FOUR

 

\Part of Tristan had thought, or maybe just hoped, that Warren was joking about the whole thing. But he joined up with the frat anyway, just in case, and Warren was true to his word. Grant was also there, along with two other freshmen and one sophomore.

Grant stuck out like a sore thumb, the only one there who wasn’t born wealthy. But the man kept his chin high and his lips set in a stern line like he didn’t even notice. Or maybe like he was trying hard not to.

The initiation was a pain, and a waste of time, but Tristan knew that he got off relatively lightly. People without his name would have had to go through more than a stupid candlelit ritual. What surprised him more was that Grant had been at the same ritual, and he didn’t seem to have been harmed.

Maybe Warren was more reasonable than Tristan would have thought. Maybe he actually regretted his outburst at the party. He might have even been drunk. It wouldn’t be out of character.

Or maybe the serious hazing was going to be coming later. Why did that seem to be the most likely reason to him? Oh, well, that was probably because he knew Warren and knew that he wasn’t a very nice person.

Still, he didn’t do anything strange, and soon enough, Tristan was moving into a room at the big, luxurious old mansion that had been the college home for so many of his family before him. The weight of tradition hung heavy on him, and he wished then that he had been brave enough just to say no to this whole ridiculous thing.

Manny, someone that Tristan also knew through his family connections, but someone that he liked a lot more than he liked Warren, was there to meet him, and Grant, and the other new guys. That seemed normal enough, but Warren was there, too, and from the way Manny was looking at him, even Manny wasn’t sure why.

“Uh, I’m gonna show you guys to your rooms,” Manny was obviously uncomfortable as he looked around at them, and Tristan would guess that it was because Warren was hovering right over his shoulder. “Then show you around the house. So just follow me …”

“I’ve got Stephens and Ainsley,” Warren finally spoke up, and it was a bit of a release of tension to hear him say that, but it still didn’t exactly bode well. It was impossible not to feel a slight twinge of misgiving when he noticed how Warren was looking at him and Grant both.

“Okay?” Manny let the word go up at the end, obviously a question, but it was a question which Warren chose to ignore. Manny shrugged and left with the other guys, leaving Grant and Tristan to Warren’s tender mercies.

“What the hell, Warren?” Tristan muttered, but Warren didn’t respond, not with words. He just shot Tristan a smug glance, and Grant, he ignored almost entirely.

“Okay. You guys are together,” Warren spoke, and it was like he was gloating. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good news. Tristan wasn’t about to count on his family connections saving him this time, and poor Grant didn’t have any to speak of. “In the same room, just like I said.”

Tristan glanced over at Grant and shrugged a little. As far as he knew, most fraternities had people sharing rooms. Especially the fairly large ones, like this one. He had expected to have to share with someone, and it probably wouldn’t kill him.

Although the situation here was a tiny bit awkward … he had, after all, pretty much flung himself at Grant, and Grant had turned him down. He’d been polite about it, from what Tristan could remember, but the refusal had been clear.

Which was almost too bad, because even through the haze of the whiskey, Tristan remembered quite a bit of what had happened. He had come on to Grant pretty hard, had outright propositioned him, even though he had decided years ago, way back in the first years of high school, not to be so open about his sexuality.

Every so often, though, he forgot. When it came to science, to math, he could pick those up almost effortlessly, but when it came to remembering to keep his mouth shut, to not getting himself into trouble, he seemed to be a slow learner. Sometimes, it worked out okay for him. Others, not so much.

So to be around someone who would constantly shove that in his face, how he had failed to keep his mouth shut when he was drunk and had outright propositioned that person, that was awkward. But Tristan could handle it, if Grant could.

A lot of jocks couldn’t, he knew. They would be so freaked out by even the suggestion that they might sleep with another guy that they would have to beat him up pretty much on principle. Though at the same time, a lot of the people who had shared Tristan’s bed had been athletes. It must be a confusing world out there for a gay jock.

So the question was, how did Grant feel about that? Tristan arched an eyebrow, hoping that his question came through. He would prefer it if Warren didn’t know what had happened between Tristan and Grant, or rather, what would have happened if Grant had been willing to go with it.

“Okay.”

It was just one word, the only thing that Grant bothered to say. But he didn’t seem to be completely disgusted, even if he didn’t look directly at Tristan. Well, it could be a lot worse, Tristan figured.

“It’s no secret that no one wants you here, Stephens,” Warren spoke, finally looking at Grant, which he had tended to avoid doing to this point. It was like he wanted to pretend that Grant wasn’t there at all, which Tristan found pretty immature. Not unusual for Warren, but still.

“Warren, come on,” Tristan protested. “Stop being an asshole. He’s in now.”

Really, Tristan had to wonder about that, too. Why would Warren allow that to happen? It didn’t make any sense that it could just be because he had wanted Tristan in. Warren wouldn’t assign Tristan that much importance, so there was something else going on.

It would be better for him to be around Grant anyway, he supposed, just to watch the guy’s back. He seemed sort of innocent, somehow, and he was certainly not used to the world of the wealthy like Tristan and Warren were.

“For now,” Warren spoke with a twisted smile which Tristan was fairly certain, suddenly, that he knew the meaning of. Warren wasn’t out just to deny Grant, not now. He was out to humiliate him.

Or Tristan just had an untrusting mind, and nothing of the sort was happening. Honestly, that was probably more likely. He had to admit that on a logical level.

“He’s yours now,” Warren turned away from Grant, once more pretending like he wasn’t even there, speaking to Tristan instead of Grant like he wasn’t even worth Warren’s attention. “So make him behave.”

This had to be humiliating for Grant. But when Tristan glanced over at Grant, expecting to see either anger or intense shame and embarrassment, he saw neither. Grant would be perfectly justified in those sorts of emotions, and Tristan had sort of thought he might actually need to hold Grant back, but when he looked at him, he saw something that he found very strange.

Grant was looking at Warren, all right, but with a sort of intense concentration that wasn’t confrontational, but also wasn’t backing down. There was a core of strength running right through the center of Grant, it seemed. Something that Tristan didn’t really understand, and hadn’t seen before, so he almost didn’t recognize it when he encountered it.

“I don’t need to be made to behave,” Grant spoke sternly, and all of a sudden, though Tristan had to be at least close to the same age as Grant, he felt about ten years old and like he was being scolded for some grave wrongdoing. And Grant wasn’t even looking at Tristan, but at Warren, who looked distinctly uncomfortable himself.

“I mean it.” Warren did his best to ignore Grant’s comment. “One step out of line and both of you are out. I think you’re going to see that it was a mistake to stand up for this loser, Ainsley.”

“It wouldn’t be the first mistake I’ve made,” Tristan responded, his tone casual but his gaze deeply meaningful as he looked at Warren. It didn’t matter that Grant wouldn’t understand the reference. Warren definitely did, and that ugly, dull red flush crawled up his cheeks again, the one that meant he was angry and embarrassed.

Really, he deserved it. Grant hadn’t been the one to start anything here, and Tristan really didn’t like bullies. He was starting to think that he really had made a mistake with Warren, but then, Warren had been acting so differently over the summer. Tristan had actually thought that Warren had grown up a little, despite all of his past histories with the guy.

Warren’s eyes flickered back and forth between Tristan and Grant, like some sort of tiny, scared, trapped animal, and then the older man gave a snort of derision and turned abruptly on his heel, stalking away with his broad shoulders set in a defensive line, every tense muscle speaking of resentment.

“You just keep doing that,” Grant spoke, and even though it scared Tristan, he turned to look at Grant, deep into his eyes. It was sort of terrifying to do it because Grant’s eyes seemed to have some sort of strange magnetic power. Once Tristan was gazing into them, he couldn’t make himself look away very easily.

“Do what?” Tristan asked, his heart throbbing almost painfully in his chest, his stomach clenched into an intense, pleasurable little knot. Why did just looking at this man drive him crazy?

“Standing up for me,” Grant replied and then gave a crooked little half smile as he pulled away. It felt like an elastic band stretched from him to Grant, and it stretched thin and then snapped as Grant moved into the room.

It really felt like Tristan had no choice but to follow, but that was fine. It was his room, too, after all, even if he did have to wonder just how he was going to survive living with this tragically beautiful, unattainable man for long.