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“I love you,” I say against his mouth, loving the minty taste of him. I can’t stop saying it because I’ve never gotten to say it before. It’s a novelty that I’m sure will wear off.
“BJ in the basement?”
“Am I interrupting?” Presley puts in, smiling at us both. “Did I hear BJ?”
“Are you seriously fucking hard right now?” I ask, gaping at them both. “We just did it like an hour ago.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” Carter gives me such innocent eyes with a slight shrug of his shoulder and then he looks at Presley who agrees, “Me neither.”
I deadpan, blinking slowly at them both.
They grin and take an arm each, lift me off the ground, and carry me inside as I swing my legs between them.
“So did you all ever think about what you’re going to do when you want to get married?” Stanley asks as we all sit around a large table in a Cajun-themed restaurant in New Orleans celebrating the end of our first month in college.
We won Dance Xtra at the end of high school senior year and it opened up so many opportunities for us but we stuck to our original plans and couldn’t be happier. New Orleans is exactly where we want to be. It’s full of life and culture, and nobody judges us for who we are.
We share a second-floor apartment together not far from college and attend mostly the same classes, though Presley is taking French on the side and is teaching us as he goes so he has somebody to practice with and Carter is taking a graphics course to teach him how to edit his videos. He still uploads to that app, so much so that people on campus recognize us sometimes.
I look at Presley who is stuffing his face with chicken and at Carter who just rolls his gorgeous brown eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me that…”
“Then, we’ll get married together, I guess,” I reply, shrugging and also rolling my eyes. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Lane, Rebecca, and Carter’s mom, Angelica, all smile at each other.
They’ve never fully understood what we have. To be honest I’m not sure the three of us understand it either. We just know that it works and we’re good together and happy. We make each other happy.
Sometimes I get insecure that I won’t be enough for them but so far that hasn’t been the case. We’re all satisfied consistently in my opinion.
Carter went away with his parents for two weeks in the summer and we fell apart. We all have our roles and all act as a buffer for each other too.
It’s funny because our roses, which are still alive, wilted for those two weeks.
It’s not that Presley and I didn’t have a great time, we did, it just wasn’t like it is. We had passionate nights in bed but nothing like when the three of us make love. We argued a few times that week over stupid shit too. Something we never do in a three. We never fight. Sure, we get annoyed with each other sometimes, usually when Carter leaves his towel on the bathroom floor, or when Presley doesn’t close the cereal box and the contents go soft. But nothing major. There has never been a time where I’ve thought I don’t want to do this anymore.
I don’t think any of us have ever thought that.
“I mean, when this first started, I just assumed it would end,” Rebecca puts in and the others all nod their agreement and hum. “That’s not to say I wanted it to, I just didn’t think it would last, but y’all are serious and we need to know how this impacts your future.”
“Guys… we’re nineteen.”
She raises her hands and grins. “And in about eight years you’ll be wanting kids of your own.”
That’s not actually something we’ve discussed.
The guys look at each other.
“Want to share kids?” Presley asks.
Carter shrugs. “Whatever.”
“What does that mean?” Stanley asks, looking so perplexed.
“It means, if she gets pregnant, doesn’t matter whose it is,” Carter explains and Presley raises his glass in agreement.
“Or we could do one of each. Like I go, you go?”
“That could work too. But why do you get to go first?”
Presley raises an eyebrow and I know he’s secretly saying because you got her pussy first.
“This is so weird,” Carter’s father adds with a nervous chuckle.
“So basically we just be grandparents to whatever kids she pops out?” Rebecca asks, though not with any tone or disdain, it’s a genuine question. “I’m just asking so we know where we stand when it happens. Maybe Carter doesn’t want me babying his kid.”
“It wouldn’t be Carter’s kid,” Presley utters and grins at Carter. “It’d be our kid.”
“Yeah, what he said.”
