Sort it out.
Tristan ran a hand over his face. It was easy for Jared to say. How was he supposed to do that when he didn’t know what he wanted?
His lips curled. All right, fine—that was a lie. He did know what he wanted. Of course he did. He wanted Hardaway naked, on top of him and screwing him into the mattress.
A harsh laugh tore out of his throat.
The problem was, he didn’t want to want it. It spelled trouble. It was reckless and stupid, and Tristan didn’t do reckless and stupid. For one thing, he didn’t like Zach. He hated his holier-than-thou, superior attitude. Zach looked at him as if he had him figured out, as if he could see what a worthless piece of shit Tristan was. To actually admit that he wanted Zach despite all of this—to actually act on those feelings (though lust had little to do with feelings)—was humiliating and cringe-worthy.
Admittedly, it probably was nowhere as cringe-worthy as it must have been for Zach to want him against his better judgment.
Tristan smiled at the thought. There was something hilarious about the situation.
His smile slipped when he thought of another reason why this lust was very inconvenient. Zach was going to get married soon.
Tristan would be the first to admit he had very few moral principles, but there was one he never broke: he never got involved with a married man. He would never be so stupid. Besides, having an affair with one’s very male personal trainer—a very well-known personal trainer—while said personal trainer was a few months away from marrying a sports journalist was a spectacularly bad idea. Potentially a career-ending idea. He wasn’t an idiot to risk his career—his life—for a fuck with a man he disliked intensely. He wasn’t. And even if he were, he’d never get involved with a married man, so the point was moot, anyway.
But God…Lusting after that prick was bad enough, but now that he knew that Zach wasn’t as indifferent as he pretended, it was a recipe for disaster.
The thing was, Tristan had never been particularly good at denying himself things.
Chapter 7
Tristan knew who it was when the doorbell rang.
He opened the door and moved aside, letting Zach in.
Leaning back against the door, he regarded his guest in silence.
He’d never known silence could feel like that; never knew that it could have such a weight to it.
Zach’s face was stony, his eyes glinting with an emotion Tristan couldn’t quite place.
“Talk to Jared and tell him you agree with my decision to quit,” Zach said. “Ask him to find you another personal trainer.”
Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. That was what he had intended to do anyway, but Zach’s uncompromising tone was rubbing him the wrong way. As usual.
“And why should I do that?” Tristan said. “Good morning to you, too, by the way.”
A muscle twitched in Zach’s jaw. “That’s what you wanted. Do I need to remind you that you even tried to blackmail Jared to get rid of me?”
“Yes,” Tristan said. “But maybe I changed my mind.” Stop it. What was he doing? He hadn’t changed his mind. It was silly to antagonize Zach for the sake of antagonizing him. But it was like his mouth was disconnected from his brain. There was no stopping it. “What are you doing here, anyway? If you want to quit, you don’t need my permission. Sure, it would look bad on your CV, but—”
“Jared is my friend,” Zach said. “I promised him I would help you, and I’d hate to let him down. He was pissed off when I refused to tell him why I wanted to quit. That’s why you will tell him again that you want me gone.”
“I will?” Tristan said softly. He put on a confused face. “By the way, why do you want to quit?”
He received such a glare, it made a shiver run up his spine. All of a sudden, he wanted to grin. Winding Zach up was one of his favorite things in the world.
“Don’t play coy, Tristan,” Zach said, his voice clipped. “You know why.”
“I don’t think so. And do you have to stand so far away?” Tristan was unable to suppress his grin any longer. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid.”
If he hadn’t been watching him so closely, he would have missed the stiffening of Zach’s posture. Then he was stalking toward Tristan.
His heartbeat picking up, Tristan gripped the doorknob behind him.
Zach came to a halt just a few inches away.
Tristan exhaled, hating how shaky it sounded.
Zach took his chin and tilted it up, his fingers rough against the sensitive skin of Tristan’s neck. His steely eyes bored into Tristan’s. “I think you’re confusing something, brat,” he said, his lips curling into a familiar wry smile. “I’m not afraid of you. I want to quit the job because you annoy me too much and I can’t behave professionally around you. That’s it.”