“You’re doing it again!” Tenny laughed – and it wasn’t a happy sound. A sharp, harsh crack that spoke of nothing kind. “Christ, how bad could it have been?”
Reese’s stomach tightened, and he abandoned the rest of the food. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew what “hedging” meant, in a social context (he knew it had nothing to do with actual hedges, like the ones in front of Kris’s apartment complex, so that wassomething), but he was very aware of the fact that, before meeting Tenny, he’d never attempted to avoid answering a direct question.
The pressure in his throat swelled, pushed up, choking him – maybe the fish had been a bad idea after all…
But…it was words, he realized, as they finally formed on his tongue. This wasn’t a physical malady – he had something he wanted to say, and none of the skill or finesse with which to say it.
Well. He could try.
He said, “Fox asked me to look after you.”
“Hewhat?”
“He’s worried about you, and so am I.”
“Worried?” It didn’t seem possible for Tenny’s brows to climb any higher. He rocked back so his chair was balanced on two legs, his sneer incredulous. “Why in the fu–”
“Your behavior’s been inconsistent,” Reese said, and winced internally, because this wasn’t how he’d wanted to approach it. He hadn’t wanted to fall back on sterile, analytical language, but his own emotions were still a new and tricky landscape, and he thought Tenny’s might be the same. “You’ve always acted like you hate everyone and you’re better than everyone – that’s not new.”
Tenny’s brows lowered into a fierce scowl. “Listen here, you idiot, I don’t need to be psychoanalyzed–”
“But sometimes you seem happy. Or, well, if not happy–”
“Shut up.”
“–then at least like you aren’t miserable. Like you don’t hate – well, like you at least don’t hate me.”
“I saidshut up.”
“Like at the farm, in the old apartment. Or that night we had the party, and we were alone in my dorm–”
Tenny’s hand slapped the table with a resounding smack, and he heaved up out of his chair, leaning forward to shove his face toward Reese’s, snarling. “What part ofshut updon’t you understand?” he growled.
It was a fearsome expression, but Reese wasn’t one for fear, and he could see the tangle of emotions that lay just beneath Tenny’s threatening veneer. He was a consummate actor in a way that Reese could never be, but his act always slipped, at least a little, when they were squared off from one another like this.
“I don’t want to shut up.”
Tenny’s lips stretched back, until all his teeth were bared like a cornered animal’s, and his sneer became a grimace. “You’re wrong. Idohate you.”
Reese met his gaze with a steady one of his own. “No, you don’t.”
“I just told you I did!”
“And I don’t believe you.”
Tenny shoved off the table with a curse and started to pace the width of the room, hands knotted in his hair, messing up the careful styling he’d done for the op.
Reese stood, and on his next pass, stepped into his path.
Tenny snarled down at his midsection. “For the love of Christ, why are you still wearing that?”
Reese spared his own exposed midriff a glance, and – oh.
Oh.
Maybe I really am an idiot, he thought, because several things suddenly made sense, most especially Tenny’s tight, downright skittish behavior ever since he’d emerged from the bathroom wearing this outfit.
When he lifted his head, and met Tenny’s gaze, he noted the faint dusting of pink along Tenny’s cheekbones. He’d thought he’d seen the same in the club, but it had been hard to tell; now, in warm, bright hotel lamplight, there was no mistaking it.
