Dating Him: The Series

by Michelle MacQueen

  “No, it’s not okay, son. It’s never okay for someone to treat another human being with such hatred. We should be setting a better example for your generation.” The former president sighed.

  “We’ll get there one day, sir.” Nicky cast a glance back at the hate-filled senator who was supposed to represent him and the state of Ohio.

  “It shouldn’t be this hard to teach people not to hate,” Asher added. “Grown-ass adults should know better.”

  “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Bennett said. “Mind if I have a word with my son?” He turned to Nicky. “I believe Beckett will be off stage soon, and he might need some—”

  “Adult supervision,” Nicky supplied with a grin. “I’ll catch you later, Ash.” Nicky turned to leave.

  “Sorry, Dad, I know—”

  His father held up a hand to stop his apology. “I get it, Ash. Your friend was in trouble, and no one was there to defend him. As a father, I could not be more proud of you for standing up for Nicky. But we’re a political family, son. Your mother is the president of the United States, and our behavior reflects on her. Next time, alert one of the secret service agents to the situation and let them handle it.”

  “Right, right.” Asher nodded. He knew this speech by heart. He’d heard a version of it his whole life. He couldn’t remember a time when one of his parents wasn’t the president or running for president. Asher didn’t know a world where he was free to just be himself. He wondered if anyone realized he had no idea what it was like not to live under a microscope with secret service agents guarding his every move and every little thing he said and did ending up in the media.

  “It’s okay. I’ll smooth things over with Senator and Mrs. Montgomery. You just go enjoy your birthday and be more careful about what you say next time.” Asher’s father walked away, leaving his son feeling even worse than he had before.

  Would he ever know a life outside the presidency? Outside of Washington and politics? Asher scanned the crowd around him, looking for a friendly face. There were lots of them, but none he cared to approach. “My birthday party and I know like four people here.”

  “Ugh, I know that look.” Harper handed him a champagne glass filled with sparkling water. “I wear that look myself at these things. Come on, chug that and let’s dance.”

  “I don’t want to dance.” Asher knew he was sulking, but he didn’t care.

  “Your boy, Beckett, is almost done performing. We have to dance. It’s, like, impolite not to dance when your friend is singing at your birthday party.”

  “Fine.” Asher guzzled the sparkling water that turned out not to be sparkling water at all. “Dad will kill me if he saw that.”

  “It was water.” She gave him a wink. “That’s all Papa POTUS needs to know.”

  Asher let her drag him on to the dance floor where everyone watched them, cheering for the birthday boy who would literally rather be anywhere else than in the spotlight.

  “There he is, ladies and gentlemen,” Beckett said in his exaggerated announcer’s voice. “The man of the hour himself, Asher Brooks! I’m singing ‘Happy Birthday’ for you before I leave this stage, kid, so don’t go anywhere. Harper, sit on him if you have to.”

  “I’m your girl, Becks!” Harper shouted, holding Asher’s hand in a death grip.

  “This one’s for you, Valor.” Becks shot him a wink as he started up Asher’s favorite song, “It Is What It Is.” It was a fun, upbeat song with such complex guitar playing, few could pull it off, but Becks made it look easy.

  Asher was normally a wallflower, preferring to stick to the shadows by himself, but there was one thing he loved about these events, and that was dancing. On a crowded dance floor, he didn’t have to worry about people watching him or studying his every move. He didn’t have to worry as much if he ended up in a video on someone’s social media feed because he was actually a pretty good dancer. And Harper was even better.

  People called them the perfect couple despite the fact Asher was gay. With her short curly hair in a wild mess, threaded with feathers and subtle blue highlights, she was a fashion icon herself. Her dress was modestly short but brightly colored with a flouncy skirt and chunky jewelry. She dressed like no one else, funky with a hard edge but always fashionable. There were fashion bloggers who stalked her for tips. He supposed his stylists dressed him to compliment her style since they spent a great deal of time together and that made people want to see them together. He loved Harper and was happy to have her in his life. He just wanted more than a best friend.

  “Loosen up, Ash.” Harper moved with him to the beat of the music. “It’s your birthday, try to have some fun for once. It’s not every day we get serenaded by Beckett Anderson.”

  “We?” He laughed at the star-struck look on her face. “You’re right.” Asher smiled, and for the first time that night, he relaxed and enjoyed himself. Part of it was the dancing, part of it was having Becks on stage, and part of it was likely the champagne he’d chugged. It wasn’t his first time drinking, but champagne tended to hit him hard, and he’d always promised his parents he wouldn’t be seen drinking openly at these events—at least not until he was twenty-one. Asher really hoped by then these parties wouldn’t be such a big part of his life anymore.

  “That was fun!” Harper clapped when the dance was over and Beckett prepared to finish his set. “You know I love you right?” She took his hand, slipping a small giftwrapped present into his hands. “Do NOT turn this in as a gift of State. It doesn’t qualify because it’s something stupid from your bestie.”

  “Thanks, Harp.” He threw his arms around her as they stood with everyone else near the stage. As Becks sang “Happy Birthday” a cappella, Harper whispered to him, “I’m going to head out early and let you hang out with Becks and Nicky for a change.”

  “You don’t have to do that. They’d love to meet you.”

  “And I will. Next time. Go hang with your people. You have Harper time every other day of the year.”

  “Harper time?” Asher smiled, watching the way Becks worked the crowd with just his voice.

  “Yes, and you’ll have me back all to yourself soon. Go try to enjoy your birthday.”

  “Love you.” Asher hugged her tightly.

  “Love you too, you sad little mess.” She gave him a playful shove as she slipped away through the crowd.

  “Happy birthday, Ash,” Becks called from the stage. “We love you, kid.” Becks cheered with the crowd, wishing him the happiest of birthdays. Asher shoved his hands in his pockets and pasted on his fake-confident smile for the crowd.

  He waved and smiled, leading the audience in a cry for an encore from Beckett.

  As Becks started up with his band for one more song, Asher managed to slip away, seeking a moment of solitude. He was going to explode if he didn’t get two seconds to himself soon.

  He appreciated Harper’s gesture, letting him have the rest of the night with Nicky and Becks since he didn’t get to see them as often as he’d like. But at the same time, she was his buffer against the stares.

  Asher walked past the bar, grabbing a bottle of champagne on his way toward the balcony. It was his eighteenth birthday, if he couldn’t have his Prince Charming and a party of his own choosing, then he at least deserved some alone time with his thoughts and a little liquid courage to get him through the rest of the night. He was beginning to think his Prince Charming was lost somewhere, refusing to ask for directions.

  7

  Kenny

  The cold November air slapped Kenny in the face as soon as he stumbled onto the promenade balcony that wrapped around this end of the White House. Below, secret service agents patrolled the perfectly manicured grounds.

  Tapping the open champagne bottle he’d snagged from a table near the door against his leg, Kenny stepped up to the railing, disgust washing over him. No, not disgust for who he was. At least this time.

  Disgust for what he’d done—or hadn’t done. Nicky’s shocked face would
be forever burned into his brain. Why couldn’t he be a better friend, a better man?

  Why did he let his parents control every aspect of his life?

  Because he’d never known another way.

  “You’re spineless, Kenneth Montgomery.” He let his own words break the silence of the night. It wasn’t the first time Kenny let his sense of self-preservation get the better of him. He’d treated Nicky like a horrible secret for the entire two years they’d dated before finally dumping him for a girl—at least that was what Kenny made him believe.

  Lifting the bottle to his mouth, Kenny took a swig, letting the dry champagne burn his throat. He needed more, anything to make him stop feeling like such a failure. He failed his parents by being something they hated. He failed Nicky by freezing instead of defending him.

  And he failed himself for refusing to accept such a gigantic part of himself.

  After another gulp of too-expensive-for-gulping champagne, Kenny lifted his hand to his forehead, forming an L with his thumb and index finger. That’s what he was.

  “What are you doing?” A familiar voice interrupted the silence of his sanctuary.

  Kenny quickly dropped his hand and lifted the bottle against his lips instead of answering Asher.

  Asher stepped up beside him and held out his own bottle of champagne with a laugh. “Great minds think alike?”

  Kenny only shrugged. Once, he’d confided in Asher Brooks about everything. The president’s son was the only person who knew how hard living in Preston and Victoria Montgomery’s house really was. But that was before. Before the First Son came out as gay, sparking a nationwide debate many had thought long dead.

  Before Kenny chose the wrong side in that debate.

  Before their friendship became a political casualty.

  “I don’t for a second think you consider me to have a great mind.” It was the kind of joke Kenny would have once laughed at. Instead, he said it dryly with no humor, only truth.

  Asher rolled his eyes. “Look, I just came out here to get away from the masses.”

  “You mean like my mother?” Her words to Nicky still rang in his ears.

  “And every other person who looks at me like something is wrong with me. Sorry, Ken, but you’re the lesser of two evils right now, so I’m not leaving.” He blew out a breath. “Besides, this is my balcony.”

  “You own a balcony?”

  “Shut up.”

  “You shut up.”

  One corner of Asher’s mouth tilted up. “Real mature.”

  Kenny shrugged and took another drink, enjoying the warmth spreading through him. “What’s going on in there?”

  “Dinner will be served once Becks finishes his last encore.”

  “And they won’t miss the birthday boy?”

  Asher ran his free hand through his natural hair. “My parents probably will, but no one else really cares what I do.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “What?”

  “Everyone cares what you do. It’s why your face is constantly plastered across the tabloids.”

  “Seems you and I are the same in that.”

  Kenny wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  Asher studied him for a moment. “Seems like the paps like you just as much as me these days. Conservative senator’s son caught in a lip lock with another dude. Bet your dad hated that.”

  “Why are you talking to me, Ash? We aren’t friends.”

  Asher rubbed the back of his neck and bit his lip. “Want to get out of here?”

  It was on the tip of Kenny’s tongue to say no. Asher had every reason to hate Kenny, and it only made Kenny feel worse. He flicked his eyes to the door. On the other side, the sycophants and narcissists of Washington were sitting down to eat.

  “Yeah.” Kenny took another drink. “Where can we go?”

  “Follow me.”

  They slipped into the back of the banquet hall, and Asher motioned to a secret service agent Kenny recognized as Danny. He’d been guarding Ash since he was young.

  “Danny.” Asher eyed his agent. “We’re getting out of here, and I don’t want you to argue.”

  “It’s your party, kid.” Danny folded his arms across his chest.

  “I’m aware. Either we’re sneaking away without you or I allow you to do your job if you tell no one else.”

  Danny sighed, sounding for a moment like a tired parent. “Fine. This better not be dangerous, Asher.” His gaze caught on the bottles of champagne they both carried. “And you better not get me fired.”

  “We won’t. Promise.” He nodded to Kenny. “I’ll be right back. I need to find Becks.”

  Asher wound around the tables, leaving Kenny with the broad-shouldered Danny. Danny watched him suspiciously. Once, Danny had been like a friend too, always right alongside them, protecting them. But the coldness Kenny had expected in Asher was evident in his agent’s eyes.

  Asher returned only a moment later. “Becks and Nicky will come when they can.”

  Great, Kenny thought to himself. Just what I need. Even all the way in Washington, he couldn’t get away from those two.

  Asher waved him forward. The president lifted her eyes to them as they made their way to the front doors. Her disappointment was evident on her face, but so was her resignation. She wouldn’t stop her son.

  Kenny made a cursory glance, making sure his father didn’t spot him. Finding him nowhere, he followed Asher into the hall.

  “You bring a coat?” Asher asked.

  Kenny shook his head. He’d only worn his suit jacket. “Where are we going?” He hadn’t really needed to ask. As soon as Asher asked about a coat, he knew. Asher had lived in the White House since he was seven years old and his father won the presidency. His parents became the first couple to hold the office back to back.

  Kenny spent a lot of time roaming the storied halls, but there’d been one place the boys loved more than any other.

  Asher shot him a wink and picked up speed. Secret service agents paid them no mind as they slipped into the West Wing, crossing the expansive line of offices before pushing open the door to the outside.

  On the southern side of the West Wing sat the White House pool surrounded by rows of trees screening it from view. Cabanas lined the concrete all the way to the pool house.

  “Little cold for a swim,” Danny remarked.

  Asher ignored him as he entered the pool house, returning with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Better than champagne. My mom keeps a stash in the pool house.”

  Kenny stared at him, seeing how different he was from the boy he used to be. “You’re telling me the president comes out to the pool to drink in secret?”

  A smile cracked Asher’s lips. “It’s not how it sounds. There’s no privacy in the White House. Even in the residence, we have people constantly around. My parents come here to get some time together without everyone constantly watching them.”

  Already buzzed from the champagne, Kenny dropped onto a chair in one of the cabanas, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’d always liked the president despite his mother’s feelings about the “liberal witch” as she called her.

  Asher sat next to him while Danny gave them space.

  Taking the shot of whiskey Asher held out for him, Kenny studied the dark liquid as if it held all the answers he needed. He threw it back, letting the liquid burn his throat. Despite appearances, Kenny wasn’t much of a drinker. Most of his weekends were taken up by training, and he’d been so focused on his game for the past few years, he’d forgotten to have any sort of fun.

  Not that he would call sitting with his ex-friend fun. Awkward silence settled over them until Asher coughed and sputtered as he took a shot. He pounded on his chest, trying to breathe.

  Kenny couldn’t help but laugh. “You okay over there?”

  “No,” Asher wheezed, shaking his head. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

  “Then what are we doing out here?”r />
  “I don’t know.” He leaned his head back on the chair. “We don’t do this, Ken. We don’t talk.”

  “I know.”

  “But you’re the one here.” He sighed. “Half the people at my own birthday party think I’m some scourge on this country. And the other half think I’m an idol, someone to look up to because I’m just so damn brave.”

  Kenny didn’t know what to say to that. He hadn’t spent much time around Asher in recent years, but he’d followed him in the news, and yes, he’d idolized him. But the tired look in Asher’s eyes told him that wasn’t something he should admit. As the president’s son, he was under intense scrutiny, yet he lived his life openly, never apologizing for who he was.

  Kenny envied that in him. “You must hate me.”

  Asher met his gaze. “I do. I really do.”

  Bending forward, Kenny rested his arms on his knees and averted his eyes, not wanting to show Asher just how much that affected him. At the same time, he wanted the hatred, needed it. It made sense to him.

  Asher blew out a breath. “You have done some pretty awful things. It hurt when you abandoned me when I told the world I was gay. It was okay, though, because I realized you were just an asshole and I didn’t need you in my life. But Nicky? Tonight, I saw your mother try to break one of my friends—a guy who was only in that position because of some stupid picture I don’t even want to ask you about.”

  He ran a hand over his hair as the silver light from the moon caught in his shining eyes. “You didn’t do anything, Ken. I saw the look on your face. I know there’s something more going on, but I refuse to believe Nicky attacked you like your parents claim. Contrary to popular belief, us penis-loving men don’t go around preying on straight dudes.”

  “Why aren’t you yelling?” Kenny reached for the whiskey and poured himself another shot.

  “What?”

  “Yell at me. Rant about how I’m some bigoted asshole, no different from my mother. Go on. You know you want to.”

  “Would that make you feel better, Kenny?”