THREE

 

As Tristan gave his name, Grant stuck out his hand and felt even more like an idiot than he had before as Tristan coolly arched his eyebrows at Grant before he did take his hand. They shook, just briefly, but to Grant, it felt like the touch was burning into him so that he had to look down to make sure that his fingers weren’t actually marked with the heat.

What was this thing that Tristan seemed to do to him so easily? How was it that Grant couldn’t look away from those dark eyes, so deep, so mocking, so hard to read? Grant would have been willing to swear that Tristan didn’t care about any of this, that Tristan was just another rich boy who was going to look down on Grant for not being born wealthy, but then Tristan had called that all into question.

So Grant had gone and, what? Asked Tristan on a date? It was just lunch. He tried to tell himself nervously. And it wasn’t like he had time for anything more, anyway. But he felt curiously nervous about the whole thing, maybe just because Tristan might take it badly.

The thing was, Warren had told Grant a lot. He had told him that even though Grant wasn’t the type of person to belong here, Tristan had said that he would be willing to vouch for him. Why Warren had told him that, when the other man’s dislike for Grant was palpable, he wasn’t sure. There was some sort of game at play here, but it wasn’t an offer that Grant felt like he could ignore.

So he sat there, trying to sound casual, though he knew he was failing. Something about this man made him into a bit of a tongue-tied idiot, he’d realized. Maybe it was the restless, snapping intelligence in Tristan’s eyes, or the way that, even after such a short time knowing Tristan, Grant had seen how Tristan always seemed to have a ready answer on his tongue.

The guy was fascinating. Prickly as a hedgehog, of course, but that didn’t stop Grant from wanting to know more about him.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind it too much if it was a date.

They just looked at each other, and time spun on and on, swirling in the air between them. Their gazes were locked together, and Tristan didn’t seem to want to pull away from it any more than Grant did. Or at least, he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to do so, though Grant found Tristan hard to read.

“So, will you let me buy you lunch?” Grant finally ventured because it seemed like someone had to say something and Tristan didn’t appear to be in any sort of hurry to do so. He felt a little bit desperate, a little bit like an idiot, and even more than all of that, he felt like he might throw up.

“Sorry,” Tristan finally said, and Grant’s shoulders slumped. He must have really come off even stupider than he had thought. “But I don’t go on dates. It’s not my thing.”

Wait. What? Grant almost choked when he heard that, and his eyes widened as he looked at Tristan, who was smirking at him but who also seemed to be braced for something. The way his fingers clutched at the glass bottle in his hand, his knuckles were actually white. And his voice was like he was warning Grant off.

“You don’t go on …” Grant forced a deep breath into his lungs, tried to, through sheer force of willpower, convince his heart to stop racing, his stomach to unclench, his brain to clear. It was just he had never heard another man admit so willingly to being willing to entertain the idea of going on a date with him. Sure, Tristan had rejected it, but …

Tristan was probably just joking. It was just, for a second there, it had sounded almost like Tristan might be into guys.

“Yeah. Does that freak you out? Betcha wish you hadn’t invited me out to lunch now,” Tristan said, laughing as he put the bottle, which was nearly empty, Grant couldn’t help but notice, down on the table. Was Tristan old enough to drink that? He might have asked, if not for the fact that he was still stunned by that little gem.

Gradually, though, when he noticed the way that Tristan’s eyes had become opaque, the way Grant’s slid right off of the surface of them when he tried to penetrate them to see what Tristan was feeling, Grant realized something.

Tristan was afraid. It was very subtle, the signs, but they were there. And that gave Grant the nerve to admit to something that he had never said before, not out loud. Something that he had tried not to think about at all.

“I would still like to go for lunch.”

This could all be a joke. Tristan could be playing a cruel prank, even, because Grant had just said out loud that he would be willing to go on a date with him. Tristan could ruin his life, tell everyone, if Grant had read this wrong.

“No,” Tristan finally said. “I don’t date. But if you want …” Suddenly, Tristan was leaning forward, and one of his hands rested lightly on Grant’s thigh, just a little bit higher up than was probably strictly appropriate. “We could find somewhere to be alone.”

It wasn’t the most blatantly that Grant had ever been hit on, but it was the first, and only, time that he had ever had a man hit on him like that. Something deep inside of his body twisted and clenched and his cock actually twitched, because the invitation was unmistakable. Not just in the words that the other man used, but in his eyes, and in the hand that was still way up high on Grant’s leg.

As Tristan got close, though, Grant smelled it. The scent of whiskey. His mother, now and then, when she was tired out from a long day of work, had poured herself drinks that smelled just like this. Only she had never smelled as strongly of it as Tristan did now.

So Tristan might be hiding it fairly well, but Tristan was drunk. More than a little bit, too. The signs were there, and he knew where to look for them.

“I don’t sleep with people I’m not dating,” Grant managed to say, wondering, even as the words came out if he would have been able to say them if Tristan had propositioned him while he was sober? He liked to think he still would have turned him down. Hookup culture wasn’t his thing. He knew that much.

But he had never wanted anyone like he wanted Tristan. He had never been so instantly ready. Still, he knew what was right and wrong, and for him, at least, he needed more of a commitment before he hopped into bed. What he had no intention of telling this smirking man was that he had never hopped into bed with anyone, for any reason.

No, Tristan really didn’t need to know that. He would laugh himself sick if he found that particular fact out.

“Huh. Too bad.” Tristan looked him up and down, not even trying to hide it, and then pulled back, settling into his own chair. His warm hand was gone from Grant’s thigh, which tingled where it had been squeezed. “Well, I don’t date, so I guess that settles that.”

“I’m going to go,” Grant decided. This moment could hardly get much more awkward. He was pretty sure of that. Still, he hesitated, even once he was on his feet. “Uh, do you need help getting anywhere?”

Awkward or not, Tristan was drunk out of his mind. He wasn’t just going to leave him alone without making sure that he would be okay. But Tristan waved him off, and Grant nodded as he turned and made his way through the sultry night, taking the way around the side of the house so that he didn’t have to go through it.

Well, that hadn’t been a great party for him, but it could have gone a lot worse, he had to admit. It seemed that he might just have a chance at making it into this fraternity, thanks to the very confusing, enigmatic, and sexy as hell Tristan.

Of course, that made things more confusing than ever, considering the hold Tristan seemed to have so effortlessly taken over his heart and his body. Life was about to get a lot more complicated than it already was, so it was probably a good thing that willpower had been something that Grant had practiced a lot in his life.