Tristan nods and then looks up and smiles. “So… Qiang?” he asks, and I know the important part of the discussion is over, but I also know there was no way we could have that one without it coming back around to this one.
“No. I mean, yeah, they're hot–” I start to say, but Darryl cuts me off to add, “like really fucking hot–” and I kind of want to punch him.
Don’t know why I care so much about Darryl checking Qiang out. I’ve never really cared about that shit before. Hell, most of the time we both landed on the same person, we ended up sharing. But this feels different. I don’t want to share. And even though I’m resolved on not partaking at all, I still don’t like the idea of anyone else partaking either, which is totally selfish and nonsensical and obviously something I’m gonna have to get over.
I let out an annoyed sigh. I need to get this infatuation or whatever this is out of my head. “I’m a one-and-done, and as fucking amazing as I imagine sleeping with Qiang would be, it would also be opening a can of worms that has pain and drama written all over it. Not because of Qiang personally, but because they’re a roommate, and your boyfriend's sibling, and they're too closely woven into the group to get into all of that. So no.”
Darryl snorts at that. “We’ll see,” he says in a voice that leaves no room to misinterpret that he thinks I’m talking out of my ass.
“What?” I challenge.
Darryl just shrugs. “It’s just I’ve been partying with you and fucking around with the people you fuck around with for years. What happened at that lunch was something new. You may be using sound logic to convince yourself you have this shit under control, but I think Qiang is going to be a force that’ll have you trippin’ up harder than you think,” he points out.
I shake my head at that. Luckily, for everyone’s sake, Qiang and I are very obviously on the same line of thinking that this absolutely should not happen. “Maybe so, but Qiang is onto me and is no more appreciative of my admiration than they were of yours.”
Darryl gives me a skeptical look. “Maybe not, but I saw them looking back at you. They might have a firm hand on logic, too, but their eyes were definitely taking in their fill of you.”
“Regardless, it can't happen,” I tell him sternly, fully ignoring the butterflies that took flight at his observation. “Tristan, tell him,” I add, hoping for backup.
Instead of getting that backup, Tristan just kind of shrugs instead. “It's not my thing to be that way. I don't want anything to come between us or bad blood or anything. And I sure as hell don’t want you, Qi, or Qiang hurt, but if there’s a spark, then I think it’s inherently cruel to tell you to deny it just for the sake of my comfort,” he says, and I should have known that would be his stance because it’s such a fucking Tristan way to be.
“You realize that doesn’t help my resolve at all, right?” I huff out.
Tristan smiles at me. “Maybe not, but I'm just as much your brother as I am Qi's boyfriend. I'll move heaven and earth to protect you from pain and celebrate your happiness. I believe if it's meant to be, it’ll be, but I also know Qiang is highly unlikely to give in to whatever attraction they may feel for you, so it’s probably all moot anyway,” he says.
And he’s probably right. He knows the details of Qiang’s trauma. I don’t. I only know that there were football jocks involved and that they’ve got a bad taste in their mouth because of it.
“That’s probably best. Disquieting the house for a lay is ridiculous. There's nothing there that I can't get somewhere else without the drama or the extra effort,” I say out loud, knowing it’s completely sound logic, and trying like fuck to ignore the sour twist in my stomach as I say it.
Darryl snorts again. “Keep telling yourself that, bro,” he says, and it pisses me off that he knows me so well.
Tristan reaches out and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’tworry too much about it. Between college football and classes, we’re about to get a hell of a lot busier than we’re used to, and it’ll be easier to tune all this out,” he says reassuringly with a squeeze, and out of everything going on, that’s the most reassuring thing I could have heard.
I just have to get through the summer, and then obligations will pick back up. Time will get consumed. The frat parties and afterparties will run rampant, and I’ll have an entirely new playing field to pick from. Everything is gonna be just fine. We can all live happily together; I’ll get over this crush or whatever the fuck it is, and go back to my normally scheduled programming in a few weeks.
RED WINE AND WARM SUMMER NIGHTS
Qiang’s POV
There are several things I expected this trip home to be. Spending a huge amount of time with my brother and his jock boyfriend was definitely one of them.
However, I failed to take into account that said jock boyfriend would have jock friends. Which is an obvious oversight on my part, but even if that realization had crossed my mind, one of the jock friends shooting hungry eyes at me was definitely on my failed to foresee–let alone take account of–list. The fact that I have to keep reminding myself that I absolutely hate his eyes on me, and that it in no way makes my heart flutter, or my cheeks warm up at the attention, also failed to make it on that list. But here we are.
I can feel those stupidly handsome eyes boring into the side of my head as I studiously ignore him and pretend like I’m paying attention to Dumb and Dumber cop cheap feels in the guise of a wrestling match in Tristan’s backyard.
Qi graduated earlier today, and Tristan graduates tomorrow evening. But right now, all of us are sprawled out on Tristan’s expansive backyard with a few too many bottles of wine.
Evidently, this is how Tristan and his two besties like to celebrate–with the boys’ parents in the house, keeping a watchful eye. Marcus and Darryl said something about going to parties sometimes, too, but according to them, it’s rare for Tristan to go to those.
I’m not exactly surprised to find that Tristan isn’t a partier. Despite being a championship quarterback with a face most people only ever dream about, he’s not an attention-seeking person at all, and being a bit reclusive and foregoing crowded party scenes definitely matches the guy I’ve gotten to know over the past couple of months.
Having a huge off-campus house would be an ideal party house for people who enjoy parties. Not that I’m opposed to parties; I’ve gone to several of the frat parties over the years. But the idea of living in a house that regularly hosts football afterparties would be a hard no for me.
However, Marcus pointed out that while he can’t promise there won’t ever be an occasion when they’ll throw one, it’ll definitely be rare. He said that knowing he’s the only one in the house who enjoys the afterparties would make him feel selfish about throwing them there all the time. Especially since there are more than enough frat-hosted parties on campus.
My eyes focus on my brother to avoid Marcus’s gaze as I try to recapture some of the brain cells I’ve lost from watching Pax and Owen act like idiots for too long. Qi’s not much of a drinker, and he’s already had a couple of glasses. His cheeks are a bit ruddier than normal, and he’s leaning against Tristan with Tristan’s massive arms wrapped around him.
They are slightly swaying while watching Owen and Paxton make absolute asses of themselves. Qi must feel my gaze because his eyes flit over to meet mine, and there’s a happiness and contentment nestled within his face as he smiles at me that makes my heart feel almost too big to contain in my chest.
