with curiosity – and, he imagined, judgement.
The soothing hot water of the shower, the fragrant soap and shampoo, being clean, left him hungry and something like eager to move past last night’s transgressions. He scraped his wet hair back off his face, wrapped his towel around his hips, and went out into the room to dress.
Tenny was sitting on his bed.
Reese froze, and his gaze, out of habit, raked the room, searching for the nearest weapon. There was an intruder in his room, and he was naked from the shower. Not defenseless, never that, even if still shaky, but the urge to arm himself was immediate and swift. When he settled – because he wasn’t under attack, and there was no threat – he glanced back toward Tenny, and saw him smirk knowingly; Reese thought he would have done the same thing.
Reese opened his mouth to speak–
And Tenny said, “You look like shit.”
He’d grown used to Tenny’s insults: they were as casual and benign as other people’s comments about the weather. But now, after yesterday, the snarl, and the hate, and the – rejection. It had been rejection. This insult didn’t feel like one of the usual teasing jabs. It felt pointed. Felt like it was meant to wound.
Reese had never cared about his physical appearance, or whether anyone found it pleasing or not. But he’d said, “I like your face,” to Tenny, and Tenny said he looked like shit.
He gripped the towel at his waist, and stood up straight. “What do you want?”
He watched – to his own shock – surprise, and then something almost like hurt flicker across Tenny’s regal features. In a blink, it turned to offense. Tenny leaned back on the mattress, hands braced, and crossed one leg over the other, foot bouncing in a show of casual indifference. But Reese could feel the tension vibrating through the air between them.
“Your eyes are red and puffy,” Tenny observed, and Reese tensed, remembering, vaguely, trying to wipe the ceaseless, unwanted tears from his face. He’d never cried before, and was stunned and ashamed that he had last night. He wondered if Tenny could tell.
But Ten said, “Did you get drunk?”
“Yes.” Almost breathless with relief. Yes, he had, and he hadn’t cried, certainly not over Tenny’s rejection.
Tenny snorted, and stood, unfolding his long, lean frame with his usual elegance.
Reese could read the fatigue in him, though, the drop to his shoulders. He smelled of a shower, hair still damp at the ends, and he wore a crisp, white shirt, and jeans, and harness boots – but he’d been running, Reese knew, because they always ran in the mornings, before it got hot, when the dew was still thick enough to soak their shoes. He’d gone running alone, because Reese was slow to wake, hungover and sick, and for a moment, he regretted not being there with – for – his friend.
But he was still angry. Still hurt, truly. In the harsh, sober light of day, he could better identify the phantom pain behind his ribs. So, as Tenny gave him an unreadable once-over and turned for the door, Reese took a breath and said, “You look like shit, too.”
Tenny froze with his hand on the knob. Looked slowly back over his shoulder, his brows lowering, expression clouded. “What?”
The self-righteous asshole. Sometimes, Reese still hated him, and now was one of those times. Anger crowded out all of his hurt, had his hand tightening on his towel, had his breath quickening. Tenny liked to play with people, fool and trick them, and that wasn’t good, but it was tolerable when he was doing it to others. When he was doing it to Reese, it stung like a fresh burn.
“You’re a liar,” he said, and could hear the unchecked fury in his voice; he’d never sounded like this before, never so human.
Tenny turned. “I’m a what?”
“A liar. You said your problem was me. That you wanted me to stay away from you. But you kissed me first. You made me have sex. You invited the girls, every time.”
Tenny’s face went blank. His eyes widened.
“It was your idea, all of it. Stephanie. Mary. That waitress.” He’d never even learned her name, but she’d sucked him off behind Smokey’s while Tenny watched, smoking a cigarette, and, eventually, stroking himself. “You kissed me first,” he repeated. “It was you, not me.”
He was heaving for breath afterward, his pulse throbbing.
He saw Tenny’s chest lift as he took a deep, harsh breath of his own.