When he pulls down his targets and brings them back to the group for counting, he looks right at me. “I can’t be certain, but it looks like I smoked you. Maybe I am still better than you at something.”
“Good thing I bet that you’d do well, then, isn’t it?” I wink at him and then hold out my hand to Atlas to collect my share of the winnings. “I want Zeus’s money specifically. What can we bet on next?”
Chapter Ten
Saint
After a few days, I can say with certainty that I’m absolutely exhausted, and by the time it comes to our last night in Palm Desert, I look like I’m ready to sleep for a week and everyone else is still as energetic as ever.
I doubt I’ll ever have that amount of energy again.
I tire easier than a grandfather trying to keep up with his grandchildren. The only thing keeping me upright is the knowledge that Iris has faith in me. Ten years ago, he would’ve bet against me just to spite me, even knowing I would win.
Everything here is flipped on its head. What was once up is now down. What was once competitive rivalry has become support and encouragement. And what was once mild attraction and admiration for the out and proud bisexual soldier has morphed into full-blown lusting after him.
I don’t know what to do with that other than squash it down. Because I can’t go there no matter how much I want to.
I sit by the fire pit, watching as Iris and Zeus wrestle on the grass.
“They’re both as bad as each other, I swear,” Atlas says beside me.
They’re all on their way to being drunk, but I’ve abstained tonight. One beer might knock me out cold.
“I’m happy that Iris has found someone who has the same maturity level to bond with.”
“Heard that,” Iris grunts and then flattens Zeus onto his back.
They hit the ground with a thud, and I wince.
Iris climbs on top of Zeus, straddling his waist, and it looks so erotic, I’m trying my best to think of unsexy things before I get a hard-on out here in front of everyone.
There are only a few of us out here, the rest inside, but I don’t want even one person to realize how much I’d kill to switch places with Zeus.
The fire is dwindling, and the pile of firewood kept next to it is down to one log. It gives me hope that the others might be ready for bed soon. If the tents weren’t right near the fire, I would’ve begged off already.
Then Atlas says the last thing I want to hear. “Firewood’s low. I’ll go grab more.”
I jump up. “I can do it. Just point me in the right direction.” Maybe a walk will wake me up.
“I’ll take you,” Iris says and finally stops wrestling with Zeus. “We had to stop. I think Zeus was enjoying that too much, if you know what I’m saying.”
“Fuck off, was not!” Zeus remains on the ground panting and trying to catch his breath, but I can’t help myself, and my gaze drops to check out if Zeus did actually enjoy that more than he’s letting on.
If he did, it’s not obvious, and that somehow appeases me. How screwed up is that? Why do I suddenly feel like the boner police. Only I can get inappropriately turned on by someone neither of us is allowed to fuck, thank you very much.
“Trav keeps a stack of firewood in the storage shed.” Iris heads toward the house, and I follow him.
“There’s a storage shed?”
“Sort of.” He takes me around the back of the house and through a side door that’s code locked. It leads to a corridor with pipes running along the exposed roof.
“This place is so industrial compared to the main part of the house,” I say.
“Anything would look industrial compared to the ugly-ass decor inside.”
Thank God Iris said it.
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything about that, but Trav’s taste in furniture is—”
“He claims the zebra-print rug and gaudy lamps were not his decision. He hired a decorator to do it all. Secretly, I think Trav had a thing with him, and then when Trav told him he doesn’t do relationships, the interior designer got his revenge with ugly couches and wall prints. It’s really the only logical explanation for that mess.”
“Or Trav’s taste level is that questionable?”
“I refuse to accept that. Because that would compromise the amount of trust I have in the guy.”
I laugh. “Fair enough.”
We come to a set of cement stairs that lead down to a steel vault-like door.
“He sure does like his reinforced metal, doesn’t he?”
“Some say it’s paranoia and give him shit for being a doomsday prepper, but it’s smart if you think about it. If Trav ever has to disappear, he can come down here and survive for months.” Iris slides open the unlocked, heavy door just enough to slip through, and I follow.