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“Uh…yeah…okay…great.”

She shook her red head and her smile was back in

place. She was a very pretty girl, just not at all what he was looking to get

into. Their contrasting ages being second in the reasons not to go there.
    She bounced and said,

“Perfect. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye, Tristan.”
    Whatever he’d just

started was a mistake. “Bye?”
    After she pranced off

he turned, confusion likely apparent on his face. Luke jotted a line on a tile

and mumbled, “There’s more of that hospitality you mentioned.”
    Hospitality being code

for crazy. He laugh ed and Luke treated him to a

spectacular grin.
    He followed him inside

and they dove into a night of newfound friendship and laying tile.
     

     
    Several hours later

Luke stood back to admire their handiwork. He tipped back his beer. They’d

killed a cas e, but also knocked the shit out of his

to-do list so it was worth it.
    “I gotta say, that

floor looks bad ass.”
    Tristan nodded, a

satisfied smile on his face. For some reason Luke’s attention kept snagging on

the torn piece of denim he’d used to tie back his

hair when he was grouting. “Sure as hell does. Cheers. Your first lay was a

success.”
    Luke tapped his bottle

to his and finished it off. Dropping his empty in the can he went to the

fridge, which was now parked in the den, and retrieved two freshies. H e passed one to Tristan and they settled in at the table

shoved next to the fridge.
    “You got yourself a

nice place here, Luke.”
    “Thanks. It feels good

to see it all coming to fruition.”
    They couldn’t help

admiring their work.
    After a long bit of comfortable silence, he asked, “You planning on sticking

around long, I mean in Center County?”
    Tristan shrugged. “Got

nowhere else to be.”
    “What about home,

family and shit?”
    “A little too much

hospitality back in Texas.”
    “Gotchya. You gonna

stay with Rya n’s family?”
    “For now. Eventually

I’d like to get my own little slice of earth to call home.”
    “Nothin’ better than

having something to call your own.”
    Tristan nodded. “Or

someone.”
    “You got a girl?” Luke

asked.
    “No. Been single for a

long time.”
    “Me too. When I played ball, girls used to bang down my door. After

I blew out my knee that shit all fell away like everything else in my life.”
    “You seriously can’t

ever play again? You’re in impeccable shape.”
    Luke shook his head.

“Nope. I push myself hard at the gym, but I still

can’t do more than fifteen miles without feeling like my legs gonna snap in

two.”
    “Did you just say

fifteen miles?”
    He nodded. “Not much I

enjoy anymore. Running’s something I can’t give up. Drove me nuts, the months I

was healing, not be ing able to hit the track. I get

cranky as shit, need that outlet, you know?”
    “Sort of like sex.”
    Yeah, sort of like

sex, Luke supposed, but not really. Even after sex he felt the need to run, the

urge to escape. There had been one girl since he returned h ome and afterwards he wanted nothing more than to get the

fuck away from everyone and everything close to him. Even fucking was different

since he blew out his knee. Not that it was ever as spectacular as most made it

sound.
    Sex was a release.

Maybe it wa s because he was such a big guy that he

never felt like he let off enough steam. He was always afraid he’d hurt someone

or maybe still not be able to feel what the rest of the world felt.
    He reached for his

beer and accidentally tipped it over. “Shit.”
    Tri stan caught the bottle before it rolled to the floor and

they both stood, searching for some paper towels. The flow of liquid curled

over the edge of the table and just as it was about to hit the tile they’d just

finished, Tristan grabbed the edge of his s hirt and

caught the spill.
    Luke blinked as he

wiped up the mess. “Thanks.”
    “No problem.”
    Once under control,

Tristan stood and batted at the large