by Mia Moon
Familiar doubts crept in as my interactions with them increased. It was easy to flirt with them via text, but harder to judge their responses. Were we friends who flirted? Were we heading toward something more? If my jumping heart and twisting stomach were to be believed, I was hoping for the something more option. Every time my phone signaled a new text, I did gymnastics to get to it, wherever it was. Okay, I didn’t go leaping over furniture, but it was close.
The house seemed lonelier than ever without their energy filling it up. Their texts helped, but I missed the guys themselves.
My latest column had me twisted up, too. I rubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the question I needed to answer.
How can you be sure of what you want in a relationship?
Hell if I knew. I’d spent so long avoiding that kind of commitment that I was totally disconnected from my own feelings. I had nothing to draw on. Well…okay. That wasn’t entirely true. Parts of me were coming to life—or waking up after a long winter hibernation. I couldn’t make any notes about what to write without thinking of Andrew, Eric, and Jonathan. What did I want?
Muscles that made my mouth water. Laughter that filled my home. Smiles that melted my panties. Physical contact that made me want to tear off my clothes and be ravished in every imaginable way.
Somehow, I couldn’t see Terry the Editor gleefully publishing that response.
My phone buzzed on the counter, and I leaped from my chair at the table to grab it. Eager much?
Heyyy! How’s my favorite journalist’s latest column coming? Andrew’s now-familiar greeting brought a smile to my face.
Okay. It was uncanny how in-tune he was. I mean, it could have been a lucky guess, since it’s my job. But I was convinced it was more than that with Andrew, even if I couldn’t explain why.
I nibbled my lip. I didn’t want to lie and say the column was going great. But I also didn’t want to explain why it had me stumped.
Even worse, my nerves were on edge again. Every time I thought about the column, I felt guilty for not coming clean with the guys about my agoraphobia. I worried they might want to do something out of the house—and as much as I wanted to, I knew I’d turn them down. What would that do to the new, exciting friendship we’d all formed? There couldn’t be any future for us if I couldn't be honest.
I grabbed my pen and jotted on my notepad. Honesty was a good thing to look for in a relationship—even if I knew I was failing in that particular skill at the moment.
A little behind, as always, but I’ll get there! I typed out. That wasn’t a total lie, at least.
Right away, my phone buzzed again. The guys never left a text hanging unless work interrupted them.
So we wouldn’t be messing with a deadline if we wanted to get together with you this weekend?
I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. This was the first mention of another get-together, despite our many messages back and forth.
Nope. Column has to be in well before then. I’m up for hanging out. There. That opened the door to seeing them again. It also offered the subtle option of having them come back over to my place. I tapped my pen on my notepad, trying to think of excuses for why I’d prefer to stay in again, in case he suggested something else.
Awesome! How about a game night? We’ll bring the games and snacks. Your place on Saturday again? 8pm OK?
I let out a long, triumphant breath. I’d dodged another bullet!
Yes! YAY! I sent back right away, hoping to encourage the idea as much as I could.
Maybe I could convince them my house was the party place and they’d never want to go elsewhere. My scribbled column notes reminded me that was a fat chance.
Can’t wait, Andrew responded.
Me either.
By Saturday, I’d managed to run by the grocery store for some beer and soda to keep in my fridge. I’d even found a quiet secondhand clothing store in my neighborhood. The casual silky top I’d bought still had store tags on it, and the teal color made me feel glowy in a not overly-Barbie way.
Like the week before, the guys arrived early, bringing in a whole wave of excitement and energy when they sidled through the front door.
“Sorry we’re earlier than last week,” Eric apologized, slipping an arm around my shoulders in a quick hug. “But we couldn’t wait.”
Andrew toted in a stack of games and Jonathan carried the snacks.
“Store-bought chips are okay?” I teased, watching as he located a couple of big bowls to dump the food into.
Yes, I’d admitted to him during the week that I was the offending chocolate chip cookie culprit. He’d sent back so many laughing emoji that I’d gotten over my embarrassment in a flash.
“Not if I had my way,” Jonathan teased back, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “But these guys draw the line at eating my homemade potato chips.”
“Nothing is ever as crispy or cheesy as these,” Eric said. He plucked an atomic orange cheddar and sour cream chip from the bowl and popped it in his mouth.
“Look who stocked up,” Andrew said, holding the fridge door open for the others to see.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Jonathan said, nudging me with his elbow.
“It's not fair for you guys to keep bringing the whole party to me,” I said.
“I’ll allow it this time,” Andrew said with a twinkle in his eye. That man, I swear. Sometimes I looked at him, and his angelic appearance belied the handsome, naughty devil that seemed to lurk right under the surface. He clapped his hands together and nodded at his stack of games. The boxes were well-worn, with bent corners and scuffed edges. “What are we playing?”
Eric leaned against my arm to faux whisper, “Remember when we told you he’s close to his family? Guess who suffers game night once a month to make him feel more at home?”
“Don’t lie,” Andrew said, “you love it.”
Eric laughed. “Yeah, I do.”
I cocked my head as I looked over the stack. “Ooooh. What about Twister? I haven’t played it in years!” I had fond memories of unstoppable giggle fits while playing it at sleepovers when I was a little girl. The idea of these big guys contorting themselves into wild positions on that little mat made childish laughter tickle my belly.
“Oh, you’re so on,” Eric said, grabbing the box from the stack. “I bet you think we can’t twist all our muscles up like that, don’t you?”
I laughed out loud. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking,” I said.
“Prepare to be impressed, baby,” he said.
Eric and Andrew moved the furniture back in the living room to make space. Jonathan fiddled with his phone, figuring out how to link it to the entertainment system for some background music. I’d learned over the week the different music tastes the guys had—hard rock for Andrew, indie rock for Eric, and hip-hop for Jonathan. He told me he’d gotten into it while he worked out and it always pumped him up. The playlist he put on was a blend of all those things, plus some acoustic music, which I loved.
“Great playlist,” I said, watching Andrew flatten the colorful mat on the carpet.
“Thanks,” Jonathan said, his fingers brushing mine as he stood next to me. “I made it last night.”
“Are you tired?” I asked, knowing he’d just come off a shift.
“Yeah, but not too tired to spend some time with my favorite journalist,” he said. His grin softened, his fingers twining with mine again, almost absently, making my heart race. “I loved your answers today. They’re the same kinds of things I’m looking for in a relationship.”
“Are we playing or what?” Andrew asked, wedging himself between us. “We’ve gotta give Eric some competition, or he’ll never make a damn move.”
Eric rubbed a hand through his hair, his cheeks going a shade pinker than normal. “I’ll show you some moves, man,” he said. “Pass me that spinner. You’ll be a pretzel by the time I’m done with you.”
For the next hour, we contorted ourselves into positions that didn’t seem safe o
r legal. Feet here, hands there. Every move brought me tighter into a hot tangle with the guys. By the time we called it quits, my whole body was shaking with needy desire.
The guys extracted themselves from the mat in a heap of laughter. I plopped down in the center, sweeping a hand over my sweaty brow. They didn’t seem to mind the shine, but I was certain I must look like a mess.
“You’re shaking,” Andrew said, kneeling on the mat next to me. “Did we give you too much of a workout?”
Great. Now they thought I was out of shape. I mean, other than the running, I probably was. I didn’t ever hit the gym like they clearly did, and I’d stopped going to yoga when I’d moved because there wasn’t a studio close enough.
“I’m okay,” I answered, not wanting him to see any weakness in me. The words almost stuck in my throat when I caught sight of Jonathan across the room, though. Okay…were my eyes deceiving me, or was he sporting a massive erection? In fact, now that I really looked at them, Eric was flushed and shifty, too.
Andrew stood and held his hands out to help me up. “May I?” he asked, leading me over to the sofa, which was still pushed back from the center of the living room.
“Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure what he was asking, but the ache in my belly answered for me. If he was offering to be close to me in any way, I wanted it.
He sat in the corner of the sofa and tugged me down to sit between his thighs with my back to him. His warm hands caressed up my back to my shoulders, kneading my trembling muscles with skillful hands.
I let out a long, low moan and clapped my hand over my mouth. “Oh, my god. I’m so sorry! What an awful sound,” I said, laughing at my own embarrassment. At least I didn’t feel the same sense of mortification I’d felt over every little thing the day I’d met them.
“Awful?” Eric asked with a stunned laugh. He roughed a hand through his dark hair again, mussing it into a wild mass on his head. “That was the best damn sound I’ve ever heard.”
Andrew’s hands continued to work over my back and across my shoulders while Eric stopped the music and passed the TV remote to Jonathan.
“You’re bold, aren’t you?” I asked when Eric came right over to sit at the other end of the sofa and pulled my feet into his lap.
Jonathan was back in the recliner, pulling up the channel menu. It seemed so right—like he belonged there. He glanced at us over his shoulder. “He’s actually pretty shy.”
“Duuuuude,” Eric groaned, tossing a throw pillow at his friend.
Andrew’s hands worked down my arms, massaging my aching biceps and wrists. How did he know those were hurting? Maybe his were, too? Pfft. Not likely. He was built like a Greek god and an action movie hero had a baby.
“You know, I can kinda see that,” I said, tapping Eric’s leg with my bare toe.
He rested a warm hand on my ankle. “I’m not as shy now,” he admitted, “but I used to be. I learned how to put on a lot of bravado when I need it. Like…when I’m the first one to ask for a pretty girl’s number.” He peeked up from under those thick dark lashes. His usual scheming grin was there, but there was shyness, too, right underneath.
“You should see pictures of that big old beast when he was a kid,” Andrew murmured, working my neck and upper back again. “You’d never know it to look at him now, but he was a runt.”
“I’m running out of pillows, Bree. Pass me another,” Eric teased.
“You? A runt?” I asked. “No way!”
“See what you’ve done?” Eric lamented to his friends. His thumb stroked my ankle, though, sending goosebumps all the way up my leg. I was grateful I’d gone with jeans, even if I was sweatier for it. At least I wasn’t advertising the effect his touch had on my body—both of their touches, really.
Eric sat forward, pushing his hips out so he could retrieve his phone from his front pocket. It was all I could do to keep my eyes to myself. Was he as turned on as Jonathan had seemed earlier? Would there be evidence of his arousal tenting the front of those soft, worn jeans? My cheeks heated as I watched him thumb through his phone before he turned it to me, showing me a picture.
I grasped his wrist, hauling him closer for a better view. Then I gasped and giggled. “That’s you? Oh, you’re so cute!”
He was adorable. And he was tiny—much smaller than the other children crowded around him.
“Yeah, that’s my eighth birthday,” he said. “Thanks, social media, for bringing those memories back into my life." He pointed to the biggest kid in the picture. "This guy made my life a living hell until I hit a growth spurt and gained five inches on him.”
Jonathan snorted from his chair. “Yeah, you should have seen the day that dick ran into us when we were still downtown. Eric must’ve had a foot and sixty pounds of muscle on the guy. He ran the other direction when he realized who Eric was. Guess he thought he was going to get payback for being an asshole kid.”
“I can’t see you beating anyone up,” I said, scrunching my nose at Eric.
“Nah, it’s not my style. But I don’t mind giving all this a little extra bluster if someone thinks they can mess with me or mine,” he said, gesturing with one of his big, strong hands at his broad chest.
“He loves to look out for the underdog,” Jonathan said. The usual teasing tone was gone, though. Instead, his compliment was sincere. “No better man out there. Well, other than you, I guess,” he added, quirking a brow at Andrew.
Andrew’s deep chuckle ruffled my hair over my bare shoulder.
“Is that why you like the pressure?” I asked, trying to decipher more of Eric’s character. He seemed so adventurous. Learning that he was shy inside made him stand out even more to me.
He shrugged. “I guess I’ve always felt like I had something extra to prove. But I’m glad for it now. It helps me on the job. I make quick decisions, and I don’t question myself once I’ve made my mind up. That’s saved our crew vital seconds on more than one occasion.”
Jonathan cleared his throat and turned his attention to the TV. Andrew’s hands paused on my shoulders for a second before he gave me one last squeeze.
“You guys wanna hit the road?” Andrew asked.
“Oh…so soon?” I asked, sitting up from my relaxed position.
I caught the silent look Eric gave Andrew and realized something had happened. I wasn’t sure what, though. Had I screwed up in some way?
“Yeah, baby,” Eric said. His smile was sweet and genuine. “No worries. I think we all just realized it’s late and we don’t want to keep you up too long.”
Jonathan released the footrest on the recliner and stood. “I am pretty tired,” he said. And he looked it. I hadn’t realized that before—he’d been in such a good mood.
“Is everything okay?” I asked, fretting over the sudden change in climate.
Eric pulled me to him, squeezing me tight. His hand cupped the back of my head, holding me to his chest. His heart pounded against my cheek, acknowledging the same sparks and heat I felt. “Of course it is. No worries, okay?”
His words imbued me with calm. I trusted that. Even though I didn’t know what had happened, it wasn’t on my end. Everything was okay, even if it wasn’t.
Andrew hugged me just as tight as Eric had before he gathered his games. He hesitated and then turned. “Would it be okay if I leave these here, actually? That way we can play again soon?”
That offer filled me with hope. They weren’t leaving forever. Just for the night. And if he wanted to leave something he cared about, he’d be back, right?
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll find a good spot for them.”
He grinned and followed Eric out the door.
Jonathan’s embrace was longer, though not as firm. He cupped my cheek and tilted my head up to look into my eyes. “Thank you for letting us hang out again. I’ll miss you tonight.”
I was about three seconds away from begging them to stay, but there was a sadness in Jonathan’s eyes that made me let him go.
“Lock up,” Andr
ew said, again waiting and watching as I latched the screen behind them.
Before I’d even turned away from locking the door, my phone buzzed with a text.
It was Eric. Thanks for the amazing night. Can’t wait to be with you again.
I sighed and collapsed on the sofa in a giddy, exhausted heap.
Chapter Five
Another week and another flurry of texts passed before I knew it. I didn’t have a chance to worry I’d done something wrong with the way the guys stayed in touch with me. Jonathan said he liked texting like that—it made him feel closer to me during all the time he had to spend away.
I liked the idea that it was hard for them to spend time away from me. That any moment out of my presence might carry a hint of a burden. It did for me. I felt their absence more than ever as I worked that week. Between my latest column question and four days of steady, sloppy rain, I didn’t get as many chances to run past the station. I missed my usual daily glimpses of the guys. Especially now that Jonathan had begun hanging out outside, too.
This column…oh, this column was giving me the best and worst kinds of problems. The message came from a couple who wanted to see what it was like to have sex in front of other people. They were in a committed relationship but thought it might heighten their experience to have another one or two people in the room to watch. Honestly, I was shocked Terry the Editor was even willing to let this one through. It had given me more than my fair share of blushes and gasps the first time I read it.
I doodled circles on my notepad to calm my mind. I’d already changed my panties once that morning because I'd soaked through them thanks to my naughty thoughts. Something about three firefighters having their way with me—well, really, one at a time while the other two watched. Who was the lucky guy? It depended on which way I took the fantasy. I’d thoroughly fucked Andrew, Eric, and Jonathan all in my mind. I wish I could say it made me feel dirty. But it made me feel desperate, instead. I’d resorted to pulling my little black box of sex toys out from under the bed and going to town on myself the night before.
