by Kris Ripper
After a second of hesitation, I admitted, “I used best friends, but that makes me sound like a twelve-year-old.”
“Mmm. Yeah.” Jamie kissed my cheek, which was strange. “Peer pressure, incoming.”
“Oh Jesus.”
“You could use partners. Or lovers. Or maybe people I can’t live without and don’t plan to.”
My heart rate kicked up. “That’s a bit inelegant, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But it’s accurate.”
“I like lovers,” Alex said. “I don’t know how well it would go over casually, but it feels apt.”
“But we aren’t…we don’t…” Did I really want to say it again? Did I really want to bring up stupid rules I’d made that I was no longer convinced even made sense?
Alex kissed my cheek. “Everything we have is yours.”
Jamie kissed my other cheek. “Everything we are is yours, too.”
“God, you’re a couple of saps.” I closed my eyes, letting their motion guide mine. “I’m just so fucking scared. What if I can’t do this? What if it’s horrible and it all goes wrong?” What if it’s my fault?
“What if it doesn’t?” she asked.
“Doesn’t it seem more likely that it will?”
Alex’s lips again, pressed to my cheek. “I heard what you said to Jamie, about how you hurt me and Ma, but you didn’t, you know.”
“Bullshit.” Everything was going to slip away, I could feel it.
“It’s not.” Another kiss. “You don’t have to protect me anymore, Jus. We’re all in this together, right? Will you tell me again?”
I wanted to ask, but here it was: risk. Fear.
Riding on a deep breath and an internal dare, I told him what he wanted to hear: “I am in love with you, Alexander.” Then, before I could regret it, I looked at Jamie. “I’m in love with you, too, Cork.”
She was always so good at guarding herself, but in that moment, her eyes flashed, then filled. “Sweet Jesus. You’ve never said it before.”
“I’m a coward.”
“You’re my champion.” She kissed me. Intimately, but not indecorously. “I’m in love with you, too, you great eejit. Now will you get over yourself finally? Or is this your way of saying you’ve booked a ticket on a rocket ship and you’re moving to Mars?”
“Wait, is that a thing? I should google it.”
Both of them squeezed me aggressively.
“Fine, fine. And I don’t know. I mean yes. Or no. Not the Mars thing. Just…” Fuck. Words were hard. “If I found out I was dying, I’d be pissed that I wasted all this time when we could have been…I don’t even know. Whatever it is we’re talking about. Partners. Lovers.” The word raised the hair on the backs of my arms, still draped over their shoulders. “I don’t want to die without trying. Even if it ends badly, which—”
This time it was Alex kissing me. And me swooning a little under the influence of his lips.
“Excellent timing, as usual,” Jamie murmured. “Can we go home, please?”
The DJ was winding down. The tables had been cleared. We weren’t the last ones lingering, but everyone we knew had gone already.
“Yes,” I said. “Let’s go home.”
We gathered our things and headed for the car. Alex, walking in between us, cleared his throat. “I have a thought. It might be ridiculous. It’s definitely a waste of gas.”
I knew even before he said it. Judging by the mischief on Jamie’s face, she knew, too.
“Wanna go to the Saints house right now? Drive through somewhere, pick up dinner. Not even bother with clothes. We could be there by midnight.” Slight rise in that last syllable.
“Fuck yes. Cork?”
“I’m in. There’s an In-N-Out in Marin.”
Alex put his arms through ours. “Yay, adventure.”
My heart was thudding a little obtrusively, which I recognized as a mixture of fear and excitement, but I couldn’t worry about it too much.
We’d gone to a wedding. We’d danced. All of my people got along. Now we were heading to the Saints house, where we were most ourselves.
And I’d said yes. For real. It was terrifying as fuck, but it was exhilarating too.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
WE HIT A spot of somewhat mysterious traffic on the stretch of 580 West that is also 80 East simultaneously—the Bay Area bends the laws of physics—and it’s actually never that mysterious to hit traffic there, but we’d thought ten p.m. on a Saturday would be fair enough. Jamie made veiled references to stopping for a deck of cards, which I vetoed for entirely sensible time-related reasons, though by the time we’d stopped for food and driven the rest of the way to the coast, it was after one in the morning. Too late to play inverted strip poker anyway.
The house was stuffy as usual. We went around opening windows (no worries that anyone would break in, not this far out with a house that had nothing in it), then somewhat to my surprise decamped to…my attic.
“Two windows,” Jamie explained. “Or…openable skylights. Or whatever. Much faster cross-ventilation than the rest of the house.”
Alex trailed in after us with a stack of linens. “We should only buy king sized beds. Knowing all the sheets are the same size is genius.”
“Good plan.” They high-fived.
Like literally. High-fived. At one thirty a.m. Standing in my attic.
And all three of us burst out laughing.
“I can’t believe you two just fucking high-fived!” I was wheezing my hilarity. “Oh my god.”
“It’s a perfectly reasonable expression of—of—” Jamie choked and tumbled onto the bed Alex was still trying to make. “Of something!”
“Of agreement!” he called out triumphantly. “Agreement of sheet sizes. Or bed sizes.”
Then it was stupid-funny all over again the way something can really only be when emotions are high and everyone’s exhausted and there’s only one bed.
They could, obviously, go down to their room. But I had the impression they didn’t plan to.
In fact, I wasn’t even sure distinctions like “their room” were still going to be in common usage. Shit. What the fuck did I do?
“Oh no. Alex, kiss your man. I know that look. That’s Jus’s version of The Face.”
“I do not have a version of The Face!”
Alex dropped the pillow he was attempting to case and stepped up to me. After a second, he framed my actual face with his hands, like whatever he was about to say would be deeply meaningful. I braced for some kind of proclamation. “Stop being so lazy and help me with the bed.”
I laughed. A real laugh, not a motivated-by-hysterics laugh. “Fuck me, Alex.”
A kiss. Light, but sweet. “In a bit. Once we have sheets.”
And I shivered like a goddamn maiden or some shit. Or maybe just like myself in the light of his clear gaze, anticipating his touch. “It wasn’t a request,” I managed.
Jamie waved. “Actually, in this house that’s a verbal contract. And all parties agree to it, so chop chop, boys.”
“Chop chop’s an old Irish saying, is it?”
“Uh, actually, now that I’m thinking about it…it might be racist.”
Alex and I turned as one disapproving body.
She giggled. “I’m sorry! I’ll google it tomorrow! Just would you two come to bed, please?”
“The bed’s not made because Jus was slacking.”
“Screw the fitted sheet. Just come to bed.”
We didn’t screw the fitted sheet. Alex nudged Jamie out of the way and finished making it to his precise specifications, including turning back the sheets and blankets as one, like a hotel room with turn-down service, then brandishing his arm over it as if he’d done magic or some damn thing.
“You’re so hot right now,” Jamie said, pushing him back until he had no choice but to lie down.
“Because I know how to make a bed?”
“Because you care. And caring is sexy.”
They made o
ut in my bed for a minute. Maybe only a few seconds. Still in their dresses, sprawled haphazardly across it. Jamie’s dress rode up as she straddled Alex, flashing pale thigh and black boyshorts.
“Wearing your fancy knickers, Cork?”
She laughed and did some kind of come hither at me with her finger crooked. “Get over here. Come luxuriate in the bed Alex made for us.”
“For us to immediately mess up, you mean.”
“Exactly.”
They shifted and I sat on the edge of the bed, awkward again. Dancing together was one thing. Maybe we shouldn’t have driven so far after that; whatever resolve I’d believed in a few hours ago, it was tissue-thin and indistinct now.
Alex tangled his fingers in mine. “Hey.”
“Tell me about damselflies.”
“They always come home again. C’mere.”
I went. Gingerly, as if waiting for them to laugh. Sliding up until I was beside them. “Are you absolutely sure this is okay?”
“We’re so fucking sure. And Jus, you are, too. You can feel it.” He tapped my forehead. “How well do I know you?”
“Maybe you only know some me you invented. Some…Justinfly you thought you’d read about once. Maybe it’s not really me.” I wasn’t sure where to put my free hand. My right arm was conveniently busy holding me up, but my left needed a job. Or something.
Did everyone worry about things like this? I never had with anyone but them. I rested my hand on my side. That was a little weird balance-wise, but the only other location was them. And I couldn’t.
Or. Maybe I could.
“I think I know you.” Alex was breathing faster now.
I swallowed and rested my hand on his chest, steadily rising and falling.
Jamie immediately covered it with hers. “Kiss our boy, Jus. Okay?”
I kissed him. He curled a hand around my neck with a slightly assertive grip and sparks shot all the way down to my toes. Our kisses got more…messy, in the best of ways. I needed more access, more everything, and his hand only tightened, keeping me in place.
I could spend the rest of my life just like that, in his grip.
He tugged me in, until our foreheads touched but we were no longer kissing. “I know you pretty well. What do you want right now?”
I groaned. “I thought you knew me pretty well. Shouldn’t you already know?”
“I have thoughts. But it’s way more hot for us if you, y’know, share.”
“My feelings?”
Jamie ran a hand up my back. “Well. We’d settle for hearing your fantasies and working up to feelings, but we’re open to other progressions.”
“Oh god. Progressions. Jesus fuck.”
Her nails dragged down my spine. I could feel it through my shirt. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
The game we’d always played. “Like a real one, though?” I asked without putting nearly enough thought into it. Because if she was doing a real one, I’d have to as well.
“A real one. As real as they get.”
Shit. I swallowed. “Okay. You first.”
“Right.” She rolled off until we were on our sides, sandwiching Alex. And put her hand over mine on his chest again. “Right, okay. I wussed out that night when we were up here.”
“Because you thought I didn’t find you sexy?”
“Because…it was too close to something I wanted and couldn’t have, I guess.”
I frowned. “But I thought we were sort of…having the thing we wanted. In that moment.”
“We could have kissed, made out. And it would have been hot. Really hot. And I did want that. But I didn’t want it to end there, and you did.”
“I thought we were going to have sex that night,” I protested. “Not that there’s anything wrong with kissing.”
“Sex isn’t the be-all end-all, Jus.” She put her head down on Alex’s shoulder. “God, this is harder than I thought.”
His arm curled around her. I felt the mildest twinge of jealousy in my gut, and I didn’t want it. I turned my hand over to hold hers, as he’d held mine.
She forced a laugh. “God. Okay. This is not getting any easier. Just, I wanted to take all of the stuff we’ve played with—where I kind of dominate you and you kind of let me—so much deeper than that. I wanted the right to really, like…I mean, not force you in a bad way. But definitely push you more than you wanted to go. At least some of the time.”
Could she feel my palm sweating? Hers was, too. Maybe they both were, and for the same reasons.
“Partly because I thought you’d get off on that, because I know you have with other people. But also…selfishly. Because I know you, and I think I could get under your skin. And that would be…really hot. But it would have been too real that night, and I knew it, so I couldn’t get it together to do anything else.”
“And then you ran, Jus,” Alex added. “Or I thought you were going to leave, but you didn’t. I was up a long time expecting to hear your footsteps.”
I’d lain here awash in dark thoughts, but I hadn’t wanted to leave them. “I didn’t let myself get out of bed. I didn’t know what was up with Cork, and you were pissed at me for not fixing it, and I’d had this horrible dream where I picked up a Polaroid thinking it would be of Hazeltine dead, but it wasn’t. It was me. Dead.” Or something. “Or not quite dead. In my memory, it’s a lot like school pictures the year I was hospitalized. You remember?”
“Gray background, and your skin was weird. Your eyes were hollow and dark, like the markings on an owl butterfly.”
My skin had been mottled, not quite scaly. The purgers got chipmunk cheeks. I got slightly mummified.
Jamie squeezed my hand. “I’m glad you aren’t dead. Also, it’s your turn to tell yours now.”
I could have just gone ahead. She wasn’t asking for my consent. She hadn’t presented it as an actual request.
Except that would be me wussing out.
“That sounds hot. What you said. Your fantasy. And I think you’re right. That wasn’t a good time for me to think about anything like that.”
“Because it was just sex. Until it wasn’t even that.”
“We failed at ‘just sex.’”
“Spectacularly, yeah.”
Alex ran his hand up the back of my head, making me shiver again. “But now it’s more, isn’t it?”
“I’m sure we’ve already gone over this.”
“Yeah, but tell me again.”
I sighed. “It’s more. It’s…terrifying. But I’ll try not to run away. In any sense.”
“Oh, love.” Jamie kissed my hand. “We don’t need you to never run away. We just need you to always come back to us.”
“And right now we need you to tell your fantasy.”
“Jesus. Pushy bastards.” I stared at my fingers intertwined with Jamie’s, constantly aware of Alex’s hand in my hair. “I want…” Oh fuck. I can’t do this. “The thing I’ve thought about…”
I leaned my head down on my arm, but the darkness behind my eyelids was unforgiving. I could see the entire scene: bondage, exposure, torture, not being allowed to come, then coming and being touched when I was oversensitive, a kink I’d never shared (and had never planned to). Except given our fondness for this game, I probably would at some point.
That wasn’t the worst of it.
“I want to be taken down, all the way down, until I’m shattered and shaking. And then I want…you to see me. To touch me. Kiss me. Hurt me if you want to, or caress me, or just…just be with me. When I can’t stand it. When I’m so untethered I barely know where I am. I want to feel both of you, and it’s…I want…” Goddammit. Words were impossible. “Just, I never wanted anyone to see that. But I’ve had this idea in my head for a long time that you guys…could. And not be disgusted.”
They kissed my hair, the fucking saps.
“I can’t wait to do that. Vulnerability is hot. Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”
“Blow me, Cork.”
“It’s a bit late, but maybe tomorrow.”
I sighed. Loudly. Not quite protest, of course.
They laughed and tousled my hair. “Anyway, lads, we should probably disrobe. And close the windows because it’s freezing in here now.”
The spell broke. We got up, stripped off dresses and suits, and closed the windows. Jamie ran down to the bathroom—bemoaning her decision to get undressed before doing the essentials—but Alex and I got back into bed, same configuration.
“This bed is bigger without you people in it,” I muttered.
“Yeah, but you’d be so cold. We’re doing you a service.”
“How altruistic.”
He kissed my cheek. “What you said? What you want us to see? That’s what I was trying to say that night. It wasn’t about making you cry. And I know you feel stuff. I know you don’t really shut it off. But you’ve always wanted people to think you did, and that doesn’t work anymore. I want to know what you’re feeling. At least some of the time. Okay?”
“That’s your fantasy, Alexander?”
“Yeah.”
I put my head down beside his. “Fine.”
“And also all the stuff Jamie wants.”
She giggled, singing Christina Aguilera as she came up the stairs. “I’m glad we’re all on the same page. Bedtime, yeah?”
Alex made sounds of agreement, those long eyelashes already fluttering.
I leaned up. “Kiss me, Cork.”
His eyes snapped open real damn fast. “Um. Yes. Do that.”
Strange to see a hint of tentativeness in someone so certain. She kissed me, almost gentle with it. “Goodnight, Jus.”
“Now kiss Alex.”
Less tentative, naturally. But still gentle.
I lay back down, satisfied. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, lover.”
It could have been a joke, but it wasn’t.
I fell asleep that night holding Cork’s hand again, with Alex’s arm around me.
* * *
We took a walk on the beach early the next morning, back in our wedding outfits. Fog lay thick on the coast and the air was still enough that it was banked in, feeling mysterious and a little unsettling. Which may have been why I confessed to the silly vision I’d had, of kneeling in the surf at their feet.
