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And we did exactly that.
* * *
The cops hadnothing for us. We left the station empty-handed. Eric had joined us early that morning. We grabbed some coffee and went to meet with the sheriff, who had a working relationship with Eric. She assured us that I already had all the information they did. At first, I wanted to push, but I could tell Eric trusted her, and I didn’t want to be the one to strain their relationship, so I thanked her for her time and left with Eric and Tristan.
We stepped out into a bright and warm summer day, a handful of cotton-candy clouds drifting across the bright blue sky. I could see the disappointment in Tristan’s eyes. Such a contrast to the blissed-out ecstasy that had been reflected in them only hours before.
We had talked about things over breakfast, deciding to keep whatever was happening between just the two of us for now. Neither of us was quite sure what was happening or where this was headed, but weweresure that we wanted to see it play out. And that meant protecting the flame for now, shielding it from outside forces. I liked that. It felt like the two of us had a secret, tucked away from prying eyes.
“Well, that was a waste of time,” Tristan said. Eric reached out and gave him a supportive shoulder squeeze.
“It wasn’t the end-all, be-all. I’m sure Gabriel will be able to put the pieces together. I’ve got more trust in him than the cops, anyway.”
Tristan nodded, although I could still sense the disappointment. It made me want to reach out and hug him. Hold him. Tell him that I was going to work day and night to make sure this psycho fucker was locked up.
“I’ve got this,” I said instead, trying to give all those emotions with a simple look. Tristan’s smile wavered, flickered. It lit, catching the spark and pushing up at his cheeks.
Eric raised his phone, looking over his sunglasses. “Colt just text me. He said he and some of the group is getting together to ride scooters down the Beltline. Wanna join?”
Tristan looked to me. I wanted to continue working on the case, figuring I should track down some people for a couple of interviews, but I saw how badly Tristan needed this time.
“Let’s do it,” I said. Tristan’s smile blossomed like the trees exploding with life after a rough winter.
Similar to how my heart had been feeling these last few days. Like the thaw of an icy-cold stretch of years was beginning to take hold, warmth pumping back into my chest, mixed with feelings I hadn’t experienced in a long while: giddy and playful and hopeful and so fucking thrown off my orbit.
Just don’t get distracted. It’ll be fine.
My eyes dropped down to Tristan’s ass, looking like a full meal in his khaki shorts. An entire bus full of serial killers could have driven past with a banner advertising their murders, and I would have missed it.
9
TRISTAN HALL
He had eyes like an ocean,and all I wanted to do was swim in them.
Yes, yes, I know that’s a stereotypical phrase for any wordsy author to use, but what do you expect from someone who makes a living off swoony words tinted in purple prose? It’s how I operated, how I moved through the world, and even with my spark struggling to light under all the stress, Gabriel still made those words flow.
In fact, I had woken up two hours earlier than usual today and managed to write an entire chapter in my work in progress. I hadn’t been able to get down those many consecutive words without interruption in months, maybe years.
And they were good words, too. I was confident about every letter I typed, every sentence I formed. It was a groove I slipped into and rode all the way until the sun came up and Gabriel padded out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he walked toward the dining room table, where I had posted up.
Also where we proceeded to eat each other up for breakfast. Could you really blame me? When a half-naked man with a practically see-through pair of white shorts is walking toward you, his morning wood swinging left to right, it’s only good manners to take care of it.
Now we were riding scooters down a crowded Beltline, a row of brightly painted boutique shops on our right. A pet store, a CBD store, a small cafe, all with big and bold art painted across their facades. My friends were with us—Eric, Colton, Noah, and Jake. Yvette and her new boyfriend joined us, while the others were going to meet us for lunch.
These last twenty-four hours were exactly what I needed. There was still quite a bit left to unpack after last night, but already I could tell my soul was no longer running on empty. Even after the disappointing trip to the police department. Even after the targeted message I had received on my own damn television screen. I looked up at the sunny sky as the wind brushed past me, Gabriel at my side, looking a little comical with his large frame slightly hunched on the bright green electric scooter.
“Having fun?” I asked, flashes of last night (and this morning) going through my head.
Heat. Sweat. Come. Hard muscles. Lips on lips, cock on cock.
“I am,” he answered with a smile I wanted to lick right off. “You?”
“Me too.” I pushed down on the accelerator handle and boosted forward, the scooter automatically sticking to the speed limit set on the pedestrian pathway. We were headed to Ponce City Market, an industrial red-bricked building that had been converted into a multitude of mouthwatering food spots and local stores, with residential lofts and apartments sitting just underneath a rooftop hangout spot equipped with everything from a bar to a mini-golf course.
“Hey, man,” Colton said, matching my speed as we zipped past a bustling brewery, the sounds of a live band leaking over the black wooden fence. “How are you doing after yesterday?”
“I’m doing alright. Grateful I don’t have to stay at my house, though. I can’t believe that monster was in there.”
