Chapter 58
Andy gave up his melodramatic pose to curl his fingers into Scooter’s hair and return the kiss, with interest. “Mm, dessert.”
Trick was sneaking up on the table, taking advantage of their distraction to steal a whole slice, but Scooter was tired of people and things and accidents interrupting them. He kept a hand on Andy’s chin, the other one twining their fingers together, and let himself get lost in the kiss. The traces of red pepper on Andy’s lips lent a certain zing to the kiss, tingling at his lip and tongue. He licked his way into Andy’s mouth, not caring who saw them or what they thought, taking, taking everything Andy offered.
The dim thought finally filtered into his brain that if Trick ate all the remaining pizza, Andy was going to have an utterly miserable night. Which might not be equal value to a few minutes’ worth of kissing. Maybe. Probably. He sighed and drew back.
Andy’s eyes blinked open and he let out the rest of his breath on a soft whine. “Okay,” he said, panting a little, “if we’re going to walk around and see the sights, no more of that.” He ducked back in for another quick kiss, though, before sitting back in his seat and trying to adjust his pants discreetly.
He was probably right, but Scooter resented being cheated of Andy’s mouth anyway. Scooter paid their waitress and they dropped the leftovers in the truck before Scooter pulled Andy up against his side, hand on Andy’s waist, and directed him down the road. Trick, full of pizza and a little inclined to sniff everything and everyone in their path, kept close, in case Scooter had tucked a spare slice in his pocket or something. 23
Walking around Ghent had been an inspiredidea, because while Andy didn’t want to talk about himself or his childhood much, he was fullof things to say about all the little shops they passed. It was a window on who Andy was, and Scooter was definitely enjoying what he saw.
They’d just turned down toward the Hague, a little curved inlet off the river, when a familiar voice yelled, “Winnie Stahl, I ain’t seen you in a month o’ Sundays!” Which was all the warning he got before Lolly Jefferson tackled them both and knocked them into the grass along the waterfront.
Trick pounced, tail wagging like crazy as he covered everyone in licks, eager to play.
“Oof, cocksucker,” Scooter swore, elbow stinging and his white shirt now covered in grass stains. “Ain’t nobody shot you yet, you oaf?” He snatched Lolly’s stupid hat and threw it. Trick chased it like it was a Frisbee. “Andy, you okay?”
Andy rolled over and sat up. “Fine, yeah, I’m fine.” His eyes were flicking back and forth between Scooter and Lolly, though, a little rounder than usual with surprise and caution. “Who’s your, uh, friend?”
Scooter whistled for Trick, who came over, dropping a well-masticated hat in Scooter’s lap. “Yuck. Good boy, Trick.” He tossed the hat back to Lolly. “Help us up, knucklehead.” He held out a hand and let Lolly haul him to his feet, then offered a hand to Andy and did the same. “Andy, this is James Jefferson, better known as Lolly for reasons that are probably best left unsaid. Lolly, this is Andy.” He hesitated for just a second, then went for it. “My boyfriend.”
Lolly was picking grass off his hat, but offered a hand that Andy took with only a heartbeat’s hesitation. “Any friend of Winnie’s, and all that.”
“Don’t call me that, I hate that name,” Scooter complained, peering around. “Where’s Lemarr?”
“New job,” Lolly said. “Uber driver.”
Given Andy’s rather frequent skittishness and anxiety, he was half-expecting the man to end up hiding behind him until Lolly went on his merry way. Instead Andy positioned himself in front of Scooter, leaning back against Scooter’s chest and twining the fingers of their left hands together. “Uber get much custom around here?” he asked curiously. “It’s not exactly a metropolis, and there’s way more parking than I’m used to seeing.”
“Some,” Lolly said, stroking down his luxurious walrus moustache. Scooter could swear that thing was two inches longer every time he saw it. “Mostly takin’ drunks home. And drivin’ old ladies to the grocery store. Stuff like that. What ‘choo doing up this side of town?” he directed at Scooter. “You should bring your boy up sometime. We’ll play Settlers of Catan.”
“As long as Mark’s not playing, I’m in,” Scooter said easily. It was hard to make time for games during the summer, but the thought of showing Andy to the rest of his friends…that was appealing. He could make time for that.