Chapter 9
Angela
I know Landon is leery of everything I say or do when I’m drunk.
He’s been that way ever since we started dating when I was fifteen.
The first time I said I wanted to have sex with him was nine months into our relationship.
I was sixteen and had one shot of peach schnapps at a Christmas party held by one of his teammates before I blurted it out.
He kissed me and told me to tell him that sober.
It took me another three months to work up the courage to tell him, stone cold sober.
I wanted to lose my virginity to him the entire time, so it wasn’t that I didn’t mean it when I said it after that shot.
Alcohol gives me the courage to say and do what I really want sometimes.
It most definitely doesn’t work that way for all women, but I’m yet to regret a drunk decision.
Like tonight. I’m definitely drunk, but when I grab Grady and Landon and pull them onto the dance floor with me for the band’s final song, it’s not because I’m not thinking straight.
It’s because I finally feel free enough to act on what I’ve been thinking for a very long time.
Grady is hot, and I want to touch him the same way I touch Landon.
And touching them both at the same time would be nice.
And fun. Especially if they touch each other too.
I make sure that I’m sandwiched between them as I dance.
My front to Landon and my back to Grady.
I also make damn sure that I bump each of them, continuously.
A hand trailing down Landon’s chest, a butt cheek brushing Grady’s outer thigh, my hair tickling Grady’s arm as I sway, my eyes locking with Landon’s, silently pleading with him to loosen up.
He’s had gin and tonics tonight, which is enough to get him tipsy since he doesn’t drink anymore after his illness.
It’s helped, he’s been much more relaxed with both me and Grady.
Maybe this idea wouldn’t be stuck in my head if I hadn’t noticed how weird Landon is around Grady.
His energy is off. It’s, like, amped-up and agitated without being aggressive.
In fact, when Grady cracks one of his many jokes or winks at Landon, I can see that Landon wants to purr like a cat. And I am here for it.
I’ve had fantasies about being with two guys since I stumbled across threesomes while exploring internet porn at eighteen.
I had already been with Landon for two years at that point and didn’t want to risk what we had.
So for years that fantasy stayed just that—an unspoken, wild thought that I only dared let enter my mind when Landon was on road trips and I needed something to get me off when I shot those videos for him.
One guy in the fantasy is always Landon.
The other is whoever springs into my head—a hot male model from an ad I saw, a chiseled actor from the latest movie, a boy band member who was my childhood crush.
The first time I felt like our relationship was dying was about a year and a half before Landon collapsed on the ice.
And that’s when, because I had nothing to lose, I confessed I had a fantasy about threesomes.
Landon was immediately open to it. I played it safe and picked another girl.
Because all men want the two women thing, and I was curious about that too.
I wouldn’t say I’m bisexual, but I would say it was a fun and fulfilling experiment.
And it did bring a spark of life back to our relationship.
It didn’t last, but it was something. I had seriously thought of breaking it off.
Maybe we had outgrown each other, and it was time to let go, but then Landon was diagnosed with cancer.
What kind of asshole breaks up with their boyfriend while he has cancer?
I am a lot of things, but that isn’t one of them.
Because I still loved him. I will always love him.
That one encounter didn’t quell my fantasies, though.
For the last eighteen months, it’s been Grady Garrison I’ve pictured in my fantasy threesomes.
Even before I met him in person, when he joined the team and I would sit beside Landon while he watched the Quake games, recovering from his latest round of chemo, I thought, hmmm… I bet that boy can fuck.
It started with an interview I saw him give, all sweaty and shirtless after a game.
Then I saw him saunter off the team bus in pre-game coverage.
His oversized, ripped body was poured into a designer suit, and his ginger hair was smoothed down.
He was holding a take-out coffee cup and wearing a cheeky smile.
Yeah, that’s all it took to add him to the fantasy.
But once Landon started playing again, and they seemed to bond with each other, the fantasy became hard to keep to myself.
This move has made it hard for me to keep anything, inappropriate or not, in my head. I’m off kilter in a way I’ve never been before. I don’t want to live in Maine. I loved Los Angeles. It was vibrant and made me feel alive. But I love Landon. I swear I do.
“See? Maine can be fun,” Grady leans down to tell me as the patio erupts in applause and the band takes their final bow. “You’re having fun.”
He’s stopped dancing. So has Landon. I’m facing Grady now, and Landon is behind me, his hands on my hips. “This is fun,” I admit. What I don’t add is that one drunken night is not going to help me endure a whole season here.
Grady winks at me, like he does at Landon all the time, and then his eyes shift to look at the stage. “I’m gonna go say hi to my friend.”
“But you’ll come back?” I ask, knowing there’s a desperate lilt in my voice. “We can have one more for the road and then share an Uber?”
“Yeah. Sounds good.” He steps sideways and leaves us. It only takes him three short strides to get to the stage because his legs are the length and size of tree trunks.
Landon’s grip on my hips tightens, and I feel his lips on the base of my neck.
I smile. I love him. He’s endgame. Still.
He has to be. What would I be without him?
I have no idea and it scar because lately, I wish I did know.
I wonder what it would be like to find out what Angie without Landon is like.
I turn and wrap my arms around his neck. “One for the road?”
“I’ve had more than enough,” he replies and tugs me closer.
He has had enough to get a little rough with me, which he hasn’t done since before the cancer.
We’ve had sex, but it’s been sporadic and…
well, lazy. Like we’re both just going through the motions.
“If you’re set on an epic hangover, I’ll buy you another. ”
He isn’t being judgmental, he’s being cute.
I kiss him quickly and pivot, taking his hand off my waist, putting it in mine, and leading him back to the sofa we vacated earlier.
The salty breeze holds a slight chill, but the booze and emotions flying around my chest are keeping me warm.
Before my butt even hits the rattan seat, Landon has ordered me another Beach Bum and Grady a beer.
“This is what I love about you. One of the many things,” I announce as he drops onto the love seat beside me.
“You don’t judge me, and you don’t try and change my mind. You’re open to all my ideas.”
“Good or bad. For better or worse.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He smiles, but then his gaze slides to the stage.
When I follow it, I find Grady standing at the back, leaning casually on the brick wall behind the stage. He’s smiling as the lead singer stands in front of him, awfully close, like the band is still playing and they have to lean into each other to hear. But they don’t. Interesting.
“I guess that’s the guy from Grady’s hometown.”
Landon takes a beat before shrugging. “Guess so.”
“You know this is a gay bar, right?”
That gets him to pull his pretty blue eyes off Grady and onto me. He nods. “Yeah. I figured it out.”
I stare at him. He shifts in his seat and raises an eyebrow. “You think I care?”
I shake my head. “No. You’re morally liberal as fuck. I knew that even before you said you were open to a threesome. With a guy. I wouldn’t be with you if you were homophobic, FYI.”
He takes a long, slow breath and doesn’t say anything until the server has placed our new drinks in front of us and Landon closes out the tab. “That whole conversation was hypothetical. And it was also a million years ago. Why are you suddenly hyper-focused on it?”
His shoulders are relaxed. His eyes are soft. But there’s the slightest drop of aggravation in his tone. I reach for my drink and make sure to ghost my fingertips along his thigh as I do. “Well, I think Grady would… could be interested. I mean, I think he… swings both ways.”
I tip my head toward the man in question. He and the singer are hugging now. It’s almost a bro-hug except the singer cups the back of Grady’s head the way you would a lover, and then he whispers something in Grady’s ear. There is no way his lips don’t brush Grady’s skin. He’s too close.
Grady pulls away casually, gives the guy a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, and then turns to see who’s watching. “And he doesn’t want anyone to know, but I think he might be okay with us knowing.”
“Angela, do not question this man about his sexuality,” Landon cautions firmly. “It’s none of our fucking business. And if he is, which I doubt, and he is trying to keep it private, then as his friend and teammate, you damn well can bet I’m going to let him.”
“Relax. I’m tipsy but I’m not a buffoon,” I promise, then take a sip of my drink.