"If I get her back, I won't be that stupid again."
"We'll find her."
Tristan nodded and forced a smile, but the guilt clearly weighed on him. Again, Cade felt foreign, uncomfortable emotions surge. Tristan looked simultaneously wounded and stunning. His wide amber eyes revealed his sadness but reflected beautiful gold hues. His lips formed a frown but begged to be kissed.
It was maddening.
Cade wanted to hug him and comfort him.
But he also wanted to devour and defile him.
It was so fucking confusing.
"What should we do?" Tristan asked innocently, his demeanor in direct opposition to Cade's lewd thoughts.
Cade cleared his throat, thinking that his indecent daydreams would certainly have sent him to hell if he weren't on the fast track already. "Another baseball game?"
"Sure."
Once the game was streaming, Tristan situated himself so close to Cade that their hips touched, then pulled his knees up to his chest and covered his lower half with the sherpa blanket. He leaned his forearms on his knees as he peered at the screen. He asked questions about players' positions, batting averages and experience. He grilled Cade about the Yankees, how their statistics compared to other teams, and if they would make the playoffs. Every so often, he shifted or squirmed, causing their legs or arms to skim against each other.
Usually, baseball proved a useful distraction for Cade, drawing his focus away from his life and problems. A game was normally meditative for him, allowing him to watch without anxiety, but this time, he was slowly going mad. Tristan's nearness had his senses on high alert, attuned to every small movement, every small adjustment that brushed parts of their bodies against each other.
Fighting to focus on the game rather than Tristan's proximity, Cade answered Tristan's questions, providing as much detail as he could muster with his fractured attention, describing the strengths of various batters, how the left-handed pitcher affected the hitters, and how the standings this late in the season stood. He explained some of the history between the two teams, giving added context to the rivalry.
At one point, Tristan quirked a smile at him. "You talk a lot more about baseball than anything else."
Cade felt his face flush at being called out like that. He kept his eyes locked on the screen but could sense Tristan watching him. Eventually, to his relief, the other man turned back to the game.
It wasn't until after the seventh-inning stretch that Tristan said thoughtfully, "I haven't watched much baseball, but I get why you like this. I like basketball because it's fun and exciting, but there's constant tension. Baseball is almost serene. There's time for reflection and strategy, but it's still exciting when the pitch is thrown and you're waiting to see what happens."
Cocking his head to the side, Cade considered that observation. He'd never really heard it explained that way, but Tristan had totally nailed his views on the sport, and he didn't know what to say.
"Yeah," was all he managed as he turned back to the screen.
When the game ended, Tristan tossed the blanket over the back of the sofa and stood. "I think I'm going to sleep. Do you want to take the bed tonight? The sofa can't be comfortable."
"I'm fine. I've slept on the streets. A sofa is a luxury."
As soon as he said it, he mentally kicked himself. What the actual fuck? The thought just popped into his brain and inexplicably escaped his mouth.
Nervous fucking breakdown, alright.
As Tristan studied him with a strange expression, Cade felt exposed and raw.
He hated it.
"Go to sleep. I'll beat your ass at backgammon tomorrow."
Tristan smirked and teased, "In your dreams," clearly oblivious to the fact that Cade's dreams prominently involved him, but no board games.
Unless Naked Twister counted.
After taking turns in the bathroom, they flicked off the lights, and though Cade lay still and quiet, sleep eluded him. The day had fed him a constant stream of emotions, from lust and temptation to frustration and confusion to empathy and tenderness, and it wasdizzying for someone who rarely experienced all these sensations in a month, never mind eighteen hours.
He was used to anger, and because of his asshole coworker, Tag, annoyance, but soft emotions were mostly a mystery to him, except maybe his affection for Annabeth. Overall, all these feelings were too foreign, and he didn't know what to do with them all, how to process and make sense of them.
And it was all because of Tristan.
