The Wingman by A. Poland

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The main downside to Miles’s apartment was that the walls were ridiculously thin. Nathan was convinced he could hear cockroaches moving in them late at night, but Miles had reassured him it was just old piping. When the bug in question crawled over his foot in the shower one day, Nathan was even less convinced by the pipe theory. And because Miles’s apartment was on the top floor, Nathan had thought they’d at least have the luxury of not overhearing the neighbors.

But they did. Quite often.

They even had a betting system going about what the couple in the apartment directly below them was going to argue about next. Nathan was in the lead, overtaking Miles with his guess about changing the cat litter.

The morning after dinner with Miles’s family, Nathan brushed off the voices he heard as “those argumentative neighbors.” But then he soon realized the voices weren’t muffled by paper-thin walls. It sounded like they were coming from directly beneath him. Even weirder, one of the people talking sounded like Miles.

Wait.

Was that—?

Nathan never once claimed to be particularly clever when he first woke up in the morning. It took at least a cup of coffee (two on a bad day) and an hour of minimal conversation before his brain fully kicked into gear. And the cogs were slowly turning now as he blearily rubbed crusty sleep from his eyes.

Nathan sat up, the comforter wrapped around his shoulders like a shawl, as he tried to eavesdrop on the conversation below. But suddenly, it went quiet. They stopped speaking.

“I have coffee brewing,” Miles’s voice called up to him, gentle and soft and warm.

“I… Thanks?” Nathan replied, voice groggy as he tried to make sense of how Miles knew he’d woken up.

“You stopped snoring,” the other voice bellowed, and Nathan scowled because that wasn’t fair. He didn’t snore, not really. Nathan just…he was a heavy breather. Anyway, it wasn’t as bad as—

“Lorcan?”

Nathan immediately swung himself over the side of the bed and down the ladder in the least elegant way possible, but still completely effectively, the blanket falling from his shoulders and tripping him up as he slid down. At least it softened his landing when he inevitably missed the last few steps and plummeted straight onto his back.

“Holy crap” from Lorcan.

“Babe, are you—” from Miles.

Not that Nathan gave them any opportunity to be concerned as he got up off the floor as quickly as he’d fallen to it, more or less launching himself at his best friend, arms around Lorcan’s neck and downright squeezing him. Maybe a touch too tightly, but Nathan couldn’t be blamed.

Lorcan was here.

“Hey,” Lorcan laughed breathlessly as he held Nathan right back, just as tightly.

Which was way better than the alternative, in Nathan’s books. Lorcan could have just pushed Nathan away, told him to fuck off and die in a hole. But he was here, and he wouldn’t be if he wanted to cut all contact with Nathan.

Oh god.

Maybe he was here for that. Lorcan had always been the kind of guy to ignore problems until they went away, but what if he wanted to make himself clear for the first time in his life? Nathan wasn’t exactly someone he could just pretend didn’t exist. He was too deeply involved with Lorcan’s family and their friend group. Cutting things off with a sharp, no-nonsense blade made more sense in this scenario.

“Stop freaking out,” Lorcan said then.

For a moment, Nathan had forgotten how well Lorcan knew him. You didn’t grow up as best friends without knowing each other inside and out, namely how to tell when the other was having an internal crisis.

“’M not,” Nathan mumbled back, his mouth pressed against Lorcan’s shoulder and therefore muffled.

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lorcan drawled, obvious to anyone that he didn’t believe Nathan in the slightest.

Nathan pulled back after a moment, when the hug had definitely verged into the territory of clinging—at least on Nathan’s part. Nathan rubbed the back of his neck, all too aware he was standing there in his underwear (with a series of tiny Captain America shields, so it could be worse) and his T-shirt from yesterday, which probably smelled like the remnants of that Moscow Moustache.

Nathan couldn’t bring himself to be self-conscious, especially considering the two people here had already seen him in various states of undress and less than distinguished circumstances (citing Lorcan’s lifelong experience with Nathan and Miles recently having to deal with Nathan’s treacherous twenty-four-hour stomach bug with the patience of a saint).

“I’m going to get some air.” Miles’s voice broke through the silence that was steadily growing more and more awkward with each passing second. He pressed a kiss to Nathan’s cheek, offered him a small smile, and then turned back to Lorcan with an expression Nathan had never seen on Miles’s face before. Stern, with meaning.

Had Miles given Lorcan the shovel talk?

Nathan let out a sharp guffaw before he could suppress the urge, then covered his mouth with his hand to stop any further hysterical laughter from escaping. Miles made his way out and shut the apartment door with a resounding click, leaving Lorcan and Nathan alone.

“So Miles called you, huh?” Nathan asked, turning away from Lorcan to take the few short steps to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee. If they were going to do this, Nathan needed to be somewhat caffeinated.

“Yeah,” Lorcan replied, leaning against the back of the small couch. “Last night.”

Nathan knew he’d heard Miles talking before he passed out. What a sneak.

“And what did he say?” Nathan pressed. It had to have been compelling to make Lorcan come all the way from San Jose. No one made a five-hour drive for some flimsy phone call.

Lorcan was quiet for a moment, and Nathan could hear him shifting his arms to cross over his chest like he did when he was nervous.

“A lot,” Lorcan eventually informed him. “But the summary is that I should take my head out of my ass unless I want to lose the best person in my life.”

Nathan stilled his hand, which was on course to grabbing two mugs. “He said all of that, huh?” Somehow, Nathan managed to keep his voice level.

It was always the quiet ones you had to look out for, he mused. And as easygoing as Miles was with most things in life, apparently this had been his breaking point. Nathan couldn’t tell why, exactly. But he also wished the call had been recorded so he could hear Miles scold Lorcan. Man, he’d pay big bucks for that.

“Sure did.” There was a brief pause. “He also told me that you guys ran into Andy.”

Nathan kept his back turned to Lorcan, making the slowest cup of coffee in history. All he really needed to do was pour it from the machine and add creamer, but he was doing it with care.

“Oh yeah, that was fun.” Nathan’s voice dripped with sarcasm as the encounter from the day before rushed back into his consciousness. “Weird, huh? And I had no idea.”

Lorcan grew quiet again.

“I’m sorry” came the whispered apology after what seemed to be an age.

“What was that?” Nathan cupped his hand over his ear, leaning back slightly. Lorcan never apologized for anything. Ever. This was a monumental occasion, and Nathan was hell-bent on milking it.

“You’re such an ass.” Lorcan sighed, but Nathan could hear the smile in his voice. “I said I’m sorry. How’s that?”

“Nah.” Nathan shook his head. “Still not good enough. I think you should go down on your knees.”

Not that he ever would. Lorcan could be ridiculous, but he had some level of pride. Deciding he’d had his back to Lorcan for long enough, Nathan turned around with the two mugs of steaming coffee in hand. His eyes bugged out of his skull when he saw Lorcan on the ground.

On his fucking knees.

“I’m sorry I was an ass.” Lorcan spoke clearly, no room for misunderstandings. “I’m sorry that you fell off the side of my house.”

Shit, he remembered that.

“And I’m sorry about what happened with Andy. I just thought…” Lorcan closed his mouth when it seemed he’d come to a brick wall in his thoughts.

“Don’t stop now, Lor. You’re kind of on a roll.”

“Asshole.” Lorcan rolled his eyes, looking mildly uncomfortable. He took a breath and continued, “I thought that if you got with Andy, I’d lose you. You were already moving away for a year, I didn’t…” The confident mask Lorcan wore around others slipped—unveiling who Nathan knew his best friend to be. Shy and unsure, but powering through.

Nathan pursed his lips and placed the cups of coffee down on the small table by the couch.

“You’re ridiculous, y’know?” Nathan managed, voice barely over a whisper.

“Not all the time,” Lorcan shot back, a little defensively. “Just with this whole situation.”

“Which equates to a lot of the time, dude. Sorry to break it to you.”

“Can I get up now?”

“Nope,” Nathan said, sinking to his knees as well. “My turn. Even though I think I said my piece after I fell off your house. Did you even get to eat any of the things I left, or did the twins steal them all?”

“They always left me a few; don’t worry.” Lorcan’s expression relaxed into fondness when Nathan dropped to the floor.

Neither of them moved.

“Good. Because they were apology cookies, and they always taste better than regular cookies.”

“I thought they were your dad’s cookies?” Lorcan countered with a raised brow, and Nathan frowned, called out.

“Yeah, well, he knew what was going on. Still apology cookies. We’re straying from the topic.” Nathan shook his head, rubbing his hands against his thighs absently to get him back on track. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was hanging out with Miles or that I had a thing for you.”

“Yeah, that’s still weird,” Lorcan commented, but his tone was teasing.

“Jerk.” Nathan smacked his shoulder lightly. “Don’t worry; I’m over your handsome mug now. No weirdness here.”

“Yeah,” Lorcan said quietly, glancing to the door Miles had left through. “Kind of got that impression when Miles called. He’s really gone on you, dude.”

Warmth bloomed in Nathan’s chest, conveyed by the smitten smile on his face. “Of course he is. I’m great.”

“Yeah, you are,” Lorcan agreed with a huff, clasping his hands together with his next breath. “Are we good, Nate?”

Are we good? That was one hell of a question. A question Nathan wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I… We will be. I think,” Nathan replied eventually. Because no matter how much they both fucked up along the way, Nathan didn’t want to lose Lorcan as a friend. Sure, he could be pigheaded, selfish, and self-righteous. But he was also caring, funny, and one of the most genuine people Nathan knew. Nathan would be an even bigger ass than Lorcan if he let go of their friendship.

“Would it help if I told you I got rid of the ground squirrels?” Lorcan asked with a hopeful look. “Ethically, of course.”

Nathan had been through a lot of shocks that morning. His boyfriend summoning his best friend, Lorcan apologizing—Nathan wasn’t sure if he’d ever get over that one. But this? This took the cake.

Nathan might start to cry.

“You did?” Nathan croaked out, overcome with such relief he had no idea how to react. Weep-text his dad to tell him the good news? Launch himself at Lorcan again? All very good options. “How?”

Nathan had (almost) come to terms with having to live with the squirrels and had even tried to start that vegetable patch, hoping the squirrels would just leave it be.

They hadn’t—instead they’d torn up the planted seeds in the dark of night, like vandals.

“I can’t take all the credit,” Lorcan said quickly before Nathan could hail him as King of Ground Squirrels. “I failed miserably, but the twins asked if they could try. And they kind of just…picked them up?”

Nathan blinked, drawing a blank.

“And the squirrels didn’t bite them?”

“Nope.” Lorcan shook his head, looking just as surprised as Nathan felt. “Mom had them dressed up in what looked like riot gear, but they didn’t need it. They were almost cuddly. So, yeah, the squirrels are now their second-grade pets at school.”

Nathan wasn’t sure what to acknowledge first. That Sally and Emily had somehow carried the squirrels away from the garden or that it was so late in the summer that elementary school had started back.

“When did you get the chance to do that?” Nathan asked, instead, because he did not have the mental capacity to unpack the twins’ apparent animal-whispering powers.

“I drove home this morning to do it.” Lorcan shrugged, a shy smile on his face. “Actions speak louder than words, you know? I didn’t know how an apology would go over, so I—”

“Decided to try to bribe me by doing the one thing that has been tormenting me for literally months?”

“Yes?” Lorcan pulled a face, seeming unsure how he was supposed to answer that question.

“Well, it worked.” Nathan laughed, shaking his head. Ben was going to grow so many fucking heads of lettuce—the world wasn’t ready. Lorcan looked relieved, like all of the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. “We still have to work on some things, okay? This isn’t a sweep-everything-under-the-rug scenario. We’ve gotta put in the hours.”

“Okay, yeah.” Lorcan nodded, taking it all on board. “I’ll even work overtime if that’s what it takes.”

“Yeah? Good.” Nathan grinned with a breathless laugh, opening his arms and inviting Lorcan in for another hug. Beaming right back, Lorcan shuffled forward on his knees and wrapped his arms around his closest friend.

They hardly noticed the front door opening again until Nathan heard Miles’s surprised “Oh.”

Not that Nathan could blame him; they were both on their knees in a tight embrace, swaying side to side like a “Rock the Boat” remix.

“We’re all good here, baby,” Nathan called over to him, smiling over Lorcan’s shoulder at Miles, who had his reusable tote bag hanging over his shoulder.

“Oh, good,” Miles replied with a soft smile, lifting the bag in the way of an offering, “because I bought celebration pastries.”

“Oh man.” Nathan pushed away from Lorcan because, duh, pastries. “Celebration pastries are so much better than apology cookies.”

*

The three of them ended up on the roof with the celebration pastries and coffee (herbal tea, in Miles’s case, in a misshapen gray mug Lanelle had tried to make in pottery class—emphasis on tried). Nathan sat in the middle. It was a little uncomfortable, and he had to carry most of the conversation between Miles and Lorcan.

But they were trying, and that was all Nathan could ask for.

Like Nathan had said in the kitchen—in a less than dignified pose on his knees, but his words had carried meaning all the same—he and Lorcan still had a hell of a lot to talk about, to work through. Lorcan couldn’t keep pushing his problems away, pretending they didn’t exist, and Nathan needed to trust Lorcan and open up more.

But with Nathan’s hand in Miles’s and Lorcan grinning at him after making some terrible joke, Nathan knew they’d manage. He wouldn’t have to choose between his best friend and his boyfriend; that much was clear.

What was also clear to Nathan was that he was going to do that thing with his tongue for hours to thank Miles for hauling Lorcan’s stubborn ass here.