"We need to talk about last night," I said, cutting through their tangent before we could get sidetracked into a discussion of Logan's subconscious.
Both of them went very still.
"What about last night?" Logan asked carefully.
"About the fact that we all kissed Mira. About what that means. About how we're going to handle this situation without destroying our friendship and team dynamics."
Silence.
"So," Blake said eventually. "We're acknowledging it happened."
"Obviously it happened," I said. "We can't just pretend—"
"I vote we pretend," Logan interrupted. "Pretending seems safe. Pretending is familiar. I'm very good at pretending."
"Logan!"
"Fine." He sat up, running his hands through his already chaotic hair. "Fine. Cards on the table. I like Mira. Like, really like her. In a way that's progressed past'she's pretty'into'I think about her constantly and get irrationally jealous when other people look at her'territory."
"Same," Blake said quietly.
They both looked at me.
"Yes," I admitted. "I also have feelings for her that extend beyond professional or friendly interest."
"So we all like the same girl," Logan said. "Who also happens to be our housemate and performance coach. And we all kissed her last night. That's... not ideal."
"That's a fucking disaster," I corrected.
"Language, Captain."
"Shut up, Logan."
"Make me."
"Children," Blake interrupted. "Can we focus?"
"Right." I took a deep breath, trying to channel my captain energy into productive problem-solving instead of panic. "We need to address the obvious sexual and romantic tension that's threatening to destroy everything. We need to figure out—"
The front door opened. Mira walked in, clearly coming back from an early morning run based on her athletic wear and flushed face. She stopped when she saw the three of us in the living room.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked.
"No," I said at the same time Logan said "Yes" and Blake said "Maybe."
Mira's eyebrow rose. "You're having a meeting about me. Without me."
"It's not—" I started.
"You're discussing what happened last night," she continued, walking into the living room with the confidence of someone who'd spent their life performing in front of judges. "Making decisions about my life, about our situation. Without including me in the conversation."
Fuck.
"We were trying to figure out the best approach before—" I tried.
"Before what? Before presenting me with your collective decision?" Mira crossed her arms. "I've spent my entire life having other people make choices for me. My parents decided I'd be a figure skater before I could walk. Coaches dictated every aspect of my training. Sam controlled our relationship and partnership. And now you three think you can sit here and decide how to 'handle' this situation without my input?"
"That's not what we were doing," Blake said gently.
