“I had a feeling.” Sean had his chopsticks in hand and wrinkled his nose. “That may be okay, but it’s not going to be as delicious as my orange chicken. And I got some scallion pancakes too. My favorite.” He shoved a big piece of pancake into his mouth and chewed. “Oh God, that’s good. Better than sex. Better than my birthday. Better than sex on my birthday. Mmm.” He picked up a piece of the chicken with his chopsticks, and cheeks bulging, took a bite.
In the middle of swallowing a piece of his dumpling, Tristan choked and wheezed at Sean’s words. “Whoa. Okay, those must be some good pancakes.”
“Try some.” Nodding effusively, Sean, who obviously lost his table manners when he got hungry, chewed through his words as he pushed the pancakes toward him.
“It’s fine. I have enough.”
“Suit yourself. More for me.” Sean shrugged and stuffed the second half of his pancake into his mouth.
Realizing he’d forgotten to eat lunch, Tristan polished off the dumplings, which were filled with a well-seasoned assortment of vegetables, and started on theseitan. It was spicy and crunchy, and Tristan had to hold himself back from gobbling it up and licking his chopsticks clean. When the container was empty, he groaned and rubbed his stomach.
“Damn, that was good. And you said the place is nearby?”
“Uh-huh.” Sean had done pretty well himself—he’d sucked up his meal like a Roomba on steroids. “Right around the corner. They know me there.”
“I’ll bet they do.” Feeling content and sleepy, Tristan yawned and stretched. The jet lag was beginning to catch up with him, but he was determined to stay up and beat it into submission. “Mind if I watch some television?” He pointed to the juice cup. “I’ll rinse it out and put it in the dishwasher if you’re finished.”
“Yeah, of course you can, but I can do it.”
Before Sean could reach the blender pitcher, Tristan swiped it. “If I cook, I clean. So to speak.” He rinsed it and placed it in the dishwasher, then dried his hands. “I hope you don’t mind baseball. The Yankees are home.”
“I don’t mind. My ex used to watch it all the time, so I’m used to having it on.”
Hmm. Ex?Tristan wondered what that was all about.
He took the remote but stood in front of the couch. “I don’t want to take over the television if you had something else you wanted to watch.”
“It doesn’t matter. I should work on my résumé. Maybe there’s something wrong with it, and that’s why I’m not getting any interviews. I know people don’t leave jobs as quickly as they used to, but it shouldn’t be this hard to get a job in a restaurant, although I guess everyone’s in the Hamptons, you know?”
“Not on my salary, I don’t. What I do remember is the city being filled with tourists June through August. Pickpocketing used to be a favorite for the bad boys, on top of other street scams.”
He settled on the couch and clicked on the television. Laptop in hand, Sean took the opposite end and sat with his eyes on the screen. Tristan immersed himself in the game. He could watch any sport—after school, when he was doing chores around the house for his grandmother, he’d listen on his portable radio to whatever game played, or if she was in a good mood, she’d let him put it on the television. Football had saved him during his teenage years. The only good memories of high school were the times spent on the field, where he was Tristan McDermott, tight end, not the poor kid in Goodwill clothes who had to live with his grandmother because his mother had abandoned him.
“Yeah, that’s it. Home run.” He made a fist, and in the corner of his eye caught Sean pressing his twitching lips together. “Are you laughing at me?”
“I always laugh when I see grown men going crazy over someone hitting a ball over a fence. I’ve never understood the appeal. Although the few occasions I’ve been to a game, the food was pretty good.”
“With your ex?” Tristan could admit he was a little curious. Sean seemed like a sweet, low-key guy. Perfect boyfriend material, if you were into that.
Sean’s eyes flickered away, then down to the laptop. “Yeah. Chad’s family had box seats, so we’d go whenever he wanted.”
Chad? Who names their kid Chad?Tristan realized he should shut up, considering his mother named him after a duke in one of her favorite romance novels.
“How long were you together?”
“About a year, on and off.” Tension radiated off Sean’s hunched shoulders. “I really don’t wanna talk about him. It’s over.”
“A year, huh? That’s a long time,” Tristan mused.
“Yeah, well, I’m kinda done with relationships. People suck.” He shrugged. “Sorry. I gotta finish this.” And he buried himself in the computer, not looking up again.
Tristan returned to the game, but only half watched it, more interested in what Sean’s ex had done to hurt a sweet guy like him.
Chapter Five
Two weeks passed, and they were beginning to get into the swing of things as roommates. The transition of switching beds had worked smoothly. Sean wasn’t too thrilled about having to sleep in the living room again, but he shouldn’t complain, as Tristan had an even harder time than him. A few times during the week, Sean had woken up in the middle of the night to see the glow of the television set from his half-open door. From what he gathered, Tristan didn’t sleep more than three or four hours a night.
Whoever woke up first would get the coffee going, and without making it a thing, they’d naturally gravitated to having breakfast together. Tristan turned out to be pretty good with a frying pan. Sean had learned that egg whites didn’t taste too bad, but he refused the fake bacon and sausage. Some things were sacred.
