Chapter Eight Will
CHAPTER EIGHT
WILL
The mysterious Lars
I’ M STRIPPING OUT OF MY SWEATSHIRT WHEN A TEXT FROM MY NEW LAB partner lights my phone. Tossing the hoodie on my bed, I tap the notification and grin.
CHARLOTTE:
This Lourdes and George letter is a work of art. Pure genius.
I take off my pants and kick them away before responding.
ME:
I told you. Lourdes has skills.
CHARLOTTE:
Do they seriously have a therapist??
ME:
Nah, I think they got one of those unlicensed online shrinks to write a letter on their behalf.
CHARLOTTE:
OMG and the line about the therapist observing the symbiotic relationship between their love and academic performance. It’s my favorite part.
ME:
My fave is the sign-off. Forever United in Love and Learning.
CHARLOTTE:
So brilliant. And it worked! Professor Bianchi actually reassigned us.
Naked, I stride into the hall bathroom and turn on the shower. Beckett is out with some of our teammates tonight, but I was too tired and lazy to hit up the bar. Besides, we have an early practice tomorrow, and I don’t want to piss off Coach by showing up hungover. Unlike Beck, I don’t bounce back as easily after a night of drinking.
Still, when Case texts as I’m getting out of the shower, asking if I want to chill, I tell him to come over. Hanging out with Case is a hell of a lot more convenient than putting on real clothes and trekking to Malone’s. Case lives down the street from us, sharing a house with Trager and two sophomores on the team, so in less than five minutes, he’s walking through my front door.
“Hey,” I say, poking my head out of the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“Water’s good.” Like me, Case doesn’t go hard on the drinking during the hockey season.
I meet him in the living room with two bottles of water, tossing him one. Case and I have been friends since freshman year, but our paths had crossed dozens of times before that, as our high school teams faced off often over the years. I’m the one who introduced him to Gigi Graham, who attended the same high school as me.
And whom Case cheated on…but that’s none of my business. I don’t stick my nose in other people’s sex lives. Besides, everything worked out for the best in the end. Case has moved on, and Gigi is married to Luke Ryder now. It’s obvious she’s happier with Ryder than she ever was with Case.
He slouches back on the chaise while I idly flip through channels on the TV. Beck and I don’t even need cable—all we do is stream content anyway—but I like knowing that my father is paying for this huge cable bundle that we barely use other than for sports channels.
“Have you talked to her lately?” Case asks.
“Who?” I genuinely don’t know who he’s talking about.
“Gigi.”
I don’t miss the wistful note in his voice.
Oh.
Okay then.
Guess I was wrong about everyone having moved on.
“What?” he says awkwardly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You were at their wedding, bro.”
A frown knits his brow. “What does that—I’m not still into her.”
“You had a weird tone when you said her name,” I say.
“I mean, fuck. I’m not going to lie. I miss her sometimes. We don’t speak anymore.”
I nod slowly. “Probably for the best, don’t you think? She’s married.”
“I know. It’s just…” He trails off.
For a minute, the only sound is the muffled voices from the TV. Then he speaks again, quieter this time.
“I regret it. All the fucking time.”
“The BJ?”
He sighs. “The BJ.”
Of all my friends, Case is the last person I would’ve ever expected to cheat on a girlfriend.
“I think about it a lot. Like, what if I hadn’t messed up? What if I hadn’t gotten loaded and made out with that girl? What if I’d stopped her when she started unzipping my pants? I keep wondering how things would be different if I hadn’t been such an idiot.”
I don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. He fucked up big-time and lost one of the best women he’ll ever know. It feels cruel to rub it in, so I just wait for him to continue.
“I was stupid, man. I threw away something good because I got scared or bored or whatever the hell was wrong with me. And now she’s happy with someone else. And I’m happy for her, really. But sometimes…it feels like there’s this whole parallel life out there, one where I didn’t screw things up.”
I smirk at him, trying to lighten the mood. “See? This is why we need time travel. So you can go back, slap yourself in the face, and not be an idiot.”
He chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound.
We lapse into silence again.
“What about you?” he asks, changing the subject. “You ever think about settling down?”
“Nah, not right now. But someday, I guess. When I’m older and wiser.”
“So never?” he cracks.
“Ha ha. I’m just saying, there’s no rush. I want to enjoy my life, have fun. But yes, eventually, I want something serious. Just gotta find the right girl.”
Case slides lower on the chaise, propping himself up on his elbows. He’s in one of his rare serious moods, the kind where he actually opens up instead of deflecting with jokes.
“So…uh…you and Beckett. You guys seem pretty close these days.”
I can’t help but laugh at his diplomatic tone. “Are you asking if I’m gay?”
He grins sheepishly. “It crossed my mind.”
“I’m not. But…” I hesitate for a second before continuing.
I’ve never spoken with Case about this stuff before. Ryder and Shane know because they’re Beckett’s boys, but I haven’t really talked to my own friends about it, the Briar crew before the Eastwood guys came over.
“Beck and I aren’t into each other like that, but sometimes we…share.” I shift awkwardly. “Women, that is. It’s just, ah, something we do.”
Case rolls his eyes at me. “No kidding. It’s not exactly a secret, you know. People talk.”
“It’s not something we advertise, but we don’t really hide it either. People can think what they want.”
He purses his lips in thought. “So no jealousy? No weirdness?”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not like that. We both know what we’re getting into, and the girls do too. It’s just fun. No feelings, no drama.”
“As long as everyone’s cool with it, I guess.” But he wrinkles his forehead.
“What?”
“I don’t know. Just doesn’t seem like something you’d be okay with. You’re, like, the poster child for good boy.”
“I fought it for a while,” I confess. “I thought there was something wrong with me that I enjoyed that kind of stuff. But now I’m trying not to overthink it. Keeping things light, you know? No reason to complicate shit if you don’t have to.”
“Sure, but what about down the line? You ever think about how that’s going to work if you do settle down?”
I shrug as if it’s of no concern to me. But I’ve thought about it often. And it is.
Concerning, that is.
I don’t want to be single forever. Eventually I do want to settle down, get married. I don’t know how I feel about having kids—I’ve never really seen myself as a father. I don’t think fatherhood is something I’d be good at or enjoy. But I want the rest of it. I want a wife, a partner, someone to grow old with.
I suppose all I can do is hope that I’ll get this out of my system. The group sex. The excitement I feel when Beckett and I are teaming up to make a woman whimper with pleasure. I like having him there. I like it when he watches. I like it all.
Beckett doesn’t want a girlfriend, let alone marriage. The notion probably makes him nauseous. I’ve never been dumped, so I don’t know what it’s like, but I’ve also never loved a girl enough to care whether she dumped me.
I was shocked, not gonna lie, when I realized how deeply Beckett loved his ex. The guy was head over heels for her. Worshipped her for four years, his entire high school experience, and she ripped his heart out.
I don’t blame him for doing a one-eighty once he hit college. He’s a fuckboy now and utterly unapologetic about it. He doesn’t want to be in love. Doesn’t want a serious relationship.
But I’m not Beck. I do want that. And I know that once I find someone, a woman I feel the same way about that Beckett felt about his ex, I can’t have my best friend be a fixture in our bedroom. No woman would ever be okay with that, and I wouldn’t fault her for it.
“I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it,” I finally say. “For now, I’m just enjoying life. I’m not in a hurry to figure everything out.”
“I hear you.” Case chuckles. “Honestly, I sort of admire the way you can keep things so simple. I’m over here still beating myself up over the past, and you’re out there living.”
“We all deal with shit differently, man. Just don’t let the past mess with your future, you know?”
Things are starting to feel a bit too heavy, so we put on a video game, the latest release from Orcus Games, which features the most jaw-dropping artwork I’ve ever seen in an RPG. Hats off to the designer.
Case heads home a couple hours later, but I keep playing until my phone lights up with a message. I pause the game to check it, discovering it’s from the girl Beck’s been chatting with.
I scan their chat history, and my dick thickens. Okay. Yeah. That’s hot.
Her newest message says, Hey, either of you around?
Setting aside the game controller, I lean back against the couch cushions with my phone in hand. I figure it’s as good a time as any to introduce myself.
ME:
Yup. It’s Lars.
CHARLIE:
Ooooh! I finally meet the mysterious Lars.
ME:
Mysterious?
CHARLIE:
Totally. Where have you been hiding?
ME:
Nowhere, really. Just haven’t been on my phone much.
I’m here now. Catch me up. What kind of lies has B been spreading about me?
When we created this profile, Beck and I agreed not to reveal our real names unless we decide to meet in person. Not that our “aliases” are espionage worthy. All one of us has to do is slip up and say we play hockey, and anyone could easily put two and two together, realize Lars is short for Larsen, and connect the dots from there.
Still, better safe than sorry. You can never be sure who you’re talking to online these days. For all we know, this Charlie chick is a fifty-year-old man named Aldo. Or a bot. Or a black widow trying to lure us to our deaths.
CHARLIE:
We haven’t spoken about you much, to be honest. We’ve been…busy.
ME:
Oh, I know. I just scrolled through your messages.
CHARLIE:
See anything you like?
ME:
All of it. I fucking liked all of it.
CHARLIE:
LOL You’re welcome :)
CHARLIE:
So who convinced who to set up this joint account? I bet B convinced you.
I grin at the screen. Good guess, Charlie. But I’m curious to hear her reasoning, so I quickly type a response.
ME:
Why do you say that?
CHARLIE:
You sound more…reserved. He sounds more free. Like he’s down for anything.
ME:
Pretty much. I didn’t need much convincing, though. Threesomes are fun af.
CHARLIE:
Do you guys hook up too? Like on your own?
ME:
No.
CHARLIE:
Do you want to?
I think it over. If she’d asked me that question a year ago, I probably would’ve felt uncomfortable. Brushed it off with an “of course not” and a joke.
Now, I consider it for real.
I’ve seen Beck’s cock enough times. It doesn’t scare me. But I’ve never thought about sucking it. Never craved it in my ass. Even with those images planted in my head now, my dick doesn’t so much as twitch.
ME:
I don’t know. Probably not?
CHARLIE:
*Probably* not?
ME:
It’s not something I’ve given much thought to. I guess it depends on the situation. On how I feel in the moment. If the three of us were hooking up and he grabbed my dick, I might not push his hand away.
CHARLIE:
Fair enough. What about my hand? Would you push that away?
ME:
I don’t think I have that kind of willpower. Although I’d probably prefer your mouth.
CHARLIE:
And what’s B doing while you’re enjoying my mouth?
ME:
Well…obviously…he’s enjoying your pussy.
Three dots pop up to indicate she’s typing. I absently reach down and rub my erection over my sweats.
CHARLIE:
I’m so turned on right now.
ME:
Yeah? Did that make you wet?
CHARLIE:
Soaked.
I’m suddenly very grateful that I decided to stay home tonight.