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“Well, she admitted that Link and Trey and I probably crossed paths at my dad’s business parties. And then she told me that Link’s mom left and never came back, and John pretty much ignored him for two years.”
Fiona looks thoughtful. “Aww, poor Lincoln—no wonder the guy is such an Eeyore.”
Outside the coffee shop, the wind picks up, pelting a mix of hail and rain at the window, and I shiver as I stare at the roiling clouds.
“Anyway,” I continue, trying not to smile at her comment, “the issues with his mom felt so similar to my own parental issues. I just had this overwhelming empathic reaction, and somehow, I ended up at Lincoln and Trey’s dorm at like midnight.”
“And then?” Fiona waggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.
I roll my eyes. “And then I made an idiot of myself when they caught me loitering outside their dorm like some sort of stalker.” I lower my voice. “But yes, they invited me up, and yes, we talked about stuff. And then, yes, one thing led to another and somehow we all did…stuff.”
“Stuff? All I get is ‘stuff’? No details?” Fi says with an exaggerated pout.
“Yes, that’s all you get.”
“Wait…we? It was withbothof them?”
“Erm, yeah. It was.” I look down, my face feeling hot. I’m not really embarrassed by what we did, but I know it’s not conventional, and I don’t really want my friend to think I’m the slut of Whitmore U.
“Hey, Charlie, no judgment here,” Fiona says, reading my mind like usual. I look up at her in relief. “Just, like I said before—guard your heart. Those boys are natural heartbreakers.”
I sigh. “Believe me, I know. I didn’t really mean for it to happen, and I care about them both. I don’t even know if it means anything or changes anything. We didn’t really get to chat about it before I left.”
“Well, that’s a complicated mess then, huh?” Fiona's lips curl into a small smile.
“No kidding.”
My phone lights up on the table with a text message, and I see the time. “Shit, we should go to class,” I say, standing up.
Fiona agrees, and we gather our stuff, pull up our hoods, and run out into the storm.
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHARLIE
The weeks leading up to Thanksgiving are busy, to say the least. Dr. Jackson selected Lincoln to organize our final project since John has stepped back from the theater, and I think he secretly loves the power because he begrudgingly accepted the role but then spent the entire hour of class telling the other students that their screenplay ideas were garbage like some sort of holier-than-thou director.
He didn’t say anything about our project thankfully because I’m stuck halfway through my second draft now that my muse is slipping away–broody Lincoln was fueling all kinds of inspiration for my screenplay, but now that the three of us are in this undefined relationship of sorts, that passion has fizzled. Not that I’m complaining. I like orgasms more than him bullying me, but still, bliss, whether it’s temporary or not, is not good for my writing career.
Serenity mentioned that the university make light of a rape accusation against Matt. I had Fiona ask around, but the rumor seems to have stopped dead in its tracks, so either it wasn’t true or it was well covered up. I suspect the board wants to keep Matt here because the hockey team is a huge cash cowfor the university. The guys are worried about me, and I get it, but I often wonder if their feelings come from Matt being an ex who hurt me or from an intuition that he’s actually a predator. Either way, Matt has been showing up a lot lately, begging me to have coffee or lunch with him. And while he does make me uncomfortable, I’m not sure why because he’s honestly been pretty nice every time I’ve turned him down.
The guys are in no hurry to define our relationship, but they’ve been more than happy to push the boundaries of whatever this is between us.
Trey has pulled me into every secluded corner of this university to do all kinds of wicked things to my body. He’s cornered me in the library and empty classrooms and janitor closets. I always tell myself I need to stop. Every time I do more with him, I lose more of my heart. But I can’t resist his stupidly hot face, especially when he looks at me from beneath that flop of golden-blond hair.
Lincoln, on the other hand, is way more cautious than Trey’s overtly sexual nature. Yes, we have private moments together in their dorm, and he’s certainly not shy in the bedroom, but I think our connection is causing him big feelings, and sometimes, I see fear in his eyes in the midst of sweet moments.
When he gets overwhelmed, Link throws himself into the theater. He doesn’t talk much about what happened between him and John, but I get the impression that giving Link the theater was a peace offering between them, and Link is so passionate about the place, carefully selecting movies and curating old movie posters. He even replaced all the plain poster displays with neon-lit frames. Honestly, the place has a magical, cinematic vibe that reminds me of theaters from the eighties and nineties, when going to the movies was an epic Friday night adventure.
Little gestures seem to be Link’s way of opening up. Last week, he finally let me screen one of the movies with him. And despite us being alone in that big, dark theater as we shared the armrest like a couple of awkward teenagers, we just enjoyed the movie. Neither of us acted on the sexual tension between us until we got home and practically mauled Trey.
Then, the other day, I came back to my dorm to find a package at my door with a note attached.
Don’t say I didn’t do my research. -L
I tore open the wrapping and found a special-edition copy of one of my favorite male-male romance books about two best friends (one straight and one gay) who eventually get together after a delicious amount of angst and turmoil. The entire book was littered with colorful tabs where Lincoln had made notes and underlined quotes.
He actually read this, I thought as I flipped through it, smiling to myself. I read the note again.
