Nothing More Awesome Than This - 2. part ii

[ part ii ]

What was that horrible beeping noise? It jack-hammered through his blissful sleep, ruining what was once a perfectly sweet dream. A dream that involved Cameron laying on a bed of black silk sheets, hand stretched out invitingly and mouth tilted in a sinful smile. Tristan's eyes opened blearily and he slammed his hand down on the off button, killing the alarm and sending the room into tranquil silence.

Tristan threw an arm over his eyes and muttered, “Fuck my life.”

If there was a God then his dream would've ended with him being sent into a sex coma. That would've been eleven kinds of fantastic.

The sun was about an hour from rising and it showed. The room was plunged in dim darkness and he cursed every single person that clogged the highways, which forced him to be up so early to beat the eight AM traffic rush. He looked down at the tent propped in his boxer-briefs. His erection throbbed underneath the thin cotton, demanding release and prompt attention.

Normally he would be all over that but this morning he was on a time crunch. Tristan swung his legs over the bed and stumbled his way to the bathroom like some slow-mo zombie from the Night of the Living Dead. As always the morning shower did the trick and he twirled out of the walk-in shower like a ballerina. The move was so gay and it's a wonder that anyone in their right mind thought he was straight.

Tristan ran a comb through his hair fixing the brown strands into a conservative style. He made a face in the mirror striking a pose that was all Zoolander. If he was a guy and into guys, which he was, then he'd totally screw him. Not that he was into that kind of a thing, but Cameron had to be at least a little bit attracted to him. Their connection was epic. The room had spun, stars sang, an angel earned their wings and somewhere Ann Margaret finally got her dues as a night actress.

He picked up his iPhone and thumbed down the contacts until he found the number he was looking for and pressed call. Tristan listened to the phone ring as he moved around the room. Mark picked up on the third ring, and there was a long moment of silence until he answered with a groggy greeting.

“Morning, sunshine!” greeted Tristan, only a few decibels shy of screaming.

Mark groaned. “Motherfucker. I will eat your babies.”

“Aw, don't be like that,” said Tristan. “In case you forgot it was me that took you home yesterday after you got trashed. What happened to waiting for us, huh? By the time we got to the bar you were already throwing up down your shirt.”

Mark let out a loud yawn. “What can I say, I like to pregame.”

“It was barely seven o'clock,” Tristan deadpanned. “To get that drunk you would've had to start drinking at five.”

“That sounds about right,” Mark laughed, sounding completely delighted. “What, you're going to tell my mommy or something? What do you want, dicksmack? It's, like, barely seven. I haven't been up this early since I was five.”

“I was just calling to check that you hadn't choked to death on your own vomit. We didn't get a chance to talk or anything like we'd planned last night, so you owe me for ruining the evening, bitch.”

Mark sighed. “Are we still doing the whole, Tristan's got a big gay crush so everybody has to help, thing?”

Tristan rolled his eyes and wandered over to the closet. It's pretty much the best thing about his apartment. It was a huge walk in with tons of space for his clothes and shoes, which were stacked neatly in shelves that go all around the rectangular space. He was thinking about putting a couch in here. There was totally enough space, but after running the idea by his mother she'd just given him a look.

“Yes, that's still on,” Tristan huffed out, eyeing his hanging shirts. “Hey, what should I wear? It's Casual Friday and we have a meeting, but Cameron's going to be there and I don't want to look all homely.”

“You're such a girl,” scoffed Mark. Then, with fake, bright interest he asked, “What sorority were you in at college?”

“Alpha Delta Pi,” Tristan answered promptly, his tone equally as bright and perky.

Mark laughed, then made a thoughtful humming noise. “You still got those straight leg jeans, the Seven's we picked up two weeks ago? They're brand new so they should still be nice and tight.”

If there was one thing about Mark and that was, dude was shallow. Tristan located the jeans, still folded and settled at the top of a stack of new slacks.

“You're right,” Tristan murmured. “These are hot.”

“Throw on a white T-shirt. Not one of those gay ultra v-necks you get a hardon for. A plain one, maybe a little tight. It'll be more deceptively casual,” advised Mark. "Put one of those gingham shirt's over it. Take it off at just the right moment during the meeting. Surprise, pecs ahoy!"

Tristan nodded to himself. “Right, deceptively casual. Got it.” He switched the phone to his other ear as he picked up a white shirt from off a hanger. “So, I'm thinking that you're going to do me the biggest favor today by looking into Cameron's files using your awesome IT skills. You ruined my Armani pants yesterday with your projectile vomit, dude. So you totally owe me and you said you would. ”

“Whining doesn't become you, Triny,” said Mark, tsking. “It's called a washing machine.”

Tristan frowned. “What have I asked you about calling me Triny?”

“You liking boys doesn't make you a girl,” Mark recited with a bored drone. “Don't go waving your rainbow flag at me. I'm just messing with you. You should be calling me daddy since I'm doing this favor for you.”

“You're going to look into his files?” asked Mark, practically beaming.

Mark let out a long sigh. “I already said I would yesterday. And remember this guy might actually be straight.”

Tristan opened his mouth, paused and then closed it again. In a rare moment of self-doubt he considered his friend's question, eyebrows furrowed in thought. True, Cameron wasn't actually responding to him as interested guy's normally would. There could be a chance he was straight, but there had been the shoes. Those amazing, expensive Vivienne Westwood shoes that called to him like the light at the end of a tunnel. Straight men didn't have that kind of good taste in footwear. Then there had been the spark. The connection that felt too important and epic to let go.

“He's not straight,” said Tristan, tone full of determination and certainty.

Mark let out a little laugh. “This is probably going to end in one of those pesky sexual harassment in the workplace lawsuits.”

“And you're the expert at those.”

“Bitch, please,” said Mark. “I've been to two respecting women in the workplace seminars. I'm like a certified gentleman and shit.”

Tristan shook his head, because really, Mark was only fooling himself. “This was after two complaints filed against you. And it wasn't voluntary. Corporate made you go.”

“Pshh. HR is totally out to get me.”

He really didn't want to get into this. They both knew that Human Resources had perfectly good reason for having it out for Mark. The man had been caught hanging out in the women's restroom, sitting on the sink and smoking a cigarette like it was some damn trendy hangout. And if he wasn't so awesomely good at his job then they would've showed him the door nine complaints ago.

“Riight,” Tristan settled on saying, layering the one word with as much skepticism as possible.

The other man didn't hear the disbelief or chose to ignore it. “Now get off my phone. It's too early to be conscious.”

There was a click and the dial tone followed a beat later. Laughing, he sat the phone down and begin to get dressed.

By the time the sun was climbing steadily in the sky piercing through the dark of early morning, Tristan was pulling his car into the office building's parking garage. His hand kept doing this twitchy thing against his thigh as he waited for the elevator. He smiled sheepishly as he noticed the stares he was drawing from people beside him. So he was a little anxious. No big. This was his chance to make a really good impression on Cameron without looking like he just jumped off the little special school bus. He was suave damn it. He could rock this. It was all about having mojo and self confidence. He'd seen enough Disney movies to know how to work a negative situation into a positive.

Tristan was early and the reception area was mostly empty as he made his way through the ultra-modern lobby. The open and wide space was three stories up and gleamed with polished granite flooring and travertine walls. The office was empty when he walked in, as expected. Gathering all the materials he needed, Tristan made his way down to the conference room to set up. The room itself was brightly lit by sunlight that shined through the floor to ceiling windows, and a long wooden table took up an enormous amount of space in the center.

It took a little less than half an hour to have everything set up. The projector was hooked up to the laptop and ready to go, and every spot at the table had a proposal neatly placed. Tristan messed around with the refreshments spread along the back table, humming quietly under his breath. A noise made him turn around and he found a wide grin stretching across his face before he could help it.

Cameron entered the conference room, wearing a small smile and totally rocking the Casual Friday apparel. Well, it was more trendy than casual. What with the gray vest over the black T-shit and well worn, tight jeans. If this was a cartoon than Tristan would be drooling. Unconsciously, he traced a finger at the edges of his lips.

“Hi,” said Tristan loudly. “You came!”

Cameron looked around confused and asked, “This is the committee meeting, right?”

“Totally, I mean, yes it is,” he said eagerly, fumbling over his words.

There was an awkward pause and Cameron said slowly, “I can come back later if I'm too early.”

Tristan shook his head, still grinning like it was his birthday. Totally felt like it. “You're fine. Go ahead and grab a seat. You're only like ten minutes early.”

Cameron smiled and it went all the way to his eyes. “Cool. I'm always late to these things, so I figured I'd make an extra effort to be early this time.”

Tristan, already musing on the new house he was planning on buying and moving Cameron into within the next year, nodded and said with an easygoing smile. “That's smart of you. Nice vest. Where did you get it?”

He smoothed a hand down the front of the vest and looked down thoughtfully. “I don't remember. It was a gift from an ex.”

Tristan, caught up wondering if they should get a guest room or splurge on a game room, stopped at that declaration and blinked a little as he came away from his thoughts.

He adopted a innocent tone and asked, “So this ex, was it an ex-girlfriend or...”

The door opening distracted them and Tristan trailed off with a quiet groan. Framed in the doorway was five feet and three inches of his personal Hell. Rebecca Wesson was a redheaded bombshell. She was gorgeous. There was no getting around that. Even as gay as Tristan was he could tell she was a knockout. Mark had made it his life mission to hook up with the redhead. She obviously valued her health and shot him down at every opportunity, much to Alexis' constant amusement and entertainment, that she may or not blog about. He loved Mark, but the dude was skeevy. Unfortunately, Rebecca wasn't that smart since she wanted to bang Tristan. She was one of those girls who thought she could turn gays straight on one lapdance alone. Gross.

“Tristan, hey, I didn't know you were here,” said Rebecca, her voice too high and too surprised.

Liar. He wanted to roll his eyes but he wasn't that much of a bastard. “I usually set up these meetings, so.”

Rebecca blinked innocently, flicking back a length of hair. “I must have forgot. So what are you doing today?”

Tristan scrunched up his face, confused, and said slowly, “Working.”

“I meant after, goofball,” Rebecca laughed, stepping closer and placing a small hand on his arm.

He flexed under the touch without meaning to. Her sharp gaze zeroed in on the spot and he swore to God that he could see her eyes dilate. It was flippin' creepy. Like one of those lions that were all tense and ready to pounce on their prey. If Mark was here he would say she was hungry, hungry for the cock. This time Tristan would totally back him up.

He looked nervously at her hand, up to her darkening gaze, then to Cameron for help. The other man watched the exchange with wide eyes and a bemused smile. Tristan sent him a laser like glare and made a mental note to sign them up for a couples team-building seminar in the future. When they finally got together he fully expected Cameron to be his knight in shining Armani.

“You're hurting me,” Tristan said, looking pointedly at her hand that was white-knuckling his arm. “Squeezing kinda tight there, Tiger.”

“Oh!” she said, two pink dots appearing on her cheeks. “You're just so...built. I didn't notice - well, I did notice. The muscles, I mean.”

A bead of sweat threatened to roll down his forehead. Tristan took a step back, mustering a half smile. “Uh, thanks. So did you want something?”

Rebecca beamed, nodding. “I wanted to see what you were doing after work.”

He so didn't like where this was heading. “I think I'm going to grab some dinner, then--”

“Great!” she said, clapping gleefully. “There's this nice little restaurant on fifth street near the art district that I want to try. Do you like steak?”

“I like cock,” Tristan blurted out, eyes wide with panic.

Cameron let out a sound that was halfway between a choke and a laugh. Tristan closed his eyes, mortified. That's so not how he wanted to drop the gay bomb.

“Hmm, I'm pretty sure they have chicken there too,” said Rebecca, oblivious and unphased.

Tristan's jaw dropped and he wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole, Hellmouth style. He tried to get his mouth to work and it took a couple of tries before he muttered a very hoarse, no thank you. She pouted and Tristan was reminded vaguely of those old cabbage patch kid dolls that were popular when he was little.

“That's too bad,” she said, frowning. “You're always so busy.” Her eyes gleamed with a sudden spark and her lips curled into a flirty smile. “I'll catch you one of these days.”

If Tristan wasn't sure she was being seductive or whatever he would take that decree as a threat. She nodded at Cameron politely and then sent him a wink. Tristan managed a weak smile in return and gulped as she spun around and walked away, hips doing that whore sway that made straight boys ogle. It kind of made him want to vomit.

“What was that?” asked Cameron, incredulously.

“Rebecca Wesson,” Tristan deadpanned.

Rebecca was nice and perky, dumb as a box of rocks, but he couldn't fault her for it. There had been many times where she'd given him a surprise cappuccino from Starbucks, tall with lots of whip cream, and a just because bagel in the mornings. She was a rockstar in the Sales Department. It was such a shame that Tristan would have to have her killed. No one cockblocked him.

“So does she know you're gay?” asked Cameron, eyes dancing with humor. “She didn't miss a beat after your confession.”

Tristan closed his eyes, sighing. Partly in relief that Cameron didn't run away and happiness that maybe he was likewise inclined. “Yeah, she knows. The whole office knows.”

“So what does she think she's accomplishing?”

Tristan shrugged. “No clue. At first I thought she was just being friendly, maybe angling for faghag. Now I'm dead certain she wants to burn my homo card.”

Cameron threw his head back and laughed. It's deep and loud and it suddenly became Tristan's favorite sound. Smiling he looked at Tristan, blue eyes bright and cheeks flushed with laughter. Tristan didn't notice before but being this close to Cameron, he can see there's a light smattering of freckles dusting across his nose. It's positively both the most adorable and hottest thing he's seen in a long time. He barely resisted whimpering on the spot, as it was Cameron noticed his glassy expression and sent him a concerned look.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face. “Are you in shock from sexual harassment.”

Yes! Harrass me, baby, harrass me, Tristan's inner self crowed. He shook his head, smiling. “I'm awesome. I just space out sometimes.”

Cameron's grin widened into a knowing smile. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”

“Thanks for not freaking over the gayness,” muttered Tristan, cheeks feeling like they were on fire.

The other man blinked, grin turning small and partly shy. He stuck his hands in his pockets and laughed quietly. “You're not the first gay guy I've ever met, man.”

And that right there could go either way. Either it was a subtle hint that he was gay too or he really did know other gay guys. And if he did know them, would he let them jerk him off in the restroom during a lunch break. Not that Tristan was a slut like that, but he'd totally be down for whatever Cameron asked him to. He'd prefer if Cameron put a ring on it first, of course. He was classy like that.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” asked Cameron.

At that moment the entire heavenly choir could have start singing and Tristan wouldn't had heard them. Nothing could drown out the heartbeat that suddenly pounded between his ears. He couldn't help the silly and dopey grin from sliding across his face. “Why? You interested?” he asked flirtatiously.

“Haha, buddy,” Cameron laughed shaking his head, eyes twinkling with humor. “I'm just saying if you tell her you're seeing somebody, I'm sure that chick will back off.”

Tristan stared at him, wondering if Cameron really thought he was kidding. “I think you'd make a great boyfriend.”

“Tell that to all my exes, dude.”

And right then, Tristan realized that Cameron really did assume he wasn't being serious. He was wearing this uncontrollable smile that's, like, full of humor and he kept shaking his head like he's trying to prevent himself from busting into laughter. It's kind of interesting to watch the process. Tristan was clearly hitting on him and Cameron thought it was a joke.

Looked like it was time to bring out the big guns. Tristan stepped forward, preparing to step his game up. Cameron looked up and they met eyes. Slowly the smile left his face at the intense stare Tristan leveled him with. He swallowed deeply, body tensing.

Then the door opened again this time admitting a stream of sharply dressed department heads and assistants.

Tristan took a step back and plastered on a smile as Mr. Carter approached. Cameron's brow wrinkled and he moved away, rubbing the heel of his palms against his eyes. Tristan cursed everyone for entering and ruining the moment to burn in the fiery depths of twenty seven million suns.

In his imagination Cameron was going to ask him to dinner. Tristan would blush and play coy and then graciously accept. Later they would argue their feelings as rain poured down on them, then they'd passionately kiss and have hot steamy sex. Wait, that was the ending of the Notebook. Damn it. Fuck his life.

Cameron gave him a weak smile before he took a seat around the table with the others. Mr. Carter began the meeting and Tristan pulled out his legalpad to start taking notes. If his mind wandered to a tanned face with blue eyes and a heartstopping grin, well, he was only human and Cameron was just that hotasstic.

***

Tristan tweets this in the early morning as the sun is rising over the city. The sight was breathtaking and put him in a good mood, marginally calming his nerves.

***

Tristan was in the zone when he worked. He could multitask sure but when he was typing at his computer, modifying spreadsheets or drafting memos he was all about about the working. Which was why it took almost two minutes before he noticed the folder that had been dropped on his desk. He jumped as snapping fingers appeared in his line of sight.

“What the--”

Alexis pinched her lips together hard, trying to hold back the peel of laughter. “Way to look alive. Mark came into the women's restroom again.” Her face looked mildly frightened. “STD's aren't, like, catch-able by skin to skin contact are they?”

Tristan snorted at the way she stared intently at her hands. “Mark totally groped you again, didn't he?”

“It was horrible and sickening,” she nodded. “My life flashed before my eyes.”

He picked up the folder off the desk and let out a high pitched, girly squeal at the name written on it Turner, C. His flipped through it and his enthusiasm shot up like a gerbil in a vacuum cleaner. It was a goldmine of information. There was Cameron's resume, application and performance reviews. He blinked quickly as a tear came to his eye.

“Tristan?”

He looked up at that, smile watery and eyes wet with joyful tears. “It's so beautiful.”

Alexis stared at him for a long moment. “And there was a time I didn't believe you were gay. I can't decide if this is a good or bad time to tell you that I flirted with Justin.”

“Justin?” Tristan said absently, scouring through the folder to locate Cameron's birthday. Did he have to go gift shopping soon? His man would look so good in diamonds.

“Justin, who works in security, the same Justin we talked about yesterday,” she pressed, disbelief coloring her words. “The Justin who happens to be Cameron's buddy in the office.” Cameron's head snapped up, attentive and eager, and she smirked. “Jackpot.”

He cocked his head. “You should've just said that at the beginning. Hit me. What do you got?”

If there was one thing about Alexis and that was the girl loved a good story or some drama. She allegedly had a blog that had quite a cult following, but Tristan hadn't ever seen it so he was not entirely positive of its existence.

“Cameron's twenty eight. A Capricorn and definitely single. He's dated no one in the office. He's a middle child, one older brother and a sister still a freshman undergrad. He wears contacts to work and usually glasses at home and his shoe size is an 11.”

Tristan gaped as the tirade of information tapered off. He cleared his throat and said, equal parts frightened and impressed, “That's more than what's in this folder. Geez. If I wasn't kind of scared of your freaky Nancy Drew sleuth skills I'd be a little turned on.”

“Also I don't have a cock so that's a factor too,” she tacked on, looking immensely proud of herself. “I tried to find out what team he plays for but Justin was getting suspicious. If he wasn't so dumb I'd hit that.”

He nodded dumbly, since he's still pretty much in awe of her skill. “Help get me and Cameron together and I'll pay for Justin to have a brain transplant.”

Alexis laughed, patting his hand lightly. “Aww. That's so sweet.” Her expression sobered and she gripped his hand with both of her own. “Listen, Tristan. I know you like this guy, but what if he's straight... You're charming and sex on legs, but no straight guy just suddenly wakes up and realizes they like cock. Especially their stalker's cock.”

Tristan's smile dimmed and his face went dark. “Is somebody stalking my boyfriend?” he demanded, voice intense.

Alexis looked like she was about to pass out. “Tristan,” she sighed wistfully, head cradled in her hands.

His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he processed her earlier statements. “Are you saying that even if he's straight our destined love wouldn't be enough to turn him?”

“Finally he gets it,” she said, smiling thankfully at the ceiling. “Yes, Tristan, that's exactly what I'm saying.”

“You obviously have no idea how homosexuality works, Alexis Bell,” he said indignant. “This shit is fate.”

Wondrously she stared at him. “Your mind must be a fascinating place, like Disneyland.”

“Except gayer,” he stated, winking.

“Since Mark ruined our get together yesterday by being a sloppy drunk he's going to treat us tonight,” said Alexis, looking as if she was mentally trying to find a loophole in there somewhere. “I'm not saying he's not good for it, but bring your wallet. Just in case.”

Tristan groaned. “Uh, I hope I don't have to see him with vomit down his shirt again. It's embarrassing for him and me.”

***

Tristan finds himself at his desk after the meeting and feeling pathetic and miserable, he posts an ad in Missed Connections on Craigslist. On his tenth frantic reading he finds the whole thing too much, way too much, and awfully desperate. He quickly deletes it and runs to the bathroom to splash water on his face.

***

The bar was packed tight as it should be since it was a Friday night. After Tristan had left work he had gone home, made dinner and showered and changed into a suitable outfit. He was wearing dark jeans and a white button down Express shirt, tucked in, with the sleeves rolled up. He put on a black skinny tie and his favorite pair of Gucci sneakers. They're white and red with the logo emblazoned across the side.

He was lucky that he was so tall. It was usually easy to spot his friends over the crowds of people like this. He took a step forward and a hand gripped his arm and held him in place.

“Whoa there,” said Aleix smiling, stepping into the entryway. “Fancy meeting you here.”

She looked gorgeous as usual. Her strapless dress was short, pink and black and ultra feminine, and made her look the epitome of girly. It was paired with a pair of black heels and her makeup was a glimmery summer look of light gloss and blushes.

“Hey, knockout,” Tristan greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “You just get here too?”

She nodded. “Literally a second after you walked in. Do you see Mark? He texted me saying he was already here.”

Tristan jerked his thumb to the left. “I see him that way I think. Thank God he already has a table. The way people are packed in here tonight I bet there's a wait to even sit at the bar.”

She grabbed his hand and they made their way through the crowd. When they got to the table there's Mark, all hazel eyed charm as he sat close to a girl with strawberry blond hair and bashful smile, and looked to be in her early twenties. Way early. Alexis took the seat furthest away from the girl, shooting Mark a reproachful glare. Tristan took the other chair at the round table, taking great care to resist the urge to demand ID from the girl. He watched Dateline. He knew how all those To Catch a Predator stings went down.

“Hey, guys. Jess, this is Alexis and Tristan,” said Mark, preening. “Guys, this is Jess.”

Alexis smiled, brightly and false. “So how do you know Mark?”

“Well my roommate and I decided to come out since we totally aced our Art History midterms, but she was being a bitch and ditched me here. I ran into Mark and he offered to take me home.” Jess grinned, bubbly and entirely too perky. “I've seen him at a couple of Greek parties and around campus. He sometimes plays guitar in the quad.”

Tristan's smile froze and he leveled the other man with a look. “Campus?”

“Yeah, I go to UTA. Do you guys go there?”

Alexis looked at her as if she was trying to decide if that was a joke. Finally she said, “No. No we don't.”

“Go Steelers!” Mark said, pumping his fist into the air.

Jess frowned at him, confused. “Our school's the Mavericks.”

Mark patted her on the head. “Shh. You're drunk.”

“I can call you a taxi if you need a ride home,” Alexis offered. She smiled at the dark look Mark aimed at her. “I'll even pay for it.”

Tristan pretended to scratch his nose so he could hide his growing smile behind his hand. Alexis sounded a little desperate, as if she could see the future diseases that were to be spread.

Jess shook her head. She looked down at the ground then up at Mark through her eyelashes. “I'd rather take the ride with Mark.”

If Tristan wasn't ninety five percent certain that Mark's dick might fall off, he would've thought that was sweet but he knew better. Alexis was giving the girl a look that screamed bitch, please so Tristan kicked her chair to make her stop. The same stare was turned on him and he rolled his eyes. This was the woman who once compared blowing Mark to licking a radioactive Tootsie Roll Pop, after all.

“So Mark, what classes are you taking this semester? Asshole 1331?” Alexis asked sweetly.

Mark smiled back just as brightly. “Naw, I'm still in Intro to Are You on the Rag. I'm hoping for an A but the Professor's a real piece of work.”

“Passive aggressive insults is so last year,” Tristan pointed out. “Anyway, can we talk about my little problem. We're still at Threat Level Pink, people. Let's prioritize.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mark muttered, sounding completely put upon. “Can you please just ask the dude out. Invite him to a basketball game or to that sports bar on the corner near the office.”

Tristan shook his head, grimacing. “That's a little, too... I want to be a buddy type of hanging out. That's definitely not the message I want to send.”

“You're trying to date a guy?” asked Jess, like that bit of news was a box of cutesicles. She smiled at him once he nodded. “Well I had a really awesome date last week at this frat party. I got to play beer pong and my date even held my skirt up when I did keg stands.”

“Is this really happening?” Alexis muttered quietly, flagging down a cocktail waitress for a round of Bud Light.

Was this girl even serious? He was trying to date this guy, not ask him to join his fraternity.

Tristan didn't want to turn her down, what with her looking earnest and whatnot, but still...”That whole scenario sounds like the beginning of a Law and Order: SVU episode.”

“See if I give you advice again,” she pouted, crossing her arms and looking five years younger. And if she looked like jailbait before...

Tristan nodded. “I'm perfectly okay with that.”

Mark's eyes practically lit up as he rubbed Jess' neck consolingly, nuzzling his nose into her hair. He gave Tristan thumbs up over her head, where it laid on his shoulder, and grinned like an insane clown. Alexis took a long swig of her beer and rolled her eyes.

“I think you should just be really sweet to him,” explained Alexis. “Write him some secret admirer notes. It'll be really cute. I know some boys in the mail room who'd be happy to help. Or you could make up a scavenger hunt and you can be the last item!”

Tristan stared at her silently. He cleared his throat. “Jesus. Really watching those Lifetime movies, are we?”

“What?” Alexis demanded, frowning. “I thought it sounded cute.”

Jess glared at him. “It was totally sweet.”

Tristan pointed at her. “I thought you were refusing to give me advice.”

Mark let out a bored yawn. “I thought you wanted this guy's dick in your ass. What's the deal?” He let a contemplative expression settle on his face. “By the way, I bet that's gotta hurt like a bitch.”

Tristan gaped at him. “You are the worst thing in my life right now. I want to date him. Going by you guys' advice I should get him drunk, play football with him or turn into an emo dickwad.”

“Hey!” Alexis said, smacking his arm. “It was sweet and you know it, gigantor!”

He looked down at the table, tracing little circles through the condensation left by his beer. “I just don't want to screw this up, you know?” They took a look at his earnest expression and their faces softened. “He's it. I know it.”

Alexis shook her head, staring at him affectionately. “If you're worrying this much it means something, I think.”

“I don't think I've ever liked somebody this much,” admitted Tristan with a hopeless shrug. “I don't remember the last time I had to put so much effort into it. I kinda forgot how it all goes.”

“Just pinch the tip and roll it on, kiddo,” Mark advised, winking with a smug smile.

“Uh, thank you?”

“You're so welcome.” Mark turned to Jess. “I'm just thoughtful that way.”

Jess cocked her head, staring, all genuine concern and realization. “You're kind of a douche-bag.”

Alexis slapped the table and looked heavenward. “Thank you!”

She shrugged. “Assholes get me hot. True facts. I'm douche-bag prone. It's a fatal flaw.”

Mark gazed at her reverently. “Marry me?”

She laughed and they dived straight into making out like two teenagers in the back of a Mustang. It was sloppy and looked like they were trying to eat the other's face off. It was vaguely disturbing. Tristan had to turn away lest he wanted his eyesight to be forever scarred.

Alexis leaned in close. “Poor girl. You think I should slip her a pamphlet on Herpes?”

Tristan pouted and dropped his head on the table. “Why are we talking about Mark's sex life? We're supposed to be all about mine right now.”

He definitely had to invest in some gay friends. They would be a little bitchy and probably hyperactive, but it would be totally worth it if they could hook him up with Cameron. And let's face it nobody knew how to get their man like the gays. They would hook him up faster than you could say Sex and the City. He just needed the homo equivalent of a wingman.

He nodded decisively. Tomorrow he had work to do.