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I step toward him, hands twitching at my sides, desperate to lay into him for having his hands and mouth all over her yesterday. “You have no clue what my motivations are.”
And that’s the straight up truth. He has no idea how I feel about Megan. Yeah, maybe I’ve been a player. Maybe I don’t usually take heed with women. But he’s so far off the mark on this one it’s not even funny.
He steps up, tilting his chin up and looking down his fucking nose at me. “It doesn’t take a genius to guess.”
“Then I guess you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought. Walk away, Tristan.”
“Fuck no. I’m not walking away from this.” He clenches his teeth. “She’s mine, Madden. Don’t fuck with me.”
“Oh, you mean fuck with you like telling you how good it felt to have my face buried in between her legs, my tongue so deep in her sweet pussy that I—”
The right hook comes out of nowhere, sending me stumbling back a couple steps before I realize what’s happened.
“Motherfucker,” I growl, regaining my footing and coming back at him, fists swinging.
I get in a couple good ones, clocking him in the temple and in the side, but he’s lean and lithe, and he gets just as many in on me. We’re pretty evenly matched, but if he wants to do this, I’m game.
“Bring it, asshole.”
I block his next jab and knock his head back with a blow to the chin, then he’s sweeping his foot under my legs and we both go down, fists flying.
It doesn’t last much longer before Maya and a few other crew members come storming into the gym, breaking it up.
It takes several people to hold us back from each other, and we stare each other down, eyes blazing with anger.
Fuck. What is this house doing to us? Tristan may be my biggest competitor, my quasi-enemy of sorts in business and in life, but he’s also pretty much my best friend. We’ve known each other forever. Been through it all.
Except for this. Is this how it’s going to end? Over a girl?
But even as I wonder over it, I can’t help thinking that when it comes to Megan, she’d be worth it.
26
Tristan
Sitting at the island in the kitchen, I readjust the ice pack on my knuckles. I didn’t even have my gloves completely on when I lunged. I tossed them aside, going at Madden with my bare fists.
I may regret that because they hurt like a bitch.
Maya strides in, hands on her hips. “What happened?”
I just stare at her. I’m really not in the mood for her shit right now. At this point, I wouldn’t mind if she took her happy little ass out of this apartment and never came back. That’s how sick I am of all the meddling going on in this game. That tablet video shit being the final straw.
I almost snort. Because to think, I signed up for this voluntarily. Despite everything that’s happened, though, I’d do it all again just to meet Megan.
“Say something, Tristan,” Maya pushes. “I know something had to have happened to start this fight. You’ve had all day to cool off, and now all of a sudden you and Madden are duking it out in the gym?”
I continue staring daggers at her. She has some nerve wanting me to get into this with her. Especially when this is all their fault with sending that fucking tablet to my room.
“What aren’t you telling
me?” she says, her eyebrows furrowing.
Next thing I know, she’s walking up to me and snatching off my mic pack.
“What are you doing?” That’s breaking a huge rule. One of the biggest offenses a contestant can commit is removing the mic. “Are you trying to get me kicked out?”
“Shh.” Maya screws up her face and glances surreptitiously at the cameras placed around the room, making some weird shape with her fingers that looks like she’s throwing gang signs. “Okay, we’re clear. We have five minutes. No mics. No cameras. Now get talking.”
