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“I love you, too.” I gathered him closer, holding him tight against my chest for a few moments to catch our breath before I began the work of untying him.
I didn’t like being told something was impossible.Nothingwas impossible.
Our entire universe was barely organized chaos, the eternally echoing aftermath of an explosion at the beginning of time. Yet Jessica kept being brought back into our lives. Somehow, out of all the paths of destiny she could be drawn toward, this was where she ended up yet again. She’d pushed away but been pulled back.
So maybe Jason was right. Maybe seeing Jess today meant nothing at all. Or perhaps it meant that the Fates hadn’t finished playing their messy little games.
It wouldn’t be the last time we saw her. That much I knew with certainty.
6
Jessica
I couldn’t sleep at all that night.
I still hadn’t gotten used to being back in my old bed, but it wasn’t only that. I tossed and turned, drifting off into fitful half-sleeps before abruptly waking when strange dreams crept into my mind. By 1 am, I was simply staring at the ceiling, clutching one of my throw pillows against my chest, telling myself that the dreams meant nothing.
It was them. Jason and Vincent. The fact that I’d seen them, merelytalkedto them, had completely thrown me off.
It had been almost three years since I’d spoken to them, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been occupying my mind. My obsession with them felt like an illness, an addiction I couldn’t shake. I’d become a voyeur, watching their lives from afar and never reaching out.
I had stalked their social media like I was a private investigator, digging up every little detail I possibly could. It would have been easier if they shared more, but they were private people and their posts were infrequent.
Lucas and Manson owned an auto shop together, occasionally posting photos of them working in their garage over gleaming engines. There was one photo in particular — God, this was soembarrassing — that I’d found so sexy I had to save it to my phone. The two of them shirtless, hands blackened with grime, wearing only jeans and boots. I’d gotten off to it multiple times.
Out of all the porn I could look at, their simple photos were the ones I returned to.
Jason’s account was private, but Vincent frequently posted photos. It was obvious all the boys were devoted to each other, but Jason and Vincent had a romance between them that made me ache. It wasn’t jealousy. It was…longing? From the outside looking in, their love seemed exactly like the kind of relationship I wanted but couldn’t put into words: freedom coupled with devotion.
But I’d been taught that wasn’t possible, and my relationships so far had proved as much.
A relationship was a cage, full of restrictions and misunderstandings, frustrations and jealousy. Dating someone carried the requirement of turning off desire for anyone else, but I often found myself wondering if that was even possible for me.
Was I broken? Sexuality was nothing to be ashamed of, but it was hard to reconcile that when the friends and family I was surrounded by told me otherwise.
I squeezed my eyes shut, imagining them standing over me — Jason and Vincent, Manson and Lucas, too. Surrounding me, making me feel small. A shiver prickled over my skin as I tried to remember exactly how their hands had felt, brushing over my thighs, slipping between my legs.
I was never going to manage to sleep like this. An uncomfortably warm, restless feeling pulsed low in my abdomen.
I was too tired to reach under the bed for my vibrator. I slid my hand into my panties, determined to make it quick. I didn’tneedto fantasize, right? But as the touch of my fingers fed the warmth inside me, building it to a blaze, I couldn’t stop my thoughtsfrom wandering.
Manson had once told me that Vincent liked restraints. So when I imagined him touching me, I thought of handcuffs — cold metal clinging to my wrists and ankles. I imagined Vincent laughing at me, teasing me, my degradation making him smile.
I shuddered.
I could think of literally anyone else. A celebrity. Maybe that hot girl I’d seen at the coffee shop the other day, or the guy I’d fucked around with at a club last year. Anyone other thanthem. But no matter who I pictured, their faces morphed, their voices changed, their actions and mannerisms were undeniable.
My brain refused to settle for anyone else as my pleasure deepened and my breaths came a little faster.
I envisioned Vincent chaining me to the bed while Jason circled me. Jason’s gaze felt like it could rip me apart, like he saw too much. As if he knew my vulnerabilities and could pluck them all out with expert precision.
He always wore rings. Thick silver rings and black-painted nails. I imagined those nails disappearing inside me, fingers thrusting into me. I remembered the taste of his cock and the sight of him standing over me.
My fingers tightened on the sheets.
Manson had loved watching them. It had been obvious that being a voyeur turned him on. In my imagination, he was still watching. Circling. Barely visible in the dark around my bed.
“The more you fight, the worse it’ll be.”
