Chapter 18 #2
“I’m romantic as fuck.” Miles snaps, flipping him off. “And you did the exact same thing.”
I know Reid and Miles don’t like each other. That’s just a fact of this house, like the broken burner on the left side of the stove or the way the third stair creaks. They exist in a state of permanent friction, agreeing on absolutely nothing.
But right now they’re here, at two in the morning, both looking at me with the exact same expression. Like I’m worth looking at like that.
I genuinely don’t know what the fuck to do with it.
These are two guys who know every weird thing about me—who have literally witnessed it firsthand. I consider myself a pretty smart guy, but I can’t find the logic here.
“What if I…” I swallow hard. “What if I still want to be a fuck-doll sometimes? Would you guys even be able to handle—”
“Then I’ll just treat you like the premium model,” Reid says quickly.
“Top-tier silicone,” Miles adds without missing a beat. “Vibration settings included.”
I snort a laugh, flopping backward onto my pillows. “You’re both ridiculous.”
They are ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous. I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation.
Reid pushes off the dresser and crosses the small space to the bed. He sits down on the edge, his hand landing on my ankle, rubbing gentle circles over the bone.
“And you can be… uh… ours. If you want to be.”
Miles uncrosses his legs, stretching them out beside me. “No pressure, Kit. Just say the word, and we’ll simp properly.”
I cover my face with my hands. “This is so fucking weird, man.”
The silence stretches. It’s not uncomfortable, but I can’t think straight with how loud it is.
I finally pull my hands away and stare blankly at the ceiling.
“I don’t...” I start, my throat tightening. “I don’t think I’m cut to be loved.”
Reid’s thumb stops moving on my ankle.
“Not because there’s something wrong with me,” I clarify quickly, because I need them to understand that. “I don’t think I’m broken. I’m not ashamed of what I like. I like being used. I like being a doll. I like getting written on, passed around, and treated like an object. That’s not the problem.”
“The problem is,” I continue, the words getting harder to push out, “at some point, the other person is going to realize they can’t love a guy who likes the things I like. They just—they won’t be able to handle it. And I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t blame anyone.”
My voice cracks on the last word.
“I think that being loved isn’t in the cards for people like me. Getting wanted like that—” I press the heel of my palm into my eye. “It’s not something I get to have because I don’t want to get hurt when they realize they can’t deal with me. And I won’t change who I’m for anyone. I don’t want to.”
Miles’ hand finds mine, lacing his fingers through mine. His knuckles are still raw, still a little bloody, but his grip is gentle.
“Kit,” he says. “Look at me.”
I don’t want to meet his eyes, but I force myself to sit up again and look at him.
“You’re the smartest person I know, and I know a lot of smart people. You’re brilliant. You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I’d never want you to change anything about yourself.”
Reid’s hand slides from my ankle up to my knee, the dry sarcasm completely wiped from his face.
“You’re amazing. I would never be ashamed of you. Not of any single part of you.” He pauses. “You’re a guy who can turn into an object because you enjoy it, sure. But at the end of the day, you’re still Kit. And that’s who I’m in love with.”
Miles shifts closer, his shoulder pressing against mine.
“Any guy who got to be with you would be the luckiest person in the world.” He holds my gaze, his eyes dead serious. “I hope it will be me, by the way. But you don’t have to answer anything right now. I know it’s a lot.”
I look at Reid. Then at Miles again.
“Can I kiss you?”
Miles’ eyes widen. “Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes,” he says fast. “I mean—yeah. Obviously. Yes.”
“Why him?” Reid asks, sounding a little hurt.
“I already kissed you the other day.”
Reid’s mouth opens, then closes. His eyes flick to Miles, who’s looking at him with an expression of pure smugness. The smirk vanishes in a second.
“Wait, what?” Miles says. “When did that happen?”
“I was trying to figure stuff out.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Miles’ voice cracks on the last word.
“I’m telling you now.”
Miles stares at Reid. Then back at me.
“Fine. But I’m a little mad.”
“Okay.”
“But you can still kiss me.”
I laugh, and it comes out a little wet and shaky. I turn to face him.
Miles kisses me like I’m something precious.
Soft. Gentle. His lips brush mine like he’s asking permission, even though I already gave it. His free hand comes up to my jaw, cupping it, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. When his lips part, mine do too.
It’s good.
No. It’s amazing, actually.
I didn’t know Miles could kiss like this. I thought he’d be all precision and intensity, but this is way different from that. This is careful and nice and lovely. It could last for hours, and I’d be up for it.
When we pull apart, his eyes are still closed.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
“Yeah.”
Reid clears his throat.
I turn. His arms are crossed and his jaw is locked. He looks pissed.
“I want one too.”
I smile. I can’t help it, because I suddenly realize they are just like needy puppies scrambling for attention.
“Get over here, then.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His hand grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in.
This kiss is completely different.
Reid’s kisses are a possessive and dominating kind. His tongue pushes into my mouth, claiming everything he can get.
I groan. Can’t help that either.
“Good?” he asks when he pulls back.
“I—yeah.”
Miles is watching us. Then he leans over, grabs my chin, and turns my face toward him.
“Just to make things even,” he says, and kisses me again.
I laugh into his mouth, and he swallows the sound, kissing me deeper. When he pulls back, I’m still smiling.
I flop back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling again. It looks different now, somehow. Like the room shifted while I wasn’t paying attention. It makes me think about the Idaho stain, and how different both ceilings are right now. How that ceiling feels like a lifetime away from this one.
“I don’t know what I feel,” I say. “I know I like both of you a lot. And I know that’s a dick move, making you both wait while I figure my shit out.”
Miles lies back down next to me. Shoulder to shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he says. “Really. If you want to be with Reid too, that’s your choice. Always. But I’m not going anywhere.”
Reid is quiet for a moment. I can feel him staring.
“It’s fine,” he says finally, squeezing himself on my other side. His words come out grudging, which makes me smile again. “If you want to be with him too.”
I turn my head to him. “Liar.”
He grins. “Maybe. But I meant what I said. And I’m not going anywhere either.”
Two hands hold mine. One on each side.
I don’t know what will happen next. I don’t know how any of this works—three people, two of them who don’t even like each other, one of them me.
But right now, at two in the morning, with their fingers intertwined with mine, it doesn’t feel like a problem. So I look back at the ceiling, grinning despite myself.
Maybe freaks get happy endings too.
Or at least really hot beginnings.