Just a Bit Wrong (Straight Guys 4)

And suddenly, he felt incredibly sorry for his brother. Tristan would never have this, because he wasn’t brave enough to want it. Wasn’t brave enough to ask.

“So what about Tristan?” Jared said, as if reading his thoughts. “Is he upset about Zach?”

Making a face, Gabriel pulled back a little to look at Jared. “Jay, when I asked him if he had a thing for Zach, Tristan hit me in my weakest spot and almost reduced me to tears. For Tristan, that’s practically a declaration of love.”

A crease appeared between Jared’s brows. “And now what?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said, hating a little how well he understood Tristan. “Whatever he feels, it doesn’t matter, because he hates it.” Maybe Tristan didn’t have an icicle instead of a heart, but for him emotions were a weakness, and Tristan’s sense of self-preservation was unrivaled. Gabriel met Jared’s concerned eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, straightening Jared’s collar. “Nothing will happen. He’ll stay away from Zach and eventually his heart will freeze again, like in that fairytale.” He smiled at his own bad joke because Jared didn’t. Sighing, Gabriel carded his fingers through Jared’s hair. “Don’t worry, really. Zach will marry Donna, and Tristan will be back to being an insufferable prick—not that he still isn’t an insufferable prick.”

Jared didn’t look particularly reassured. “And if he doesn’t stay away?”

“He will,” Gabe said. “Tristan once told me he would walk over anyone to get what he wanted, but the thing is, if he wants something too much, it scares him shitless and he runs in the opposite direction.” Gabriel smiled crookedly. “Yep, that’s how fucked up he is. Do you think he’s more fucked up than me?”

Smiling, Jared kissed him on the nose. “Unlikely.”

Gabe just laughed and didn’t deny it. He might be a fucked up person, but at least he was a very happy one.

Chapter 20

As Tristan sat on the couch next to Zach’s brother, in Zach’s living room, watching Zach’s TV and drinking Zach’s beer, he wondered what the fuck he was doing.

He wanted to kick himself, but mostly he blamed Gabriel. It was Gabe’s fault for getting him so riled up yesterday that when Nick Hardaway called and asked if they could hang out, Tristan agreed without thinking. When Nick had said he was at Zach’s place, Tristan should have definitely told him that they couldn’t hang out there. But he didn’t, and now here he was. Idiot.

To make things more complicated, Nick’s arm was draped over the back of the couch, his fingers not quite touching Tristan’s shoulder.

Tristan wasn’t naive. He could see that Nick was half-besotted with him already. The only thing preventing Nick from making a move on him was probably his celebrity status. Nick was cautious—as he should be, since Tristan was supposedly straight, as all footballers supposedly were—but Tristan knew it wouldn’t last. He hadn’t known the guy long, but he could see it wasn’t in Nick’s nature to be cautious. The guy was the definition of reckless; he didn’t seem to take anything seriously. He was also an unashamed flirt.

Tristan was still undecided what to do about it. He should probably pretend to be straight and gently turn him down—it was safer that way. But a part of him—the part that was responsible for encouraging their acquaintance—wanted to see Zach’s face when he realized Tristan was fucking his brother. And it pissed Tristan off. He wasn’t supposed to care about Zach’s reaction. Zach was his ex-physiotherapist. He was just a guy he’d had a fling with. The guy who was getting married in a month. Zach didn’t like him, and the sentiment was entirely mutual. He didn’t give a shit about Zach.

He hadn’t seen Zach in eight days.

Disgusted with the direction his thoughts had taken (again), Tristan tried to focus on the movie they were watching, but those idiotic thoughts refused to go away completely, buzzing at the back of his mind. Jesus Christ on a stick. These days, it felt like he had a split personality. His stupid self had a one-track mind. His normal self cringed every time he caught himself thinking about Zach’s hands, his mouth, his warmth, his arms around him, his scent. The scent thing was the most ridiculous part. For heaven’s sake, he never noticed how people smelled—unless they smelled badly. He was going mad. Just yesterday, he snapped at one of the team therapists for massaging him wrongly only because he wanted Zach’s hands on him. God, he felt like bitch-slapping himself. He was turning into Gabe—worse, actually, since Gabe was at least all pathetic over a man who gave a shit about him; Tristan couldn’t say the same about Zach.

Nick’s thumb brushed his neck, getting him back to the present.

Tristan chewed on his lip. Maybe he should encourage Nick. Why not? The guy was handsome and eager to get into his pants, and it was unlikely he would spread any rumors: he didn’t seem the type. And it would be good for him to fuck someone other than Zach. Jesus, he couldn’t even remember what it felt like to have sex with someone else. A month of non-stop sex with one man had clearly messed with his head.