Chapter 16
Noah
Silas and I do our best to focus on work, but it's a challenge. My laptop sits on the coffee table while I lean forward, staring at lines of code, unable to get my brain to concentrate on any one thing. Despite having a home office, we spend a good amount of each day on the couch. Not the best body mechanics, but it is what it is.
The only reason I'm not more stressed is because Mateo texted us last night to let us know Lucy was okay. But Silas said the same thing the night before, and he was dead wrong.
This persistent sinking feeling has been with me all day, gnawing a pit in my stomach. Mateo's in love and met the perfect girl and the two of them are going to ride off into the sunset together and leave me and Silas behind.
Which is fine. It's totally fine. I'm happy for him.
Silas is less stressed than me, still munching on whatever red-dye-number-40 snack he can stuff his face with. It blows my mind he's so skinny; the man has the metabolism of an eighteen-year-old.
Frustrated and annoyed, I growl and slam the laptop screen shut.
"What?" Silas asks, looking up from his tablet, one hand covered in orange Cheeto dust, the other holding a stylus pen.
"I need to get the fuck out of here for a while."
"Happy hour?" He perks up.
"Sure."
"Gimme ten," he says, licking his fingers, then shifts his focus to his tablet.
Since I'm not getting any more work done this afternoon, I slouch on the couch and look around the apartment. It's home. A safe space. But it's been lonely since Mateo moved out. I don't know what I'll do if he leaves us completely.
When Silas wraps up what he's working on, he washes his hands, grabs his keys and follows me out the door. We make it to the lobby and then come face to face with Lucy, who's talking to the doorman.
"Lulu!" Silas yells, hurrying past me.
I watch him approach her with confidence, while my steps slow. He leans in and kisses her cheek, which she returns with a warm hug and he whispers something in her ear, making her giggle. I stand back and watch, feeling the earlier worry about her and Mateo intensify. Because, what if it's the three of them running off into the sunset? What then?
But then she turns to face me and it's like the fucking clouds part and I'm hit with bright sunshine.
Lucy holds a plastic bag in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other. Her white-blonde hair is tied in a messy knot, stray pieces falling and framing her beautiful face and big, sweet grin.
I join them, as Silas asks, "What's all this?"
"I owe you both a huge apology. I'm so sorry I didn't show up last night."
"It's okay, Lu, we know you've had a lot going on."
"No, I should have texted or called. It's not an excuse, but I had a bad day… this friend showed up and kind of fucked with my head." If it's the same friend Mateo's been talking about, I'm joining his parade to tear this asshole down for fucking with Lucy. But she waves it off. "Anyway, it's fine. Everything's fine. But I got really upset and I kind of forgot… I'm really sorry."
And… "Flowers?" I ask, taking the bouquet from her hands.
"It's stupid, but I wanted to say I'm sorry. I love flowers, so I thought…" She bites her lip self-consciously.
"That was really sweet of you," I say sincerely.
She smiles at me, and it's surreal. It feels like I'm in the presence of a celebrity. I really only know her from her videos, where more than a million people claim a piece of her. I'm still trying to convince my brain that the other night with her at Atrium was real.
"We forgive you. Are you okay, though? Really?"
She turns back to Silas. "Yes, I'm good. Did Mateo tell you I was coming over? He gave me the address. Obviously. And I brought lunch since we missed dinner last night." She rambles.
"He didn't, but the surprise is great," I assure her.
"We were just about to head out for a beer, but we can take this with us." Silas moans at the smell of grilled gyros, when he digs through the contents of the bag. "Baby, you brought us lunch! I fucking love gyros. There's a dive bar up the street, they won't mind if we bring this in." He kisses her again and takes the plastic bag from her.
I leave the flowers at the reception desk and we make our way back outside. I follow behind the two, admiring how good they look together. Hands clasped together, Lucy swings her arm with his, while Silas tells her about the neighborhood. We've had the apartment for years, it was one of our first big purchases after college. We never considered not living together, which is why it was such a blow that Mateo moved out the way he did, though Silas doesn't share that part.
I've already heard Silas's casual plot to move himself into their penthouse. At the time, I gave him a side-eye and dismissed it. Now, watching the two of them looking so comfortable together… The thought makes me nervous.
We get to the bar a couple of blocks down. They don't serve food, but legally they have to provide snacks since they serve alcohol, and it surprises me none when Silas asks for a bag of Doritos with a pitcher of beer.
"You good with beer? They can make a cocktail, if you want."
The older woman behind the bar gives Silas a crooked grin, then turns to Lucy. Her voice is battered and raspy, when she says, "Sure, hon. Whiskey and coke. Vodka and seltzer water. Budweiser and J?germeister."
Silas, still grinning, turns to Lucy and lifts one shoulder in amusement. "See? Cocktails."
Lucy laughs lightly, shaking her head. "Beer is fine. Thank you."
The bartender nods in approval and begins filling the pitcher, and since Silas is paying, I take Lucy's hand and lead her toward the back of the bar. It's dark, nearly empty, and smells like stale beer and peanuts. It's pretty quiet this early in the afternoon, but it's a go-to for us since their happy hour is cheap and starts at 2pm.
She gives me a calm smile when she climbs into the rounded booth and I climb in after her. We're both quiet and I feel strangely awkward, which isn't usually like me. I'm trying not to overthink it but this is weird.
Silas returns with the beer and bag of food, and surprises me when he climbs into the booth next to me, not Lucy, forcing me to nudge a little closer to her. We're crowded together in the large, half-moon bench and I can feel the heat of both their thighs pressing against mine.
Trying to ignore the tension, I help Silas unpack the food, which we lay out in the wrapped paper they came in. Silas pours the beers and we eat together while the two of them carry on conversation like they're old friends. Silas finishes his entire sandwich before we've even eaten half, so he grabs the bag of Doritos he bought and dumps the rest of the bag on his paper plate.
Lucy stares at Silas, slack-jawed. When he notices, he pauses, red fingers hovering over his open mouth, making me laugh.
"Don't mind him. Silas consists of 60% snack food, 30% creative genius and about 10% come."
It's quiet for a second, then Lucy giggles and I realize what I said. "Uhh, I just mean—"
"She knows what you mean, bro. And it's totally true." Then he turns to Lucy and winks. "So, how was last night? You're feeling better?"
"We didn't talk too much about..." Her cheeks blush. Fidgeting in place, her fingers cup her neck, and I notice the red ring around her delicate wrists. Reaching out, I take her hand, looking it over.
"You play a little?"
She nods and bites her lip, but doesn't pull her hand away.
"This feel okay?" I ask, gently rubbing the raw skin. It's not too bad, only evidence of bondage.
She nods again, trying to hide her smile. "It's a little sore, but the good kind, you know? I like seeing…"
"The marks?"
"Yeah. Is that weird?"
Silas leans over me to get a closer look. "Not at all. Everyone who likes bondage or impact likes it for different reasons. Sometimes, seeing the marks on your skin after the fact… it's a nice reminder of what happened."
Lucy nods enthusiastically. "Yes! That's exactly how it feels. It doesn't hurt, it's a little tender, but seeing the marks… though I'll have to find a way to hide them in the future. I mean, if I'm making a video or for pictures or something. Or just being out in public." She scrunches her brow, letting reality seep its way into her thoughts.
"What did he use? A necktie?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
I shrug. Knowing Mateo, since he kept this part of himself from Lucy for so long, it's not a huge leap to assume he had nothing to play with at their shared apartment. Which irritates me. A necktie works in a pinch but isn't ideal. He should have been more prepared. I'll chastise him later.
"Next time we'll use something that won't dig into the skin so much. And there are other ways we can mark you."
There's a hitch in her breath, and it takes me a second to realize what I've said.
I may have been feeling inadequate compared to Mateo and Silas, but my heart knows something my mind doesn't, and the words spilled out of me without thought. We can mark you. We. We. We.
Silas is beautiful. He exudes confident, big dick energy and doesn't need to work hard to get a woman; they fall at his feet. And at a club like Atrium, where most people dress like Mateo—the men in bespoke suits and crisp ties, the women in little black dresses, all with varying degrees of latex or leather hidden beneath their clothes—it says something that Silas can put in minimal effort with black t-shirts and skater pants, and people still just want to be around him. He's cool in a way Mateo isn't. Comfortable in his skin in a way I'm not.
With Lucy, I felt like I was missing something. An innate lack of charm, an elusive appeal I couldn't manage to grasp.
But right now, while I hold her wrist in my hand, gently caressing her skin with my thumb, her lips part, eyes lower to half-mast like she's drunk on the feeling, and I get a sliver of my confidence back. Because it's not Silas touching her, it's me. I'm the one who put that look on her face.
"Did you put something on this?"
"Yeah, earlier. And some arnica oil on my arms. It's fine, I promise."
I believe her. I just really want an excuse to take care of her, to keep touching her. Eventually the fog clears and she pulls her hand back and takes a big swig of her beer. I do the same.
"You guys are really comfortable talking about this stuff, aren't you? Mateo was pretty blunt last night."
"What did he say?"
She thinks about it for a second, looking around the room, obviously selecting which bits to share with us. She doesn't know how this works yet, that she can say anything.
This morning, I'd have said we might never get there. But right now, all I can think is: she'll learn. But I let her keep her secrets. For now.
"Mostly, he said he wanted me to get to know you both. But also, he implied that relationships are easier for him when he's with you two. Like, he can be more of himself because he doesn't have to try and be more than he's capable."
Silas hums, taking a sip of the beer, then refilling all our glasses from the pitcher. "That's mostly true, but it's more complicated than that. We talked about it when I was over the other day, remember? Society expects us to be everything for our partner. Some people can be. Some just lack in certain aspects of their life. It doesn't reflect poorly on them as a person. Maybe that person can do one thing really fucking well that no one else can. Why diminish that one thing by stretching them so thin they can't properly provide in a way they know how, by forcing them to provide in a way they're expected to, based on societal norms?"
"Damn. And you three figured this all out when you were teenagers?" Lucy blows a raspberry, eyes bugging wide, locks of her hair floating around her face.
"No, we mostly just liked to fuck the same chick. Our emotional maturity didn't develop for some time, I'm afraid." My admission makes Lucy laugh, so I keep going, "It started with sex, but it eventually developed into an emotional relationship that's typically out of the norm. I assume Mateo told you we aren't involved sexually?"
Lucy nods.
"So… is sex the only thing that binds an emotional relationship?"
"Of course not. Most people don't have sex with their friends."
"Right. But do most people live with their friends? Share all their meals together? Spend all their time together? Consult with each other about life or work changes?"
She's thoughtful, processing and trying to understand the reality of what we share, what we've been to each other for years—before Mateo went rogue and fell in love, anyway.
She's finally starting to get what we're really asking of her. "So you're in a relationship with each other, too."
"We're emotionally invested. And we love each other." Silas says it in the way he says everything. Lighthearted, like it's not a big deal. And it isn't, really. But it's not conventional. It certainly doesn't fit the mold of masculinity as we view it in our society, relying on your friends for this level of emotional support.
"Let me ask you something. Matty said you met at a bar, yeah? You walked right up to him and asked if he wanted to have a drink with you?" Silas asks. I remember Mateo retelling this story. The look on his face, describing this woman with a perky blonde ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a crop top, totally not his usual type, asking him out. He said it surprised the hell out of him, and from that moment on, he couldn't look away. Her smile was infectious. I know what he means.
As if she's recalling the memory as well, she has that smile on now. It's bright and honest. "Yeah, that's how we met."
"Okay, well what if you were sitting at the bar and Matty came up to you and asked you out. Or… better yet, what if it was the three of us?"
"Umm… I would have said yes to Mateo. Or, honestly, yes to any of the three of you. But if all three of you walked up to me at once? I might have said no."
Silas nods, expecting that. "Why's that?"
"Well, because I'd have assumed it was a sex thing."
We both laugh, but Silas continues, "Yeah, for sure. And that's a part of it, a part of any relationship. Chemistry, good sex. But it's only one part of it. I guess I'm just trying to point out the preconceived notions we have about sex in our culture. Or about relationships. Conventional isn't necessarily the best way. And I have plenty of friends in monogamous relationships, and I don't think poly would work for them. It's not for everybody. But I think it's for more people out there than are willing to give it a try."
Lucy doesn't say anything, but I notice her beer is getting lower and lower the more we talk. Silas gets up to refill the pitcher, so I nudge her shoulder.
"You okay?"
"Yeah. Just thinking."
"You know, there's no pressure—"
"I know." Then she laughs, shaking her head. "Mateo said the same thing last night. I think the hardest part for me right now is admitting that I really do want to try it."
"What Silas was saying, earlier, if the three of us walked up to you in a bar and asked you on a date… maybe try to imagine that's what's happening right now. You don't know me and Silas. And you don't know Mateo as a part of a group dynamic, either. It's all new, right? So maybe, for the sake of easing yourself into the idea, imagine we only just asked you out. Just like how any normal relationship might start," I add quotations to the word normal.
Silas returns with the beer, so I refill hers then turn to her. "Lucy, I'm Noah. This is Silas. We're friends of Mateo's. More than that, we're very close and we want to ask you on a date and get to know you. Maybe you could fit in with us, too."
Her sunshine grin widens, and it's like a weight lifts off her shoulders. "I would love to go on a date with you. Thank you for asking."
And just like that, all the tension fades away, and we're officially on a date.
The subject organically shifts and we make small talk. Eventually, Silas asks her about her online persona, ZenInTheCity, and while she doesn't hesitate to answer his questions, her shoulders crawl a little higher toward her ears.
"You chose a pretty public path, considering your anxiety," I point out, feeling comfortable bringing it up since she's talked openly about it with both of us. "That whole cheating scandal with your friend aside, having such a public life must leave you pretty vulnerable and open to scrutiny."
"I know. But my goals when I started looked real different than they do today… I never expected to get famous. I mean, I love it. I love my job. If I even still have one...."
"What do you mean?"
She shrugs, "Well, I haven't posted anything in two weeks. Everytime I open my phone right now I have a damn panic attack. Or if I'm feeling stable, and manage to get past the anxiety, then I'm hit with another video or onslaught of DM's and comments from people who are tearing me apart right now. It's been two weeks, I keep thinking it'll die down. Nothing online has the momentum to last any longer, I swear if I'm not old news by now, I will be soon. But still… being offline for two weeks? I might as well have deleted my account. No one stays relevant without posting several times a day."
Lucy's hand goes to her chest, and she pulls the material of her t-shirt away, fanning herself like she's overheated.
"You okay?"
She looks stuck, lost in a mental loop, so I reach over and grab her hand.
"Sorry. Zoned out there."
"No worries, Lulu. So, why did you change your goals once you got famous?" Silas asks.
Lucy takes a big swig of her beer before answering. In fact, she pounds the entire thing, glugging it down like a frat boy, before slamming the glass down and refilling her cup. I'd laugh if I didn't realize she's doing it in response to her rising anxiety. When she sets her glass down, she gets a faraway look on her face.
"Growing up the way I did—on boxed mac and cheese, learning the definition of food scarcity way too early—fueled a passion for health, and I wanted to use my voice to help others. So, it started with food. Having quality, healthy, abundant food. My momma always tried her best, but when she had me at nineteen, she had no clue about raisin' babies or even taking care of herself, so when I got old enough, I had to learn for myself.
"It started with blogging creative ways to make healthy meals on a budget since I was a scholarship kid in college and lived off the crumbs of my living expenses. It became an obsession because I wanted to eat healthy, but it's hard to do when you're broke. Blogging turned into YouTube, and other students started listening in. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was posting reviews—local food products and markets, then restaurants.
"People started asking about other things I did to stay healthy, so I started posting exercise videos. And what do you wear when filming yourself working out?" She gives us both a cheeky grin, tilting her head. "Sexy as hell workout gear, of course! Eventually, it gained me a lot of followers, which led to advertising money. It grew really fast after that. It may seem cliché, but it all started because it made me feel good, and I wanted to help others."
"So, you got traction because you were doing self-help content that was focused on wellness?"
"Yep." Lucy downs her forth beer, and Silas and I share a concerned look. She continues, "I hate what I've been posting lately. More clothes people can't afford. Exclusive gyms people don't have access to. Rooftop penthouse pools."
"Like Matty's," Silas says knowingly.
She snorts, "I can't believe he bought that apartment for us to move into together. He's a lunatic. You know that, right? The man is unhinged." Lucy's words begin to slur. But she's no longer anxiously fidgeting. Not the best coping mechanism, getting drunk, but for now it's fine. I make a point to pour the last of the pitcher into my and Silas's glass and she either doesn't notice or care.
"Y'all are so fucking hot," Lucy says, looking at us both dreamily. She's waning fast, but judging by Silas's laugh, he's into it.
I feel him press against me, while he tries to lean closer to Lucy. Being between them feels intense. They start flirting, and while I know nothing will happen with Lucy tonight considering her sudden inebriation, it doesn't take away the need to adjust my jeans. I'm not subtle, and when Silas leans too close into my personal space, I can feel his breath on my neck, and I fucking swear he's doing it on purpose.
All I can picture is the two of them together. I want to watch. I want to be there, I want to work with him, taking her apart. Teasing her, taking away all her stress, filling her up with confidence and joy and laughter.
"And come," Silas snickers, and I whip my head toward him, suddenly staring right into his honey-brown eyes.
"What?"
Lucy laughs, "I said he's made up of snack food and creative genius."
"And come," Silas says again, thankfully turning away. "But yes, Lucy, to answer your question, you can see my art. I'll show you some drawings at our next date."
"Another date? When?" She perks up, leaning into my space on the opposite side. I'm sandwiched between them and it's really fucking with my head. I don't understand what's going on. We've been sharing women for years.
We're in a shitty dive bar, smelling like stale beer, peanuts and garlic gyros. There's literally nothing sexy about this place. But they're pressed into me from either side, and when Lucy's hand comes down on my thigh so she can lean closer, I groan, in physical pain at the restraint it takes to not pull her onto the table, rip off her pants and spank her bare ass. We'd spit roast her, right here in front of everyone. Silas would take her mouth, and I'd take her pussy, and at the last minute, we'd pull out and cover her back in our come. Silas would rub it in, and I'd use it as lube to push into her ass and fuck her again, while Silas—
"We should get you home," I rasp. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. My thoughts just took a turn I wasn't expecting. Feeling the heat of Silas's thigh against mine, it's hard to ignore how hard I am for these two. For her, I mean. Fuck.
"I gotta go," I say again, a little louder.
"Bro, you okay?"
"I'm fine. It's just getting late. And Lucy…" I turn and look at her. She's drunk. Officially. I look down at my glass and realize she drank the rest of mine. Four beers? Five? She's had a lot, in any case.
"You're probably right. Alright, let's get her home."