Requited Ch. 04

I have a great summer. I get a paid internship at a big finance company in New York. I work in the Financial district and live with my aunt and uncle in Bushwick. To people like Andy and Ash, I don't make that much money, but it's at least double what I made working at the pool supply store. I love working in the city. I feel like anything is possible. Like anything could happen. I feel like finally, finally, my real life is about to start.

Andy spends six weeks of summer in Florence, taking a summer class with an Italian artist he admires. He comes back halfway through July and spends the rest of the summer in Montauk with his family, at their beach house. For the last month of the vacation, he invites me to spend the weekends with them.

Over the years, I've got to know the Montgomery's. I've been skiing with them and I've spent the odd weekend at their home in the West Village. I haven't been to the beach house before, but I have a pretty good idea of what to expect, before I get there.

I get called into a meeting and leave work later than I was planning to, so I insist on taking an Uber, so as not to interrupt dinner. Dinner at the Montgomery's shouldn't be interrupted, no matter what. Mrs Montgomery swings open the front door. She looks immaculate. She never looks anything less. She's wearing a white kaftan with an intricate royal blue design on it. Her hair is long and dark and falls in graceful waves over one shoulder. There's not a hair out of place. Her hair wouldn't dare. She is the type of woman who looks a good ten years younger than she is. She looks well preserved, though I can't spot a single sign that she's had any work done. She's a magnificent woman. Andy looks like her. He has her eyes and her nose, and he holds himself the same way she does.

He comes bounding down the stairs when he hears the doorbell. I hear his footsteps and when the door opens, I see him coming down the spiral staircase, taking the stairs two at a time. He's bare foot and he's wearing khaki shorts and a white linen shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. The collar is unbuttoned a button or two more than usual. It hangs open at his neck, giving me a little more of a glimpse of his chest than I need.

"Andyyy." I say.

He puts his hand out to greet me, but I slap it away playfully, opening my arms instead. He smiles and hugs me, softening in my arms for a second. Sometimes he does that. Sometimes, he doesn't.

"West, we're so glad you could make it." Says Mrs Montgomery, offering me her cheek. "Are you sure I can't get Francesca to fix you something to eat?"

"No, thanks, Mrs Montgomery, I ate before I left. I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's no problem at all. Well, why don't you get settled in and then we'll have a digestif?"

We greet his dad. His dad is tall, like him. His hair is silver grey, and he has piercing blue eyes. He's wearing a white shirt and chinos. He wears them well. I'm always a little interested in dad's, given I don't have one myself. Andy's dad raises more questions than answers. He seems to spend most of his time alone. He's seems to be in a world of his own. He's a well-known neurosurgeon. He seems a little stressed, a lot of the time. Mrs Montgomery is the type of woman you'd have to be mentally insane to cross, but I get the feeling Mr Montgomery has crossed her. I get the feeling he's crossed her more than once. Andy's never said anything about it to me. He hardly ever talks about his dad. It's just a feeling I get from the way the whole family treats him.

Andy shows me round. The house looks like something out of a magazine. Lime washed oak flooring throughout, and every inch of fabric in the whole house is white. The curtains, the linen and the sofas, all white. Brilliant, bright white. You'd have to be crazy to drink a glass of red wine in this house.

"Sorry about all this." Andy mutters under his breath, waving in the general direction of the house.

I'm wearing grey pants and a black work shirt and feel very out of place, "Did I miss the memo about a dress code?" I tease.

He shakes his head, looking a little uncomfortable, "'Course not, you're fine."

Still, I feel a little awkward. This house couldn't be more different from my own home. My home is colourful. Nothing matches specifically, but to me, it just all seems to go together. This house is the opposite. Every item in it has been carefully considered. Carefully chosen to give the impression of a relaxed, tranquil seaside abode. Everything about it has been designed to say, "Relax. Take a load off. Put your feet up." You just need to be damned sure your feet are perfectly clean when you do it.

Once I've dropped my bag in my room, we head out on to the back porch. It's dimly lit and swathed in white-washed wicker and candlelit hurricane lamps. Mr Montgomery, Andy and I have a cognac and Mrs Montgomery drinks Scotch. Mrs Montgomery and I make small talk, while Andy and his father listen.

Joss arrives just before we head up to bed. She's wearing a short, tight red dress and her dark hair is wild from the ocean. I guess, she didn't get the memo about wearing white either.

"West," she says, looking disdainfully at her parents, "thank God you're here."

After greeting her, I continue telling everyone about my internship.

"West got a paid internship." Andy interjects.

"That's a big deal, Stanley." Joss says to her father, when he doesn't react as quickly as she deems appropriate.

"Ah," he says, raising his glass to me, "way to go, West. Good for you."

"Are you guys coming to the beach?" Joss asks Andy and me, once we've finished our drinks.

"Uh, nah, it's late. We'll come out tomorrow." Says Andy.

Afterwards, Andy and I head upstairs. He drapes himself over the chaise in the corner of my room. He crosses his legs and leans back. He couldn't look more perfect, if he tried. He's been in the sun. He's more tanned than usual. He has this long, leanness about him that seems more obvious with the tan and all the white around him. He looks like he was made for this place. In fact, the whole space looks as though it was designed around him. As if, it was designed specifically to complement him. He looks entirely at one with the scene.

I tell him about work, and he tells me all about art school.

"How are things with Ash?" He asks. He knows we're on a break.

"The same," I say, "I haven't heard a word from her all summer."

"Have you been seeing anyone else?"

"God no, I'm pretty sure that offer was nothing more than entrapment."

He laughs, "You're not wrong there."

"How about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

"Mmph." He says, shrugging one shoulder.

It occurs to me later, that wasn't exactly an answer.

* * * * *

On Saturday, we hang out at the pool. I kick back on a lounger and chat to Mrs Montgomery, while Andy swims laps. He was wearing board shorts, but he removed them before he started swimming. Now, he's just in a speedo.

Do not sexually objectify this woman's son, while you are talking to her, I tell myself again and again.

I've been doing so well recently, in the way I think of Andy. Honestly, I've been good for over a year. Well over a year. I try to keep being good and I damn nearly manage, but then, Andy starts swimming butterfly. I feel my ability to converse with his mom rapidly deteriorate. I pick up a magazine and start flipping through it. I can't focus. The sight of his muscular arms and his back breaching the water is too much. It would be too much for anyone.

My dick starts to stir. I don't a have a dick that's easy to hide, if it takes it into its head to grow. I hop up and hurriedly run to the pool and bomb-drop in. Andy swims over, laughing, splashing me in the face once or twice. He dunks me under the water and then I dunk him. When he comes up, he leans his head back so that his hair is smoothed back off his face. His neck is exposed as he arches back. He opens his eyes, and his eyelashes are wet. There's water running down his face. Down his neck. His mouth is parted slightly. It's cracked open in a hint of a smile. He looks so sexy, it takes everything I have not to grab him and force my tongue into his mouth.

Don't do it. For God's sake, his mother is watching.

We goof around for a while and then I watch him get out. Personally, I'm not able to get out for a very long time, so I swim laps, too.

It's not all bad. Getting some exercise is always a good thing.

* * * * *

That night after dinner, Andy, Joss and I head down to the beach. The house is right on the beach. It has a private path leading straight to the water. There are a big group of people already there. Most of them seem like old friends. They've made a bonfire. Everyone is sitting around on picnic blankets, drinking and chilling. Andy introduces me to everyone and gets me a drink. There's a guy in a fedora, playing the guitar.

It's really a great evening. Super chilled. After a couple of hours and more than a couple of drinks, Andy says, "Are you okay?"

"Sure," I say, "I'm having a great time."

"Do you need anything? Can I get you another drink?"

My beer's almost empty. "Yeah, thanks."

He gets me another drink and I sit there, chatting to Joss and feeling relaxed and content.

I'm super happy I came out here.

After a while, it seems quieter, somehow. I look around and notice I haven't seen Andy for a while. I'm filled with a quick sense of dread, as I look around again, scanning the new faces around the fire. I notice immediately that the guy in the fedora is missing, too.

"I'm tired," I say to Joss, "I'm going to head back."

* * * * *

The next day at breakfast, Andy seems happy and relaxed. He's in a good mood. Being at the seaside seems to suit him. His eyes are light and don't have that slight little crease in between them, that they usually have. I guess, getting his dick sucked by a guy in a fedora, suits him too.

Later in the morning, after we've been to the beach, I sit on the porch with Mr Montgomery. There's a basket next to his chair, filled with footballs. I'm not sure if they're part of the décor or if they're to play with, but I can't ever resist an opportunity to play ball.

"Did you play, Mr Montgomery?" I ask.

"Yeah, for a while. I loved it. I had some of my best times out on the field. I did my knee in in senior year though, and that was the end of that." He says, looking up from his newspaper. "Did you know Andy used to play?"

Andy has mentioned it to me. The way he described it, it wasn't something he enjoyed. Still, I'm here to make conversation, so I say, "Was he any good?"

Mr Montgomery takes a moment to respond. He seems to think about it for a while, "He was a very promising player. One of the best I've seen. He was really something."

Part of me wants to say, "He's still something, you jackass." But I'm good with parents. I like it when parents like me. Ash says, I like it when everyone likes me. She assures me it's one of my flaws. It's not my only flaw, in Ash's opinion, but it's certainly one of them.

Andy comes walking across the lawn then. He's walking slowly, without a care in the world.

"Andyyy," I yell, as I step out onto the lawn and pass the ball to him, "look alive."

I pass the ball long and hard. I don't really expect him to catch it, given he wasn't expecting it, but he doesn't skip a beat. He hardly seems to move his feet. He just seems to magically appear under the ball. He catches it in a way that looks effortless. The ball hits his palms and sticks like velcro. He has sure hands. Safe hands.

Big, beautiful, safe hands.

He passes the ball back to me. He launches it like a grenade. He throws it so hard, a small grunt escapes me, as I catch it.

We pass the ball back and forth and even though he's behind me, and I can't see him, I can feel Andy's dad smiling. He's like Andy, I guess. He doesn't smile, unless something makes him really happy.

After a while, I look back and see that Mr Montgomery is on a call. He heads back inside. I take a run up at Andy the next time I pass the ball to him. I tackle him to the ground. I don't tackle him hard, but he didn't see me coming. He falls to the ground with me, laughing and squirming when I land on top of him. He's hard and solid. Hard abs and chest muscles. I can feel him breathing beneath me. My body reacts with a vigour that takes my breath away. I jump off him quickly.

Jesus. Get a grip.

* * * * *

The next week-end, Andy picks me up at the station on Friday evening. He seems happy to see me. He still looks generally happy and mellow. Happier and more mellow than usual. He must be enjoying his vacation a lot. After greeting his parents, we head out to the beach. There's a group of people there again. Mostly, the same people from last week. We eat pizza and watch the sun go down. Oren, the guy with the fedora, is playing his guitar again.

I honestly can't express how seriously he's taking himself. He couldn't possibly be more up his own ass, if that was his sole goal in life. I sit there, drinking a beer, chatting to Andy and Joss and a few people I met last week, trying not to look at him. He's alright looking, I guess. He has that sun-bleached, surfer look. I guess if you're into that type of thing, then he's not that bad. His music isn't too bad either, though I've definitely heard better. It's nothing to write home about, let's put it that way. He takes his music seriously, too. Dead seriously. He's stopped playing covers and is playing his own songs now. He does this little run-up before he starts playing a new song. Like a little introduction, to let us know where and why he wrote the song.

"So, like, yeah, I wrote this one in the fall. I was road-trippin' through Colorado with a great group of people. A group of people not all that different to you."

It could not be more cringey. I'm cringing in embarrassment for him. I have an almost over-whelming urge to tap him on the shoulder and say, "Hey, bud, you're not Jack Johnson, d'you know that?"

I manage not to, but I have a feeling it will probably be best for me to try to limit the time I spend around him. At midnight, I tell Andy I'm tired and ask if we can go home. He comes back to the house with me. I feel a ludicrous sense of victory.

Don't be a fool. You can't spend the rest of the summer cock-blocking Andy.

When I really think about it though, it's not like I have much else on my to-do list.

* * * * *

The next day, we go to the beach. The weather is amazing, and the water is clear and warm. We swim for hours. I feel like a kid again. It's like one of those days, I remember from summers when I was young, where I just swam and swam, for the pure joy of it. After lunch, we go to the den. We each choose a sofa and stretch out. I hang my feet over the edge of the sofa, to make sure they don't touch anything. Andy falls asleep, half on his side, half on his stomach. He's face is turned towards me. His dark hair falls forward, just below his cheekbone. I lie on my side and face him, too. Just like I used to, when we lived together like brothers. I let myself think of what it would be like to live together like lovers.

I imagine a life where Andy loves me. Where he's mine. I imagine a life where I work hard and I'm wildly successful. I imagine Andy in a beautiful house, filled with expensive things that I buy for him. I imagine taking care of him. Giving him everything he wants. Waking up early, to make breakfast for him. Cooking with him. Eating and sleeping together. Sleeping close. Pressing my body up against him. Sleeping with my arm on his chest.

I haven't let myself think like this for ages. For years. Years. Not since I started up with Ash. It's one thing to think about having sex with him, I can't always help that, but it's quite another to think of him like this. It's inappropriate and ridiculous. It's a particularly ridiculous fantasy for many reasons. Even if you can get passed the obvious, there are so many reasons it's stupid to think like this. Firstly, Andy can take care of himself. He's not the kind of guy who needs looking after. That's not who he is. Secondly, he might have an appreciation for beautiful things, but he's never once shown himself to be someone who is at all impressed with something just because it's expensive. Ashleigh would be impressed if I bought her an expensive handbag, or something like that. She would love it. I honestly doubt Andy would even notice. Thirdly, it's terribly, terribly stupid, because in all the time I've known Andy, he's never once even had a serious boyfriend. He's never even mentioned a casual fling to me. That's not to say he hasn't had flings. He's obviously in the middle of having a fling with Oren right now. I just doubt he's the kind of guy who wants to settle down. I doubt it highly.

Still, none of this stops me. I lie there, looking at him, just like I used to when we shared a room. I lie there, looking across the room at him, wishing and wishing that the space between us didn't exist.

"Looks like you got a bit too much sun." He says, when he wakes up.

"Yeah, I think so."

I hold the back of my hand against my cheek. My face and my shoulders feel a little warm. He brings me a large glass of cold water and then draws, while I read. He draws a rough portrait of Joss. Her hair is wild, and it looks like she's saying, "Huh?"

"It's amazing." I laugh, when he shows it to me.

"Well, it's better than the one you did of me sleeping with my mouth open." Says Joss. She's just come back from a morning of shopping with her friends and has joined us in the den. She's curled up on a sofa, flicking absently through a fashion magazine.

We have dinner with his parents. It's a civilized affair, though the undertone is a little fraught. Joss, who goes to school in the city, is not enjoying her course. She's making mild threats about dropping out and starting an internship as a tattoo artist instead.

Neither of the Montgomery parents are giving her the satisfaction of a strong reaction. Mr Montgomery, because he's not really paying attention and Mrs Montgomery, because she's using every ounce of her self-discipline, not to.

"Well, you have so many wonderful options, Josslyn. I'm certain you'll make the right choice." Says Mrs Montgomery.

"Thanks for your faith in me, Mom." Joss says, coldly, "I can't tell you what it means."

I think how different the Montgomery's are from the McKinnon's. If I was at the McKinnon's right now, everybody would be screaming. It would be raucous. It would be a riot. I look around and wonder whether a Montgomery has ever screamed in this house. Somehow, I doubt it.

After dinner Joss heads out and Andy and I go upstairs. He comes to my room and lies on the foot of my bed, propping himself up on one arm, as we talk. He's long and languid. A lean, muscular dream.

"Can you believe we only have one year left at college?" He says.

"I know, right? I can't believe our lives are finally about to start."

"Are you happy it's nearly over?"

"Yes," I say, "I can't wait for the next chapter."

"I can." He says quietly. I'm a little surprised. He's not a party animal or anything like that. In some ways I've always thought he seemed a little out of place at college. To me, he's always seemed like he's meant for bigger, better things. I thought he'd be looking forward to being done with school. "Everything's going to change."

"Isn't that a good thing?" I ask.

"I don't know. Right now, we all live in a bubble. Our whole group does. We all do the same things. We go to lectures. We do assignments. We go out. We know all the same people. We all have a lot in common because our lives are the same. Once we leave, everything will change. We'll all go in different directions. Who knows where we'll land up? Who knows where life will take any of us? One thing's for sure though, we'll never get this time in our lives back."