CHAPTER SIX
KAT
If I didn't know any better, I'd swear things don’t feel any different. That the three of us are still the same people we were before this trip even started. Except that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Hours have passed since our exercise in desire, dinner now nearly over, and the ache between my thighs lingers with the memory of Ollie on her knees for me.
I know what my boyfriend’s best friend tastes like. I don’t have to wonder what her mouth feels like on my body.
After Vince came home, I half expected Ollie to disappear to her room again, leaving me to live a nightmare of thinking she had regrets about what we’d done. But, instead, she came right back down, sketchbook in hand, and sank into the hammock on the deck.
She spent most of the day swaying back and forth, scribbling on page after page. Every so often, I would catch her peeking up at me, her dark eyes lingering absently before dropping back to her paper. Something about the thought of her drawing me—studying me—makes my stomach flutter.
Of course, there was no way to know if she was drawing me.
The only hard boundary Ollie ever set was with that sketchbook.
It is completely off limits to everyone, even Vince, try as he might.
She never lets anyone see it, and she never leaves it out in the open for anyone to sneak a peek.
Countless times at parties and get-togethers, friends would beg her to take a look at her recent work, and she would refuse to the point of getting pissed and storming off to a quiet corner by herself.
I always snapped a picture, a rare moment when Ollie closed herself off from the world.
Vince spent his afternoon at the patio table, plucking away at his laptop, no doubt answering all the emails he’s been ignoring for the past few days.
Potential clients reaching out to commission him to create eye-catching branding and marketing material.
Ever since he quit his boring corporate marketing position and started working for his friend at her new design company, Haley Rose Designs, his creativity has soared to new heights, thanks to the freedom to create vibrant logos and unique website designs.
As structured and straight-laced as he is, his imagination is a playground.
I passed the day snapping pictures of the cabin, the forest, and the wildlife, studying the way shadows can be naturally manipulated into abstract shapes.
The way the trees splinter the light into both sharp angles and soft shifting patterns against the cabin walls, or how the porch railing throws long bars of shadow across the floorboards.
The shadows lengthened as the day wore on, casting new shapes the longer I stood still.
No matter how hard I tried to focus, I couldn’t help but find my lens pointed at Ollie and Vince quite a few times.
There is no going back from this for any of us, and yet, the sun is setting, and the dinner table is a mess of half-empty plates when it hits me just how fucking normal things feel.
A few short hours ago, Ollie had her face buried in my pussy at this very table. And now, she’s sitting across from me, her hands covering her mouth as she laughs. The kind of laugh that makes you want to join in just to feel like part of the moment.
“Shut up! That is so not what happened,” Ollie wheezes, swatting at Vince’s arm.
“Ollie, you nearly burnt down the entire dorm!” Vince laughs.
“It was a controlled fire!” she protests.
“You called the smoke alarm a snitch and ripped it off the wall!”
“Snitches get stitches.”
I lose it. Full belly laugh, no dignity, all snorts. Ollie turns on me instantly, looking at me as if I personally betrayed her.
Vince’s eyes flicker to me, and he throws me a wink when I meet his gaze. I can see the amusement in his eyes, the way his gaze lingers a little too long, like he’s checking to make sure I’m still here, still part of this. Still okay with whatever the hell is happening between us.
I am more than okay.
“Don’t googly eye him!” Ollie points her fork at me. “Do not buy into this smear campaign! He’s a fucking liar!”
“I am not lying!”
“It was your idea to make s'mores in the microwave!”
Vince grins, completely shameless. “And whose idea was it to leave it unattended while we went to the vending machines?”
“Yours!” Ollie shoots back, but she’s laughing again. "Gah! You're infuriating!"
Vince is watching her with that same look he always gets when Ollie is at her most unguarded. It’s the same one that blossoms on my face every time I see her smile.
There’s a moment where the three of us just sit here, existing in peace, the clink of forks and the low hum of the world outside filling the space. The normalcy of it presses in on me, warm and terrifying.
I just watch them. Soaking in the way Ollie’s eyes water when she laughs.
The way Vince stretches his arms above his head with a satisfied groan.
His shirt riding up just enough to reveal the trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his jeans.
I can’t help but notice the way Ollie’s eyes flick down for a hearty moment before quickly looking away.
It’s subtle—so subtle that I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so closely—but it’s there. A flicker of something that makes my skin tingle.
A smirk pulls at the corner of Vince’s lips, like he also caught her in the act of staring. Despite the smirk, there’s a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there a second ago. The way his fingers twitch like he wants to reach for her, but doesn’t.
Instead, he clears his throat and leans forward on his elbows.
“I’m just grateful you’re still alive after everything we’ve been through.”
“Ha!” she scoffs, offended. “I’m thriving out of spite, baby doll. You know, I’m pretty confident I could survive the apocalypse.” Ollie leans back in her chair with an infuriatingly cocky tilt of her head. “I’ve got good skills.”
“Yeah, right,” Vince retorts. “You would absolutely try to hug a zombie.”
“They’re just hangry and misunderstood!” Ollie insists.
“Ollie, they eat people,” I add, trying to keep a straight face about this ridiculous turn in conversation.
“So do I,” she says quickly, her dark eyes focused on me. “I didn’t hear any complaining from you.”
“Oh my god!" I gasp, my face burning.
Vince lets out a low chuckle, his eyes flicking between the two of us.
"You two are ridiculous," he says, shaking his head, but there's no real heat behind the words. Just amusement. Affection. Curiosity?
Ollie's smile deepens as she watches me squirm. She leans forward, her elbows resting on the table, her tank top slipping just enough to reveal the curve of her breasts. I can't help but glance down, my breath catching as I realize I never got to hold them today.
Before anyone can mention the deepening flush on my neck, Ollie pushes back her chair.
“Well, this was delicious. So delicious, I want to punch you in the face,” she says, stacking plates and silverware.
“I’ll take the compliment, but I reject the abuse.” A smile plays on his lips as he watches her.
She sucks in air between her teeth, “Sorry. It's kind of a package deal. You can't have one without the other.”
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Vince’s face as his gaze drifts from Ollie to me. “I think I can handle both.”
My stomach executes a perfect, weightless flip. Surely, he doesn’t mean what I think he means, right?
The declaration hangs in the air, practically rewriting every unspoken rule between us. The pantry, the table, every charged glance this week—it all crystallizes into this single, offered possibility that Ollie doesn’t seem to pick up on.
Vince takes a long drink, then sets the glass down with a decisive click. “Hey, I was thinking we could hike up to the ridge tomorrow morning. The view’s supposed to be incredible.”
Ollie lets out a groan so dramatic I practically feel it in my own chest. “A morning? You want me to participate in a morning? Have we met?”
“Sunrise, Ollie. It’ll be worth it,” Vince says, his voice a low, convincing hum.
“The only thing worth seeing at sunrise is the inside of my eyelids.”
“I’d love to go,” I say, already imagining the shot I could line up. “My camera’s begging for a proper landscape.”
“Traitor,” Ollie mutters, but she’s fighting a smile, her eyes darting between us. She throws her hands up. “Fine! But I’m blaming both of you when I’m miserable.”
Ollie shifts her weight, the confident energy from dinner draining away. “Okay. Well, I’m going to…go to bed then, I guess.”
She doesn’t move, just stands by her chair looking utterly lost, her earlier bravado completely gone. I glance at Vince, a silent question in my raised eyebrows. He reads it perfectly, his own expression softening with fond exasperation.
He rolls his eyes, then pushes his chair back with a scrape. In one fluid motion, he’s up and crossing the space between us. His hands are warm and firm on the backs of our heads, his chuckle a soft rumble in the quiet kitchen.
“Good night, Ollie,” he mocks my voice and pushes on my head as if I were a puppet. “Good night, sexy, I mean Kat,” he says, doing the same for Ollie, then pushes our faces together until our lips collide.
Ollie laughs, pushing Vince out of the way and taking over the kiss. My stomach swoops, the world narrowing to the softness of Ollie’s kiss. Her hand comes up to cradle my jaw, her thumb stroking my cheekbone as her tongue explores my mouth.
She takes a step back, looks at Vince, and raises her eyebrows.
“Sweet Dreams,” Vince says, smiling over the rim of his mug.
“Careful what you wish for,” Ollie says, walking backwards. “I’ll just be dreaming about your girlfriend’s pussy.”
Vince chokes on his tea, slamming his fist against his chest as he coughs. “Jesus Christ, you two are going to kill me.”
Ollie’s smirk is pure triumph as she watches him cough. She shoots me a final, blazing look, her smile softening into something private. Then she winks, turns on her heel, and disappears up the creaking wooden stairs to her room.
The heat in my cheeks is immediate and undeniable. Vince watches me, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
“So,” he says, leaning back against the counter. “You had a good day, then?” His tone is light, but his eyes hold a knowing clarity that steals my breath.
I busy myself with gathering the last of the dishes from the table.
“It was very…informative,” I admit, not knowing how else to describe it.
He barks a laugh, short and genuine. He takes the dishes from my hands and sets them in the sink. His closeness is a calm, steady pressure. “So, how was she?”
The directness is a shock, a gentle dismantling of my careful posture. I look up at him, at the quiet acceptance in his face. “I still can't believe it actually happened. She’s incredible.”
“I’m glad.” He says it simply. “I’m glad she has you.”
There’s a reverence there, a depth that pulls the real question up from my chest. “Vince, how do you feel about her?”
He stills, his gaze drifting toward the empty staircase. A long silence stretches, filled only with the drip of the faucet. He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated, tender gesture. “What do you want me to say?”
“The truth, dummy. You’ve been so supportive these past few days, I want to know how you really feel.”
He exhales, a rough sound. “I’ve watched her burn through people and ideas and moods, and it’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever had to witness.”
He lifts his mug, stares into it like the tea leaves might spell out an answer. “All I know is I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t lose her,” I say, but it sounds small.
“You don’t know that.” He sets the mug down with a definitive tap.
“You’re right, I don’t know for sure, but it sounds to me like you’ve wanted her for a long time. Maybe it's time you stop pretending you don’t.”
“And what? Act on it,” he says, horrified.
“Yes! That's what you told me to do.”
For a long moment, he just stares at the dark window, his reflection a ghost over the pines.
“It’s not that simple,” he says, placing his mug in the sink. “She drew you today. For hours. I’ve never seen her focus like that on one person before.”
“I have! You!” I say, the words rushing out. “Sometimes, I’ll catch her watching you like she’s afraid that you’ll disappear if she looks away.”
He stares at his hands on the counter’s edge, knuckles white. “Wanting something doesn’t mean it’s a good idea.”
“So what?” The question slips out, sharper than I intended. “You didn’t apply that logic to leaving us alone today.”
A shock of something raw—guilt, maybe, or just plain surprise—flashes across his face. He scrubs a hand over his mouth. “That was different.”
“How?”
“Because it was for you.” The confession is quiet, stark. “I wanted you to have what you wanted.”
“So give her this,” I say, my voice dropping. “Stop being the guy who just holds the door open. Walk through it with her.”
He’s silent for so long, I think I’ve overstepped. Then he lets out a slow breath, his shoulders dropping an inch. “What if I ruin everything?”
“What if you don’t?”
He finally looks at me, his defenses thinning. “You’re not scared?”
“I’m terrified.” I let out a shaky breath. “But I’m more scared of watching you two orbit each other forever, never touching.”
He closes the small distance between us, his hand coming up to cradle the side of my face. His thumb strokes my cheekbone. “When did you get so brave?”
“I’m not.” I lean into his touch. “I’m just in love with two idiots.”
The admission, quiet as it is, seems to echo in the silent kitchen. He doesn’t flinch. He just rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm on my skin.
“Me too,” he whispers, the words a fractured confession. “Me too.”