Page 34 of Fire & Ice

He runs.

Bolts, really, the soles of his heavy boots smacking loudly against the pavement as they propel him forward. Leander doesn’t need a reply from Tripp to know exactly where he and Beau are hanging tonight. There’s only one place they ever retreat to for solace, and Leander heads straight for it.

The Hot Plate is nearly five miles from the restaurant where he left Autumn, but thankfully, Leander is a regular runner and plenty capable of hacking it. Regardless of the lack in flexibility of his jeans, the way they chafe against his thighs as he sprints, Leander doesn’t stop. Ignoring the way the sweat builds beneath the leather of his jacket despite the cold, he doesn’t slow down.

Less than a block from the Hot Plate, he regains some sense of rational thought, forcing himself to cool off and to rein his wild energy in. It wouldn’t do to show up there like a tornado, exploding into a bar where everyone knows his name and will certainly have questions as to why he’s so desperate to find Tripp Truett. The last thing Leander wants is to embarrass the man, or worse, out their situation to the public as a whole.

Running full-speed into the Hot Plate while screaming Tripp’s name at the top of his lungs would be an excellent way to announce definitively that there’s something fishy going on, and neither of them needs that drama.

The half-speed remainder of his trek also allows Leander a minute to catch his breath and to formulate a plan: it’s simple, first and foremost, get Tripp alone. Once in private, he’ll ensure that Tripp isn’t dropping, and if he is, get him out of the bar, bring him home,make this right.He’ll apologize, he’ll get on his knees if he has to, because Tripptrustedhim, Tripp put his sanity and safety in Leander’s hands and he failed. He fucked this up, he let Tripp down.

The plan seems easy and close to foolproof, but in the end, nothing goes right.

Bursting inside the Hot Plate more excitedly than he intends, Leander almost immediately spots Beau sitting at the bar. Tripp isn’t on a stool beside him—or anywhere else to be seen, for that matter—so Leander bypasses the entire restaurant and heads for the restrooms, hoping to get lucky. There’s a couple making out in the corner by the sinks, but the stalls are otherwise clear, and Leander doesn’t run into Tripp either on the way there or back.

Growing concerned, he chews his lip and surveys the bar floor again. The Hot Plate is busy—it is Saturday, after all—but it’s not so packed Leander can’t be sure that he’s scanned the crowd sufficiently. Normally, he’d call this a wash, but after everything his eyes have been opened to tonight, he can’t bring himself to be so dismissive. At this point, it feels worth the potential risk to approach Beau, so that’s exactly what Leander does.

“Hey!” Beau exclaims in surprise, grinning widely when Leander appears at his side and taps him on the arm. “Nice tosee you, man, pull up a stool. Reina’s making…uh—what are you making, Rei?”

“Buttery Nipples,” Reina declares with a wink, capping her cocktail shaker and making it live up to its name. “You in, Lee? On me.”

“Hello, Beau,” Leander replies stoically. “Reina. And thank you, that’s very generous, but not tonight.” He turns his attention fully back to the younger Truett and leans in so that he can’t be incidentally overheard. “Actually, I’m looking for Tripp. It’s—” he hesitates, unsure how to convey the gravity of the situation without oversharing their business. “Well, it’s somewhat of an urgent matter. Is he here? Did he go back to your apartment, by chance?”

The sympathy that fills Beau's eyes is out of place, and Leander doesn’t like it one bit. “Uh, you just missed him, Lee,” he says carefully. “He headed out maybe twenty minutes ago.”

“Alright,” Leander persists impatiently. “He’s not responding to my messages, should I just check your apartment? Or—”

“He left with a girl,” Beau interjects, not even trying to hide the apologetic note in his voice. “I’m sorry, Lee, I—”

The shock that Tripp would seek out a random hookup after the past twenty-four hours they shared together short-circuits Leander’s wiring for a moment, but he shakes it off just as quickly. He and Tripp have not promised exclusivity in their contract. In fact, they specifically decided against it, although Leander hadthoughtthey exchanged a moment of mutual understanding that it would be a goal, something to work towards and consider seriously, if they were each able to meet the other’s needs.

The reality that Tripp doesn’t feel as if he’s doing that stings, although thatiswhat he came to correct, isn’t it? This doesn’t change anything—he still needs to find Tripp.

“Could you message him, Beau? Please. I normally wouldn’t ask, and I wish I could explain to you why this is so important, but I’m afraid I’ve let Tripp down enough for one day.” As an afterthought, he turns on what Tripp would undoubtedly refer to as ‘puppy dog eyes,’ widening his gaze and blinking innocently down at Beau while attempting to lookextrasad. Tripp always claims that no one could possibly say no to him with that face on—no better time to find out.

“Jesus,” Beau replies. “Who taught youthat?Never mind,” he adds, holding up a hand. “Stupid question. Hang on.” Beau slides his phone over from where it’s resting on the bar and taps out a message before pressing send. They wait, but nothing happens. Without having to be asked, Beau then calls Tripp, putting the phone to his ear and raising an eyebrow at Leander, who tries to appear as immensely grateful as he feels.

“Yeah, Tripp, it’s me,” Beau says, after the disappointing sounds of Tripp’s voicemail filter out through the tiny speaker, just barely making it to Leander’s ears.Damn.“Give me a call back as soon as you get this, it’s important.” He hangs up and shoots Leander an apologetic look. “Sorry, man. We could still have that beer?”

Blowing out a stream of frustration from his lungs, Leander pushes a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “Any other night, I would be glad to, Beau. I know we haven’t had much time together lately,” he adds regretfully. “But I can’t—Ihaveto find Tripp.”

“Lee, no offense, but he could be anywhere in the city by now, and Tripp not answering his phone usually means that he wants to be left alone. Or, alone with whoever he’s with,” Beautacks on meaningfully, with an eye roll and a swig of his beer. Doesn’t matter—Leander’s already halfway to the door by the time the bottle makes contact with the bartop again, as Beau's words go in one ear and out the other.

“I’ll find a way,” he says, determined, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s, since there’s no way Beau could hear him now, anyway.

And Leander tries, he does. He scours the whole damn city as best he can, well into the early hours of the morning. He starts and ends at the Truett’s front door, knocking and listening for movement but coming up empty both times. Beau must have gone over to his fiancée’s place after leaving the bar, and Tripp—Tripp never came home.

In between lurking somewhat creepily outside their apartment, Leander checks all of Tripp’s usual haunts: the fancy bar he thinks no one knows that he likes, a handful of all-night diners and restaurants, the donut place he often stops by on the way to work to pick up treats for his crew.

Desperate, Leander even drops by both Station FifteenandStation Eleven, since occasionally and if his friends are working, Tripp will wind up there in the middle of the night, wanting to hang out or sleep off a bender. That happens more often if he’s been out drinking or went home with a hookup on the wrong side of town, but tonight, Leander is out of luck.

Tripp is nowhere to be found.

When his wristwatch shows nine a.m. and his phone screen is still black and silent, Leander is ready to admit defeat. His bottom is sore from sitting on the shitty, trodden-down carpet that lines the hallway outside of Tripp’s door, and he begrudgingly calls it a night.

Even as Leander drags his feet down the stairs and patiently waits on the sidewalk for his Uber, his drooping eyelids still blink open in fierce determination, glancing around with waning hope that Tripp will suddenly appear. Hiscaris in the parking lot, for God’s sake. Hehasto come backsometime.

But Leander has to work tonight and so does Tripp, and he can’t very well do the job on no sleep at all. Much as he may hate it, the reality is that Tripp has made himself inaccessible, and Leander has done all that he can do for the moment. Fixing things with his friend will just have to wait.

---