Open Road (2 page)

“We’re going to leave in about an hour. Can you have everything cleaned up before we go?” And he’d already forgotten he’d volunteered to clean all of it himself. Angus knew how it worked.

“Of course,” Angus repeated. “It won’t take long.”

“And can you put on that blazer I bought you last month? And the Gucci slacks?” Brad looked at Angus for a long moment. “Although on second thought, those might not fit you right now.”

Angus wrapped an arm around his belly. “They’ll be fine,” he murmured.

AN HOUR
later, almost exactly on the dot, he’d just slid into the passenger seat of Brad’s Audi. It smelled funny in the car; there was another scent on top of the usual meticulous leather and air freshener. Angus couldn’t put his finger on it, but he supposed he had other things to worry about. He squirmed around in the seat, trying to get the waistband of his pants not to cut at his hips. He regretted the Mexican food. And the pint of Ben & Jerry’s he’d downed the night before during a
Walking Dead
marathon.

“Remember not to ask Mark about his job,” Brad said. He kept his eyes on the road. He hadn’t looked at Angus much since he’d gotten home. Mostly just muttered as he moved things Angus had already put away. Angus felt like such a failure for not having the apartment clean and welcoming for Brad’s return.

“Yes. I remember. And don’t talk to Jeremy about his marathon training because he had to quit over his strained ACL. I have known these people just as long as you have. I
know
.”
Even if I don’t really like them.

Brad gave Angus a sharp look. “You don’t have to be rude.”

“I just really wanted to see you tonight.”

“You are seeing me,” Brad said coolly.

Angus figured there was no point in arguing. So he simply stared out the rain-spattered windshield at the dusk. Kitchen was only a few minutes away from their Pearl District apartment, and traffic was surprisingly light for the end of rush hour. Brad would’ve probably insisted they walk if it wasn’t cold and damp. Winter in the Pacific Northwest. Charming.

They found parking near Kitchen annoyingly easily. Angus wouldn’t have minded if they had to drive around for a while. He got out of the car and stepped right into a super deep puddle, which made his night just that much better, and then hopped up onto the curb before the next car came by and sent a big whale-tail of dirty street spray up at them.

“Would it be possible for you to avoid attracting a mess for one evening?” Brad asked. The look he gave Angus said he didn’t believe that was in fact possible. Sadly, he was probably right.

Angus rolled his eyes anyway. He wasn’t a fan of the way Brad got when he’d been around Mark and Jeremy too long. Apparently it was starting early that night—prissy Brad in full force.

He followed Brad through the door of the restaurant and cringed a little when he saw Mark and Jeremy waving from a corner table.

Brad gave both of them enthusiastic hugs and kisses on the cheek. Angus hugged them too and then slid into one of the empty chairs. He knew he had a long night of confusing menu items and chatter about their friends from the tennis club Angus usually didn’t mix with much. It was better than sitting home alone.

He sat at the corner of the table, like he usually did, and let Brad and his friends’ conversation float over him. Angus found himself wondering what
his
friends were doing—Reece, Lex, who he’d met when he was in town for a business seminar and who Angus mostly only shared the occasional text with these days, Jordan and his old crew of clubbing friends. Angus missed dancing with the old crowd sometimes, hair full of glitter and drunk more on laughter than alcohol. He was thirty, though, and thirty meant respectable. It meant cocktails with pretentious friends at pretentious restaurants with one-word names. It didn’t mean disco ’til dawn.

Right?

Angus sighed.

“What’s gotten into you tonight?” Jeremy asked. “You’re usually a lot more chirpy than this.”

Angus tried to imagine that “chirpy” wasn’t an insult. With Brad’s friends, he never could tell.

“Just tired, I guess. It’s been a busy few weeks at work.”

“Angus’s team at the design firm has been working on the artwork for the newest Nike launch,” Brad said. He loved talking about how well Angus had been doing lately. It made Angus feel warm all over.

“Well, that’s great. Big step up from designing coffee cup logos.”

Angus dug his nails into the fleshy part of his palm. Hopefully, if it hurt, then he’d be distracted and not snap at Mark. Of all of Brad’s friends who were hovering a few miles above Angus’s league, Mark was his least favorite. Coincidentally, he and Jeremy were the ones they happened to see most often.

Angus had attempted one time, and one time only, to mix Reece, Jordan, and a couple of his other friends with Brad’s. He’d figured if they all got along, then everyone could hang out together more often, and Angus… well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought would happen. Because what did happen was a gigantic mess—even by his rather lofty standards of mess making.

“Big step up,” Angus murmured and went back to not talking. Not talking was the easiest way to make sure what he was thinking didn’t slip out of his mouth.

THAT NIGHT,
when they finally got home from the longest dinner in the history of forever, Angus sat on the side of their bed checking his phone messages. He’d left the phone at home, since it would’ve been tempting to tune out Brad and his friends and just mess around on the Internet during what was always a long conversation about people and things that had nothing to do with him. He had a long string of texts—Cherry, his sister, finalizing details for his party, his mom with a recipe question, and Reece, more Reece, and finally a worried, insistent Reece.

You’d better be having a ton of sex right now because you’re worrying me… you okay, bro?

Angus shook his head. Reece was ridiculous.

There are such things as naps. But we were out at dinner. I’m fine, promise :)

Angus’s phone buzzed in seconds, right as Brad was coming out of his shower.

“Is that Reece again? Can’t you two go ten seconds without talking to each other?”

Brad had never made his disdain for Reece unclear. Since the day Angus had brought Brad over to meet Reece, Brad had one sniping comment after another. He’d even gone as far as to ask Angus if they were sleeping together. Angus had rolled his eyes at the thought, made a gagging noise, and told Brad that Reece was straight as a board and practically his brother. Brad hadn’t been convinced.

“Actually, I’m texting my mother.” He wasn’t, but he’d had enough of their verbal warfare. “Would you like to read it? Check for grammatical errors?”

“I don’t like when you get like that, babe.” Brad sighed.

“Then get off my junk about Reece. He’s my best friend. I’m allowed to have a best friend. And he’s straight. I’ve told you that about twenty thousand times over the past
ten
years when I haven’t slept with him even once.”

Brad gave him a long, quiet look. Angus didn’t usually snap at him like that. Even Angus was surprised. Brad’s face softened.

“I just don’t think he’s good for you. You need someone like-minded.” And by like-minded, Brad meant snotty, well-dressed, loaded, and fashionably gay—not outdoorsy, gorgeous but painfully unfashionable, and irritatingly straight. Angus knew that, because they’d had the same argument before over the years. Many times.

“Why don’t we not talk about Reece, hmm? I have my hot man in bed for the first time in what feels like forever. There are lots of things we could be doing other than discussing my best friend.” He dropped his phone and crawled across the bed until he was spooned up against Brad’s back.

“Oh, babe. I’m tired.”

Seriously? Do you have a headache too?

“You’re tired.”

“Long drive, cleaning.” Brad rubbed his flat abdomen. “Plus, I’m super full from dinner. Sex with a food baby is not hot.”

“Okay. Whatever.”

Angus flopped onto his back. Brad leaned over. “I really did miss you,” he said. Then he gave Angus a long, sweet kiss.

“I missed you too.”

Brad wriggled under their designer duvet and pulled out his book from the side table. He turned so his back was facing Angus and opened the book. Angus was tired all of a sudden as well. Tired of a lot of things. He rolled over onto his side and scooted closer to Brad so he could wrap himself around Brad like a monkey. Brad took Angus’s hand and placed it on his hip.

“Night, babe,” he said.

“Night.”

Tired as he was, Angus didn’t know if he was going to fall asleep anytime soon.

“THIRTY YEARS
old….” Reece couldn’t help teasing Angus. He thought it might be impressed into his DNA after so many years. “Can you believe it? I remember when you were still skinning your knees learning how to rollerblade.”

“I’m twenty-nine still. For at least five more minutes,” Angus said. His voice sounded a little thick over the phone, like he was getting sick or something.

“You okay, babe?” Reece asked. “You sound weird.”

“I guess I’m just being emo. I don’t know how to feel about myself as a thirty-year-old.”

“You’re literally going to be the same person you were thirty seconds before when you were twenty-nine.”

“It just feels different.”

“Get Brad to do whatever it is you two crazy kids do, and it’ll distract you.” There was a long silence. Reece felt like he’d said the wrong thing. “Angus?”

“Brad’s not here. He said he had some stuff to do at the magazine office, and then he was heading to a late-night CrossFit class.”

“He
left
?” Reece hated that motherfucker. More than anyone he’d ever hated, except his biological dad. He’d hated Brad for ten years, and the feeling had matured over time, like a nice putrefied vomit.
Fucking Brad.
“It’s almost midnight.”

“He’s busy. He has a lot of work to catch up on. And, well, you know.”

Reece knew that tone of voice. It was the “I don’t want to talk about Brad” voice. He supposed he didn’t blame Angus. They hadn’t had the best track record of pleasant conversations about the subject. “You want to come over here?”

He heard the hesitation. And the shaky exhale that told him Angus had probably been crying. “Y-Yeah. I think so. But I can’t stay that long.”

“Of course.”

Reece figured Angus would probably spend the night. Or else he’d end up driving him home.

“Okay. I’m leaving.”

“By the time you get here, it’ll be your birthday.”

Angus sighed as he hung up the phone.

WHEN REECE
heard his front door opening—Angus got his key to Reece’s house the same day Reece did—he jogged out from the kitchen where he’d been making them late-night snacks and drinks.

“Happy birthday, Ang,” he said. Angus’s face was puffy and streaked. He
had
been crying. Reece could always tell. “C’mere.” Reece held his arms open and waited for about two seconds before Angus hurtled himself into them. Reece wrapped him up and buried his nose on the top of Angus’s shiny black hair.

“This sucks,” Angus said.

“It’s really not a big deal. I promise you in a few weeks you won’t even think about it. You’ll have your party tomorrow and everything will be fine.”

Reece kissed the top of Angus’s head. Probably not on the list of kosher activities according to his regal highness Brad, but Brad could suck it. Even though they had moments, days where things were like they’d always been, Reece missed pre-Brad Angus—messy, nonconformist, brighter than the sun, and a little wild. He missed
them
, the way they’d been like two opposite sides of the same coin before Brad rammed Angus’s life into a mold of beige, designer, square perfection.

“I hope not. Because from here, it’s just a quick slide into middle age.”

Reece rolled his eyes but squeezed Angus harder. “Well, it’s going to happen anyway, so why don’t we drink, celebrate your birthday because I’m sure glad you were born, and then we’ll decide what you want to do.”

“
Die
.”

It was hard not to laugh when Angus got like that. Reece tamed his laugh into a gentle smile. “Good Lord, you’re a drama llama. C’mon. You need wine.”

He herded Angus into the kitchen, where he offered him an empty glass or a bottle, mostly full. Angus went straight for the bottle.

“Hey, remember we’ve got lunch with the fams tomorrow. You can’t be too hungover.”

“I’ll be fine.” Angus took a long chug from the bottle and passed it to Reece. “Can we listen to Adele?”

“Adele makes you cry when you’ve been drinking.” Reece took his own chug from the bottle and passed it back.

“I know.”

“How ’bout Britney instead?” Reece asked. He had an entire set of playlists for Angus’s different moods. Someone else might find that odd. It was just how he operated.

“I can do Britney.” Angus took another long pull of the wine. “This is sour.”

“I thought you liked this brand of pinot?”

“I do. I just had some chocolate on the way over here. Diet starts after tomorrow night.”

Diet? What the fuck?
“You don’t need to go on a diet. Who said that?”

Angus chugged another big gulp of wine and handed it back to Reece. “The designer pants Brad bought me are getting tight. He doesn’t like it.” Lightweight Angus must’ve been getting a little tipsy. He usually only said things he knew Reece wouldn’t like about Brad when he was loose with alcohol. Most of the time, he guarded everything but the most complimentary of stories.

If Reece never heard the name Brad again, it would be far too soon. Too bad that had no chance of happening. “Babe. You’re gorgeous. If Brad doesn’t see that, screw him.”

“Not likely,” Angus muttered. “Not since before Thanksgiving anyway.”

“It’s January….”

“I
know
.” Angus scrunched up his nose. “If you’re not going to drink that, can I have it back?”