The Boys Next Door: An MFM Menage Romance

by Miranda Silver

  “Diana, what happened in there—“ Ian began. He was holding her arm. Both her arms. Tightly. Brendan’s hand was on her back. The two of them were probably the only thing keeping her upright.

  “It’s not a big deal.” She glared at the sidewalk, too embarrassed and upset to even look Ian in the eye. “Forget I said anything. I don’t care.”

  Somehow, they talked her into getting in the Jeep and riding home with them: Brendan in the front, driving carefully at half the speed Ian had used to bring them there; Diana in the back with her aching head in Ian’s lap, the place she most and least wanted to be right now.

  Silence filled the car. The clock she’d wanted so badly beamed a steady green glow from the dashboard: 4:19 am. Ian’s hand was rubbing the back of her head, and it was soothing her headache and making her angry all over again at the same time, because she didn’t want him to ever stop.

  “Di, we thought this would be good for you,” Brendan began. “We thought it would help you.”

  “Shut up, Brendan.” Ian’s morose voice made it through Diana’s head slowly, but she looked up soon enough to see Brendan’s stunned expression in the rearview mirror. The twins never fought. They’d made an agreement, they’d kept it since they were seven, and the two of them arguing was suddenly the most wrong thing about this night.

  “Don’t yell at Brendan,” she snapped, and instantly regretted it because the effort made her head throb more.

  “Diana, you don’t even—“ Ian broke off. She felt the soft thud of the seat as he banged his head against it. “The club was your idea,” he said in a lower voice, clearly aimed at his brother. “This fucking threesome was your idea. It’s Brendan’s idea. It’s always Brendan’s idea.”

  “You have lots of ideas.” Brendan’s tone was mild. “It wasn’t my idea for you to climb in Diana’s window alone and make her guess who you were.” Crazily, he didn’t seem bothered, more like he was trying to support his brother — but Diana couldn’t bear to hear anymore.

  “Let’s just forget that happened,” she blurted out.

  Silence. Ian’s leg stiffened against her cheek. After a second, his hand left her hair. Without thinking, she grabbed his palm and pulled it back. He sighed and began to rub her head again.

  “Your hair’s a mess,” he said softly. And he was just making it messier, his warm fingers buried against her scalp and rubbing her neck. His other hand found the open back of her dress — half-buttoned, in her rush. Slowly, he began doing the buttons up.

  “Yeah, well, you sound like shit warmed over,” she mumbled into his leg. His jeans smelled like smoke and beer. “Both of you.” Though it was really only true for Ian. “And you look like it too.”

  A brief half-laugh. Streetlights streaked by through the window. The Jeep rolled through one intersection after another, the only car on the deserted streets.

  After a few minutes, Brendan turned on the radio, keeping the volume low. Diana was about to tell him to turn it off, but when she saw his arm crooked out the open driver’s window, his head leaning to the side, his solid body looking exhausted, she kept her mouth shut. Better for the driver to stay awake. And dammit, the song on the radio was mellow and warm, all sunlight and happiness and a long lazy summer ahead.

  “Sorry, man,” Ian said in a low voice.

  He was apologizing, Diana thought. Not to her. To his brother.

  “No, I’m sorry,” Brendan said after a minute.

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s it right there, isn’t it?” Diana told herself to just stop talking, that at least the twins were making up, but her mouth wasn’t paying attention. “That’s the only apology that matters to either of you. At the end of the day, you don’t really care about anyone else. You only care about each other.”

  There was a very long silence. Too long. Or maybe it just felt that way because her head was drumming five rhythms at once against Ian’s leg, and his hand had stopped rubbing her scalp and just cupped it, holding still.

  “That’s not true, Di,” Brendan said quietly.

  The car had stopped. She recognized the maple trees from the window, even lying down. They were in front of her house.

  Ian let out a long exhalation. “Diana, can we please just sleep this off and talk tomorrow?”

  “No, Di, we shouldn’t leave you,” Brendan cut in. “Let us stay with you ’til morning — or you can sleep over at our house and I’ll explain to your parents—“

  That was an explanation she’d like to see Brendan give her mom. But hearing the twins disagree — they’d always worked together, so seamlessly she’d barely been aware of it — made up her mind.

  “I need to be alone.” Fuck, her voice was shaky. She didn’t want to be alone — no, she wanted it more than anything else — she had no idea what she wanted right now. “For awhile. Don’t call me, Brendan. And Ian, I don’t need to say that to you because you never have.”

  Now she did manage to look at both twins as she climbed out of the Jeep. They were still masculine. Still good-looking. But worn. Brendan leaned his forehead against the open window frame, shadows under his eyes. Ian, in the back, did look like shit warmed over. Hair sticking up everywhere, heavy-lidded eyes staring back at her, and she just wanted to grab him and drag him up to her room and fall asleep with her head on his shoulder.

  “You know, Di,” Brendan said quietly. “It’s a lot of work to try to make everyone happy.”

  Diana rubbed her eyes. The maple trees rustled overhead. It was either way too late at night or way too early in the morning.

  “Is that your job? Along with talking for Ian?” Who she couldn’t look at again, and who wasn’t saying a word from the back.

  “One of them.”

  “Maybe you should find some new jobs.” She slammed the car door and made her way inside her dark house without glancing back. Behind her, the Jeep’s engine turned over, the only sound in the sleeping neighborhood beside the chirp of the crickets.

  *

  After a few hours of tossing and turning, Diana folded her pillow over and punched it, glaring at the cheerful early morning light pouring through her window.

  No one would climb through that window now. No twin would make the branches shake outside as he clambered up, beaming, with a naughty graduation gift in a brown paper bag, or wrapped in shadow, refusing to tell her who he was. She’d made damn sure of that in the Jeep, when she’d been too upset to think straight.

  It was ridiculous to have her feelings hurt, she knew. After all, she’d been with both twins. She’d picked up those girls right along with them. Her body clenched with sharp arousal, remembering. And honestly, if she had a do-over card for last night, she’d do it all again, except for the last half hour. But that didn’t ease the hollow in her chest.

  She buried her face in her pillow, mashing it against the cotton. Brendan and Ian were players. She’d been an idiot to hope for more. Naive to think all that bullshit Ian had spouted on graduation night about her being beautiful and perfect actually meant anything besides wanting to get his dick up her ass. He’d probably done that with a hundred girls and knew exactly what to say.

  But she couldn’t stop hearing their voices in her head: It’s always Brendan’s idea. It’s a lot of work to try to make everyone happy. Was this how the twins went through life — getting into scrapes together, Ian taking the blame, Brendan taking care of the cleanup?

  She kicked at her covers. She was not going to feel sorry for them, even though she knew, deep down, she’d been unfairly mean in the car. Hurt their feelings. She wanted to make things right, but she didn’t have the first idea how.

  When the doorbell rang, she pulled her pillow over her head. Didn’t the world know not to make loud sounds right now?

  Her mother’s enthusiastic “Brendan!” carried through the plump down. Oh boy.

  “Diana’s resting right now, but I’ll tell her you’re here. How late did you boys keep her out last night? I hope Ian didn’t give h

er anything to drink.”

  “No, Mrs. Cooper, he didn’t. Don’t worry.” That deep voice was definitely Brendan’s, but he sounded subdued. “Let Diana sleep. I don’t want to bother her.”

  Diana sighed, heaved the pillow across the room, padded to her door, and opened it.

  “Brendan can come up,” she called down the stairs, then hesitated. “If he wants to.”

  There was a pause, followed by low voices. Then the floor creaked. Diana blinked at the bulk of Brendan’s body coming up the stairs. Her hair was still saturated with smoke, some other girl’s perfume clung to her skin, the pink camisole and boy shorts she’d managed to pull on before tumbling into bed were stuck to her sex-scented body with sweat, and she’d thought this was a good idea why?

  But Brendan was already in her room. Closing the door with a soft click behind him, he looked around for a place to sit in a way that made it very obvious he was avoiding her bed. Diana noticed something tucked under his arm.

  “Hey.” She gestured to herself. “I know. I need to shower.”

  “Yep. You do.”

  A hint of a smile flashed across Brendan’s face, the cleft flickering in his chin, but Diana couldn’t help noticing: this was the first time she’d seen Brendan not trying to be charming. She’d never fully realized how much the charm was on — day, night, awake or asleep. Always, since they’d been kids. Now, he just looked tired. Diana wondered if he’d slept as badly as she had. And Ian—

  Impulsively, she patted the bed next to her. The mattress sank under Brendan’s weight, his leg warm against hers.

  “I came over to give you this.” He held out her jean jacket, folded into a tidy bundle. Diana let out a sigh of relief. She reached into the front pocket, found her glasses, and put them on. Her room sharpened into focus, and she immediately felt better.

  Brendan was already close enough to see clearly — very close to her, in fact — but the glasses just made it more obvious: tired or not, he was still gorgeous. But she didn’t recognize his expression. They’d grown up together, they’d had all kinds of sex the past two weeks, but she had to wonder if she knew him at all. Or Ian, or herself.

  “Thanks.”

  “Check the sleeves.”

  Diana slid her hand into one sleeve. Out came her black satin bra, neatly tucked into the denim.

  “Oh. Right.” She’d thought she was beyond blushing. Now she knew better. Dropping the generous cups on her bed, she reached into the other sleeve and pulled out some black scraps of lace.

  “Seriously?” She stared up at Brendan, her shredded panties dangling from her hand. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “I thought you could sew them back together or something.”

  “Ian’s just too cheap to buy me new ones, isn’t he?” And saying his name made her stomach knot.

  Brendan shrugged, his smile fading. Diana rubbed her temples. She just wanted to lean against Brendan’s shoulder. Get tangled up in Ian’s arms. Have some idea of what was going on.

  “Look, I’m sorry I was mean to you guys in the car.”

  “Di.” Brendan put a warm hand on her back. “Did you have fun at all last night?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Yeah, I did. It was exciting and crazy and intense and…a lot. I was just so excited — I just wanted to do it all, like you said — to do whatever I wanted, but —“ She reached for him. “Can you just be my big brother for a few minutes?”

  For the first time, Brendan really smiled. God, he was beautiful. Diana practically had to shield her eyes from the flash of white teeth. “‘Course.”

  It felt natural to rub her cheek against Brendan’s shoulder, the way she’d wanted to. It was comforting to bury her nose in his soft t-shirt and breathe in the familiar clean detergent smell. Her shoulders relaxed when Brendan folded an arm around her. She didn’t protest when he took the ripped panties out of her hand, moving them to her desk along with her jacket and bra.

  “Can we lie down?” she whispered.

  “Mm-hm.” Brendan eased her down on the mattress and pulled her close. It felt right to curl up in his muscular arms. His hand found her back and rubbed gently between her shoulder blades. Diana rested her forehead on his shoulder, letting him unhook her glasses and drop them on her desk as well. The throbbing in her head eased off. It felt so good to let Brendan hold her. She snuggled closer, letting her eyelids drift closed and her leg wrap around his solid body.

  “Are you guys fighting?” she asked softly.

  “Not exactly.” Brendan’s voice was low. “Don’t worry about it, Di. Just rest.”

  “It’s my business too.”

  A pause. His breath stirred her hair. “Ian made me promise that if I saw you today, I wouldn’t talk about him. Or for him.”

  “Oh.” Her stomach went cold. Fine. That was fine. But it wasn’t fine at all. “Well, I’d like to talk about Ian.”

  “And say what?” Brendan pulled back, his eyebrows raised.

  There was too much expectation in the air. Diana let out a breath.

  “I don’t know.” She buried her face in Brendan’s shoulder, sighing when his hand slipped under her pink camisole to rub her belly. A few seconds passed, or maybe a few minutes. No one was checking on them. Apparently her mom didn’t feel the need to review the rules of boys in Diana’s room when it was Brendan in there with her.

  Diana shifted, nestling her head against his broad chest. His hand was so warm on her bare stomach.

  “Why do you guys do it? Why do you play good twin and bad twin?”

  No answer. Dammit, if Brendan was taking his promise to Ian this seriously, he might as well leave. But when Diana glanced up at him, his eyes were on hers. Brendan looked older.

  “It’s what we’ve always done.” He stroked the slight curve of her belly. “We’ve always done it that way.”

  “That’s not enough of a reason.”

  “Okay. It’s been good for us.”

  “You mean for you. Was it all your idea?”

  “No, Di. Believe me when I say it hasn’t been.” His finger found her belly button and traced it, making her giggle, just a little. A smile crossed his face. But he was turning away, his gaze moving across her bedroom to the huge tree in the window, and no way was she ready for this conversation to be over.

  “How’d it start?” She gave Brendan’s hair a tug. “Tell me.”

  “I don’t know.” Hazel eyes looked down at her, shadowed from lack of sleep. She’d thought Brendan looked older. Now, she saw he also looked lost. Had Brendan said I don’t know, ever, in the past twenty years? “I don’t remember.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said stubbornly. “Don’t give me that.”

  There was a long pause. Brendan sighed. “It didn’t come out of nowhere. From the time we were kids, Ian got in trouble more. Even for the things I did. A couple times, I don’t know, I’d steal some cookies or smash a ball through a window, or put a slug in the DiStefanos’ mailbox, and Ian would automatically get the blame, ‘cause he did that shit all the time. I’d own up to it, but our parents wouldn’t really believe me. They didn’t want to. We figured out that we could switch places and get away with more if I was good and he was bad. I helped him, he helped me. We looked out for each other.”

  “Past tense?”

  “Maybe.” Brendan rolled onto his back to look up at the ceiling. “We worked well together. We were a good team, Di.”

  “With girls too,” she murmured.

  “Of course with girls.” A hint of Brendan’s dimples showed in his tired face as he turned to her. “You know that. Any complaints?”

  She snorted, but a tickle of warmth chased itself down her body. Then she shook her head, rubbing her temples with one hand. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  After a minute, Brendan took over, and she gave in to the feeling of warm fingers massaging her head.

  “Is Ian mad at you?” she asked in a low voice. “I need to know.”