“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“More than okay.” I trace lazy patterns on his skin. “That was…”
“Yeah.” His hand slides up my spine. “It really was.”
We stay like that for a while. Not talking. Just existing in this bubble where nothing else matters except the warmth between us and the late afternoon light filtering through my curtains.
“I should probably go,” he says eventually, but he doesn’t move.
“Probably.” I don’t move either.
“Jake’s going to be back with Tommy soon.”
“Not for another hour at least.” I tilt my head to look at him. “Stay a little longer?”
He kisses my forehead. “Okay.”
I close my eyes and let myself have this. Just this. Just him and this moment before reality crashes back in.
I pull my shorts back on as he reaches for his clothes.
By six o’clock, Theo’s gone, and I’m standing in the kitchen trying to remember how to make spaghetti.
It’s not complicated. Boil water. Add pasta. Heat the sauce. I’ve made this meal a thousand times.
But my hands won’t stop shaking.
I stare at the pot of water on the stove, watching bubbles form on the bottom, and that’s when it hits me.
I slept with Theo.
Two days ago, I slept with Cole.
Two men. Two of Jake’s best friends. Two men I have actual feelings for.
What is wrong with me?
The water starts to boil. I dump pasta in without measuring, watching the noodles sink and then float back up.
I don’t feel guilty about what I’m doing, and that’s what scares me most.
With Cole, it felt right. Natural. Like we were two people who needed each other in that moment and found comfort in the connection.
With Theo, it felt right too. Different from Cole—lighter, more playful—but just as genuine.
How can they both feel right?
How can I have feelings for two different people at the same time and not feel like I’m cheating on both of them?
I stir the pasta with more force than necessary.
Derek used to say I was too much. Too emotional. Too needy. Too intense about everything.
Maybe he was right. Maybe normal people don’t fall for two men at once. Maybe there’s something fundamentally broken in me that I can’t just pick one person and be satisfied.
The front door opens. Jake’s voice carries through the house.
“Rachel? We’re home!”
