by Elia Winters
Ben frowned. “Tell me more.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees.
Mitchell set his laptop down on the coffee table. “It feels like the bottom’s going to drop out on it eventually. Eventually, Hannah’s going to figure out she prefers one of us, and then the other one is…whatever. Left out. Alone.”
Oh. Ben didn’t see this side of Mitchell much, since in general he was a pretty confident, straightforward kind of guy. It was easy to forget that Mitchell had his own insecurities.
“Hey.” Ben moved to the sofa next to Mitchell. “Please say that you’re shitting me.”
Mitchell stonewalled him with a completely blank expression.
Ben hesitated only a moment, then moved his hand to rest over Mitchell’s. Mitchell looked down at their hands, his blank expression turning to a slight frown of puzzlement.
“No, look at me.”
Mitchell did so, his face wary.
“Neither of us is gonna end up alone, okay? No matter what happens with Hannah. We’ve still got each other.” And damn, that sounded gay as hell, but Mitchell was hurting and he could justify this to himself in the morning.
“I’m not worried about that.” Mitchell averted his eyes, so he was probably lying, because he didn’t do it often and he sucked at it. “I feel like there’s no way she’s not going to have to choose between us. And I don’t want to end up in a competition with you for Hannah.”
There was an unspoken part of that, the idea that if he had to be in competition with Ben, Mitchell was sure he would lose. He squeezed Mitchell’s hand. “Listen. Why does it have to be competition? Why are you thinking she has to choose at all? Why do any of us have to choose?”
“Forget it.” Mitchell sighed. “I shouldn’t have brought this up.” He tried to pull his hand away, but Ben held it there. So much for pretending he didn’t care.
If he really didn’t care, he wouldn’t push, but dammit, he wanted Mitchell to be a part of this, whatever it was. He wanted this weird triangle, even if it was a risk to the stability they had now. Somehow, adding Hannah to the mix felt like it left him more room to be intimate with Mitchell, like some of the pressure was off. “Just…give it a chance. Fall Festival is coming up, right? Let’s just give it some time until then. Let’s see what happens.”
Eyes to the side, jaw tight, Mitchell nodded. Fuck, they’d had such a great night tonight. Why did Mitchell have to be so down about it? Ben let go of his hand and moved closer, throwing an arm around Mitchell’s shoulders. The hell with distance. Right now, he didn’t want distance. He wanted a few more seconds of closeness. Mitchell hesitated, then leaned slightly into the contact, turning so the brotherly arm around the shoulders became a full embrace. They stayed like that, the silence stretching between them, and Ben should pull away, but fuck, this felt really nice. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore that little voice reminding him, You could have this.
He wasn’t ready, and he let go. “Come on.” Ben grabbed the remote off the armrest with his free hand, clearing his throat. “Let’s see what’s on.”
…
Ben awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented. The TV was still on, some show playing that he didn’t remember turning on. He had somehow stretched out along the couch, long limbs hanging off the side, and Mitchell was flopped against him, sound asleep, head pillowed on Ben’s shoulder. Shit. This was definitely a cuddle. It was a sleep cuddle, and so neither of them could be blamed for initiating it, but somewhere along the line, he and Mitchell had dozed off together on the couch and ended up back in an embrace.
Just like before, this was…nice. Mitchell was warm, and in his sleep he looked vulnerable and sweet, face relaxed, worry-free.
They couldn’t stay like this, though. He was already sore all over, and they both had to work the next day. He nudged Mitchell, who murmured and threw an arm across him, cuddling closer. Aw, shit. That was fucking adorable.
“Hey. Mitchell. Hey.” He nudged him again. “Come on, Mitch.”
“Don’t call me Mitch,” Mitchell slurred, making Ben smile.
“Yeah. Get up, you lazy ass. Go to bed.”
Mitchell untangled himself, sitting up and blinking awake with a groggy, sour expression. “I was warm.”
“Yeah, I know, but I don’t fit on this fucking sofa, and we certainly don’t fit on it together.”
They would fit in his bed, though.
But that was too far. Things weren’t like that between them.
Were they?
Before Ben had to face the extent of that question, Mitchell got to his feet and rubbed his eyes, saying good-night as he staggered off to bed.
Climbing into bed, Ben could smell the scent of sex everywhere. Fuck. So much for restful dreams.
Chapter Ten
Hannah looked around her quiet living room, the deep, unsettled restlessness of discontent skittering like an itch beneath her skin. Normally her solitude was nice. She enjoyed not having anyone to answer to, complete freedom to watch terrible television or listen to pop songs, or to either go to bed at eight or stay up until four in the morning if the mood struck her. Ever since the threesome a few days ago, though, she’d been restless. Hanging out with Lori had soothed her a bit, but tonight Lori was working late, and she wanted…what? Company?
Whatever this sensation was, loneliness or boredom, it sucked. Ben and Mitchell had been on her mind nonstop, and not just remembering the sex. She missed their company. They’d created a group chat, which she called up on her phone. So far, it had just been exchanging information about the Fall Festival, ideas or funny kitchen implements that might be sex toys, a couple of stories that someone had seen online and thought the others might enjoy.
She typed out a message.
Bored. You guys want company?
She hesitated a minute before sending, because maybe this was needy or something? But hell, she was allowed to ask for what she wanted, right?
After a moment, Ben responded.
Sure. We’re just hanging out. Nothing exciting.
Clear message that there would not be sex, which…was fine. She didn’t want to fuck. She wanted to visit. Relief eased through her like a balm as she got ready to leave.
A little while later, Mitchell opened their apartment door for her, smiling warmly, and on impulse, she stepped in to give him a hug. It felt like the right thing to do. He hugged back, wrapping those strong arms around her. The smell of his cologne took her right back to the other night, a flood of memories, but also an overwhelming sense of safety. She flopped down on the couch in the empty space next to Ben, who set aside his magazine to give her a smile.
“Where’s my hug? None of that for me?”
Hannah leaned across him to give him a one-arm squeeze, awkward for their position, and Ben made a noise of disapproval.
“This is a shitty hug.”
“I can’t give a good hug when you’re sitting down.”
“Nope, come here.” He turned and wrapped both arms around her, squishing her deliberately against him and tipping her to the side.
Laughing, she tried to pull away. “You’re crushing me!”
Ben let her go, both of them grinning. God, this was nice. She shouldn’t have missed this so much: it was still so new, so undefined, but also reassuringly comfortable. She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table, and Ben did the same, picking up his magazine, which appeared to be in…German?
“You read German?” Hannah raised an eyebrow at the magazine.
“Mmm-hmm.” Ben didn’t look up.
“Ben is a genius. He has a PhD in organic chemistry.” Mitchell sounded like a proud mother, and the thought that he wasn’t into Ben was laughable. “He did a year of his graduate work in Germany.”
“Why Germany?”
“The beer.” Ben raised his eyebrows like it was obvious. “I was already into it back then. I thought I could learn more in Germany, so I studied there.”
“And did you?”
; “I learned a few things.” He gave her a small smile. He was secretive like that, never sharing too much, even though she tried to crack into his armor.
“So what’s that magazine about?”
“It’s a brewing magazine.” Ben showed her the front of it, which had a German-looking person holding a golden beverage aloft. “I subscribe.”
“You big nerd.” Mitchell smiled into his own book.
“What about you?” Hannah nodded toward Mitchell. “What are you reading?”
Mitchell held up his book, which had a lightsaber-wielding woman on the front. “Star Wars.”
Ben cleared his throat. “My dear roommate likes to call me a nerd from over the top of his Star Wars book.”
Mitchell cleared his throat louder, outdoing Ben. “I borrowed this book from your bookshelf.”
Ben didn’t look up. “I can neither confirm nor deny that fact.”
Hannah laughed, their banter welcoming instead of exclusive.
“You bring something to do?” Mitchell asked.
Hannah held up a bag. “Crochet, motherfuckers.”
“Look at you.” Ben nodded approvingly. “I didn’t know you were so domestic.”
“I’m domestic as fuck.” Hannah kicked her feet up onto the coffee table.
“You want a beer?” Mitchell got to his feet.
“Sure. What do you have?”
Ben and Mitchell looked at each other and laughed. “We have the whole set,” Mitchell explained. “What do you like?”
“Oh.” Hannah thought. “I don’t know. I like a little of everything.”
Ben set his magazine down on his lap. “More hoppy or less hoppy?”
“Either?”
Ben sighed, but he didn’t look really irritated. “You like fruity, or more straight-up beer flavored?”
“I guess more regular beer flavored?” It came out like a question.
Mitchell put his hands on his hips. “Name some beers you like.”
Jesus, what beers had she ordered lately? She started naming the ones she could recall off the top of her head.
Ben started to laugh. “You named two IPAs, a wheat, a stout, and two lagers.”
“I like a lot of things!” Hannah laughed with them. “Jesus, I don’t know. Whatever you give me, I’ll probably like it.”
“You’re killing me.” Ben hung his head and shook it, still grinning. “Mitchell, grab her an Autumn Leaf Red.”
“I don’t remember if I’ve had that before.” She watched Mitchell disappear into the kitchen.
Ben crossed his arms. “How do you not know what beers we have? You are literally at our brewery all the time mooning over Mitchell.”
“Hey!” Mitchell’s voice came from the kitchen, at the same time that Hannah yelled, “Hey!” at Ben as well.
Ben grinned broadly. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”
“I have not been mooning over Mitchell.” She paused. After sleeping with them, was there any point in the deception? “Maybe a little.”
“Ha!” Ben called toward the kitchen, where he was met with only silence from Mitchell.
“But,” Hannah added, “I don’t really pay attention to the beer. I just order whatever’s first on the specials board.” At Ben’s mock horror, she spread her arms. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know I was committing some kind of cardinal sin.”
Mitchell emerged from the kitchen pouring a hand-labeled bottle into a tall glass. “It’s a red ale. We call it Autumn Leaf Red, and then we brew a similar one for Christmas that’s a little bit maltier, and that one is Santa’s Big Red Bag.”
Hannah laughed. “Couldn’t go with Santa’s Red Sack?”
“Tried it.” Ben scratched his beard. “But the marketing team lost their shit about my suggestions for the label.”
The beer, rich and malty, made Hannah pause midsip. “This is really nice,” she said after swallowing. “It smells like something. Some kind of fruit? I don’t know. It reminds me of fall. And…fireplaces.”
“Cherries.” Ben nodded knowingly as Mitchell flopped back down into his chair. “That’s one of our favorites. I’m glad you like it.”
Hannah looked between the two of them. “So this is a quiet evening at home for you? Beer and reading? You’re like some kind of Hallmark ad or something.”
“Ben plays a lot of Xbox,” Mitchell offered.
“Not a lot of Xbox. A reasonable amount of Xbox.” Ben took his own beer off the table, which was still in the bottle that had been labeled “pale” with a Sharpie on a piece of masking tape. “And Mitchell spends most of his free time at the gym.”
“Not most of my free time,” Mitchell retorted. “Seriously, there’s no need to exaggerate because I called out your video games.”
“You did not call me out. I am not at all ashamed of my video-game prowess.” Ben straightened in his spot on the couch. “But you do work out every day. Literally every day.”
“I like it.” Mitchell shrugged. “It shuts up my mind sometimes.”
“So no, we don’t have quiet evenings at home like this a lot. But they’re nice when they happen.” Ben paused, then gave Hannah a lascivious grin. “Also, sometimes we just fuck.”
Mitchell fumbled the book he had just picked up, making Hannah laugh out loud. Mitchell was so confident and dominant, it was incongruous to see him get flustered by Ben’s bluntness. “I’d like to see that.”
Ben winked at Mitchell, who was rolling his eyes. “Yeah, so you mentioned.”
“I liked what I saw the other night.”
It was the first time anyone had overtly brought up the threesome, and the reference hung between them for a moment before Mitchell responded, his tone tentative. “Well, there’s more where that came from.”
It wasn’t an immediate come-on, and the playful banter felt comfortable and silly rather than a legitimate offer. They each turned back to their respective reading material, leaving Hannah glancing between the two for a couple of minutes, and then she pulled out her crochet and tucked her feet underneath her on the couch. This wasn’t a bad way to spend the evening.
…
The next night, as Hannah was just getting home from closing up the shop, she got a message from Ben. Mitchell’s closing tonight. Want to come over and watch a movie?
There was no harm in saying yes, right? So she went over to the condo, Ben ordered a pizza, and they flopped together on the couch with one of the latest superhero movies that had just come onto Netflix. Not a lot of conversation between them; they shared pizza and a bag of chips, drank a beer each, and watched until the final after-credits scene rolled and the screen returned to the Netflix main menu. Neither of them moved to put on something else.
With Ben’s arm around her and a fuzzy blanket over her lap, warm sleepiness filled Hannah like a comforting weight. “This is nice.”
“Hmm?” Ben stirred next to her. “Yeah. I like this.”
The silence felt comforting, rather than oppressive. Hannah shifted to curl more deliberately into Ben, wrapping her arm across his chest and settling her head on his shoulder. “How long have you and Mitchell lived together?”
“Seven years, more or less.” Ben smiled, his expression reflective. “He’s a great roommate. Took me in at a pretty low point in my life.”
She made a thoughtful noise, wanting to ask more but not wanting Ben to feel uncomfortable. “He seems like a good friend.”
“He is. Most reliable guy I’ve ever known.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “You know he almost dropped out of high school?”
“Really?” Hannah couldn’t imagine Mitchell being anything other than successful at anything he tried.
“Yeah. School was shit for him. He’s got dyscalculia. Mixes up numbers and stuff.” Ben swirled his fingers around. “Smart guy, though. Brilliant chef. He took home ec and aced everything. Decided to stick it out and then go to culinary school.” Ben chuckled. “His dad was pissed. Wanted Mitchell to go into the military like he did.”
&
nbsp; She could Mitchell in a military environment. “He probably would’ve done fine there.”
“Some of it? Oh, totally.” Ben nodded. “Discipline, schedule, organization, that’s Mitchell’s jam. But he hates guns.” Ben’s lips curled in a soft smile, his affection for Mitchell written all over his face.
“And are his parents still upset?”
“About the military thing? Nah.” Ben shook his head. “He was a star at the CIA.” At her blank stare, he explained further. “Culinary Institute of America. Top marks, internship at a Michelin-star restaurant in New York City—trust me, his parents were thrilled.” He paused, lips parted midthought. “They were not as thrilled when he brought home a boyfriend for Thanksgiving one year, though.”
“Shit, I bet.” Military family with a not-straight son? That couldn’t have been pretty.
“They got over it, though,” Ben added quickly. “They’re not bigots. Good people. Just a little old-fashioned.”
“They live around here?”
“Up in Vermont.” Ben pointed up, like Vermont was physically hanging over their heads. “His dad teaches up at Norwich University, the military academy up there.”
“And Mitchell left his career to open the pub with you?”
Ben tipped his head to the side. “Yeah. Crazy, right? But I guess it worked out.” He leaned back against the arm of the couch, giving Hannah a space to stretch out alongside him and rest her head on his chest. His heartbeat thumped quietly in her ears, and when he began to lightly stroke her hair, she closed her eyes.
“You really care about him.”
Ben’s hand paused, then continued the stroking. “I do.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and then he cleared his throat. “What’s your story? How’d you end up selling sex toys in Mapleton?”
That went back a few years. “Took the scenic route. I went to UMass Amherst, majored in communication, wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. You know, the common story.”
“Yup, I’m familiar with it.” Ben’s hand rested lightly on her back.
“I got out of school, couldn’t get a job, so I went back to school, got a master’s degree in the same field. Like I thought it would help.” She snorted at her own naïveté. “Not that there’s anything wrong with communications, but I literally had no idea what I was going to do, and I just ended up with more debt. Worked at a few bookstores, did some temping, couldn’t find anything I liked. But there was a sex shop I used to love up in Burlington, where I’m from, and I realized there wasn’t one here in Mapleton. So this space came up for rent on Main Street, and before I knew it, I was at the bank taking out a loan to start the business.” A twinge of pride warmed her as she remembered those days.
