the steering wheel. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and wondered where the pain was. The anger. The betrayal. Even confusion. Or relief.
He’d been numb since Mr. Buford had announced Melanie never signed her divorce papers. He’d looked into her eyes and saw relief. Saw hope and joy and something indefinable that had never been there when she’d looked at him. So he’d done the only thing he could as ice crawled through his veins. He’d done the right thing. He’d let her go with a smile.
Andrew knew, eventually, the cold would wear off. He’d wonder what was wrong with him. Spend too much time wondering what if? What if he’d done more? What if he’d insisted on coming with her from the beginning? What if he’d fought for her in that moment in front of the altar? For now though, he’d enjoy the numbness. He’d worry about the rest later.
A truck rumbled by, the exhaust louder than a subway train. He jerked, self-preservation instincts finally kicking in and he glanced around for signs of incoming reporters.
The parking lot still looked blessedly empty. Andrew peeled his fingers from the wheel and trudged inside to sever yet another tie to the woman who should have been his wife. Once that was done, he’d have to figure out what to do with a honeymoon in the Caribbean he’d already paid for.
*
An hour later, he walked out of the Motel 6, feeling worse than he had when he’d arrived at the Golden Cherry. He’d assumed he could easily get a room somewhere else. He’d forgotten to take into account how small Pigeon Creek was. And how big of a draw his wedding had been.
He’d already been to the Day Inn and the Travel Lodge and there was not a room left anywhere in the area. Apparently many of the reporters had even been forced to double up.
Walking slowly back to his car, he wondered how far it was to the next town big enough to have a Marriott at least. He wasn’t the snob his mother was, but, after the day he’d had, he felt he deserved a little extra luxury.
Andrew reached for the door handle and the sound of quick excited whispers and footsteps he’d noticed peripherally suddenly picked up speed and determination.
“Andrew!”
“Mr. Hennings! A word. Please. Just a moment….”
A quick glance over his shoulder revealed two young men pulling notebooks and tape recorders and cell phones from their pockets. Apparently not all of the journalists had headed straight over to stake out the Golden Cherry.
“Fuck.” He muttered, trying to get his thumb on the remote to open his door.
“Mr. Hennings? What happened at the wedding?”
“Do you have any comment on your runaway bride?”
“Fuck,” he said a little louder when the key ring nearly slipped out of his grip. Andrew caught it at the last second, his thumb sliding into the indented button and heard the reassuring click of the lock disengaging.
He yanked the door open, ignoring the increasingly personal and inappropriate questions flying around him. With a burning in his chest, he started the car and peeled out of the parking lot with an urgency he’d never have shown under normal circumstances.
Only when he could no longer see the rundown motel in his rearview mirror did Andrew realize his breath was spilling out in heavy pants. His vision blurred. His throat burned. The numbness was wearing off.
The pain, the humiliation, the complete and utter bewilderment started to settle in.
Why hadn’t he known? Why hadn’t he seen it coming? Why had he stood there, taking it like a punch to the gut while he smiled benignly and wished her well?
God, he wanted a drink.
Wanted something, anything to take the edge off. Something to bring back the wonderful, welcome numbness.
Because the answers to those unvoiced questions led to places he didn’t want to go. The answers said a whole lot more about Andrew than they did about Melanie or their relationship.
*
The clouds rolled in over Pigeon Creek while he was still running from the Motel 6. By the time the downpour started, he was hopelessly lost, cursing himself for leaving his GPS in his overnight bag and unwilling to stop moving long enough to dig it out.
There was something apocalyptic about the deluge, Andrew mused as he slowed the car to a crawl. Something tickled the back of his mind about the world ending in a flood rather than fire. His world may not have ended, but he sure as hell had no idea where it was going.
When he saw the neon sign advertising a beer he hadn’t touched since college frat parties, he realized how much he really wanted a drink. With a sharp twist of the steering wheel Andrew crossed the road and pulled into the rutted parking lot already filled with cars. He bumped along to the back of the lot and finally found a growing puddle where no one had parked yet.
For a minute after he shut off the engine, he sat there, resting his head back against the headrest. The sound of the rain thundering on the roof echoed in the quiet car and he tried to let the steady staccato drive away the emotions threatening to drown him.
He stared at the bright lights spilling out of the bar, watched the shadow of people dancing, playing, drinking. Living.
Andrew wondered if he’d already met any of the revelers inside. If anyone in there had witnessed his humiliation on the day that was supposed to be the happiest of his life?
“Fuck it. I really need a drink.”
Stuffing down everything else but the need to find a little numbness in the bottom of a bottle, he put his hand on the door handle.
The flashing blue and red lights had him pulling his fingers back as if he’d been burned. Was there some kind of bust going on?
But the sheriff got out of the car and walked around to let someone out of the back seat. Two someones.
And one of them wore a familiar white dress. The two of them teased and flirted in the rain, a metallic flash of handcuffs showing when Jake scooped her up and carried her to the door. A loud cheer a minute later hurt Andrew in places he hadn’t even known could be wounded.
“Of course. Just my luck.”
He sank down as far as he could in the driver’s seat and wondered if his day could get any worse.
He’d been left at the altar. He had no place to sleep tonight, except maybe his rental car. And the only place he’d found to get a damn drink was apparently having some kind of party celebrating his ex-fiancée’s un-divorce.
“I have got to get out of this town before I lose my mind,” he muttered to himself before reaching into the backseat and grabbing his overnight bag.
Routing around for his GPS, his fingers instead curled around the cool, smooth, glass neck of a wine bottle. He pulled it out and just stared at it. 2007 Bolgheri Superiore. He’d brought two bottles along to share with Melanie in what passed for a honeymoon suite at the Golden Cherry on their wedding night.
“What the hell? If I’m going to spend the night in my car anyway, I might as well be drunk on $200 a bottle wine.”
He reached back into the bag until he found the corkscrew and popped the wine open before he could change his mind.
He’d never gotten intoxicated in public before. Hell, he rarely had ever allowed himself to get drunk at all.
“A Hennings never loses control,” he pitched his voice a shade higher, mimicking his mother. “A Hennings never gives the journalists anything we haven’t carefully chosen for the world to see.”
He tipped the bottle back, guzzling straight from the mouth.
“Well, Mom,” he half laughed when he finally came up for air. “We sure as hell didn’t choose anything about today.”
The laugh turned a little bitter and his stomach burned. He decided to drown the bonfire in his gut with more wine.
*
Who knew how long later, one empty bottle lay on the passenger seat. Andrew sipped his way through the second bottle while trying to figure out how his life had gotten to the point where he had no close friends to commiserate with. At least none he trusted not to immediately share his pain with the tabloids. Even his best man had been his cousin Everette. Who, pathetically, had been strongly suggested to Andrew by his mother.
Night had fallen, the rain had given way and Andrew felt better than he had in a long time. He’d cranked the window open to listen to music spilling out from the bar and tapped his foot in time to a song he’d never heard before.
A song that made him wonder if he was missing out by not having any friends in low places. The ones in high places didn’t seem to ever do him any good.
The bar door opened and a group spilled out into the night. Andrew had to close one eye in order to count that there was three of them. If there were any rigidity left in his muscles, he’d have tensed a little with concern of encountering three red-necks on their home turf.
At the moment, however, he wasn’t sure he could flex anything. When the trio got closer, it became apparent the two on the outside were holding up the obviously inebriated one in the middle. The taller man steered them toward a car a couple of spaces over. Andrew squinted his one open eye and, after a couple of tries, used the steering wheel to pull himself closer to the windshield.
Hey, he knew them. He started to lean out the window and wave, then a gust of fresh air brought enough of his senses back to remember he knew them because they were friends with Melanie.
The guy in the middle, needing as much help as Andrew would if he tried to walk, that was Frankie. Freddy? Melanie’s designer friend. And one of the people holding him up was that sort of bitchy chick who always reminded Andrew of one of his exes.
The other was Bobby Ray. Her cousin. Or, wait, was that part of the lie? God it was so hard to keep track of what was the truth in his relationship with Melanie.
Her name. Her family. Her husband. Her cousin. Who Andrew had thought was one of the hottest things he’d seen in a long time. All lanky grace, bright blue eyes, easy smile and melt in your mouth accent.
Not that he noticed, that first time on the steps of the Carmichael plantation. Of course not. Because he wasn’t the one in their relationship with deep dark secrets and cover stories to hide them. Sometimes even from himself.
So what if he’d noticed Jake was a handsome, well-built man, in that rough-around-the edges kind of way? Or that he’d preferred Bobby Ray’s charm, with his welcoming eyes and open smile? All it meant was he was secure enough to appreciate aesthetics.
Really.
He glanced back up to see Bobby Ray shift Felipé, or whoever, toward the passenger side while the woman, whose name he was sure he knew, slid into the driver’s side. Bobby Ray had to slide one arm around the smaller man, cradling him close as he reached with the other to grasp the handle.
Felix took the opportunity to wrap his own hands around Bobby Ray’s shoulders. When the taller man stooped slightly to pull the door open, the little weasel pushed up on his toes and slid his lips across Bobby Ray’s, shoving their bodies together.
Andrew’s stomach churned, the muscles at the back of his head tensed and his lips pulled down into a frown.
He glared down at the wine bottle. He was happily, numbly, drunk. The hangover stuff wasn’t supposed to hit until the morning after.
He didn’t think too much about the fact that the symptoms hadn’t started until he saw Fremont cop a feel. When he glanced up again, a pair of blue eyes looked back at him from a few feet away. And were moving closer.
He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the intensity. Some small still-functional part of his brain noted the tail-lights of the other car pulling away. Taking Ferdinand with it. And Bobby Ray was still here. Coming toward him.
Which Andrew should not be looking forward to quite so much. Especially with that reserved, confused look on the southerner’s face as he tried to peer through the darkness and into the car.
“Andrew? Is that you?”
He squatted down by the side of the car, arms folded on the open window. Bobby Ray was inches away. If Andrew still had control of his muscles, he’d lean back. Or forward.
Some direction. Anything was better than remaining frozen and pathetically mute.
“Andrew?” Some of the warmth seeped back into the lilt but wariness still danced around the edges.
Swallowing, Andrew finally found his voice. “Yeah, it’s me. Unfortunately.”
“Why are you here?”
Wasn’t that a loaded question? Andrew could tell him it was because he checked out of the hotel and there wasn’t another empty room in the county. Or because the woman he was sure he’d spend the rest of his life with turned out to be already married. Or because he had no idea who the fuck he was and had been content to let his mother steer him like a fucking ship.
However, he didn’t have enough synapses firing to get any of that out. Instead he shrugged and went with the ultimate truth. “Had nowhere else to go.”
Couldn’t go back to the bridal suite without a bride. Couldn’t go back to his life because he didn’t have one. Couldn’t go back to his mother because he finally realized her life wasn’t his.
“Are you drunk?”
With a smile, he held up the bottle. “Yup.”
“Why are you drinking alone, here of all places?”
Andrew wished Bobby Ray would stop asking him questions. It hurt to put all the words together in the right order. But he was afraid if he said that, Bobby Ray would stop talking to him altogether. And he really liked the sound of Bobby Ray’s voice.
Instead, he frowned, narrowed his eyes and focused on getting it all out.
“No hotel. Got lost. Needed a drink. Saw the signs.” He waved in the general direction of the neon blur.
“Was going to go in and get shots. Then saw…” White dress, laughing eyes, people in love. “Them. Decided to stay out here. Needed a drink even more.”
He squinted fuzzily at Bobby Ray, who gave him a beautiful, heart-stopping grin.
“Surprisingly, I understood most of that. So you’re not here to make a scene. To call out Jake. Or Melanie.”
Andrew shook his head vehemently. Then decided that was a mistake when the whole world wobbled.
“No,” he whispered over the sudden pulsing in his head. “No, I wish them well. Someone should be happy.” He frowned again and tried to focus on the bar.
“I should go in. Congratulate them. Tell them no hard feelings.” He looked around for somewhere to set the wine bottle but the cup holder didn’t look big enough.
“Oh, no. Not a good idea. Not tonight anyway. Why don’t you scoot over and I’ll drive you someplace you can sleep it off.”
Andrew shook his head again, but carefully this time. “Can’t. There’s no room at the inn. Or any of the hotels, for that matter. My wedding is an event you know. Damn reporters have every spare bed in the county.”
“Not quite,” Bobby Ray said then opened the door. “Scoot.”
He made a shooing motion with his hands and Andrew blearily complied, climbing unsteadily over the center console while maintaining a death grip on the wine bottle.
“You know some place with a room I can rent?”
“Not exactly.” Bobby Ray cranked the key and put the car in gear, slowly negotiating the ruts of the parking lot. “But I do have a spare bedroom. You’ll be safe there. From roving reporters and a drunk and disorderly charge.”
*
“Feeling better?”
Andrew’s head was still buzzing, but the worst of the tipsiness had worn off in the hour or so since Bobby Ray had led him into the small but surprisingly cozy house. The second cup of coffee warming in his hands didn’t hurt either.
“Thank you,” he said, glancing across the table over the rim of his mug to take in the knowing smirk of his host. “For this. For the coffee. And the ride. And the place to sleep tonight. Mostly, thank you for rescuing me from humiliating myself.”
An eyebrow arched and the smirk widened. “Oh, did I intervene too soon? We Southerners love a good show.”
“Yeah, well, going in and offering my congratulations seemed like a good idea at the time. Just, you know, prove to everyone there are no hard feelings.”
“Are there?” Bobby Ray asked sharply. “Hard feelings, I mean? Would it have stopped with congratulations or would there have been a messy scene?”
Andrew thought about the emptiness clawing at him, now, and how he had believed he had finally found a way, with Melanie, to at least assuage the hunger for something he couldn’t have. The numbness had worn off along with the worst of the intoxication. Now, a hard knot of familiar pain settled in.
“I loved her,” he murmured into the coffee, so caught up in re-burying the whirlwind of pain winding up inside him that he wasn’t thinking as he spoke.
“Of course you did,” Bobby Ray said into the silent pause that followed. “You were going to marry her.”
Andrew shook his head. “I loved her. But I wasn’t in love with her.”
He sipped at his coffee, mind drifting while he tried to lock away his emotions once again. A task he was way too familiar with, way too good at. He’d been hiding from his own heartbreak and disappointment in the human race since he was ten years old and walked in on his father with his mother’s twenty year old secretary.
“You weren’t in love with her?”
Bobby Ray’s sharp tone broke him free of his familiar downward spiral. Only then did he notice the way the other man’s cup had stopped half-way to his lips, the way his eyes were wide, unblinking and boring into Andrew.
“I… No. I loved her but wasn’t in love with her. She felt the same way about me.” He stared morosely into the bitter brown of his coffee mug. “It was perfect.”
“Perfect?” The Southerner’s voice had risen an octave or two in pitch. He carefully set his mug down and leaned his arms onto the table. “I’m just a slow country boy. Maybe you could explain how that was perfect.”
“We liked each other. She’s been my best friend. Probably the only person who liked me. In spite of my position and my mother’s power. The only person I could trust not to leave boot prints on my back as she climbed over me to get to the top.” He sighed again, realizing losing his best friend upset him more than losing his fiancée. “We never actually talked about it but it was kind of obvious between us. We’d both shut off that part of life and were content to leave it behind us. At least, she was until she came back here.”
“So you were happy that she wasn’t in love with you? And that you weren’t in love with her?”
“Being in love, it’s an obsession. My father gave up his career. His life. His family. Because he fell in love. I didn’t want to be sucked into that trap.”
The usual twinge of disgust he felt when he talked about love twisted a little into surprise as he realized those words weren’t his.
They were his mother’s. Repeated over and over at him from the time he was ten years old. He’d heard it so many times, he’d internalized her fears, her bitterness, and made them his own.
“Does your father regret it? Or is he happier now?”
Andrew blinked and stared at Bobby Ray. Speechless that the question had never occurred to him. He’d spent his entire life working for his career, to live up to his family name. The possibility of risking it had always been his darkest fear.
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since he abandoned us.” Andrew answered, each word drawn out as a hundred new thoughts and questions flitted through his mind. A cold chill shivered through him.
His father hadn’t really abandoned them, though. His mother had used every tool she had to push him out of their lives. And she had manipulated Andrew until he rebuffed his father’s every attempt at contact.
“So, what, because your father left, you don’t believe in love?”
“I just don’t think it’s in the cards for me.” He answered by rote but, for the first time, the words rang hollow in his own ears.
How long had his mother been manipulating his life? How long had she been filling his head with her beliefs until he believed they were his own? Did she even know she was doing it?
“Now what? You go out and find another fiancée you can live with but don’t really love?”
The question made everything turn to ice inside of Andrew. He’d chosen the easy path to protect his career. His family name. The easy path that meant not having to explain anything to his mother.
“I think I’m gay.”
The words slipped out of his mouth before the fact that he was thinking them even registered.
“Or bi. Or, I don’t know, drunk and confused…” The words spilled out faster now, while he back pedaled out of habit. But did he want to do that? How long was he going to continue to deny himself? How long was he going to suppress his wants, his needs, his identity beneath the politician his mother had been grooming for decades?
He looked up, then, at Bobby Ray. The other man was frozen, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as he stared back at Andrew. As stunned as Andrew at the abrupt confession. More than anything, he wanted to lean over the small table and kiss the astonished expression off of Bobby Ray’s lips.
And, oh, wouldn’t that just put a cap on the worst day of his life? Putting the moves on the one person who’d actually seemed to care about Andrew in the whole fucked up day. Not the headlines, or the exclusive, or the damage control. Just Andrew.
“I’m sorry.” He spoke into the stretching silence, wondering if he was going to have to sleep in his car after all. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Bobby Ray blinked, then laughed, that wide smile tugging at Andrew again.
“Not uncomfortable. Just calculating exactly how much I should shake down the tabloids for, for that juicy piece of gossip. Wonder if I could get me a new pickup?”
Andrew felt the rock of dread slam back into his stomach. What had he done? He may not want his mother driving his life any more, but he wasn’t ready to set fire to the whole damn thing yet, either.
“Whoa, whoa.” Bobby Ray held out his hands, already out of his chair and coming around the table. One hand landed on Andrew shoulder when the southerner knelt down to look him in the eye.
“I was kidding. Just kidding.” The hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I was recently outed in the deep south. Trust me, I’m not going to push anyone else out of that nice cozy closet.”
Andrew blinked into those blue eyes, only centimeters from his. Let his gaze drop to the soft, full mouth just as close. He’d been trying not to think about those lips from that first moment on the porch of the Carmichael plantation.
Earlier, kissing Bobby Ray had been a bad idea for so many reasons. Now, though, knowing the man was gay, made it seem like the best idea ever.
Or maybe it was the wine still humming in his blood.
Andrew let himself sway forward, closing the last few breaths between them until his lips were pressed against the slightly open ones.
Bobby Ray gasped and he took advantage, sliding his tongue along the sensitive inside of his lower lip. Bobby Ray gasped again, then pressed forward. Andrew could taste over-sweetened coffee covering the fain bitter hint of beer. The hand on his shoulder tightened and the mouth on his slanted slightly until the angle, the kiss, the meeting of lips and heat and passion, was perfect.
Then, suddenly, it was over. The warmth was gone. Hand left his shoulder, lips left his lips and, when he blinked his eyes open, Bobby Ray had backed up several steps, shaking his head.
“This is so not going to happen.”
Andrew’s brain stumbled several steps behind as he tried to figure out what went wrong.
“Why not?”
“It’s just not. It’s not right.”
“But you kissed me back?”
He felt his eyebrows draw together, knew the words came out in a whine but he wanted to go back several seconds and feel the searing heat coursing through him again. Wanted to feel, to not think, for a little while.
Bobby Ray sighed. “Yeah. I kissed you back. But I shouldn’t have.”
He held out a hand and pulled Andrew to his feet.
“C’mon. Let’s get you to bed.”
Andrew brightened at the prospect, sliding his arm around Bobby Ray’s waist and let the Southerner steer him down the hallway.
“Alright. Bed is good.” He punctuated his agreement by letting his hand slide lower on Bobby Ray’s hip.
Bobby Ray only laughed and wiggled away. “Alone. You are going to bed alone.”
Andrew blinked several times trying to get his eyes to adjust to the dark guestroom. In the dim light he could make out the lines of a good-sized bed and small dresser but he let Bobby Ray steer him to the bed.
He stumbled a little on the carpet then smiled to himself and allowed his bare feet to drag. When the other man got him closer to the bed he shifted his weight, keeping his arm tangled firmly around Bobby Ray’s waist.
In a matter of seconds, he managed to trip them up and the two men ended up in a sprawled tangle of limbs on the welcoming bed.
“What the hell, Andrew?”
Andrew shifted closer, letting his body press close to the rangy, loose-limbed physique next to him. Eyes closed to block out the residual dizziness, he rested his head against Bobby Ray’s shoulder.
“Don’t want to sleep alone.” He murmured and snuggled even closer.
He smiled and felt a little relief when one of Bobby Ray’s hands came up and began to gently stroke a soothing rhythm against his back.
Encouraged he lifted his head and struggled to claim the taller man’s lips once again. He missed, slipping across the corner of the Bobby Ray’s mouth. He let himself drift across the stubbled cheek, slid up to the cool ear and began to lick his way down the warm neck.
Bobby Ray inhaled sharply, his arm tightening for a second and pulling Andrew closer, before sighing and shifting out of reach.
“I told you, this isn’t going to happen.”
A sliver of ache shafted through Andrew and he flopped away on his back. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to push. Should have realized. Frederick is obviously more your type.”
“Frederick? Ah, no. Despite Melanie’s best effort at matchmaking, Frederick was not my type.”
“But I’m not either.” He mumbled, trying to keep the sound of brimming ache out of his voice. Covered his eyes with the back of his arm.
Melanie didn’t want him. Bobby Ray didn’t want him. His mother wanted a clone. His father wanted escape. Andrew wondered how long before he disappeared completely.
Apparently, wine made him maudlin.
“Hey. Look, you are the best looking man to throw himself at me in a long time. Add smart, successful, and rich and you are the catch of a decade.”
Andrew moved his arm a little and looked up at Bobby Ray, who had shifted to lean over him.
His throat tightened a little and he wondered if it was the wine or the rejection at the altar that had turned him into a fourteen year old girl. One in desperate need of reassurance.
“But you’re drunk, Andrew. And you’re seriously rebounding. Not to mention, until a couple of hours ago, you wanted to pretend that you were straight. We’re not going there tonight.”
Bobby started to push up off the bed and Andrew reacted without thinking. His arm gripped the other man by the bicep.
“Please. Don’t go. I meant it when I said I didn’t want to be alone.” He sighed and loosened his grip. “If you leave me alone, I am just going to lie here all night and think about how fucked up my life has gotten.”
Even in the dark, this close, he could see Bobby Ray searching for something on his face. Could feel when the handsome southerner found it and let the tension leave his limbs.
“Fine, I’ll stay.”
Before he finished speaking, Andrew felt a surprising surge of joy. He lifted his head, moving slower this time but Bobby Ray did not move away.
The kiss was softer. Less desperate. An unhurried exploration. A tasting. Pleasure swamped him and he opened up and let it flow through him, easing the emotional bruises he’d been absorbing all day.
Too soon, Bobby Ray was lifting off of him again. Andrew’s stomach tightened uncomfortably and his muscles followed suit in anticipation of yet another rejection.
But Bobby Ray only moved up a few inches, his hands resting on either side of Andrew’s shoulders as their legs remained tangled on the bed.
“Okay, okay. You win. But there are going to be rules.”
“Rules?”
“Yeah. Clothes stay on. Hands stay above the waist.”
Andrew nodded and reached for Bobby Ray eagerly. Covered his mouth with frantic need before the other man could change his mind again. His hands tried to be everywhere at once, his tongued delved and dueled, trying to learn every nuance of taste and texture. Slowly, though, the heated movements turned to languid kisses and lingering caresses as the long day and alcohol took their toll.
Andrew eventually found himself sleepily snuggled into Bobby Ray’s chest. He’d never slept with a man before. Even the few years of sexual experimentation he’d risked with guys in college had been fast, furtive and goal-oriented. He’d never spent an entire night wrapped in strong arms.
It felt surprisingly good.
“Not exactly how I expected to spend the first night of my honeymoon,” he murmured sleepily into the firm muscles of Bobby Ray’s chest. “I should take you to the Caribbean with me.”
The rumble of Bobby Ray’s chuckle tickled under his cheek. “Wouldn’t that give the press a field day? And your mother palpitations.”
“Just an added bonus.”
He smiled as he drifted off to sleep.
*
Faint light threatened on the other side of Andrew’s eyelids and he squeezed them a little tighter to keep even the hint of illumination from stabbing his sensitive eyes.
The deep, thrumming drumbeat reverberating from the back of his skull hurt enough. He wasn’t going to invite more pain by opening his eyes yet.
The warm body wrapped around him from behind was soothing and cozy and gave him a pleasant sensation to sink into. Distracting him from the musty taste coating his tongue and the roiling turbulence of his stomach.
The long lean lines of the person sharing his bed began to communicate to him. Angles where there should have been curves. Strong comforting muscle where there should have been soft flesh.
The arms holding him close were long and strong and definitely not female.
Andrew’s body, relaxed and comfortable in the embrace a moment before went tight and scared. His brain tried to swiftly sort past the catalogue of wine-soaked symptoms to comb for memories of the night before.
First flashes then a steady stream of pleasant, warm, sometimes hot, memories flooded across the landscape of his mind. From being driven away from the bar, to the coffee and honest talk to the heated kisses, it all came back accompanied with a glowing sense of well-being. Even the half-joking offer to share his honeymoon left him oddly wistful rather than embarrassed. The tension drained back out of him again.
He may even have snuggled backward into the warmth surrounding him.
“Wow. I think that was the fastest morning after freak-out ever.”
Andrew jumped a little when the deep voice sounded in his ear. He hadn’t realized Bobby Ray was awake yet.
He started to tense up again, but the low chuckle and soft nuzzling at his neck reassured him. The sense of safety and well-being expanded around him, and he let himself trust his instincts. And trust the man he barely knew.
“It wasn’t a freak out, exactly. Just had to clear the hangover enough to remember I was with someone I could trust.”
“You sure you can trust me?”
For a minute, panic spiked through him, but it faded as quickly as it sliced into him.
“Yes. You could have left me to make an idiot of myself last night. You could have dropped me at a hotel full of reporters. You could have taken what I was offering last night rather than being noble.”
Andrew took a deep breath and let his lips curve a little before continuing. “Instead, you rescued me, poured coffee into me and stayed with me.”
Behind him, Bobby Ray cleared his throat with an embarrassed sound. His accent got thicker as he drawled, “Aw, shucks, ‘t’weren’t nothin’. Just a good ol’ boy protecting his friends. And his friend’s ex.” He paused then slid back into his normal patter. “I suppose it does make me kind of a hero, after all. Is there any kind of reward for that?”
“I did offer to take you on my honeymoon.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he thought about what he was saying.
Part of him was horrified. What if Bobby Ray thought he was serious? What if he wanted to come? Another part waited expectantly for an answer, hoping that Bobby Ray would say yes.
To his relief, and regret, Bobby Ray only laughed. “Tempting. Very tempting. I’ve always wanted to see a Caribbean sunset. But I don’t think I’m quite ready to go on an overnight vacation with you. You haven’t even bought me dinner yet.”
He kicked off the thin sheet and eased out of bed, leaving Andrew feeling unexpectedly bereft and lonely. “Besides. I’m afraid of your mama.”
With a cheeky grin, he headed out into the hall.
Master Post
Part Two