Page 44 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

Silas is beautiful. He exudes confident, big dick energy and doesn't need to work hard to get a woman; they fall at his feet. And at a club like Atrium, where most people dress like Mateo—the men in bespoke suits and crisp ties, the women in little black dresses, all with varying degrees of latex or leather hidden beneath their clothes—it says something that Silas can put in minimal effort with black t-shirts and skater pants, and people still just want to be around him. He's cool in a way Mateo isn't. Comfortable in his skin in a way I'm not.

With Lucy, I felt like I was missing something. An innate lack of charm, an elusive appeal I couldn't manage to grasp.

But right now, while I hold her wrist in my hand, gently caressing her skin with my thumb, her lips part, eyes lower to half-mast like she's drunk on the feeling, and I get a sliver of my confidence back. Because it's not Silas touching her, it's me. I'm the one who put that look on her face.

"Did you put something on this?"

"Yeah, earlier. And some arnica oil on my arms. It's fine, I promise."

I believe her. I just really want an excuse to take care of her, to keep touching her. Eventually the fog clears and she pulls her hand back and takes a big swig of her beer. I do the same.

"You guys are really comfortable talking about this stuff, aren't you? Mateo was pretty blunt last night."

"What did he say?"

She thinks about it for a second, looking around the room, obviously selecting which bits to share with us. She doesn't know how this works yet, that she can say anything.

This morning, I'd have said we might never get there. But right now, all I can think is: she'll learn. But I let her keep her secrets. For now.

"Mostly, he said he wanted me to get to know you both. But also, he implied that relationships are easier for him when he's with you two. Like, he can be more of himself because he doesn't have to try and be more than he's capable."

Silas hums, taking a sip of the beer, then refilling all our glasses from the pitcher. "That's mostly true, but it's more complicated than that. We talked about it when I was over the other day, remember? Society expects us to be everything for our partner. Some people can be. Some just lack in certain aspects of their life. It doesn't reflect poorly on them as a person. Maybe that person can do one thing really fucking well that no one else can. Why diminish that one thing by stretching them so thin they can't properly provide in a way they know how, by forcing them to provide in a way they're expected to, based on societal norms?"

"Damn. And you three figured this all out when you were teenagers?" Lucy blows a raspberry, eyes bugging wide, locks of her hair floating around her face.

"No, we mostly just liked to fuck the same chick. Our emotional maturity didn't develop for some time, I'm afraid." My admission makes Lucy laugh, so I keep going, "It started with sex, but it eventually developed into an emotional relationship that's typically out of the norm. I assume Mateo told you we aren't involved sexually?"

Lucy nods.

"So… is sex the only thing that binds an emotional relationship?"

"Of course not. Most people don't have sex with their friends."

"Right. But do most people live with their friends? Share all their meals together? Spend all their time together? Consult with each other about life or work changes?"

She's thoughtful, processing and trying to understand the reality of what we share, what we've been to each other for years—before Mateo went rogue and fell in love, anyway.

She's finally starting to get what we're really asking of her. "So you're in a relationship with each other, too."

"We're emotionally invested. And we love each other." Silas says it in the way he says everything. Lighthearted, like it's not a big deal. And it isn't, really. But it's not conventional. It certainly doesn't fit the mold of masculinity as we view it in our society, relying on your friends for this level of emotional support.

"Let me ask you something. Matty said you met at a bar, yeah? You walked right up to him and asked if he wanted to have a drink with you?" Silas asks. I remember Mateo retelling this story. The look on his face, describing this woman with a perky blonde ponytail, wearing yoga pants and a crop top, totally not his usual type, asking him out. He said it surprised the hell out of him, and from that moment on, he couldn't look away. Her smile was infectious. I know what he means.

As if she's recalling the memory as well, she has that smile on now. It's bright and honest. "Yeah, that's how we met."

"Okay, well what if you were sitting at the bar and Matty came up to you and asked you out. Or… better yet, what if it was the three of us?"

"Umm… I would have said yes to Mateo. Or, honestly, yes to any of the three of you. But if all three of you walked up to me at once? I might have said no."

Silas nods, expecting that. "Why's that?"

"Well, because I'd have assumed it was a sex thing."

We both laugh, but Silas continues, "Yeah, for sure. And that's a part of it, a part of any relationship. Chemistry, good sex. But it's only one part of it. I guess I'm just trying to point out the preconceived notions we have about sex in our culture. Or about relationships. Conventional isn't necessarily the best way. And I have plenty of friends in monogamous relationships, and I don't think poly would work for them. It's not for everybody. But I think it's for more people out there than are willing to give it a try."

Lucy doesn't say anything, but I notice her beer is getting lower and lower the more we talk. Silas gets up to refill the pitcher, so I nudge her shoulder.

"You okay?"

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