“Vince, I would never ask you to…” I start, immediately jumping on the defensive.
He squeezes my thigh, and his smile grows, “It’s okay. It’s totally fair for you to bring it up. I’m just sorry I didn’t check in with you myself. To be honest, I was afraid of losing you. Which is a bullshit excuse.”
“Vince…” I say trailing off, because what do I say?
Do I confess that I crave the way she makes me feel? That I sometimes catch myself staring at her mouth when she laughs? That I’ve spent the past year convincing myself that her eyes don’t linger on me when she thinks I’m not looking. That I can’t stop picturing Ollie in that dammed bikini over the summer?
I realize all of those things culminate into one very simple statement.
“Ollie is very important to you,” I say, leaning forward, my wine forgotten. “She’s important to me, too.”
I take the most satisfying breath of my life as the burden of that confession is lifted from my chest.
“Really?” Vince asks, his voice hesitant.
“Really,” I confirm. “You’re stuck with me. I somehow managed to get an amazing boyfriend and a new best friend at the same time. Just don’t be surprised when she starts to like me more than you,” I tease.
“Starts?” Vince laughs, his grin turning playful. “She’s already wrapped around your finger.”
“It’s pathetic, but I actually kind of miss her right now, which feels… confusing to say out loud to you.”
His expression softens, the defensive tension in his shoulders melting away. “You don’t have to be confused with me. I miss her, too.” He pauses, swirling his water glass. “I was worried you’d think it meant I didn’t want to be here with you.”
“And I was worried you’d think me missing her meant I didn’t want to be here with you.” Saying it feels like unlocking a door I didn’t know existed.
A slow, understanding smile spreads across his face. “So we’re both just… fucking missing Ollie.”
“Yeah.” I match his smile, feeling a weird, giddy lightness. “We’re on a fancy date, and we’re both kind of wishing our best friend was here making inappropriate jokes.”
“She would make some sarcastic comment about the portion sizes or mock the way I’m holding my fork.”
We fall quiet again, but this time the silence feels different. Less awkward. More revealing. Like we’re both realizing, at the same painful speed, that Ollie isn’t the third wheel in our relationship.
She’s the glue.
The spark.
The gravitational pull we orbit without thinking.
Vince exhales, long and slow, like he's been holding his breath for years. "Yeah," he says softly. "For what it’s worth, I think you're important to her too.”
The thought of being anything significant to Ollie is a dangerous one. One that takes root exactly where I shouldn't want it.
I shift in my seat, the heat of his words settling between my thighs, and take a slow sip of wine, letting the rich flavor coat my tongue as I consider my next words.
“I still can’t believe in all the years you two have been friends, you only hooked up once.”
“There’s not much to it. It was college. We were stupid and stupidly drunk.”
I know Vince well enough to know that wasn’t the entire truth. The look in his eyes tells a very different story, and I can’t explain it, but the thought of himmaybewanting Ollie as much as I do sets my skin aflame.
“You know, I have to hand it to her for putting up with you for so long,” I say. “You’re kind of a pain in the ass sometimes.”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
Vince grips the chair leg and slides me closer to him. The hand on my thigh slides higher and higher until he's running his fingers along the damp fabric of my thong.
I swallow hard, my body betraying me as his touch sends a jolt of heat through my core. I glance around the restaurant, hyperaware of the other diners.
