Andrew sat on the couch in the living room, anxiously bouncing his leg, He was waiting.
For who?
For Michael to arrive.
Last night, Maxwell hadn't agreed with anything Andrew had said, and after crawling into his lap and kissing him senseless until he was gasping for air and hard as a rock. Maxwell had simply smiled, put the brochure in his hands, gave his cheek a slap, and off he went. Andrew was sure he'd shaken his hips as he left, leaving Andrew a mess. It had taken him a full ten minutes to calm down before he'd been able to focus on the words on the page.
He had managed to read more than one last night, but his head was still swimming from all the information he was supposed to process. And he knew Michael would expect the world from him. He couldn't blame him. Andrew expected the world from himself as well.
