The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Seventeen

“This one’s new,” Lorcan commented as he perused Nathan’s room, flicking at the rim of Miles’s hat, now propped against the wall. It fit in nicely with the other weird hats Nathan had decorating the space. Some people had posters; Nathan chose hats.

“It is,” he confirmed, lying back on his bed, legs crossed. It had been a few days since the beach with Miles, and they hadn’t made any further plans so far. Nathan hadn’t had the chance to feel bummed out by it yet. Most of the time had been spent either with Lorcan or thinking of ideas of how to evict the ground squirrels without any casualties.

Note: Screaming loudly at them had been about as effective as the broken air horn.

Additional note: A perfectly functioning air horn had done nothing but freak out the birds resting on an electrical wire nearby. So much bird crap.

“Gotta say, I don’t like it as much as the others,” Lorcan said offhandedly, and Nathan felt a protective surge in his chest.

“Well, I do. My hat, my rules. Stop poking it.”

Raising his hands in surrender, Lorcan stepped away from the hat wall.

“How did your supersecret Monday activity go?” Lorcan then asked, but there was an edge to his voice.

Narrowing his gaze on him, Nathan sat up fully. “You’re annoyed about that.” It wasn’t a question, more a blunt statement.

“I am not,” Lorcan replied, arms crossed defensively over his broad chest. “I’m just curious.”

“Right,” Nathan drawled, not believing his best friend in the slightest. He fixed Lorcan with another look, and Lorcan groaned, relenting to the unwavering stare.

“We never keep things from each other. I just want to know what you were up to.”

A lightbulb went off in Nathan’s head. Dim, flickering, but it was there.

“Are you jealous?”

Lorcan looked positively aghast, perching on the edge of Nathan’s bed as he shook his head. “Why would I be jealous? I’m not jealous.”

Nathan scooched closer to him so that their shoulders brushed against each other. “Because I might have been spending time with someone who isn’t you?”

Nathan might be spitballing here—and there was every chance he was wrong—but he was going out on a limb. He didn’t know what had gotten into him; he was feeling fearless. Maybe it was in light of his recent findings that he’d only ever associated with Lorcan.

Had Lorcan noticed that too?

“I… No.” Lorcan’s tongue flicked out over a full bottom lip, and Nathan’s eyes were drawn to it, heart hammering in his chest.

“You sure?” Nathan murmured back, tilting his head to the side as he studied Lorcan’s pinched expression.

“Pretty sure,” Lorcan replied, voice just as low and eyes finally cast to Nathan.

Their faces were close. This felt like the right time. Not like the forced atmosphere in the tent or the failed attempt in the lake. This felt organic, like it was always supposed to happen here. But before Nathan could consider why kissing Lorcan right now would be a very bad idea, his body was already moving. He cupped his hand at the side of Lorcan’s angular jaw. Lorcan’s eyes flicked down to Nathan’s lips as he surged forward.

They were kissing. Nathan was kissing Lorcan. And––

Nothing was happening.

Lorcan wasn’t reacting.

A few moments ticked by, their lips still smushed together, but no reaction whatsoever from Lorcan. Either Lorcan was a terrible kisser or he wasn’t kissing back. So, Nathan pulled away, the silence in the room deafening.

“What was that?” Lorcan was the one to break the hush, confusion clearly laced in his tone. Gulping, Nathan shuffled away from his best friend ever so slightly.

“A kiss,” he replied hesitantly because how was he supposed to deny that? I fell on your face, and our lips just happened to touch? Yeah, that wasn’t going to fly.

“Right.” Lorcan’s brows were furrowed in thought as he stood up. “That was weird.”

Nathan pursed his lips together, looking anywhere that wasn’t Lorcan. He…wasn’t wrong. It had felt weird. But, then again, kisses were going to be weird when the person you’re kissing was as responsive as a dead fish.

“Yep,” Nathan agreed, eyes still averted from him.

“Are you going to tell me why you did that?”

Was he? Was Nathan going to tell him about the huge crush he’d been harboring for him since they were teens? Would that freak Lorcan out?

Having Lorcan as a friend was better than not having Lorcan at all; Nathan’d been telling himself that for years.

“I was just messing around, dude.” Nathan laughed it off, squinting up to him with a mischievous grin he hoped was at least halfway convincing.

Lorcan instantly looked relieved. “Okay, good. Shit, that would’ve been awkward if you weren’t.”

“Hah!” Nathan laughed, probably more enthusiastically than needed. “Right? So fucking awkward.”

If Lorcan noticed anything odd about the way Nathan was acting, he didn’t mention it. Maybe he was just as eager to pretend that hadn’t just happened as Nathan was. Lorcan took a seat back on the bed, and normalcy resumed.

“Miles hasn’t called,” Lorcan mentioned after a few long moments, hands clasped in his lap.

Right. Nathan had just kissed his best friend, and Lorcan’s thoughts were immediately on another guy.

“Did you ask him to?” Nathan asked, falling comfortably back into the role of supportive wingman. Anything to ignore the fact that he’d just taken one hell of a risk and almost fucked up their twenty-one-years-strong friendship.

“I mean, it was implied. I gave him back his jacket, we talked for a while, and then…nothing. He didn’t even ask me into his apartment or anything.” Lorcan sounded genuinely confused by it all, and the more he revealed, the more Nathan realized Miles just might not be into Lorcan.

Which never happened. Ever.

“Maybe I need to be more obvious,” Lorcan pondered. “Like…I don’t know, compliment his ass or something.”

Nathan let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Dude, I don’t think Miles is the kinda guy who’s going to do anything but feel awkward if you compliment his ass.”

It was a great ass, granted, but saying such would not be conducive to the conversation.

“What? Everyone loves a good ass compliment.”

How had this man ever gotten laid?

Right, because of Nathan.

*

Later that night, long after Lorcan headed home—instilled with newfound confidence about his approach with Miles that Nathan had unintentionally helped to build—Nathan received a text from the man in question.

Hey, are you busy tomorrow? There’s an air show near where I live. Could crack open more of that fake wine and watch?

It was embarrassing how quickly Nathan responded.

Miles picked Nathan up the following afternoon. Nathan shot his dad a text to let him know he’d gone out with Miles, Ben having left earlier that morning for some meeting. Nathan never asked questions about Ben’s job because the answers went right over his head. The moment he heard “balance sheet”or “insolvency,” all attention yeeted itself out the window.

The drive to Miles’s place was long and brought them back toward the coast. It was only when Nathan spotted the sea rising to meet them that he realized Miles had made this trip multiple times, just so Nathan could avoid public transport, and had done so without complaint. Either he was too polite for his own good and was pissed off he’d had to do so much extra driving or he genuinely didn’t mind.

But the more time Nathan spent with Miles, the more he understood it was definitely the latter. There were very few things in the world Nathan could imagine Miles being bothered by.

An out-of-tune guitar? That might ruffle his feathers a little.

Stubbing his toe? That annoyed everyone. Miles couldn’t be exempt, or he simply wasn’t human.

“I was thinking we could watch the air show on my roof,” Miles told Nathan as they drove up to an apartment complex.

“Free and not crowded; I’m a fan,” Nathan quipped back approvingly. He didn’t mention how intrigued he was to actually see where this guy lived. He visualized this really suave penthouse, to match Miles’s vibe.

But as they pulled in to park and made their way into the building, Nathan was comforted by how ordinary it looked. At least he didn’t have worry about feeling out of place. Miles’s apartment turned out to be more of a loft on the top floor. It had been intended to be used for storage, Miles informed him as he unlocked the door, but the landlord rented out the bare space for cheap, and Miles had made a home out of it.

Nathan could see why it had been cheap. It was small, even by LA apartment standards. The living room-cum-kitchen lay beneath a small staircase—or, rather, a ladder—leading up to a bedroom on top, with a bathroom in a separate room up there.

While others might have found it cramped, Nathan thought it was cozy.

It was also extremely Miles.

Earthy tones, instruments stacked in a corner (a few guitars, a violin, and a small keyboard were amongst the collection), and a hell of a lot of plants. And propped up on the coffee table, the cold stare of Cedar Ass. Nathan suppressed a full-bodied shiver.

“Nice place you’ve got here,” Nathan said, pointedly ignoring the possessed donkey that Miles had kept for some reason. Nathan walked around and examined everything curiously, drinking in every detail about the man’s life.

Paintings covered Miles’s walls, all similar in style.

“One of my sisters is an artist,” Miles explained before Nathan could ask what was up with all the artwork, most with a silver sheen to them, no matter the subject. “Simone gives me any of her cast-offs, which…” Miles chuckled. “They’re still amazing, so I don’t mind.”

“Are all of your siblings ultra-cool?” Nathan had to ask, happening upon a framed photo. He carefully picked it up, taking in the details. The photo was of Miles’s family, all six sisters, all of them stunning, duh, with one of them up front in a graduation robe and clasping a scroll. Miles was in a suit, hair shorter and dark brown, yet to be dyed. He stood to the back of the group, proudly grinning. Their parents—a middle-aged, beaming couple who Nathan assumed were their parents—stood smiling just as proudly on either side of the girl in the robe.

“Yeah, they are,” Miles told him, making his way over to Nathan and regarding the photo fondly. “This was Lanelle’s high school graduation. She was valedictorian.”

Nathan huffed out of a laugh, shaking his head. “Of course she was. So what have we got? A detective in training, a musician, an artist, a valedictorian…”

“A lawyer, a pilot, and a chef.”

“Let me guess, Michelin star?” Nathan ventured, but Miles’s smile and silence told him everything Nathan needed to know. “Knew it.”

Eventually, they made their way out to the roof, which was wide and flat and, admittedly, a bit dirty. It looked like no one had ever been out here, with a few empty crates in the corner and a hissing collection of pipes attesting to the neglect, but when they dragged up a bundle of blankets and pillows, it was surprisingly nice.

Especially the view it offered them. That was worth being on any grubby roof for.

“So do you sit up here and broodingly write music?” Nathan asked.

“Maybe not broodingly…” Miles shook his head with a laugh. “But, yeah, you’ve caught me out there.”

“It’s not too bad,” Nathan assured him before Miles could feel any more self-conscious. “If I had a musical bone in my body, I’d want to write up here too.” For someone who performed live on a regular basis and didn’t seem to care who, if anyone, listened, Miles was extremely uncertain of himself when someone talked about what he did.

And accept a compliment about it? Then, the Miles machine completely malfunctioned.

The air show ended up being a series of small planes doing flips in the air so close to them Nathan even ducked down into the blanket in case the plane darted forward and he got a wayward wing to the face.

Miles laughed, but not at Nathan. Nathan wasn’t sure how he made that distinction, but with Miles, it was easy to.

When the sun began to set, there was an intermission until nightfall, which Miles used as an opportunity to refill their drinks and grab some snacks. Then, the fireworks began. Nathan was too busy looking at them—because, yes, he turned into a small child when it came to fireworks; who didn’t?—to notice what Miles thought of them. It was late by the time the fireworks ended, later than Nathan had anticipated staying out, and that resulted in a long, drawn-out groan when he did think to check the time.

“Dude, I can’t ask you to give me a ride back this late…” Nathan would probably need to take three separate buses to get home, and an Uber would cost a small fortune. He would have to relook into selling a kidney to afford that—of course Nathan had looked into it before; he was a college student.

“Yes, you can,” Miles assured him, gathering up their glasses and blankets with a stretch. “You’re free to stay here too. Really, it’s no problem.”

After a few moments of considering his options, Nathan figured crashing on Miles’s couch was the lesser of two evils. At least then he wasn’t dragging Miles out to drive him home and then haul ass back here.

Before getting ready for bed, Miles grabbed some things for Nathan to sleep in. He politely left them outside the bathroom door for him while Nathan brushed his teeth—because of course Miles was the kind of guy with spare toothbrushes. But when Nathan emerged from the bathroom and descended the ladder, he spotted Miles’s tall form sprawled out on his couch.

“Hey, no, not cool. I’m taking the couch.”

“You’re not taking the couch,” Miles responded, sounding more stern than Nathan had ever heard him. It came across like a small, fluffy dog with zero sharp teeth and claws, letting out a warning bark. “It’s a little lumpy; you won’t sleep much. Honestly, the bed is yours. I’d feel better if you took it.”

Nathan narrowed his eyes at Miles, irked by the incessant politeness.

“How are you going to sleep, then?” Nathan asked. “You’re twice the length of the damn thing.” Nathan stopped and took a breath. “We can just share the bed. We’ve already shared a tent; it’s not a big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Miles asked after a few moments of silence.

Nathan rolled his eyes, already making his way back up the ladder. “Yes, I’m sure. Now get your ass up here.”

After Miles had switched off the light and joined him in bed, an invisible division between them, Nathan was quickly drifting off, too exhausted to utter one word good night.

That certainly didn’t stop Miles from quietly murmuring one.

*

Less pleasant than Miles’s soft murmur from the night before was a loud banging that roused Nathan from his comfortably unconscious state. He grunted, tugging the blankets over his head. Damn construction workers.

Yes, things needed to be built sometimes. Nathan understood that, could be sympathetic to that. But couldn’t it be done when people weren’t trying to sleep?

As the banging continued, Nathan realized it wasn’t construction work. Someone was knocking on the door. Shifting to sit up, Nathan only then noticed that Miles was latched onto him like an octopus—arm draped over Nathan’s torso, one long leg snaked between Nathan’s.

Huh.

“Dude,” Nathan grumbled, nudging Miles. “Someone’s at your door.”

“Oh,” Miles mumbled sleepily and reluctantly untangled himself from Nathan. He tucked a piece of hair behind his ear, blinked a few times to wake himself up, and clambered out of bed and down the stairs to investigate.

Nathan didn’t need to get up, so he lay back down into the nest of warm blankets, leeching the heat from the space Miles had just vacated. Nathan was pretty sure he could fall right back to sleep.

Until he heard a voice he knew better than his own.

“Hey, Miles! Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Shit.

Lorcan.