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I hold up a hand. “I’m not apologizing. I’m here to get my stuff. Then I’ll try to erase this nightmarish little blip in my life, probably with copious quantities of booze.” Cheap wine, most likely.
“You still need to pay next month’s rent. It’s on the lease that you have to give thirty days’ notice, and you gave us no notice,” Claude says. He’s tucked his penis back into his pants, thank God.
“These two asked you to take part in a threesome, yeah?” Flip confirms.
“Yeah.”
“And you said no, yeah?”
“That’s correct. I said no.”
“And they still tried to get you involved again?” Tristan asks.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So they asked twice?” he presses. “And both times you said no?” For a second, I expect him to tack something shitty on the end, but after a few seconds of silence, I realize Tristan’s on my team.
“They asked more than twice, and I always said no.” I’m embarrassed that it’s gone on as long as it has, but with the hours I’d been pulling at work, I didn’t have time to look for another place. Nor the ability to comfortably afford something on my own.
“So they kept pressuring you, even though you’d made it clear you weren’t interested in participating?” Tristan’s nostrils flare, and I try not to notice how hot he is when he’s defending me.
“I’m pretty sure that’s sexual harassment.” Flip looks like he wants to punch Claude.
“If someone says they’re not interested, but the other person keeps pushing them, and then gets naked in the living room when their roommate could come home any minute, knowing full well it makes them uncomfortable…” Tristan and Flip exchange a look, and I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but there seems to be a weird tension between them. “It does sound a lot like sexual harassment.” Tristan turns to me. “Would you agree, Bea?”
“Um… Yes.” This is the Tristan I had a crush on. The one who did nice things unexpectedly, like bring me my favorite chocolate bar for real and not throw a toad in my face.
“I could post about it on my social media, see what other people say. You know, in case we’re off base,” Flip says.
“How many followers do you have again, Flip? Two million, or is it three?” Tristan pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts scrolling through social media apps.
“You’re lying.” Eugenia crosses her arms, which thankfully cover her nipples.
“Am I?” Flip pulls up one of his social media accounts, where he has over three million followers, and shows it to Eugenia.
“Flip Madden?” Her eyes bounce from the small screen to my brother’s face and then to me. “He’s your brother? And he plays professional hockey?” she asks.
“Yeah.” I often keep my brother’s status to myself, in part because people can get weird about it. I turn to Flip. “I’m gonna get my things so we can get out of here.”
“I can help,” Flip says.
“It’s fine. It won’t take long. It’s just clothes and books and stuff.”
Tristan says nothing, but carries the empty plastic bins into my bedroom, then stands outside the door with his arms crossed. I frantically toss stuff in the bins, glancing over my shoulder to make sure Tristan isn’t paying attention as I empty my top drawer. It contains all my most important items—bras, panties, and self-gratification toys. It takes less than twenty minutes to pack my belongings, and they fit into three bins. One for each of us.
Eugenia and Claude are sitting on the living room couch, looking terrified and slightly awestruck. Flip is standing in the doorway of their roleplay room, rubbing his bottom lip. Tristan is being his annoyingly attractive self, hair flopping over one eye as he leans against the wall outside my bedroom, wearing a pensive expression.
“All set,” I squeak. I want to GTFO and forget this ever happened.
Flip turns as I set the heaviest of the bins on the floor. He makes a circle motion with his finger. “Anything out here that belongs to you?”
With my brother and Tristan standing sentinel, I scan the room for any of my personal effects. The role-playing living-room sex-capades had escalated in frequency recently, so I’d been disappearing into my bedroom most nights.
I cross over to the fridge and tuck my bottle of orange juice into my purse, as well as the half-block of sharp cheddar and two apples. My condiments will take up too much room and are mostly empty. But the freezer contains a box of ice cream sandwiches. The good ones. They were my grocery splurge this week. I check for those. It was unopened yesterday, and now there are only three left. Jerks.
I hold up the box. “Either of you interested in an ice cream sandwich?”
“Sure. Let’s take them to go. Ready to roll out?” Flip grabs one of the heavy bins and heads for the door.
