Dare Me (A MFM Ménage Romance)

by Vivian Ward

  I don’t know how he can have this effect on me.

  And it continues as he places his hand in the crook of my back and ushers me to a table near the front of the club where we have a stunning view of the riverfront.

  The tall glass front provides a spectacular sight of the St. Louis moonlight cascading off of the rushing river currents, making it appear as a blanket of shimmery magnificence.

  “I didn’t think you were going to come,” he says to me as the waitress places our drinks on the table.

  “Why?” I ask, taking a drink of my amaretto sour.

  “You still don’t have a car, and I wasn’t sure if you’d meet me here tonight. You know, since it’s not business and all.”

  “I get around.”

  No sooner than I say those words, I instantly regret them. I quickly try to backtrack, but it’s too late.

  “You do, huh?”

  Zack raises his eyebrow a few times as he nudges me.

  “Why didn’t you say so? I would’ve taken advantage sooner.”

  “Come on, Zack,” I say, sipping my drink. “You know I’m not really like that.”

  Yes, it’s true that Slutty Joline has made her appearance from time to time, but I’ve never actually gotten around.

  “Besides, you know that I’m sort of seeing your brother.”

  “Yeah, but fuck him. You’re too good for him. You know that?”

  He puts his hand on top of mine and scoots closer to me.

  “I’m not sure what you see in him or why you’ve suddenly given him a chance, but it should’ve been me. We go way back and have a lot more history than the two of you.” He looks down at his drink and runs his free hand around the rim of the glass. “What made you pick him anyway?”

  My heart sinks hearing him talk like this and looking at the sad expression in his eyes, my knees go weak. It’s a good thing we’re sitting down.

  “It’s not like that, exactly. I’ve never picked anyone.”

  He gives me a half-cocked smile and tilts his head.

  “Come on, Joline, do you expect me to believe that?”

  “It’s true! We just kind of happened, and we’re nothing official.”

  “Friends with benefits?” he asks, shaking his head as he slams his shot. “Lucky bastard. Now tell me why I can’t be that lucky?”

  Wow.

  Stunned, I can hardly respond.

  “Well, what about you and Jenny? You’ve got a thing going on with her, too. Friends with benefits.”

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. And you’re right; I do, but Jenny sleeps around with other men.”

  I look at him in disbelief.

  How can he be so content with that?

  He shrugs, almost as if he could read my mind.

  “It’s not a big deal. I’ve kind of learned not to get too close to anyone. Can’t help it, though. I guess I can thank my old man for that.”

  He draws in a long, deep breath as though he’s contemplating.

  “Does he know you’re here tonight? With me?”

  I shake my head.

  “We were out having dinner earlier, and we got into it, so I had him drop me off here.”

  “So that’s how you got here! I thought maybe you took an uber or something.”

  “No,” I say finishing my drink.

  “I’ll go grab us another. If we wait for the cocktail waitress to come back, we might wait forever.”

  I check my phone while he’s at the bar. There are two text messages. One is an Amber Alert for our area, and the other is from my dad, but I’m not sure what he was trying to send me because it’s garbled letters and doesn’t make any sense.

  “Here you go,” he slides me another amaretto sour and sits down next to me.

  “To friends of all kinds,” I hold my glass up. “Close friends, friends with benefits, and long-lasting childhood friends.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he nods.

  He wraps his arm around me and leans in, resting his forehead against mine.

  “I’m glad to have you back in my life. You’ve always been so special to me.”

  His breath hits my neck and earlobe, causing tingle to run down my body. I can feel him everywhere, all around me.

  It feels comfortable.

  Close and connected.

  But it shouldn’t, should it?

  Leaning my head into the crook of his neck, I sigh and look into his eyes.

  “We do make a pretty good team, don’t we? I mean, we work together, we play together, and we can talk to each other.”

  It feels good to have a close friend like him. Ever since Karli got married, she’s been so busy, and I haven’t had anyone that I can talk to, but Zack’s here for me.

  Looking into my eyes, he says, “Joline, you have no idea.”

  He flashes a devilish smile at me and pulls me into a warm, cozy embrace. Even though it’s not meant as a sexual gesture, it feels so intimate, and I can feel the heat of his body somehow imprinting itself onto my skin.

  I start to respond but am interrupted before I can even finish my sentence.

  “What the hell?” Trent says.

  I look forward, and I see him towering before us, his broad shoulders blocking the club lights from behind him as his puffy chest heaves in and out.

  The look on his face tells me that he’s pissed as I take note of a frown settling on his brow and his upper lip curls in an abnormal movement that I’ve never seen emerge from him.

  All of a sudden, Zack releases his warm hold on me, leaving me exposed and, somehow, cold. What felt like a harmless gesture, two friends hugging seems wrong.

  Inappropriate.

  Galling.

  My mind scrambles for excuses to try to make this right because I feel the need to explain and apologize.

  “I, um,” I look at Zack. “I’m here with your brother.”

  The two of them are participating in an unspoken staring competition, neither one of them speaking a word to each other; yet, the environment felt hostile.

  Uncomfortable.

  He’s not even looking at me. He’s looking through me, straight at his brother.

  Reaching up with my hands, I grab his face and try to focus his attention on me.

  “I’m glad you came back.”

  I lie.

  I thought for sure that he would have gone home and gone to bed. Apparently, I am wrong.

  Slowly, he turns his gaze toward me and looks into my eyes. His blank stare sends a chill down my spine.

  “Have a seat,” Zack kicks a chair out from underneath the table.

  Trent takes the seat but doesn’t lose eye contact with me. No, he’s completely focused on me.

  Zack holds his finger up in the air signaling over the waitress. Much to my surprise, she comes within seconds despite having a large crowd to serve.

  “Get my brother a Manhattan and bring us another round, too.”

  She sashays away from the table, and I wish I could go with her. The tension is so tight that you could slice it with a knife.

  “She talks an awful lot about you,” Zack says.

  It seems like he’s trying to break the ice, but it doesn’t look like Trent’s lightning up.

  “Yeah? Well, she hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

  Zack looks at me with a hint of surprise that I haven’t mentioned him, but he doesn’t seem bitter.

  The two of them continue with their stare off as the waitress brings our drinks back to the table.

  “So what is this? First I find you guys hanging out, dancing and all over each other at the wedding reception and now this?”

  “This is…nothing,” I quickly jump to our defense. “I’ve known him as long as I’ve known you. Remember?” I take a sip of my drink. “And there’s nothing wrong with a couple of friends hanging out.”

  “No, there’s nothing wrong with a couple of friends hanging out. Just surprises me to see you with,” he looks at Zack, “him.”

/>   “With him?” Zack repeats offensively. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  None of this is going how I planned at all.

  “Okay guys, can I say something?” I interrupt. I figure I better do something before the two of these get into it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen them fight.

  They both turn their attention to me and even though that’s what I was wanting, I somehow feel smaller.

  “Let’s not do this. You two are brothers, this is a public place, and this isn’t the time.”

  Instead of a fight breaking out, we all sit in silence for a moment until I can’t take it any longer.

  “So, Trent,” I turn my attention to him. “Did you know that Zack’s been seeing a girl named Jenny?”

  I want to pretend that I brought it up because it was the first thing that came to mind, but it’s not.

  I only did it because I want him to know that his brother is with someone.

  “That’s great,” he says. “Does he know that you’re with me?”

  There’s a hint of pain behind his eyes, but he hasn’t exactly pushed for the two of us to be anything official.

  Maybe because I’ve always been so against it.

  “I do,” Zack cuts in. “ And that’s awesome because she’s as beautiful as ever. I like being around her; she’s nice to look at.”

  O.M.G.

  I can’t believe he just said that! What the hell? Where did that even come from?

  “It’s fine; I get it. I’m out of here.”

  Trent stands and turns to walk out. I want to chase after him, go calm him down, comfort him.

  But I can’t.

  My legs remain frozen, gluing me to my seat.

  Chapter 14

  Guilt.

  It’s been eating me up ever since the other night when Trent walked into the bar and caught Zack and I casually chatting and drinking together.

  What I initially meant for two brothers to reunite turned into a complete disaster because of me. I should’ve stuck to my original plan of getting the two of them together to talk, but all I did was wedge the twisted knife even deeper between the two of them.

  I never meant for anyone to get hurt and I suppose things could be much worse, but I can’t get over how his retreating figure walked out of the bar, away from me.

  He stopped at the doorway and craned his neck, allowing our eyes to connect for a brief moment. Something deep inside of me resonated, something I’m not sure I completely understand, but it felt like a piece of me walked out the door right along with him.

  Instead of letting Zack give me a ride home, I called for an Uber at the end of the night.

  I feel so bad about the way everything happened.

  Maybe I should.

  No, I shouldn’t.

  I should not feel this way.

  Should I?

  No matter what the right answer is, I’m going to make up for it. All day I’ve sat around thinking about what I can do to make things up to Trent. Given the fact that he hasn’t called me in almost three days, I know he’s pissed.

  Beyond pissed.

  To smooth things over with him, I’m going to go to his house and make a nice, romantic dinner. Let him know that I’m committed to our relationship.

  Whatever’s left of it anyway.

  I want this to work. I didn’t realize how close the two of us had gotten until I screwed things up, but I’m desperate to get things back on the right track.

  Knocking on his door, I juggle the grocery bag filled with ingredients to prepare the best make-up dinner that either of us has ever had, and I hear his footsteps echoing off of the elegant hardwood floors.

  “Joline,” he says, opening the door.

  He doesn’t open it all the way, but enough to poke his head out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  What? Did he just ask me what I’m doing here?

  Wow.

  “I, um,” I hold the brown paper bag up. “I came to make us dinner.”

  He looks at the bag for a moment, almost as if he’s debating whether or not to let me in.

  “Of course. Come in,” he opens the door and steps back.

  I’ve only been in his house one other time since I’ve moved back home, but it’s just as breathtaking now as it was the last time I was here.

  Hardwood floors as far as the eyes can see; his house is huge. Marble lining the fireplace, kitchen counters, bathroom vanities and just about every other surface you can imagine. Tall, arched doorways—St. Louis style—and cathedral ceilings; another signature of the downtown area.

  “I’ll just take these into the kitchen,” I smile and make my way through the front parlor.

  That’s one thing that I love about St. Louis architecture. All of the fancy homes have parlors, and I also love all of the hand-carved wood, the wide open floor plans, the doorways, and the ceilings.

  I guess when you think about it, I just love all of it in general. In all the places I’ve ever been, this is my favorite style of design. Lots of the homes around here have hidden passageways within the buildings; the older homes anyway. Pretty much anything from the late 1800’s and the early 1900’s.

  Trent’s house mansion has been renovated but still maintains most of its original charm, and I love being in it.

  Sitting the bag of groceries on the counter, I begin to remove all of the ingredients from the bag and put them away in the fridge until I’m ready for them.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asks.

  It’s a simple question, but it feels loaded like there’s no right answer.

  “Thought I’d do something nice and make us a quiet meal that we could enjoy together.”

  I begin chopping the vegetables while the oven heats up. Letting me do my thing, he leaves the kitchen but somehow I feel tenser.

  Like I don’t belong here.

  Whipping up dinner, I can see him sitting at his desk in the den. He’s wearing a gray button-down shirt with a slate-colored tie that’s loosely hanging around his neck while he wears headphones, listening to something on the computer.

  I imagine he’s working, but I have no idea. For all I know, he’s in there listening to music or watching sports. A wave of relief washes over me as I realize that I’m just glad he’s giving me some space while I make us dinner.

  His kitchen is so big, and I like all the space it has to offer. This is something I could see myself doing on a regular basis; cooking in this big kitchen.

  Setting the table, I call out to him, letting him know that dinner’s almost ready. All I need to do is pour a bit of wine because I’ve perfected everything else hoping to please him.

  “Smells good,” he scoots my chair out for me.

  “Thank you. It’s rack of lamb with a brown sugar glazed sauce and seasoned asparagus.”

  He takes a bite and nods in approval but doesn’t say anything else. We eat the rest of our dinner in silence and I’m tempted to bring up the situation with his brother, but I don’t want to rehash things. I want to move forward, get past this.

  “I’ll take your plate,” he says finishing up his last bite.

  “Oh, I can clean up. I made the mess; it’s only fair.”

  “No, I’ll get it.”

  He takes my plate and disappears into the kitchen. I grab the wine and our glasses and follow close behind him, sitting them on the counter.

  “Do you want to watch a movie or something?” I ask.

  His shoulders tense up, and he takes his time popping his neck, as though he’s procrastinating answer my question.

  “Sorry, I just remembered that I need to go back to the office to do some work.”

  Scrambling to find the right words, I try not to stutter.

  “Oh, um, okay. Should I, I mean, do you want me to wait here for you?”

  “No, I might be a while.”

  He places his hands on my shoulders and leans in. I close my eyes, anticipating a kiss that never comes. When I ope
n my eyes, I see him standing before me and am immediately drawn to his eyes.

  His oversized crystal blue gems appear cold and frozen; duller than a thick, frozen pond. They’re concealed behind a silvery tint, making them almost gray. Ironically, they match his shirt almost perfectly.

  I feel foolish for thinking he would kiss me right now. He hasn’t spoken more than five minutes to me, and I’ve been here for over two hours. Hidden away in his den, he’s kept his distance, and during dinner, he held his tongue.

  “Go home,” he keeps his voice even, yet in a low, flat tone.

  It’s offensive.

  It’s not my usual sweet Trent.

  I hate it.

  Driving home, I wish that Zack and I were supposed to be at the underground casinos tonight, but Jesus couldn’t make it tonight, and we can’t go out without the right amount of people.

  We’re not scheduled to go back to any of the underground casinos for another night, but that doesn’t help me right now.

  By the time I get home, my dad’s fast asleep and for that I’m grateful. I don’t know if I’d have the strength to face him right now.

  Lying in bed, all I can think of is Zack. He’s the only person I’ve been able to talk to since Karli got married, and right now I want to speak to him.

  I want someone to want me, my company.

  I need someone to help me shake this dejected feeling that’s cloaking me thick, wet blanket.

  Contemplating what I should do, I toy with the idea of texting him to see what he’s doing right now. After tossing and turning for about an hour, I grab my phone from beside my bed and send him a message before I drive myself insane.

  All I want is someone to talk to and maybe hang out with; someone who will tell me things will be all right and help me forget about the evening that I just spent with Trent.

  Me: What are you doing tonight?

  Gazing at my cell phone waiting for his reply, fifteen minutes turns into an hour. Giving up hope that he’ll text me back, I click my phone off and roll over on my pillow when it dings.

  Him: Busy tonight. Go fuck my brother. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.

  His response hurts me, and it’s like a knife twisting in my gut. I can’t believe he said that to me, and he has no idea how wrong he is. I’m fairly sure that I’m the last person his brother wants to touch right now.