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“Okay,” Merek says eventually. “So. Rules.”

“I thought we weren’t organizing anything,” Lenart says.

“These aren’t a calendar. These are rules. Trouble?”

“One,” I say. “I make my own decisions.”

“Yes,” says everyone at once.

“Two. If anybody gets jealous, or weird, or upset, you say so. To me. Not to each other in Lenart’s office while I’m asleep.”

“That was one time,” Merek says.

“It was last night.”

“Three,” Tav says. “Everybody goes their own speed.”

He’s looking at his plate when he says it. William glances at him and then at me. I don’t say anything, and neither does Tav, and I’m pretty sure he’s trying not to smile.

“Four,” Merek says. “We do this. All five of us. Not just two at a time.”

“Every Sunday,” Lenart says.

“Don’t.”

“I’m not writing it down.”

“You are in your head.”

Lenart doesn’t deny it.

“That’s it,” I say.

Merek kisses me on the mouth, quick and warm, in front of everybody, and gets up to cut the tart.

Merek’s sectional is enormous. He says he bought it because Tav kept breaking his chairs. Tav says he broke a chair, once.

I end up on the long end of it with my legs up on a pillow, because Merek isn’t letting anybody near my knees. Lenart’s beside me. Merek’s on my other side. Tav sits on the floor with his back against the cushions so his horns clear the lamp, which puts his head right at my shoulder. William stands behind the sectional with his forearms on the back of it and his wings folded.

Lenart kisses me first. He takes his time with it, one cool hand along my jaw, like he's been thinking about kissing me all through dinner. His fingers slide down my neck, leaving goose bumps behind.

When he finally pulls back, Merek is right there.

“My turn, Trouble.” He pulls me back against his chest. “My house, after all.”

“Pretty sure that doesn't give you special kissing privileges.”

“Of course it does.”

He kisses me slow and hot. When I open my eyes, the ember lines beneath the skin of his throat are glowing.

I lean down and kiss Tav. He turns his head to meet me, careful of his horns. I keep one hand against the side of his face and the other at the base of his horn.

He makes that low sound in his chest.

“What was that?” Merek says.

“Nothing,” Tav says.