“Have you thought about it?” I ask.
“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” He taps the spoon on the side of the mug and puts it on the table. A drip of coffee plops onto the tabletop, staining the wood.
“Nor have I.”
“I don’t know how it would work,” Gabe admits. “Would we just be meeting up for play sessions or…?”
“I guess so.”
I’m not sure what I want, let alone what Blake wants—other than to play again—or what Gabe wants. I don’t normally agonise over the guys I hook up with at Hamish’s kink parties, even the ones I agree to meet up with again. But this is different. I didn’t just hook up with a stranger or a guy I know in passing. I hooked up with one of my best friends. Sort of. Could what Gabe and I did be described as a hookup? We were with the same guy at the same time, butwedidn’t hook up. Did we?
“A casual play session would be fun,” Gabe says. “Hamish’s parties are great, but it’s easy to get carried away.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “We got carried away.”
Gabe purses his lips. “If you’re not up for playing as a triad again, just say it.”
I lift my mug and blow over the top of the milky coffee before sipping it. It’s still a bit too hot to drink, but it gives me time to think. Does Gabe want me to back out so he doesn’t have to, or is he really up for another night of triad fun?
“I am,” I say eventually. “I think. I’m not sure what it means for us.”
Gabe makes eye contact with me for the first time. “Nor am I. Does it have to mean anything? If we’re just meeting up with Blake for fun…” It’s his turn to sip his coffee.
What a hopeless, awkward pair we are.
“Assuming he still wants to,” Gabe adds. “He might have changed his mind.”
“True.”
If he has, this whole conversation is null and void.
Gabe pulls his phone out. “Shall I text him?”
“I thought we should get our heads straight first. Is this whatwewant?”
“Kinky fun with a gorgeous guy?” Gabe waggles his eyebrows. “Hell, yeah.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Dowewant to have kinky fun with each other?”
“Do we?”
Gabe looks at his coffee again. I look at mine. Could this be any more awkward?
“It was fun,” Gabe says eventually.
“It was hot,” I say, echoing Gabe’s words from earlier. “But we didn’t really do anything with each other.”
“No.” Gabe smiles. “It was all about the boy last night.”
I’ve never noticed before how nice Gabe’s smile is. His cheeks indent right around his moustache, and he has the slightest hint of dimples. I’ve literally known him for years, and I’ve never realised he has dimples.
“We could keep it that way,” I point out.
“We probably should keep it that way.”
“Yeah. We’re talking about maybe hooking up once or twice, not dating.”
