Book excerpt: Brett Poole meets enigmatic Tristan
“Still having the nightmares?”
Tristan sat on his bed when Brett Poole exited the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. Tristan was a young man with a dimpled smile and a cleft chin and about the same age as Brett. The cleft chin amused girls. He doubted it would amuse Brett. Nothing amused Brett. “Looks like you could use a haircut, old chap. Bit broke these days are you?”
“Do you mind?” He answered through clenched teeth. His hair in question stood odd angles, wet and having not seen a comb.
Tristan blinked in surprise. “Why should I mind? I laid out suitable clothing. Very university-y, and all that. Don’t forget to… You know.” He mimed combing hair.
Brett clenched his teeth tighter, biting back a curse.
“What was that?” Tristan cupped an ear, leaned in. “Missed that, old chap.”
Brett belched a curse loud enough half the dormitory floor could hear.
That made Tristan shake with mirthless laughter. “Bravo, old chap. You still have it. I’d begun to wonder.”
“Go to hell,” Brett growled, making no move to enter the room further.
“Been there. Got the shirt.
Like it?” He flaunted a Foreigner tee shirt, his pale eyes dancing.
Brett merely grunted.
“Picked this shirt up in England recently. Wessex, really. Do they still call it Wessex?
Stonehenge, anyway. I think it was recently. Time gets a bit slippy.”
Brett grunted louder.
“You’re starting to remind me of a Neanderthal, old chap. Anyone tell you what happened to them?” His eyes slid to the history text books. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
Tristan wasn’t going anywhere, so Brett would. Despite his unwanted guest, he tossed away his towel and snatched on his clothing as quickly as he could—yes, the ones Tristan had selected by combing through his closet. His personal stuff! He yanked on the first pair of shoes he could find.
“Have a fabulous day.” Brett sneered as he wrenched the doorknob harder than necessary.
Tristan watched Brett seconds later stomp across the Montana State University campus lugging a stack of books. Had he checked to see what Tristan had slipped into one of the books?
Brett sat in the back of class, fuming. Tristan had gotten him again. Tristan’s blood! Why won’t he leave me alone?
He opened a textbook. Out fluttered a note:
She’ll be the death of us both, old chap. But you’ll find her in Indiana.
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
The Courtship of Brett Poole is available internationally on Amazon, Kobo, and GooglePlay.
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