Chapter 18
Lucy
For the second morning in a row, I woke up beside Mateo, curled into his side. I can already tell he's been awake for a while. The sun isn't yet up, the room is still dark, but in the past, he'd have been dressed and staring down at my sleeping form by now. Today, he doesn't want to let go. He doesn't say it, but I can feel it in how tightly he holds me.
"I love you, Lucy. I'm sorry I didn't tell you that enough before."
I let out a tired moan, pressing my face into the crook of his arm, stretching my body out like a cat to wake up. The movement is a little jarring, and I groan, then wrap my hands around my head. "I love you too Mateo."
He laughs, since I didn't sound very lovey dovey. "Headache?"
"How'd you know?"
Mateo's big hands take the place of mine and he rubs, eliciting pornographic sounds as I close my eyes while he works the pain away. Unfortunately, the moment he stops rubbing, the pain returns.
"I can't believe I drank that much beer."
Mateo chuckles, "At least the guys were with you."
I'm fortunate I remember most of our conversation last night. At least, I'm pretty sure I do. I admit, "Noah asked if he and Silas could… You know, date me. Or whatever."
"Or whatever…" He teases.
I shove his side, but for some reason my head is the only thing punished. Mateo laughs and gets out of bed. "I'll get you some aspirin."
I grumble and bury my head back in the covers. He returns a few minutes later with two aspirin and a tall glass of water. I take both graciously.
While drinking them down, he says, "They told me. So you're officially our girlfriend. How does that feel?"
"Weird." Mateo smirks, so I add, "It was nice to be asked. It's weird but… I'm really excited."
"That's good. I'm glad. So, I hope what I'm about to say will go down a little easier… the guys want to stay here for a while. Well, I want them to stay. I think they—we—miss being around each other. But I know this is still new for you, I should have waited to talk to you before inviting them. Is it alright if they stay here a bit? I'll get them an apartment key, put their names with reception downstairs?"
I'm surprised at my lack of hesitation. Maybe I shouldn't be, but I nod, "That's great. Where will they…?" I glance around the room, suddenly very curious how a poly group lives together. Do we all share a bed? Separate rooms? Do they bed hop? I feel like I should have asked these questions beforehand. Do the answers really matter?
"I'll clear out my office. That gives us three bedrooms. For now, you and I can stay in here, they can share a bed, or we'll blow up an air mattress for the office or… whatever you want… If you want to sleep with one of them, that's okay too." He says the last bit slowly, like he's testing the waters.
I open my mouth to assure him any of the options are fine, but the words don't come out. What if we all stayed together? Is this bed big enough? Do they make the beds big enough?
I don't want to sleep without Mateo. But the idea of falling asleep between Silas and Noah… that's appealing, too.
"Don't worry about it right now, Lucy. We're the ones who brought this on, we'll figure it out together. It's one of the perks of a relationship like this. You don't have to have the burden of a decision alone. We'll figure it out later."
He leans down and kisses my forehead. "I need to get to work. The guys will probably come by a little later on. Call me if you need anything at all, okay?"
I press my lips together and narrow my eyes. He amends, "Anything. But also, you can call the guys if you need anything. I'll answer, though, I promise."
I laugh at his honesty. "Okay, I will call you if I need you. Otherwise I'll text. And for emergencies, I'll call the other guys first."
Mateo winces then sits down beside me on the bed. "It's not like that. Lucy, if you ever need me, I'm there. You know that right? Have you ever needed me and not been able to get in touch with me?" He's honestly asking, worried he's failed me in the past.
I shake my head slowly, "No, Mateo. I know you're busy though. It's okay, I know that if I really needed you, you'd be there for me."
"In a heartbeat."
"In a heartbeat. But I talked more with the guys about this yesterday… we talked about how maybe we can be our best and that's enough. I know you're busy at work. And you've never outwardly judged me when I obsessed over videos and content and pictures, even though I could feel you internally rolling your eyes."
He makes a guilty face, but I keep going. "You've never made me feel like I was less than, even if there's a big part of my life you don't understand or can't relate to. I don't know if the other guys will either, but my point is… I do get it. The point of the four of us… trying… this, or whatever this is. I will never hesitate to call you if I really need you. But I won't bug you at work about dinner when I can just as easily bug the guys. And we'll be here waiting for you when you get home. Right? Isn't that how this works?"
Mateo lets out a breath, then pushes his lips against mine. He claims me in that kiss, and for a moment, I forget I'm hungover, have a headache, and haven't brushed my teeth since I passed out in Noah's arms last night.
He kisses me slowly and with so much love, it brings tears to my eyes. " Mi corazón , there is literally nothing in this universe that sounds better than coming home to you. To you with them. I fucking love you so much. Thank you. Thank you for being you. You're so perfect." He kisses my cheek, cradling my face like I'm a delicate treasure, and I bask in his reverence, returning it with everything I have. I kiss him back, but when I try to climb him, he chuckles against my lips.
Pouting, he gently bites my bottom lip before pulling away. " Te Amo ."
"I love you too."
He still has to get dressed so I enjoy the show, climbing out of bed to help fix his tie. It's all very domestic and sweet. He says he'll grab coffee at the office and when the door shuts, I'm too awake to go back to sleep.
Knowing a shower will help, I spend some time doing self care, slowly nursing my hungover body back to health. Applying a small amount of cream on my wrists, I go through a few yoga poses to stretch out and when I feel marginally more human, I get dressed.
It would be ridiculous to say I was disappointed the red marks have all but disappeared two days after Mateo tied me up and yet… I miss them. I liked knowing they were there. A battle scar. A memory seared on my flesh of what he put my body through, the heights he drove me to.
I've never done anything like that before, and Mateo was so in control. He didn't waver or hesitate, and I never felt unsafe. The opposite, I trusted him so much because we'd been together long enough that I could just let go and give him complete control.
Noah said they could use binds that won't leave marks but I'm not sure I want that. I don't bother analyzing how intensely I feel about being bruised or marked, the thrill it gives me. It's probably a normal reaction for someone like me who's never experimented in the bedroom.
The urge to turn on my phone and search for answers, find other stories from other people is strong.
But after I shower and stretch and stand in my closet, staring at the remnants of the life I've been determined to ignore, my anxiety, for the first time in weeks, feels lighter. Tentatively I run my fingers over the material of the dresses I've skipped in favor of ratty old t-shirts and sweats. Even last night, I couldn't make myself wear anything more than a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, and I refused to look in a mirror before I left the house, knowing if I did, I'd obsess over what I saw.
And what I didn't see.
But I force myself to, now. I've gotten used to seeing my freckles. Mateo likes them, too. He hasn't commented about me hiding them for so long, but he makes sure to tell me how much he likes seeing them.
But there's just so many of them. My fingers itch to reach out to the tinted sunscreen. Primer. Foundation. Contouring color. Bronzer and highlighter.
I run through the steps of putting on makeup in my head. This is so stupid. It shouldn't be that hard to walk away. Or to just do it. I like wearing makeup. I like how it looks. And it photographs well.
CGI, right in the palm of my hands. I can make my face look perfect. I can make myself look skinnier. My lips plumper, my eyes brighter.
Clutching the tinted sunscreen, I almost do it. But my hand belongs to someone else as I pick up each product and throw them in the trash.
I don't understand what's wrong with me.
I look back to the mirror. My eyes look dull. Maybe that's the hangover. Maybe it's the lack of eyeliner and falsies. My lashes are my own, dark brown and boring. My extensions have grown out, my hair is a mess.
My roots are an inch thick. I was due for a root touch-up before everything blew up. Now I'm way overdue. My light brown natural roots look dark against the white blonde locks. Neither color matched my eyebrows which were always darker than the rest of my hair.
I haven't plucked in weeks. My brows are thick and unruly.
I look completely different than I did when Mateo and I met. I look like a fucking sasquatch, now. How does this not bother him?
Does it, and he hasn't told me? Of course he wouldn't tell me. He's a good person. How could I let myself go this badly?
My heart races the longer I stare. A door slamming in the apartment makes me jump and I'm torn out of the self-debasing shakedown. Wiping the unshed tears from under my eyes, I pull my robe tighter and head down the hall.
Their voices bring a smile to my face and I shake off the feelings of inadequacy when I find two jubilant miscreants taking over my apartment.
"I don't think you brought enough stuff," I muse.
Silas laughs, dropping one of his bags and rushing over to me. I squeal when he picks me up, and suddenly all my self-conscious inner mean girl rants quiet down.
"What's wrong?" Noah asks, looking at me a little too closely. This man has gone down on me but we've never hugged or kissed or anything.
It's all I want as I look at him now. Not to distract him from noticing I'm not a hundred percent, but because he noticed . Because I'm getting to know their personalities and Noah is more than the sensitive one . He's kind and thoughtful and incredibly attuned to everyone around him.
Unlike Silas, who hugged me excitedly and bounced around like a happy puppy, Noah approaches me more cautiously. I suspect he'll take several minutes to take the plunge, so I do it for him. Stepping forward, I wrap my arms around his neck. His embrace is everything I could have imagined. He holds me tightly, and even as he lets out a breath he's been holding, his embrace only gets stronger.
He smells like clean laundry and his body feels firm and warm and comforting. I don't know how long we hold each other, but it's well beyond the parameters of a normal hug. I close my eyes and breathe him in and when I adjust and press closer, I can feel his length hardening between us.
"Lucy," Noah says against my temple. I lean back and look up. His eyes are hooded, like I imagine mine look. There's a question in them. If his expression were a poem, it would tell me all the ways he thought about taking me. It would describe all of his feelings, his anxieties—and I know, because I recognize them in myself—and his heart would lay open and raw, hoping I'm willing to pick it up and take care of it.
This isn't Mateo's friend Noah.
This is my Noah.
My lips press against his, and he moans into mine, while our tongues collide in a desperate, needy dance. He kisses so differently than Mateo. I don't mean to compare them, but I love how different they are. They kiss in their own way, just as different as when Silas kisses me.
Noah is caring but needy. He's thoughtful with his movements, chasing my direction with his own, taking control, but ceding it just as much. His hands come down my back, both palms squeezing my ass, pulling my pelvis into his and I'm suddenly very aware of my state of undress.
I pull away slowly, but Noah looks untethered, snatching his hand out to hold mine. I squeeze his back and together we turn to face Silas who, unsurprisingly, has a massive grin spread across his face.
"Nice to see you too, Lulu."
I roll my eyes but smirk right back. "Alright, Mateo said you're taking over the guest room and his office. He'll have to work on the office to move some stuff around, but you can store stuff in there, too, and we'll blow up the air mattress for now."
"You're taking this surprisingly well, Lucy," Silas throws over his shoulder as he makes himself at home, trudging down the hallway with two bags in each arm. I look up at Noah who smiles softly, giving my hand one final squeeze before letting go to pick up some of the bags. He follows Silas down the hall and they return a minute later.
Silas grabs another backpack but heads into the living room with that one. I recognize the contents from our video game date.
Noah watches him work for a second before turning his attention back on me.
"You didn't answer my question by the way."
"Which one?"
"Are you okay?" He tilts his head and looks closely, cataloging all my features, maybe to catch me in a lie.
So, I'm honest. "I'm fine. I had a moment before you guys got here…"
"What kind of moment?"
"I was just—"
A loud banging from the front door interrupts me. Both men, even Silas, stiffen. I head over but Noah braces me. "Hang on. Why don't I check to make sure it's safe."
I scoff, "Why wouldn't it be safe?"
The guys give each other a look, but I roll my eyes. They're probably worried about Delaney, after everything I told them. I sneak past Noah but he follows me down the hallway. I peer through the peephole.
"Shit."
"Yeah, shit is right, asshole! Open the door!"
"Who is that?" Noah asks from behind me. "Is that Delaney?"
"Fuck no. Now open the door or I'm going to break it down!"
I swing open the door with a grin on my face. "You wouldn't dare. You'd break a nail."
"I should take offense to that, but it's true. I would, however, call any one of my booty calls who are strapping enough to hold my ass up and fuck me against a wall, and I've no doubt they could break your door down for me. Who are you?" Portia asks Noah before waving her hand, "Whatever, I don't care. Lucy, you have some 'splainin to do."
I follow Portia into the kitchen who pauses momentarily when she spots Silas in the living room, but keeps going. She reaches into the fridge to pull out a seltzer. "Tomorrow is Sunday. You are not missing another brunch. Delaney has been uninvited. Your other friends think you've joined a convent." Then she eyes the two men in my apartment and shrugs, "Obviously not. But the other theories are still credible. So? Are you going to explain why you haven't picked up your phone in days? Why I can't get in touch with you to see if you're okay?"
Her voice stays even, but Portia doesn't show emotion, so her showing up here and giving me shit is explanation enough. She's hurt.
"I'm sorry, Portia. I didn't mean to disappear again."
"It's okay—I'm sorry, who are you?" She glares at Noah over my shoulder, who hasn't left my side. I turn to him.
"It's okay. This is my best friend Portia. Portia, this is Noah and that's Silas."
She narrows her eyes, but it's unlikely whatever she's thinking is the truth. But she knows something is up. Should I tell her?
I don't even know what this is. What would I even tell her? Then again, maybe she can help me work through some of this. Would she judge me for it?
Do I care?
My head swarms with possibilities, but once again, just like when he arrived, Noah helps pull me out of the spiral. "You okay?"
Gah, he's so sweet. I nod. Leaning over I kiss his cheek and he smiles, capturing my lips in a kiss. Before he lets go, he presses his forehead into mine and if no one else ever had my back again, I'd know Noah is my new ride or die.
He turns and heads into the living room to work with Silas, likely setting up their homework station, but when I turn to Portia, her jaw is dropped. Shit. I kissed Noah. And not just a friendly peck.
"Lucy…"
Grumbling, I tighten my robe then walk around the counter, grab her wrist and drag her down the hall into my bedroom.
She sits on the edge of the bed sipping the soda water, brows high. Portia is rarely speechless.
I'm pacing in front of her trying to decide what to say. How to share. Fortunately—or unfortunately since she guessed so easily—Portia says the words for me.
"How many guys are you fucking Lucy-bear?"
"Ugh, don't call me that. Delaney calls me that."
"Fuck Dleaney. Spill!"
"Well… technically…" I wring my wrists nervously. "Only one."
"Technically?"
"Technically still only Mateo. But his friends…" I point down the hall… "We've hooked up, too. But I haven't slept with them yet. We're… trying something."
"Holy shit. Are you poly now?"
"How do you know about poly?"
"Umm, I don't live under a rock. Dude, the world is changing. Holy shit. Are you my new spirit animal? I'm so jealous. That Noah is a little soft for me but he's pretty hot. Silas though." She waves her hand at her neck and I'm suddenly consumed with jealousy.
Portia is fucking beautiful. An actual model. How committed are they, really? Is it fair I get to sleep with all of them and they only sleep with me? Why don't they sleep with each other? Dangit that would make me feel a lot better if they did.
Maybe I wouldn't have this clawing fear looking at my best friend gushing about my… boyfriend?
Oh this is complicated.
"Lucy!" Portia claps her hands and I realize she's been trying to get my attention for a minute. I'm spiraling again.
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Don't worry, I was just complimenting. I'd never zero in on your man. Men. Plural ," she squeaks.
"Still, Im' sorry. I didn't mean to freak." Delaney had a thing for Mateo and went to actual lengths to break us up. Portia would never hurt me like that.
"You didn't. I'm proud you're getting so much dick. They're all seriously fine, but I respect the boundaries of our friendship and of a poly relationship. It's not all a free-for-all fuck fest, despite what most people think."
"How do you know that?" I ask, collapsing into a seat beside her. "Tell me your ways."
Portia laughs, nudging my shoulder. "Babe, I love you, but you're sheltered. You live up to that wholesome girl stereotype entirely too well. Poly's not as uncommon as you think. Besides, I may have been known to dabble," she says casually, admiring her fingernails.
"Get out! Oh thank Christ. I didn't know who to talk to about this. How does it work? Where do we sleep? Do we have sex all at once? How many holes do they use?"
She blinks slowly before turning to face me. "Have you never watched porn? Or a gangbang?"
I chew my lip.
"Okay, I'm sending you some videos."
"Oh, dang, no, that's okay, I don't think that's necessary."
Portia waves her hand, dismissing me, typing away on her phone. I'm thrilled and mortified all at the same time. I'm glad she keeps talking because my throat feels dry and the embarrassment is threatening to melt my cheeks off my face.
"Anyway, how'd this all come about?"
"The guys?"
"Yeah, and with Mateo. Did he know them already?"
"Yeah, they're his best friends. He didn't introduce me before because… well, 'cause he wasn't sure how to explain all this. But after Delaney, we kinda had to face some truths and he admitted a lot to me. I followed him home from work one day."
Postia gasps and turns to face me. "You did not! You told me that was campy and you'd never do it! That was my idea!"
"I know! I was blamin' you, that's for sure. I felt so stupid. I had this big floppy hat, hidin' behind the brim."
Portia snorts then full on laughs. "Oh my dear Lucy. My loveable, adorable Lucy."
"Alright, I get it. Anyway, I followed him and it turned out I was following all three of them. And they go to this sex club in the warehouse district, or Mateo did before we met. Anyway, I caught him there. He swore he wasn't there for sex, he was just there because it was familiar. But then I was there and it was the three of them… one thing led to another…"
"You are my spirit animal. I'm so proud."
I blush and nudge her shoulder again. "Alright, alright. It's all very, very new, and I'm still figuring things out."
"Like what goes in what hole?"
I snort, "I deserve that."
"I just sent you videos. Watch them. Anyway, I'll take off, since you're wearing a robe and have this whole sex vibe going. But come to brunch tomorrow. And maybe after…"
I look up and she gives me an earnest look. She doesn't continue, looking unusually pensive. "What is it?" I prompt.
"I was going to say, maybe after, we could do that photoshoot?"
I expect a wave of nerves to shake and rattle, but they don't. Then again, when I looked in the mirror this morning, I didn't expect to have a melt down at the prospect of putting on makeup.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course Lu, anything."
"What if I can't do it?"
"Take pictures?"
"Any of it. What if I can't keep up with the content the same way. I haven't worn makeup in weeks. I can't fake my smile right now. I've tried. Lord have I tried over the last few weeks. I'm so good at stuffing my anxiety down deep and pushing through. But it's like the floodgates opened and I can't push the water back in. I don't think I can take the same pictures and videos and still be the same… sunny, zen-like girl I've always been."
Portia looks away and ducks her lips out, squishing them side to side. She's perfection in every way but we all have our quirks and her thinking face is one.
"Do you think that's the only reason people listen to you?"
"Well, yeah. Kinda? I mean, that's when I got real big, when I got more bubbly on camera."
She nods, still squishing her lips to the side. "But that's not true. You got real big because you're you, Lucy. You can't fake your personality, even if you tried. Just be you. Honestly? I think people would be even more receptive if you dropped the fourth wall a bit and told them about your anxiety. That shit's real. A lot of people have it and not everyone out there giving advice knows what the fuck they're talking about."
"Truth."
She taps the soda can with her pink tipped acrylic nail. "Just think about it. Come to brunch. Bring your phone or don't. If we do a shoot, we'll do it just for us. Just for fun. But we don't even have to do that. But the girls miss you. Even Cara," Portia laughs.
"Okay. You're right. I'll be there."
She nods, "Perfect." But before she disappears out of my room she pauses in the doorway. Her head nods toward where the guys are in the living room. "And don't worry so much about what goes where. If they're experienced, they'll help you through it. You're lucky. The sex can be amazing. If you trust them to take care of you, don't be shy. If anything, I think they'd be into it if you show some of your curiosity."
"How do you know?"
She shrugs one shoulder. "Just a hunch. Can't wait to hear all about it Sunday." Then she winks and disappears down the hall.
I hear her talking to the guys then the front door shuts. Glancing at my phone on the dresser, still plugged in but turned off, I get up and grab it. Turning it on, I bypass all the notifications, finding it easier to ignore them, no desire to read what's being said about me.
Instead, I pull open the text from Portia. She sent me three videos. Why she had them all ready off the top of her head, I don't want to think about. She added the caption, Friends share with friends good porn.
Laughing, I set my phone down and get dressed, throwing on another pair of leggings and t-shirt with a simple bandeau bra.
Grabbing my phone and headphones I head into the other room to join the guys.