Page 35 of Hot Streak

“I . . .uh . . .” It had seemed so right to call Tristan to tell him—to ask him what the hell was happening to him, but now faced with the prospect of speaking it out loud, Connor wondered if he was really ready to do that.

“Aw,” Tristan teased, “have you finally decided to tell me you love me? That you’ve been waiting your whole life for me?”

Ironically, this was a joke that Tristan made often.

Frankly, he was young and hot and incredibly talented. He’d made it, in the way that Connor craved, and probably everyone who met him did fall in love with him, a little.

But not Connor. No. Connor had to be attracted to the asshole catcher who seemed determined to turn him into his own personal puppet.

It was so fucking unfair.

“Actually—” Connor gulped. “Not you. But . . .uh . . .”

“I knew it!” Tristan crowed, and Connor couldn’t help smiling. This was why he liked Tristan. He approached everything with such positive energy. “You were too cute to be straight, honestly.”

“It’s . . .” Connor took another deep breath. Tried to find his words. “I don’t know what the fuck is happening.”

“Well, honey, tell me about it,” Tristan said. “I just left the room, went out on the patio, so Wade won’t hear us, not that he’d mind.”

“You’re going to tell Wade everything right after we get off the phone.” Connor knew Tristan—and his boyfriend—well enough by now to know they shared everything. Especially oversharing.

“Only if you want me to,” Tristan said, and his tone was surprisingly serious. “This is a big deal, Connor.”

“Don’t say that and freak me out more,” Connor begged.

Tristan chuckled under his breath. “Okay, it’s absolutely no big deal. How’s that?”

“You’re a shit liar.”

“I know. It’s a failing.” Tristan paused. “How about this? You wanna tell me about him?”

“How do you know there’s a him?” Connor drummed his fingers on the mattress.

“Because last time we saw each other, you were as straight as they come and now you’re wondering if you’re not. So . . .there’s someone. I don’t even want to talk about what a number you’ve done on my ego to know it wasn’t me. But that’s okay, I can overcome it. Be here for you, regardless.”

“Thanks,” Connor said dryly. “You’re such a giver.”

“Seriously, tell me about him. Where’d you meet him?”

And this right here was why he’d called Tristan.

“Uh, he’s a player on my team. A new guy. The guy they brought in to catch me.”

“I thought Charlie was catching you,” Tristan said.

“Yeah, me too.” Connor made a face. “But this is who the organization brought in. To take me to the next level or some such shit.”

“You must’ve hated that,” Tristan said soothingly.

“He’s an asshole.”

Tristan didn’t say anything, like he knew there was a second part to this statement.

“And okay, fine,” Connor continued, because goddamn Tristan for being such a good friend he actually knew when to shut up. “He’s hot, okay? Like . . .fucking gorgeous.”

“And?”

“And what?”

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