“Fuck. That fucking tattoo. You know how much I hate that thing?”
“Don’t hate it. It’s part of you now.”
“If it made me lose you,” he said, “fucking right, I’d hate it. I’d scrape it off with a nail file if I had to.”
I cringed. “Oh, God.”
“Tell me. Why would you do that shit for her? And don’t tell me about a rule and sisterhood.”
“Ashley—”
“Did you feel it? From the first moment we met?” He reached over, trailing his hand up my chest, and touched the pulse at my throat. “Did you feel something between us, that night in the rain?”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice rough. I cleared my throat. “Yes, of course I did. And I wished she didn’t get to meet you first.”
“Then tell me why you’d actually walk away from me, with what you felt from that first moment, just because she said the word.”
I swallowed. He took hold of my hand.
“You said you didn’t want to hear about me and other guys,” I said.
Ashley blinked at me. Then his blue eyes softened with concern at whatever he saw on my face. “Okay. How about I make an exception, just this once.”
I could tell he was making a real effort at this. That it was an uncomfortable topic for him.
“You’re a jealous guy,” I observed, gently.
“Guilty.”
“I wouldn’t have expected that of you.”
“Why? Because I like dudes? Doesn’t mean I want to see you with one.”
“But then how do you do the threesome thing, if that’s the case?”
He searched my face, then looked away. “Just depends.”
“On what?”
“On the people involved. On the relationships.”
“On the emotions.”
“Yeah. Those.”
I squeezed his hand and rolled onto my side to face him. “Okay. I’ll make an exception, just this once, too.”
He met my eyes.
“When we were sixteen,” I began, “I developed feelings for my sister’s boyfriend. His name was Jackson.”
“Sounds like a douche already.”
I laughed a bit. “Not really. Well… maybe.”
“He’s a douche. I can already feel where this story’s going.”
“Yeah… So, we were at a party one night. All three of us. I was pretty drunk. Maybe he was, too—”
