Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Chapter 3 Ex-Boyfriends are Always Hotter Than You Expect

Chapter 3: Ex-Boyfriends are Always Hotter Than You Expect

“OH DEAR God,” Andy said as he got off the train. “No. No. No no no no no no.”

Porter Burrell grinned at him, his famous eyebrows-o’-lust dancing in response to Andy’s less than enthusiastic salutation.

“Aw, come on, Dandy. It’s not my fault your family needed an extra hand to pick you up from the train station. St. Albans is a long way off!”

Andy scrubbed at his face with his hand and double-checked his backpack and his big suitcase. He looked around the train station unhappily, but he knew what he’d find. By the time the train had gotten this far north, there had been a small crowd coming from all the cars put together, and they’d all gotten off on the platform. Most of them were either moving into the small but hopefully warm station or being greeted by a friend or loved one in the cock-shriveling cold that came with Vermont this time of year.

If Andy couldn’t see his family—or his father’s rather beat-up Chevy Suburban—from the platform, it wasn’t like they could be hiding behind in the parking lot.

And given that Foxglove was about thirty miles from the station, it wasn’t likely his family had simply forgotten to mention they couldn’t make it to the station to come get him. Nope—this had setup written all over it.

“Keep your hand off my ass or I swear to Christ I’ll get right on the next train back to Brooklyn,” Andy snarled. “Which one of my soon-to-be-disowned family members sent you anyway?”

Porter grimaced and went to hoist Andy’s suitcase over his shoulder—he was unfairly tall and unfairly muscular, and when they’d been in high school, that had turned Andy’s key.

Eighteen was not exactly an age known for its sound reasoning or penis-free decision making.

“That would be your mother. But you don’t need to sound so snotty. I think they were hoping we could catch up.”

Andy gave him an unfriendly glare. “I can carry that,” he said, and Porter shrugged.

“Throw me a bone, here, Andy. It’s not like there’s another gay man in a forty-mile radius of Foxglove. Coming out to the station is sort of a big deal for me.”

Andy scrubbed at his face and tried not to be a dick. Porter hadn’t been a bad guy—or even a bad boyfriend—and this really wasn’t his fault.

“A bone but not a boner,” he said on a sigh. “And thank you for getting my bag.”

“That’s the sweet guy I knew in school.” Porter gave a happy grin. “So tell me why your mother wants us to hook up again. As I recall, she was not all that thrilled about the event when we were seniors in high school.”

“Because it kept happening in her SUV,” Andy said, wincing in embarrassment. Ah, to be young and horny and to not give a thought to the future boyfriend who might not think high school shenanigans were hilarious. “She saw the container of wet wipes and took it all the way to Pawlet to have it disinfected.”

Porter winced. “Yikes. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t real considerate of us. Teenagers are dicks , aren’t they?”

Andy had to laugh. “Some of them, yes. Blue Tahoe?” Because the ginormous blue Ford was the only vehicle in the lot that made sense for someone like Porter, with his larger-than-life shoulders and larger-than-average cock.

“You know it,” Porter said. “And I swear, no wet wipes—I get laid in my house like a human being.”

Andy grimaced and glanced around, noting the one restaurant, the pharmacy, the post office, and the gas station, all of which were situated on opposite corners of a remote edge of St. Albans. Many of the towns in Vermont—including the one he and Porter had grown up in—looked just like this.

“That, uh, happen a lot these days?”

Their graduating class had consisted of thirty people, twenty of them destined to spend their lives in Foxglove and ten of them hell-bent on the holy grail of Get The Fuck Out. Porter, in fact, had been a charter member of the GTFO contingent, but then his mother had gotten sick in his first year of college. He’d written Andy an email saying he was going home for a semester to help out, but Andy had read it and he’d known. There was no way to financially recover from his mother’s medical bills, whether or not she recovered.

She did, eventually, recover, but Porter had been stuck in their hometown, running his own computer service from their home and doing odd jobs for the local contractors so he could continue to assist with her health needs.

Andy wasn’t asking his friend if he was single ; he was asking him if he had any hope of not being single, and Porter knew it.

“There’s enough closet cases to wax my knob,” Porter said with a sheepish smile. “But you know. It’s Foxglove. The only reason we hooked up was we kept catching each other checking out other guys.”

Andy laughed, the last of his resentment drifting away like snow. It wasn’t Porter’s fault his parents had thrown them together, and he really was a nice guy who deserved a break.

“That’s not true,” Andy argued good-naturedly. “I was checking you out at least part of the time.”

Porter guffawed like he was supposed to and piloted them out of the train station and toward the interstate.

“Look,” he said, checking conditions carefully as he merged. “I’ve been looking forward to picking you up since your parents asked me, and not because I wanted to get in your pants.”

“You were in love with my brain?” Andy shot back, and Porter laughed some more.

“ No . Man, I’m starving . There’s one decent restaurant in Foxglove, and I’m dying for some Thai. I kid you not—there’s a little restaurant about five miles up the interstate. Let’s go there, eat, catch up, I’ll get you home, and you can chew out your parents there and I’ll….” He let out a breath. “I’ll have a chance to talk to someone who actually knows what it’s like in the outside world. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry I snapped, Porter. I just, you know, left behind a boyfriend who’s absolutely sure he’s going to lose me to the wilds of Vermont, and I’m heading to parents who won’t visit me in Brooklyn because they’re afraid of cannibal soup kitchens or something equally weird. I really didn’t want to leave Eli over Christmas. Having you show up instead of my mother….” He shook his head, remembering the sixty-dozen-and-fifteen phone calls that had precipitated this visit.

“Ah, Cindy,” Porter said, nodding. “That woman has never met a tabloid headline she didn’t fall in love with.”

“If you knew how many hours we spent talking about Bat Baby, you’d send the nice people in the little white coats to my parents’ house to take her away,” he said bitterly and then tried to let go of his irritation.

“She’s bored, Andy. Foxglove is a boring place. When her kids lived there it was one thing, but Charlie’s finished junior college and has a grant to get a teaching degree out of state―”

“She never told me that!” Andy exclaimed. It would figure his mother hadn’t clued him in for the good news during all of those discussions about Bat Baby—and about leaving Brooklyn.

“I don’t think your mom’s admitted it’s happening,” Porter said. “And Mary Beth’s got a scholarship to NYU.”

Andy felt an absolute thrill of excitement zip through him. “Really? Really ? She’s coming to New York?” He tried not to dance in his seat.

“Wow, Andy. She’s your little sister. Try not get all gushy!”

Andy blew a raspberry. “Look, just because I don’t visit as often as I should, doesn’t mean I don’t miss the girls! And I felt bad about deserting them when I went off to school as well. I would love it if my little sister went to NYU and I could meet her for lunch once a month and have her for small holidays and stuff. And I really want them to meet Eli.” That was the best part right there. He’d gone home for a week during the summer for the last three years, although Eli had opted out, citing a complete allergy to things like mosquitos and rural lakes and chickens, but Andy really knew he hadn’t wanted to get between Andy and his sisters and parents. But this—having his sister nearby—this was like the Christmas present he hadn’t asked for but really wanted anyway.

Porter frowned. “They haven’t met your boyfriend?”

Andy blew out a breath. “Well, they’re allergic to Brooklyn, and Eli… he takes that shit personally. I mean, we got an apartment with a guest room pretty much so my family could visit, but Mary Beth didn’t even come by on a college visit?” He let out a breath. “It’s depressing.”

“Aw, man,” Porter said. “That is depressing. What do you think the problem is?”

Andy grunted. “The problem…? Is that Cindy Chambers doesn’t want to admit that Foxglove, Vermont, isn’t the center of the earth.”

Porter blew out a breath. “Oh, come on, Andy, you can’t blame her for missing you a little.”

“I don’t,” Andy said, sighing. “I just….” He grimaced at Porter and tried to remember what he’d told Zinnia as it had become clear this situation wasn’t going to be easily resolved. “I don’t think it’s occurred to them that I’m never moving home,” he said at last. “And as much as I love them, I’m going to have to make it really clear that if it’s a choice between my parents and Eli, I’m going to pick Eli every time.”

“Mm. Oh! Thai food!” Porter knew better than to swerve, but Andy had to laugh when he went for the off-ramp to the little restaurant strip with his Thai place. “Okay,” he murmured, continuing to steer. “I hear you. Family drama—not my favorite.” He hemmed and hawed to himself for a couple of moments while he negotiated traffic and snow. “Okay, we’re here. I can tell you what I was thinking now.”

“That’s great, Porter,” Andy said dryly, not stating the obvious, which was that some people could very obviously figure out how to talk and drive at once.

“Hey, Peanut Gallery, no comments until you taste the Jasmine Blossom, okay? Their drunken noodles are to die for, and like I said, I’m starving.”

Well, given it was the last chance to eat anything but Panda Express or Mom’s home cooking, Andy couldn’t argue.

“Fine,” he said shortly. He disembarked from the Tahoe, pulling his hat closer over his ears and tucking his hands in his pockets for the trip through the parking lot.

“Okay,” he said, after they’d gone inside and gotten a seat. He discreetly checked his phone messages too, not resting until he saw the text from Eli showing the Christmas tree being erected in the foyer.

Lola loves the decorations too. Please tell your sources at the delivery company thank you.

Andy laughed quietly to himself. Good. Eli didn’t suspect a thing. He wasn’t sure why it was important that the ornaments seem to come from a mysterious source, except that Eli didn’t really believe in Christmas miracles or the kindness of strangers. If Andy could give Eli one thing, it was the hope that people would step up when he couldn’t, because Eli was just one—admittedly awesome—man. Buying those big glass ball ornaments had filled Andy with a ridiculous amount of happiness over the past week, and knowing he’d done it anonymously only made that better.

Anything that made Eli happy made him happy, and he was pretty sure the Christmas tree would help do it. At least for now. Andy planned to make Eli happy for a lot of years to come.

“Okay what?” Porter asked.

“Okay, explain to me why I shouldn’t get my panties in a wad about my parents trying to throw me at you like they’re chucking a fish at a seal.”

Porter chuckled. “Okay, so that should piss you off. I’ve got nothing. But….” He let out a big breath. “Look, man, I gave up a lot to go home and take care of my mom. And you know….” He sighed. “She’s sort of a pistol.” Tart-tongued and sharp-witted; Porter had his hands full….

“She loves you,” Andy said, meaning it. Porter’s mother knitted for him almost constantly. Perhaps because it was so damned cold in Vermont, or maybe because she didn’t have words for how she felt about her baby boy, but she was always knitting sweaters with the most amazing colorwork and cables and such. Andy’s mom knitted too, and Andy had to admit their work was breathtaking. Porter was wearing a hand-knitted sweater now, and it looked like something someone would buy in a boutique: cream-colored fisherman’s wool transformed by two sticks and an irritable, bedridden woman.

“I know,” Porter said. “And that’s why I stay. But what I’m saying is, you have an actual life in Brooklyn. That doesn’t mean break all ties—and I get that’s why you came back for the holidays—but don’t let them bully you home either.”

“I can’t,” Andy said, meaning it. “Eli needs me.”

Porter gave him a gentle smile. “That’s awesome. But you know it means you’ve got to tell me all about your guy.”

Andy’s eyes burned. “That’s like asking my mom if you want to see pictures of her dog.”

Porter’s laugh boomed through the little restaurant. “Oh my God. Start at his dreamy eyes, and don’t stop until I’m half in love myself.”

Andy nodded, for a moment so choked up he almost couldn’t swallow. “You’re a really good friend,” he said, meaning it. “So, about Eli. The thing is, he left home when he was really young, so he forgets the finer points of taking care of himself. But at the same time, he wants to take care of all the kids without a home so they don’t ever have to know what it’s like. Let me tell you about the first time I saw him on the train….”

Back Then

“SO WHAT was wrong with that apartment?” Eli needled as they sat down to eat at Birds of a Feather. The place was a little pricier than their usual haunts, but Andy had noticed that Eli tended to love Chinese food the most, and he’d started to just casually invite him to places after their weekend apartment hunt. A part of him was dying to take Eli out to someplace special—to dress up, to wear ties and make a big-deal date of it, but he’d played his cards smart and close to his vest for the past few months. Weekend jaunts to go find his apartment had turned into texting during the week just to say hi. Texting during the week to say hi had progressed to Andy bringing Eli lunch once a week at work. Bringing lunch by at work had led to Andy devoting some of his weekend to volunteering at the shelter, and then casually suggesting he and Eli should go out to eat since it was Sunday and all.

And the whole time, Andy had kept up a subtle campaign of surprise kisses, twined fingers, cheerful good morning greetings, and free coffee to make Eli feel like his day wouldn’t be complete without an Andy Chambers in it.

But his time was running out on his whole premise for seeing Eli on the weekends in the first place, and he knew it.

“Nothing,” he said now, looking into Eli’s eyes and trying to keep track of the question. God, those eyes, though, were fathomless. He had strong arched eyebrows and almost delicate features, but his eyes… dark and infinite, Andy would do almost anything to have Eli’s full concentration on him.

Eli didn’t do lies and didn’t do bullshit. He’d almost put a kibosh on Andy’s entire strategy when he’d discovered Andy didn’t actually like protein bars or breakfast bars—he brought them on the train for Eli. Andy had been going to feed him a line of word salad about bringing the breakfast bars for Zinnia when he’d sensed that this moment here, this little white lie, could be the one that drove Eli away completely.

“I bring them for you,” he’d confessed after a long moment of listening to the subway car clack down the tracks. “You don’t ever look like someone’s taking care of you. I want you to have breakfast and a good start to your day.”

Eli’s entire face had washed red, and he hadn’t summoned a single thing to say for the rest of the ride. When his stop came, Andy had tucked Eli’s favorite breakfast bar firmly in his pocket, and neither of them had mentioned it again.

Choosing a restaurant to go to after their weekend activities had been the same way. Andy had asked Eli his favorite takeout and then looked up places to go near where the real-estate agent had planned to take them during what had become their one Saturday a month of apartment hunting. Their other meals had been takeout in the front room with Andy’s roommates, and while Eli was a welcome guest there, it was not exactly… intimate.

Andy was hoping—praying?—for an invite to Eli’s apartment, which, according to him, consisted of a bed, a desk, a hot-plate, a minifridge, and a bathroom with a shower cubicle. It wasn’t so much that Andy thought that would be the most romantic place in the world to make love—and he was dying to make love to Eli—it was that he knew once he got a glimpse of Eli’s tiny apartment, Eli would trust him enough for the sex to actually mean something.

But that meant this question here—what was wrong with the last apartment?—was a potentially loaded gun. One wrong move, one wrong answer, and Andy might kill the relationship he’d worked so very hard to foster.

He went with honesty; it was the only thing that had worked so far.

“Nothing’s wrong with it?”

“Not a thing,” Andy confirmed.

“Then why did you tell her you’d get back to her?” Eli asked, barely looking at the dumplings that had just been set in front of them. “You’re going to lose the apartment if you don’t say something, like, yesterday.”

“I’m not ready,” Andy replied with dignity. He grabbed a potsticker, because he was starving.

“What do you mean you’re not ready?” Eli asked, laughing. Finally he noticed the food and picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks. “You’ve been looking for an apartment for months!”

Andy sighed and bit into his dumpling, closing his eyes in appreciation because it was delicious, but also buying time. Yeah. No. He was out of time. He chewed and swallowed and managed to look Eli in the eyes.

“Okay, then. You’re not ready.”

“Not ready for what?” Eli asked, confused.

“You’re not ready to move into the apartment with me.” Andy watched as Eli froze, his mouth full of dumpling, his brown eyes enormous.

Eli swallowed with an effort and wiped his mouth carefully. “We… we haven’t even…,” he said in a very small voice.

“Made love?” Andy asked dryly. “I’ve noticed.” So had his good right hand and his roommates. Nobody went through that much Kleenex if they were getting some on a regular basis. He was pretty sure they had a pool going as to when Andy and Eli decided to fish or cut bait.

Andy was rooting for fish, himself.

“Why…?” Eli swallowed hard, no dumpling needed. “Why haven’t we?”

“Because it needs to be your apartment, Eli,” Andy explained patiently. “And you need to trust me enough to invite me in.”

Eli had regarded him for a moment in silent agony. His apartment was his sanctuary. He’d told Andy that often enough, and as Andy had heard the story of his childhood—being kicked out of the house at fifteen, living at the LGBTQ youth shelter until he’d gone to school—Andy had understood. In his bones he’d understood. Eli’s tiny apartment was his, as very few things had been in his life. But Andy wanted to be Eli’s too, and that sort of trust, that was something Andy needed in a partner. This wasn’t Porter, who was good for a few—or many—blowjobs in the back of his mom’s SUV. This was Eli, who only smiled in flutters, and who clung to Andy’s hand like Andy could change the course of the sun.

Andy would do that for him—oh God, he would—if only Eli would let Andy see his heart.

Or his apartment. He’d settle for Eli’s apartment and hope the heart would eventually follow.

“Why me?” Eli asked, looking wretched and afraid and as though he was about to bolt from the restaurant.

Andy smiled bitterly. “Because your eyes are beautiful,” he said. “Because I love your taste. Because you work your fingers to the bone so a bunch of teenagers might never feel as sad as you did as a kid. Because even though you forget to feed yourself, you always remember to feed your kids. And because when I grab your hand and drag you through Williamsburg and Bed/Stuy looking for my future, you come with me, and you play the future game too, and I want your future in my life.”

Eli’s mouth parted, and for a moment, Andy thought, This is it. I’ve lost him , and his heart opened up in his chest and he’d mourned with all his soul.

Then Eli said, “It’s not good enough,” in a small voice. “My apartment… it’s not good enough.”

Andy’s heart started to beat again, and he drew air into his lungs. “Why don’t you invite me,” he said, “and let me decide for myself.”

And Now

HE ENDED the story there, because the rest of that night was personal, but Porter hadn’t been asking for salacious details. Andy knew that.

Porter, for his part, took a thoughtful bite of drunken noodles and let out a wistful smile. “That’s a good story,” he said. Then with a wink, he added, “Did you get the apartment?”

Andy had to laugh. “We did!”

“Both names on the lease?”

Andy nodded, because this sounded like a lighthearted question, but the way Porter said it told Andy he knew it was serious too. “I insisted.” It had almost been a fight.

“Then you’ll be okay. I mean, the great Andy Chambers—student athlete, star quarterback, student activities wunderkind—the world doesn’t let you down.”

Andy shook his head. “Foxglove is a very small place,” he said. “In Brooklyn I’m just a cog in a very big machine, even in my department.” He grinned. “Which is pretty great, actually.”

Porter grinned back. “Well, let me settle up here and you can tell me all about it. I’m getting to live vicariously through you. This is the best Christmas present ever!”