“Dude, I’m not…” I shake my head. “I think that little tidbit of TMI Angie shared with you this morning proves I’m not opposed to it.”
“There are a lot of guys who are fine with it on paper but not in reality,” Grady replies, his expression solemn. His eyes move over my left shoulder, and he almost tips his head, which has me glancing behind me. The couple that looked like they were on a date are kissing now. Nothing too crazy. In fact, it’s gentle and sweet. “This is reality.”
I turn back to Grady. I have a question yanking at the corner of my brain, begging to be asked, but I don’t ask because it’s not my business. Instead, I make a statement. “I mean, you’re cool with it, right?”
“I’m cool with a lot of things,” Grady counters with a small shrug. “And the little tidbit I told you means I’m not just cool with the concept.”
I stare. He stares back. I’m the one who blinks first. I glance over my shoulder at Angie, who’s still bouncing to the music and sipping her drink, which is half gone. “Join us.”
“No. It’s a date. I don’t want to bug you.”
“I mean, you don’t have to join if you’d rather be on your own, but I’d love the company,” I reply. “The official date part is over, and in about another song and a half, Angie is gonna get up and dance with those other girls. Or on the table in front of us. She’s tipsy, and that’s what tipsy Angie likes to do. So I’d like the company. Your company.”
I don’t know why I added that last part, but it brings a small, but deep smile to his lips, so I'm instantly grateful I blurted it out. I lead the way back to our little loveseat. The song changes, and Angie jumps up as we approach. She grins at Grady. “Hey! Cool! You can sit with Mr. Doesn’t Dance, and I won’t feel bad leaving him alone.”
She rocks up on her tiptoes and gives Grady a peck on the cheek, then pats my ass and whispers, “Have fun. I will. Please order me another drink. And get one yourself. We’ll Uber home.” Then she trots off to dance in front of the stage.
I wave the server over to order Angie another Beach Bum and myself a soda. But as Grady and I sink into the loveseat, which was not meant for two over-six-feet-tall professional hockey players, our thighs press into each other, and a spark of electricity finds its way to my groin. I start to stand, looking for another seat I can drag over. Grady chuckles. “Sit. It’s a tight fit, but I promise, we’ll be fine.”
I lower back down onto the love seat. His thigh is hard and warm against mine, even through the fabric of our pants. The waitress is suddenly in front of us. “Another Beach Bum and a gin and tonic, please.”
I suddenly need that drink I’ve been avoiding.
Chapter 9
Angela
I know Landon is leery of everything I say or do when I’m drunk. He’s been that way ever since we started dating when I was fifteen. The first time I said I wanted to have sex with him was nine months into our relationship. I was sixteen and had one shot of peach schnapps at a Christmas party held by one of his teammates before I blurted it out. He kissed me and told me to tell him that sober. It took me another three months to work up the courage to tell him, stone cold sober. I wanted to lose my virginity to him the entire time, so it wasn’t that I didn’t mean it when I said it after that shot. Alcohol gives me the courage to say and do what I really want sometimes. It most definitely doesn’t work that way for all women, but I’m yet to regret a drunk decision.
Like tonight. I’m definitely drunk, but when I grab Grady and Landon and pull them onto the dance floor with me for the band’s final song, it’s not because I’m not thinking straight. It’s because I finally feel free enough to act on what I’ve been thinking for a very long time. Grady is hot, and I want to touch him the same way I touch Landon. And touching them both at the same time would be nice. And fun. Especially if they touch each other too.
I make sure that I’m sandwiched between them as I dance. My front to Landon and my back to Grady. I also make damn sure that I bump each of them, continuously. A hand trailing down Landon’s chest, a butt cheek brushing Grady’s outer thigh, my hair tickling Grady’s arm as I sway, my eyes locking with Landon’s, silently pleading with him to loosen up. He’s had gin and tonics tonight, which is enough to get him tipsy since he doesn’t drink anymore after his illness.
It’s helped, he’s been much more relaxed with both me and Grady. Maybe this idea wouldn’t be stuck in my head if I hadn’t noticed how weird Landon is around Grady. His energy is off. It’s, like, amped-up and agitated without being aggressive. In fact, when Grady cracks one of his many jokes or winks at Landon, I can see that Landon wants to purr like a cat. And I am here for it.
I’ve had fantasies about being with two guys since I stumbled across threesomes while exploring internet porn at eighteen. I had already been with Landon for two years at that point and didn’t want to risk what we had. So for years that fantasy stayed just that—an unspoken, wild thought that I only dared let enter my mind when Landon was on road trips and I needed something to get me off when I shot those videos for him. One guy in the fantasy is always Landon. The other is whoever springs into my head—a hot male model from an ad I saw, a chiseled actor from the latest movie, a boy band member who was my childhood crush.
The first time I felt like our relationship was dying was about a year and a half before Landon collapsed on the ice. And that’s when, because I had nothing to lose, I confessed I had a fantasy about threesomes. Landon was immediately open to it. I played it safe and picked another girl. Because all men want the two women thing, and I was curious about that too. I wouldn’t say I’m bisexual, but I would say it was a fun and fulfilling experiment. And it did bring a spark of life back to our relationship. It didn’t last, but it was something. I had seriously thought of breaking it off. Maybe we had outgrown each other, and it was time to let go, but then Landon was diagnosed with cancer. What kind of asshole breaks up with their boyfriend while he has cancer? I am a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them. Because I still loved him. I will always love him.
That one encounter didn’t quell my fantasies, though. For the last eighteen months, it’s been Grady Garrison I’ve pictured in my fantasy threesomes. Even before I met him in person, when he joined the team and I would sit beside Landon while he watched the Quake games, recovering from his latest round of chemo, I thought, hmmm… I bet that boy can fuck.
It started with an interview I saw him give, all sweaty and shirtless after a game. Then I saw him saunter off the team bus in pre-game coverage. His oversized, ripped body was poured into a designer suit, and his ginger hair was smoothed down. He was holding a take-out coffee cup and wearing a cheeky smile. Yeah, that’s all it took to add him to the fantasy. But once Landon started playing again, and they seemed to bond with each other, the fantasy became hard to keep to myself.
This move has made it hard for me to keep anything, inappropriate or not, in my head. I’m off kilter in a way I’ve never been before. I don’t want to live in Maine. I loved Los Angeles. It was vibrant and made me feel alive. But I love Landon. I swear I do.
“See? Maine can be fun,” Grady leans down to tell me as the patio erupts in applause and the band takes their final bow. “You’re having fun.”
He’s stopped dancing. So has Landon. I’m facing Grady now, and Landon is behind me, his hands on my hips. “This is fun,” I admit. What I don’t add is that one drunken night is not going to help me endure a whole season here.
Grady winks at me, like he does at Landon all the time, and then his eyes shift to look at the stage. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend.”
“But you’ll come back?” I ask, knowing there’s a desperate lilt in my voice. “We can have one more for the road and then share an Uber?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” He steps sideways and leaves us. It only takes him three short strides to get to the stage because his legs are the length and size of tree trunks.
Landon’s grip on my hips tightens, and I feel his lips on the base of my neck. I smile. I love him. He’s endgame. Still. He has to be. What would I be without him? I have no idea and it scar because lately, I wish I did know. I wonder what it would be like to find out what Angie without Landon is like. I turn and wrap my arms around his neck. “One for the road?”
“I’ve had more than enough,” he replies and tugs me closer. He has had enough to get a little rough with me, which he hasn’t done since before the cancer. We’ve had sex, but it’s been sporadic and… well, lazy. Like we’re both just going through the motions. “If you’re set on an epic hangover, I’ll buy you another.”
