It made staying quiet, leaving him alone, and keeping their relationship confined to that hotel room a hundred times harder. Henry wanted to be close, to interact. The passion burned under his skin. He couldn’t stand there and pretend they were strangers who didn’t talk.
Food, at least, should be a safe subject. “So what’s going on with your choux? Cloves?”
“Cocoa powder.” Tristan angled himself and made eye contact with Henry, and his face was relaxed. Just a little bit. “To go with the orange filling.”
“Chocolate and orange. I love it.”
Tristan smiled, showing off his dimples again. He was magnificent, in his own subtle fashion. He was unlike anyone Henry had ever met, and when he smiled, Henry could still be taken aback by him. Like now.
“It makes the pastry a little firmer than usual, but it’s not bad.” Tristan nodded to himself. “I still have time to experiment, though.”
“Sounds like I need to watch myself, otherwise you might get your second win.”
“Bet that would be a blow to your ego, huh?” Tristan was still smiling, and he brought his voice down low. “Maybe if I win, it’ll chip out enough space that I can stick around.”
“I’ve been trying to chip out a spot for myself in your life since we met. But there’s no room for me. You’re too in love with yourself for that.”
Lance’s parting words played through Henry’s head as Tristan returned to his pastry. It was sheer, absolute coincidence that Tristan had used those words in particular. The English language only had so many words, so many turns of phrase. And Tristan had said it with a smile, unlike Lance. But more than Tristan winning ever could have done, that simple, glancing remark blew through Henry’s layers of ego and blasted out his core.
“Henry!”
He snapped his gaze up and saw Tristan chuckling. Then he realized that he’d piped four perfect little mounds of choux pastry right onto the countertop. “Wow. That was special.”
“You in there now?” Tristan winked at him. “Better not do that when it comes time for filming. Otherwise they might toss you out.”
“I’m good.” The haze of memory was already clearing, leaving just a lingering shadow of the past behind, a touch of bitterness on the air, that continued to fade as he spoke. “Hey, Tristan.”
“What’s up?”
“I... What do you want to do tonight?”
“I want to go back to my hotel room?” He shrugged and lowered his voice. “We’ll talk later. Not here.”
Right. They still needed to be careful. He couldn’t let a moment’s recollection throw everything into turmoil.
There was too much at stake for that.
Once Tristan had turned back around, Henry slipped out his phone and pulled up Carrie.Tell me again how Lance was wrong and I wasn’t a selfish prick?
She responded straight away.Uh-oh. What’s up?
I’m in my own head. Don’t want to blow this whole thing.
A brief fit of flashing dots while she typed a response.You’re good. You’re not selfish. Lance was unreasonable. Breathe.
She was right, of course. Not that it completely erased the fear from Henry’s mind. But if he could have someoneelsereassuring him, he could make it through this.
Tristan almost considered setting up for another night where they could be good together, feel as good as they had before. He still had lube and condoms left. But he decided against it, stashing all that stuff back in the nightstand. He did strip down to his shirt and boxers, though.
Right in time for Henry to slip through the door. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself.” Tristan sighed and sat on the edge of the bed, breathing in the company.Me? Actually appreciating company? Blasphemy. But he did. He liked being around Henry. He liked it even more when Henry lowered himself down next to him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders, slid a hand down his back and played with the waistband of his boxers.
And then Tristan’s phone rang. He rolled his eyes. “Let me check that. Just in case.”
“If you insist.” Henry let him go. “But hurry back.”
Tristan hopped up and saw that it was coming from... Karen. His stomach immediately tensed, but he answered anyway, tried to sound cool. “What’s going on?”
