“Exactly.” Lincoln grinned at me. “You sounded like you’d been to heaven and back the first night you went over there and emergency-called me to check in, but you haven’t said anything to me about him since, beyond assuring me all those pretty bruises on your ass were consensual.”
He wasn’t wrong.
It wasn’t that I’d been avoiding Lincoln, I just didn’t have the words to explain how I felt about Marshall or what our relationship was. It was fresh to me and very fresh to him, and there was no way to articulate that to a third party.
“It’s new,” I settled on.
“Obviously.” He reached over and scooped up some of my shawarma with a plastic fork and then said the next part with his mouth full of food. “Is he a good Dom?”
The flush on my cheeks should have been the only answer Lincoln needed, but I nodded. “Yes.”
“A good boyfriend?”
“We’re still figuring it all out.”
“Is it a 24/7 thing?” he asked.
“Figuring it out,” I repeated, pushing the container of gyro toward him so he would stop talking and start eating, but Lincoln was nothing if not dedicated, and he was solely focused on me and Marshall.
“Does your dad know?”
“Definitely not.”
“Are you going to tell him?” he asked.
“I’d love to not.”
Lincoln made an unimpressed sound. “You can’t hide forever.”
“Can’t we?” I asked.
He shook his head, the hint of a knowing frown on his face. “No.”
“Hey.” I poked him in the arm, and he made a dramatic show of rocking his whole body from the touch. “What’s that about?”
“Nothing,” he lied.
I poked him harder, and he rolled his eyes. “It’s Riot.”
Snorting, I grinned at my best friend. “That can’t be his real name. I don’t care what he says.”
“It is.” Lincoln frowned harder, smearing hummus onto his fork and using the dip to pick up some shavings of gyro. He filled his mouth and chewed, ignoring my stare.
“Alright.”
I worked on assembling something for myself to eat. It was probably more food than would be advisable, considering my plans for the rest of the night, so I took one more bite of shawarma then searched out the container full of salad. Lincoln gave me a slow and sarcastic blink but didn’t say anything. We were on the verge of him either calling out the change in my eating habits and what that meant for the rest of my night or him being honest with me about whatever was going on with him and Riot. I hoped for the latter, but there was no telling how things would go.
He ate a couple more bites of his meal in silence, then sighed. “He’s not out.”
I squinted, laughing out loud before swallowing it all back down when I saw the serious expression on Lincoln’s face. “Wait. Are you serious?”
He nodded.
That night at Rapture was mostly a blur…by design. Not that I’d tried to black out any of the things that happened to me, but because Marshall saving the day overshadowed all of it. Sitting on the couch with him after it was all done, breathing with him, and feeling how steady his heart beat…nothing else mattered.
“He seemed pretty out to me, Linc,” I finally said when it was clear my best friend was not going to pick up the conversation again.
“On Friday nights at a sex club, maybe. But not in real life.”
