Page 29 of Fire & Ice

“What?” he asks. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

“Uh, yes,” Beau says flatly, his eyes narrowed, “but that’s not my issue.”

“Okay,” Tripp replies. He wipes inelegantly at his face with the napkin that came wrapped around his silverware before shrugging and digging back in, speaking again around another giant bite. “What is your issue, Bozo?”

“Lee,” Beau says slowly, deliberately, and Tripp nearly chokes on his food. “Nice,” Beau adds as he recovers, swallowing and trying (failing) to look nonchalant.

“What about Lee?”

“Well,” Beau says pointedly, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “I just watched you do a non-ironic spit-take at the mention of his name, so why don’t you tell me?” Silence being the only defense Tripp has left, he keeps his mouth shut, except to shove the last bite of burger in-between his teeth.

“Fine,” Beau continues. “Then I guess I should tell you that I talked to Lee about some groomsman stuff this morning and he said you guys ‘hung out’ last night. That you stayed over.”

“Okay, first of all,” Tripp replies, wiping both hands on his napkin and propping an elbow on the table so he can point an accusatory finger in his brother’s direction. “Were thoseactualair quotes? Because, seriously, don’t pick up Lee's dumb habits. Bad enough I have to deal with it from him. Second, I don’t like what you’re implying. And third, me and Lee hang out all the time, so whatever ‘gotcha’ moment you think you’re pulling here, it ain’t gonna work.” Tripp realizes way too late that he did the air quotes himself and silently curses Leander’s name.

“Tripp,” Beau says, wholly exasperated now and leaning forward over the table to emphasize his point. “I’m adoctor,you walnut. I’m a trauma surgeon, my specialty is literally trauma. It’s myjob.Do you really think there’s any bruise on any human walking this planet that I can’t stage and identify from a passing glance?”

Confused, Tripp’s mouth drops open slightly before snapping closed again in horrifying realization. His hand flies reflexively to his neck, where he can feel that his shirt is hanging open just asmidgetoo wide.

“Ro's right, you know,” Beau continues conversationally, stabbing at his salad with a fork, but not even pretending to eat. “This is exactly what you do when you’re on a Grindr kick. Disappear from the Hot Plate scene for a few days, sleep away from home, show up weirdly satisfied and think none of us can put two plus two together on why. Except—”

“Don’t do it, Beau,” Tripp pleads, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

“Iknowwhere you were last night,allnight,” he persists, undaunted. “And now—” Beau flips Tripp’s phone over without asking, and sure enough, Tripp can see without even directly looking that there’s a string of text messages from‘Lee Grigori,’the only angel in Tripp’s life. Although, he’s starting to thinkthatname might be an ironic coincidence, since right now, he feels like Beau is about to uncover his deal with the devil.

Frustrated, Tripp throws his hands up in the air before crossing them over his chest defensively and saying nothing. “Tripp,” Beau continues, puppy-dog eyes out in full force. “Dude, I’m happy for you! You know I’ve always thought you and Lee had a good thing going. I dunno why you’re hiding it, everyone we know would be thrilled to hear you guys finally—”

“Just shut up, Beau,” Tripp mutters miserably, fixing his gaze on the door at the far end of the room. “Seriously, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Deflated, Beau sits back and raises his hands in defeat. “You know what? Fine, Tripp. I was trying to be supportive, but if that’s how you want to act—”

“It’s just a hookup,” Tripp announces blandly, finally turning his gaze to meet his brother’s and hoping he’s at least semi-suppressing his shame. He shrugs. “Okay? You happy? Lee and I are hooking up, but we’re not…anything else, nothinglike whatever you thought you Nancy Drew-ed into a conclusion there.”

To his credit, Beau looks genuinely confused, as if he’s never heard of the concept before. “But I thought—”

“Dude,” Tripp groans. “Why are you doing this to me, man?” He slumps back against the booth and glares at Beau, irritated all over again, worse than when he left Lee's apartment. There’s an itch crawling beneath his skin and something calling to him, something strong and unrelenting that he’s determined as fuck to ignore. Also being ignored are his previous thoughts about confiding in Beau, because right now, being a bitter asshole just feels more satisfying.

“You know that I don’t do the touchy-feely crap, alright? Just leave it.” There’s a long pause while Beau looks Tripp up and down and considers the totality of whatever he’s projecting right now, but ultimately, he nods, raising his eyebrows as he sighs.

“Sure, Tripp,” he relents. “It’s your life.” It’s quiet again while Beau pokes at his untouched salad and then, “One thing. Just one, and then I’ll shut it, I swear.” Reluctantly, Tripp makes the ‘proceed’ motion and waits, but Beau hesitates, staring down at his plate for so long that Tripp almost checks to see if he fell asleep. “I wasn’t kidding, earlier,” he says finally.

“About what?”

Beau looks up. “About how good it feels to have someone like Bri in my life. About how I never really thought I would. You shouldn’t give up on yourself, Tripp. You shouldn’t shut Lee out because you think…whatever it is you think.”

Tripp just snorts and averts his eyes. “Alright, well, thank you for the pillow talk,” he mutters, picking up his phone and scrolling absently without even realizing what he’s done.

Lee:I hope you’re having a nice night with Beau

Lee:Just so you know, I spoke to him earlier and said you were here, perhaps ensure your bruises are covered.

Despite the discomfort twisting inside of him, Tripp snorts again and has to bite back a smile. Figures—he should’ve checked his messages, after all. Considering that, he keeps reading, but the next few lines wipe the happy look right off of his face.

Lee:I’m going to have dinner with Autumn later.

Lee:As friends, of course, there is no ambiguity in our relationship status. I just wanted to tell you, in advance of it getting back to you some other way.

Whatever good mood Tripp had grappled with and nearly recovered dissipates immediately, replaced with something sour and vexatious that churns his stomach and makes his skin feel like it’s too tight. He shoves his phone into his pocket without replying and slides out of the booth, heading directly for the bar. Beau will follow—Tripp knows him well enough to be sure that he won’t take any of this personally—but before they can get on with the night, he’s going to need alotmore liquor dulling his system.

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