Andy Squared by Jennifer Lavoie

Andrew leaned against the wall and watched the mare sampling the grains in her feed bucket. He tensed when Ryder’s body leaned up against his. Frowned when Ryder’s lips brushed into his hair.
    â€œRyder…”
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œCould you…not do that? It’s weird.”
    â€œSorry.” Ryder stepped back and leaned against the wall, looking up at the rafters.
    â€œTaking things slowly, remember?”
    â€œI remember. I know this is really, really new to you. I’m just…excited.”
    â€œI know.”
    They watched the horses in silence for a few minutes, before Andrew worked up the nerve to reach out and take his hand. The two of them stood that way for a long time; Andrew leaning up against the stall door, Ryder with his back to the wall, still staring at the rafters. The sensation was new, but comfortable, and at that moment Andrew didn’t doubt the decision he’d made to give Ryder a chance.
    â€œI’m excited, too,” he said softly. Too softly for Ryder to hear, he thought, until that piercing green gaze met his.

Chapter Ten
    Thanksgiving had always been a busy affair at the Morris household, and this year would be no exception. Andrew’s maternal grandparents came down every year to join them, as well as his father’s brother, Richard. Though it seemed like there weren’t many people, they were loud, and the area they usually hung around in had limited space. After their late lunch, his grandfather, father, and uncle would gather in the living room for the game. Usually one or two of the neighbors would stop by and bring beer.
    Reds, golds, and yellows decorated the dining room. The tablecloth added to the theme with a dark yellow color, and a red runner ran down the center. The napkins had little harvest scenes imprinted on them that matched the plastic cornucopia his father had picked up a few years ago at a craft store. At the time, Andrew’s mother had thought it tacky, but it had soon become the staple centerpiece to the table—before the turkey, anyway.
    That year, his mother had made most of the dinner, and his grandparents brought an assortment of pies and desserts. Andrew sat at the table after dinner finished, staring at the desecrated remains of the turkey, the empty dishes of mashed potatoes, turnips, squash, corn, and green bean casserole. A single piece of pumpkin pie remained, and he eyed it, shifting a bit to see if he had any room left. Just the thought of putting another bite anywhere near his mouth in the next, oh, three days sent his stomach rolling dangerously. He groaned and flopped over.
    â€œThat’s what you get for overstuffing yourself, Andy,” his grandmother teased, knocking his head lightly with a wooden spoon. He reached up to make sure there wasn’t any food residue in his hair.
    â€œBut it was so good,” he said, in a reverent voice. She laughed and leaned down, kissing his cheek.
    â€œYou never could say no to Grandma’s pumpkin pie. Any word yet on which college you’re going to?”
    Andrea passed through the room and grabbed the last roll out of the basket and broke it apart, eating it with relish in front of him. She raised her eyebrow as if expecting to get in on this discussion about their college plans, but the ringing of the doorbell saved him from having to answer.
    â€œI’ll get it. It’s probably Sarah,” Andrea called, and stepped into the hallway. He heard the door open and the muffled sound of voices in the entryway. Someone laughed and boots stomped on the ground.
    â€œNo word yet, Grandma. We haven’t decided. It’s a tough choice.”
    â€œMake sure you let us know when you do,” she said, patting his hand.
    Andrew recognized the voices as they trailed past the door to the dining room and into the living room where the football game was just about to start. There were hellos and other greetings exchanged, and then the