The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Sixteen

Despite their master plan to leave early to avoid the crowds, the beach was packed by the time they arrived. Which made finding parking a bit of a headache, but what was to be expected in LA in the midst of summer?

Trying his best to be helpful, Nathan pointed to places he thought looked free. Thought being the operative word, considering that oftentimes a bike or an extremely small car (not unlike the one they were currently crammed into) had stolen the spot.

“There’s one!” Nathan called out, gesturing frantically at what had to be a space up ahead.

“I think I’ve heard that before,” Miles replied, but not at all scathingly. He’d been completely chill about the entire thing, not even freaking out when Nathan directed him to a parking spot with a car reversing out of it.

There was a reason people rarely let Nathan drive, and Nathan understood their apprehension, so he couldn’t justify feeling offended.

“Fifth time’s the charm,” Miles said and hummed in triumph as he parked in the space Nathan had found. Nathan didn’t have the heart to correct him that it had been more like eight failed attempts as it would look way worse on him.

“If we had this much trouble with parking, we should probably avoid the beachfront,” Nathan said with a disappointed sigh. Sure, he loved the beach. But not when it was crowded with people and screaming children.

“I know a place that might be a bit more quiet,” Miles assured him as Nathan reached into the back for his bag. They got out, and Miles locked the car before leading them in the opposite direction of the delighted shrieks and general fun.

“You’re bringing me to where you’re going to chop me up, right?” Nathan asked conversationally as he tried to keep up with Miles’s pace. Damn his long legs.

“The chopping is at a different location,” Miles corrected with a small smile traced over his lips. “But yeah, the first step is this way.”

“Good, good to know. I like to be kept in the loop.”

Nathan wasn’t sure how long they walked, only that they’d left the crowds behind and, seemingly, the beach. Granted, Nathan could still see the sea—it wasn’t like it had vanished into thin air—but there seemed no way to get to it.

“Is this like the star thing?” Nathan asked, hands swinging at his sides. “Where you make me believe you know what you’re doing but you’re actually winging it?”

“Oof, did I blow your trust in me that early?”

“Yep.” Nathan smacked his lips together. “No going back. I’m going to question everything you do from now on.”

“I guess I’ll just have to deal with that,” Miles replied with a sigh, teasingly reserved about that fact as he looked at Nathan from behind a stray strand of dyed-blond hair that hung in his face. “Think we’re almost there.”

“Almost there” meant scaling down a bunch of rocks, apparently. Which, as Nathan had established while camping, was not exactly his strong suit. But rather than running ahead and waiting for Nathan at the bottom, Miles kept one hand steady on Nathan’s arm and the other on his waist, guiding him safely down the rocks.

Which. Huh. Was nice of him.

“Zero injuries, I’m impressed,” Nathan said, balancing himself on the sand once he’d stepped off the final precariously balanced rock, without looking around first. Which was a mistake on his part, considering how stunning the place was. “Holy shit. I didn’t know there were any secret beaches along here.”

“If you knew about the secret beaches, they wouldn’t be so secret,” Miles pointed out with a wry grin as he placed his bag down on the golden sand. It was a small enough area with no one else intruding. Definitely a win in Nathan’s books.

“How’d you find out about this spot?” Nathan asked, taking off his shoes and pineapple socks so he could feel the sand between his toes.

“I used to hang out here when I was younger,” Miles told him, following Nathan’s lead and kicking off his shoes, then tidily propping them up by the bags. “The tide comes in a little earlier here, but we don’t have to worry about that until later.”

“We should make the most of it, then.” Nathan grinned.

And, obviously, they did. Nathan shocked Miles with his skill at frisbee (which really just stemmed from Nathan’s lack of fear when it came to diving to catch it, whether that be on sand or sea), and they swam for a while until Nathan felt something on his ankle and was convinced it was a shark.

It was not a shark.

By the time they eventually lay out on a ratty picnic blanket, drying off from their dip in the water, the sun was shining a little lower in the sky. The tide had definitely crept closer since they arrived, but they had some time yet.

“Almost forgot,” Nathan huffed, rolling over onto his stomach to grab his bag. He pulled out a bottle of wine. Miles looked over to him, propped up on his elbows, with a furrowed brow.

“I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Drink. I know. Which is why I got this.” Nathan turned the label of the bottle to him, which declared it was nonalcoholic. “Now, I have no idea if it’s any good or not. But I saw it discounted at the store and figured we should give it a go.”

Miles didn’t say anything, and for a moment, Nathan was concerned he’d pissed him off or something. Maybe he genuinely didn’t like the taste of alcohol instead of any other reason, and wasn’t that the point of fake alcohol? But then Nathan saw the soft smile on Miles’s face, and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look so impressed; I got this for my benefit too,” Nathan teased, holding out two blue cups (reusable because he figured Miles might appreciate that). Hey, maybe it’d work as a placebo.

It didn’t, in the end. But there was something nice about sipping fake wine on a quiet beach with a guy who was becoming more and more fun to be around with each passing minute. Like now, when Nathan came upon the discovery that Miles was stellar at impersonations.

It was when Miles hit him with his Roz from Monsters, Inc. impression that Nathan rolled around on his back, wheezing.

“Shut up or I’m going to pee,” Nathan begged through his bouts of laughter.

“Okay, okay,” Miles relented, breathless from laughter himself.

“Gonna kill me before the tide does, I swear,” Nathan huffed, thudding his head back against the sand, the hat resting above his head and clearly not forgotten.

“Or me chopping you up,” Miles reminded him before standing up with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head. And because Nathan was only human, he looked. Of course he looked; who wouldn’t? “How are you feeling about food?”

“I’m always feeling food.”

Nathan picked the place this time, even with his limited knowledge of what was good around the area. But he went with his gut, and his gut led him to a little hole-in-the-wall Italian that was deceptively bigger on the inside. When the hostess gave them the option to eat out on the balcony, Nathan was quick to jump on it.

It was just as busy out there, but at least it came with a damn good view of the sea.

“I have to ask,” Nathan started, moving Miles’s hat at an angle on his head. “Juilliard. What’s with that?”

It’d been playing on his mind, how someone who honestly looked like he should be playing at some outdoor music festival had studied in a place Nathan figured was more…prim and proper. Miles rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped in front of his face, and raised his brow at Nathan, urging him to continue.

“I mean, you’re this super cool indie kind of guy, right? So being classically trained…”

“Doesn’t fit?” Miles filled in, clearly amused.

“Yeah!” Nathan enthused. “You’re not offended, right?”

Miles waved a hand. “No, not at all. I get what you mean.” He paused, glancing out to the shore briefly before continuing.

“My birth mother was a pianist,” he started, and Nathan was already hooked. Miles’s background seemed so curious that Nathan lapped up any nugget of information he dangled. “So, playing music was kind of ingrained in me from a young age. She was…determined to make me the best I could be.”

Miles paused to rub the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter. But before Nathan could offer him an out, Miles pressed on. “So, she trained me in all of the classics until I could play them in my sleep.”

Nathan couldn’t even begin to think of anything he knew so well that he could do it in his sleep.

“When the Mitchells welcomed me into the family, they wanted to help with this talent I’d…developed. And I wanted to make them proud. I practiced, I got a scholarship to Juilliard, and then…”

“Tattoos and long hair?” Nathan offered, to lighten the mood. Miles smiled back, ducking his gaze.

“Yeah. Some rebellion, I guess. It’s kind of silly. I could play like them, but I wouldn’t look like them.”

“So is music something you’re passionate about?” Nathan had to ask because any time Miles spoke about performing, it was always with other people in mind. “Not anyone else. Just you.”

Miles blinked, as if he hadn’t considered looking at his talent like that before.

“I… Yeah,” he said eventually with a bob of his head. “I think so. I enjoy doing it.” He dropped his tone, leaning in close. “But between us, I enjoy playing the most when it’s just me and my plants.”

After snorting out a less-than-elegant laugh, Nathan nodded solemnly. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The hostess returned to take their order, and when she left, they fell into silence for a moment. Until Nathan put forward another question he’d been burning to ask. Miles was being the most open he’d ever been with Nathan, and Nathan was the kind of guy to run with that.

“You can tell me to fuck off, right? I give you my full consent to do that, and I won’t take it personally.” Lies. He might take it a little personally. “But what happened with your birth parents?”

Miles’s expression didn’t change, per se, but he did tense up the moment Nathan asked the question. Retracted in on himself.

Shit. Abort mission.

“You don’t have to answer that, seriously. I’m just being nosey.”

“I… Thank you.”

Why the hell was Miles thanking him? For being respectful of privacy and boundaries? Nathan was about to tell him to fuck off with that, but then Miles said something else.

“They were very intense people.”

His voice was quiet, and Nathan knew well enough to stop digging even if his curiosity had only grown. Miles didn’t want to talk about it, and he was clearly not the kind of guy who would tell someone if they were going too far. They had pizza on the way and a nice view. Why ruin that with something that would bum Miles out?

“Hey, have you heard about the thing with ducks’ penises?” Nathan asked, his go-to subject for when things trod into less-than-fun territory.

“I… Should I have?” Miles looked thrown, but the wide grin told Nathan he was not at all weirded out and therefore Nathan’s kind of person.

“Yeah, they’re barbed—”

With that, Nathan introduced Miles to the horrifying, yet fascinating, world of a duck’s sexual biology—courtesy of some late-night googling while caffeine coursed through his veins. It wasn’t the only thing they talked about during their meal, but it was what coaxed Miles out of his brief funk.

After dinner, Miles pointed out the carnival games along the seafront and asked if Nathan wanted to check them out. With Nathan, the answer was, and always would be when it came to carnival games, yes. Grabbing Miles by the wrist, Nathan led him to his favorite stall, where the aim was to toss weighted bags onto a pedestal and hope they didn’t slide off.

It had taken ten dollars, but now Miles was armed with a one-eyed stuffed donkey that Nathan had won but was way too freaked out by to actually keep. So, custody of the wonky ass fell to Miles, who carried it around proudly for the rest of the night as Miles proved himself to be terrible at any game they decided to try out.

Darts, water guns, those little electrical horses. Everything.

“It’s nice to see that you have flaws.” Nathan chuckled as they made their way back to the car.

“I have plenty of flaws,” Miles replied, looking adorably confused.

“Uh-huh, sure you do. Up until tonight, I was convinced you could do no wrong. But you can because you suck at carnival games. Like…really suck.”

“What can I say?” Miles shrugged, not at all offended by Nathan’s teasing remarks. “I have zero hand-eye coordination. It’s kind of a running joke in my family.”

“Oh man,” Nathan cried gleefully. “There’s a story behind that. I can tell. C’mon, spill.”

“Okay, okay.” Miles sighed with a laugh, playing with the grubby gray ears of the demonic donkey as they strolled. “There are a few. But I think the best one is my graduation?” He tried to bite back a grin, as though the memory was too funny to not laugh at. “Mom wanted me to toss the cap for a photo. The cap goes up, and instead of it coming down in a straight line, I see that it’s going to fall by another family taking photos.”

Nathan could see where this was going before Miles had the chance to finish and desperately tried to hold in his snorts of laughter.

“So, I dive for the hat before it can hit anyone and ruin their picture, right?” Miles rubbed the back of his neck, scrunching up his face as he came to the worst part. “It didn’t ruin the picture. I did. The hat landed far away in the opposite direction. My sister, Simone, somehow managed to get her hands on the photo, and now it’s framed at my parents’ house.”

Nathan could almost visualize it. Miles dramatically diving in front of a sweet family photo to catch a hat that would never fall there.

“That—” Nathan cut himself off, guffawing loudly. “You just ruined any impression I had of you being a badass. What the hell.”

By the time Nathan recovered, they’d reached the car. Miles buckled the donkey into the back seat, making sure it was secure before getting into the car himself.

“We have to name it,” Miles decided the moment he sat down, pulling his belt on.

“Name what?”

“The donkey,” Miles replied, like it was completely obvious he’d name the saddest excuse of a stuffed toy Nathan had ever seen.

“How about ‘Ass’?” Nathan suggested, and Miles threw him a tired look. “What? It’s accurate. It’s a creepy ass.”

“How about Cedar?” Miles returned, glancing out the back window as he smoothly reversed.

“That sounds like a distinguished cigar company.” Nathan propped his feet back up on the dash and crossed his arms comfortably over his chest. “I still think Ass suits.”

“Cedar Ass,” Miles pondered, looking almost serious before cracking up.

“You know what? Cedar Ass it is. It fits. Y’think, buddy?” Nathan directed the last question to the donkey now slumped over in the back seat.

Nathan took that as a resounding “yes.”

*

By the time they reached Nathan’s house, it was late. Late enough that Nathan felt bad about Miles having to drive back home. Shit, where even was home for Miles? Nathan hadn’t thought to ask.

“I had a great time today,” Miles said, a genuine smile over his handsome features. Nathan found himself mirroring the expression.

“So did I. A really great day.”

He wasn’t lying one bit. The only thing Nathan had had to focus on was himself and having fun, and that felt liberating.

“Next time?” Miles asked then, and Nathan narrowed his eyes at him curiously.

“Are you asking if there’s a next time? Dude, duh.” Nathan chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Miles was a weird one.

“See you next time!” Nathan drawled as he got out. He’d taken a few steps toward the house before realizing he still had Miles’s hat and then promptly jogged back to the car. “Almost forgot this.” He took it off and waved the hat at Miles.

Miles shook his head. “You can take care of it until next time.”

Grinning, Nathan secured the hat back on his head, then waved Miles off into the night. He could do that. Happily.

After unlocking the door and stepping inside the house, Nathan stopped in his tracks by the entrance to the living room, eyes wide in disbelief. He walked into the room, to the foot of Ben’s favorite armchair. Ben had his laptop perched on his lap, and he closed it with a resounding click the moment he saw his son standing there, staring at him with a look as stern as all the teachers Ben had been compelled to have meetings with regarding Nathan and Lorcan’s harmless antics.

Okay, you and I need to have a discussion about how inappropriate wearing a bathrobe with jeans is.