Paul learned several things about Andy during their virtual Delfi weekend.
Some stuff Andy volunteered: He'd played basketball in college. His first car had been a convertible VW Golf GTI, and he'd once gotten nearly arrested for, as he put it, "drive-by mooning." He spent a lot of time creating play lists that he then never listened to, because afterward he was never quite in the mood for what he'd prepared, and that was more frustrating than simply putting his entire music file on random play. He liked photography, especially landscapes. He was allergic to kiwis.
Other things Paul figured out through observation: Andy was obsessive about neatness (something Paul heartily approved of). He didn't cook, but religiously watched any show Gordon Ramsay appeared in (and maintained this had
nothing
to do with Ramsay himself. Or his muscular forearms.) He really was a pill until he'd had his second cup of coffee, and it was best to let him be until then. He was a little too fond of 70s disco, if the amount of it on his iPod was anything to go by.
Due to tennis and, later, business travel, Paul had never developed many close friendships. He'd always thought of himself as a self-sufficient loner and he'd been sure that more than a few hours in the company of anybody other than his family – hell, even of his family – would make him antsy and desperate for solitude. And yet on Sunday afternoon, despite having been with Andy constantly since Friday evening, he found himself depressed by the looming prospect of returning to his apartment.
"You look like you could use a nap. Come share the hammock with me," Andy invited, once they'd finished cleaning up after a very late lunch. They were both in the bathing trunks they'd spent the entire weekend in, and Andy's skin, a little sunburned, gleamed with the SPF50+ suntan lotion he'd been slathering himself with.
Paul let Andy climb into the hammock first, and then awkwardly followed, praying he wouldn't dump them both onto the ground. He found himself lying half on top of Andy, his shoulder tucked in Andy's armpit and his head on Andy's chest. A cool breeze was blowing and they were in the shade of a pine tree, but he still started perspiring within minutes, especially where his and Andy's skins were touching.
"It's still pretty hot out here," he mumbled, smoothing his palm over Andy's warm stomach.
"Is that a complaint?"
Paul burrowed deeper into Andy's side and Andy obligingly hugged him closer. "Nah. Just an observation."
He lay peacefully, eyes closed, listening to the cicadas and the droning of a plane flying high overhead, his nose full of the coconut scent of Andy's suntan lotion, occasionally caressing Andy's belly and hip. At some point he may have even drifted off a bit, and when he returned to full awareness, he wasn't sure if he'd drooled on Andy's chest or if it was only sweat. He moved his cheek to rest on a slightly dryer spot.
"Are you awake?" he whispered.
"Uh huh."
"I have to get going pretty soon. I need to get my stuff organized for tomorrow, clean my apartment a little."
Andy had hung one leg off the edge of the hammock and had been swinging them gently, and now he stopped, probably expecting Paul to climb out, but Paul wasn't quite ready yet; he lay there, counting slowly in his head, thinking that he'd get up when he reached fifty.
"If I say something, do you promise not to laugh?" Andy asked just as Paul had reached eighty three.
"No," Paul answered, already grinning in anticipation of whatever Andy was about to disclose.
Andy took a deep breath, his chest expanding under Paul's cheek.
"I think I've fallen for you."
Paul felt like someone had sucker-punched him in the gut, robbing him of his breath and leaving him struggling to understand what had just happened. "Oh," he said finally, his voice faint.
"Are you laughing?" Andy asked gruffly.
"No," Paul whispered. He swallowed hard and tried to put some order to his thoughts, but they wouldn't settle on one thing long enough. He wasn't even sure if the adrenaline rush that was making him slightly nauseous was due to excitement or terror.
There might have been things about himself that Paul didn't like and was slow in changing, but at least he didn't hide from them. He knew that somewhere along the way he'd developed a massive crush on Andy, and he was mostly okay with it, determined to enjoy it as long as it lasted. But the fact that Andy reciprocated the crush, that he actually admitted it out loud, somehow made his own feelings seem inadequate, maybe even false. Andy had just upped the ante considerably, and Paul didn't know whether or how he was supposed to react.
"Hey," Andy said, tugging on Paul's hair in what was by now a familiar gesture. "I can feel your heart pounding. Relax. There's no reason to panic."
"No, I know," Paul lied.
"I just wanted you to know. So that you don't wonder if I seem weird."
"Weird?"
He felt Andy shrug.
"Like if I were to invite you to stay here, or come back for your breaks, or use my laundry room, if you want. So that you'd know why I'm doing it, that it's for my benefit and that you shouldn't feel obligated or anything."
"Oh."
"I should have kept my mouth shut," Andy said resignedly. "My age, I should know better."
For the life of him, Paul couldn't think of anything to say. But he didn't like hearing Andy despondent, either. Andy was too impulsive, that was the problem; he laid himself wide open to getting hurt. And that was an epiphany, that Andy could get hurt, because until that point he'd seemed damned near invincible.
"No. It's good you told me," he said stoutly. "Because I think I'm falling for you, too, and I wouldn't want to be the only one acting weird."
Andy tugged his hair harder, and Paul raised his head, so that they could look each other in the eye.
"Weird?" Andy asked, his lips pulling up at the corners.
"Yeah. Like if I drop by unannounced to do emergency laundry but only have one shirt with me. Or if I come over for a healthy snack."
"And why would coming over for a healthy snack be weird?" Andy asked, sounding affronted, as if his fridge were full of yoghurt and fruit, instead of beer, juice, evaporated milk for his coffee, and a tub of margarine that had expired two years ago and that Paul was afraid to even touch.
Paul reached up and kissed him hard, and Andy immediately responded, his fingers tightening in Paul's hair, his tongue thrusting into Paul's mouth. He still tasted of the ouzo they'd been drinking earlier, and Paul moaned and squirmed higher on Andy's chest, so that he could deepen the kiss. The hammock swung alarmingly and they jerked apart.
"Dammit," Andy grumbled, and started shoving at Paul's shoulders. "Up, up. Get up."
"I
am
up!"
"And stop with the double entendres already."
Andy pushed with his foot, so that the hammock tipped and dumped them both, more or less standing, on the lawn.
