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“How do they work?”
I look down, toying with the idea of taking another sip. I change my mind.
“Seriously?” I toss at him.
“Yeah, seriously.”
I lock his eyes and suck in a strained breath.
“We can’t ruin this before it begins. I don’t know what the fuck has happened these past forty-eight hours. Actually, this past week. Things were fine.”
“No, they weren’t.”
“Yes, they were. We met on Monday. And then we hadn’t had anything to do with her until last night.”
Shit. That was a slip of the tongue.
“I mean, you had something to do with her last night, and he had spent some time with her the night before.”
He doesn’t seem to notice.
“Something happened between them,” I continue. “Whatever it was, it had opened the door for more of the same. You swooped in, and everything went bust.”
“Please… You sound like him. As if it was my fault.”
“That was not what I was saying.”
“Listen,” he interrupts me with a gesture. “I’m going to tell you what I’ve already told him. It’s not about me pulling back. We are supposed to do that. Right? And I think you’re trying to tell me the same thing. We’re on the same page, for fuck’s sake. You just said it… That’s not how things are supposed to work. Let me tell you how they’re supposed to work. We should pace ourselves. But it’s hard. Especially now, since it’s only the beginning. We don’t even fucking know how to pace ourselves. We don’t know what doing it at a slower pace looks like. Is it us with her? Is it one of us every night with her? Every other day? Every other hour? We have no idea. Right now, we’re doing our best to control ourselves. To keep our impulses under control. But once you get started, it’s not that easy. This thing with her… it’s new. It’s new for me. For him… For you.”
I clear my throat.
He gives me a flick of his hand.
“It will be new to you too… When you get to be with her…”
He almost rolls his eyes. The sarcasm in his voice is like dripping acid in my ears.
But what he says is true.
I just experienced it with her.
In the shower… On my way back. I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
These are passionate beginnings. One woman. Three men. Are we falling into a trap?
Maybe it’s easier for her.
Maybe we––the men––cancel ourselves out.
Maybe she forgets about any of us when she moves on to the next one. But that’s not the case with us, the men. We all want her. We want more. Our bodies want more of her. And all traps in life start with a lustful body.
It does in our case.
“We need to chill, man…” he says before focusing on his drink.
He’s right again.
“Why are you in my room, then?” I ask, clasping my hips.
