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He shrugged awkwardly. “I dunno. Two years, maybe? Yeah, two years this Fourth of July. I hooked up with a girl at that mixer in Anaheim.”
“I remember that,” Asher said. “Although I’m shocked you haven’t done anything since, considering how often you go out. And how often you brag about your conquests.”
“I, uh, put on a big show sometimes,” Brady said. He looked off at the wall.
“What about Veronica?” Asher insisted. “You said she was, and I quote, afreak.”
“She was a freak… at karaoke,” Brady replied. “You should’ve heard her singUptown Funk. But naw, we never got past second base.”
“Any reason why?” I asked.
Brady shrugged again. “I dunno. I guess I was trying not to rush it. I was looking for something more special. But it didn’t work out.”
I kissed Brady’s thigh. He was opening up to me, being vulnerable around me, and it drew me toward him. Before, he was a hot, cocky hunk. Now he was a hot, cocky hunk withfeelings.
What can I say? I like complicated guys.
“This was one hell of a night, then,” I said. “It’s the first time either of you have had sex in several years, and it was the first time I’ve had a threesome.”
“Oh shit, we popped your threesome cherry?” Brady asked. “Nice.” He held up a hand to high-five Asher.
And just like that, he was back to normal.
“I’ve always fantasized about it,” I admitted. “But I never thought I would get the opportunity.”
“What about wild Hollywood parties?” Asher asked. “We’ve heard a lot of stories from clients.”
“I’m not in Hollywood yet,” I said. “I’m still just anaspiringactor. Hopefully by this time next year, I’ll be having this conversation with Brad Pitt and Michael Cera.”
Brady flinched on the couch. “Michael Cera? The scrawny guy?”
“Hey, don’t judge me,” I said. “He’s got a cute, awkward nerd thing going on. Like Asher.”
Asher cleared his throat. “Oh, I don’t think I have anything like that going on.”
“Trust me, you do.” I gave his thigh a pat.
Brady chuckled and said, “So did your first threesome live up to your expectations?”
“It didn’t just live up to them. Itexceededthem.”
“Fucking nice.” Brady tried to high-five Asher again. This time, the blond man returned the gesture.
I sat up, kissed Brady, and then turned my lips to Asher. The latter gave me a deeper kiss, the kind that stirred something inside of me and made me wonder if we could have a second round of fun.
But then he pulled away, got up, and started retrieving his clothes.
“Dibs on the ice cream in the fridge,” I said while pulling on my own dress.
“Oh,” Brady said. For a brief moment, he wore the exact same guilty expression that his son Dustin sometimes wore. “I sort of ate the rest of the ice cream.”
“Then I’ll sneak one of the treats from the big reward bucket,” I said.
Asher coughed into his hand. “Do you have the required stars?”
I glared at him.
“Heather tasered Jimmy Cardannon earlier,” Brady chimed in. “I think that’s worth ten stars. Every day. For the next month.”
