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“I would’ve had your back too,” Beckett smiles sadly. “If I could be there.”
I wish he could join everyone for Christmas, but the Nutcracker is in full swing during the holidays, so he’ll be working in New York.
“You’ve had my back the very moment I told you I fell for two guys. That’s meant everything to me.” I share his burgeoning smile. “And hey, the Nutcracker would be totally lackluster without you. They need your talent and not Leo-what’s-his-fucking-face.”
Beckett dunks his spoon into a bowl. He’s eating cereal for lunch at his Hell’s Kitchen apartment on his day off. “I was hoping the company thought the same thing and they wouldn’t renew his contract.”
“Did they?”
“He signed on to another year like me.” Beckett looks peeved. “According to the company, we can’t exist without the other.”
“Really?”
“Our rivalry boosts ticket sales.”
Beckett dances for the art, but of course, the ballet needs to make money, so I’m sure ballet politics play a part in everything.
He scoops a spoonful of Cheerios. “Did you talk to Moffy after the leak yesterday?” With the little time Beckett has to talk, he’s more interested in hearing about our families.
Whenever we chat, I try to catch him up as much as I can. And yesterday’s Winter Festival is still fresh on the brain.
“Yeah, we talked a bit this morning. He said he’s okay and that he’ll get through it. You know Moffy—he can handle any fucking thing.” I usually smile with pride for Maximoff, but jealousy twitches my lips.
I want that I can handle whatever you throw at me kind of strength, especially in the face of the media. For so long, I just let Maximoff handle what I couldn’t. Just like I let my dad.
“I was thinking of calling him,” Beckett says. “But if you think he’s okay—”
“No, you should call him,” I encourage. “You know what it’s like to have pieces of your sex life exposed.” When Beckett’s hookup broke her NDA and exposed their private text convo, he was angry and devastated, way more than Maximoff is outwardly showing me. “It feels good knowing you’re not alone in something.”
The Royal Leaks have even banded me and my roommates together, lessening the strain that existed between us. When the world is trying to tear us apart, our instinct is turn to the ones we trust the most, the ones who understand the most.
I want to say everything is cool on the roommate front, but…this morning was fucking awkward.
And not with Moffy.
“Speaking of sex lives…” I go into a whole rant about Thatcher’s Penthouse Rules. Beckett’s eyes widen midway through, and I say, “I’m serious, Beckett, Thatcher not only emailed me the Penthouse Rules but he stuck the list to the fridge. Rule #2: don’t have sex in communal areas.”
Beckett makes a what the fuck face. Dipping his spoon in milk, he says, “You know what I said about Thatcher being someone I’d want to live with?”
“Yeah?”
“I take it back. That rule is bullshit.”
“I know, right?” I smile, sort of fucking giddy over the fact that I can confide in my best friend over something new.
Sex.
I’m having it. I’m doing it.
With two guys.
And I always thought I’d be gushing to Luna and Jane first, but Beckett understands poly relationships more. He’s not critical or worried about heartache and pain and potential break-ups.
In the next quiet beat, embarrassment returns and swaths me in uncomfortable heat. “I just broke that second rule last night, and I’m telling you, Beckett, somehow Thatcher knows I did it with his twin brother and his best friend in the kitchen. The timing of the Penthouse Rules is fucking suspect.”
“Did you leave behind clothes or condoms?”
“No. Akara grabbed my clothes.”
Beckett thinks while he eats. “What’d Banks and Akara say?”
I snort, “That Thatcher is just being Thatcher and not to worry.”
“Did you ask Thatcher about it?”
“No, I couldn’t even look at Thatcher this morning. I passed him in the kitchen and fled like I saw a fucking ghost.” I groan at myself, my face hot. “I hate feeling this embarrassed over something that I actually loved.” I sigh out, “And I’m not a good roommate.”
“You shouldn’t be embarrassed.” Beckett swallows a bite of Cheerios. “Remember the FanCon Tour? I had sex in a communal part of the tour bus.”
“Brother, you fornicated where?” Eliot overhears from behind him. A grin in his voice. “Do tell.”
I smile at Beckett as he says to his younger brother, “I don’t fuck and tell.”
“But what about fornicate?”
Beckett smiles into a spoonful, almost spitting out the milk in a laugh. I’m about to let him go spend time with his brothers, but he tells me quietly, “As long as you cleaned the kitchen after, I don’t see a problem.”
Did I clean the kitchen?
Fuck.
“What if I didn’t clean the kitchen?” My face is on fire, and I’m glad Banks and Akara are farther along the snowy farmland, outpacing me while I’m still near Bogger. The Jeep is parked up against the wooden fence.
