Page 195 of The Charlie Method

At that, my best friend’s mouth falls open. “Wait. That wasn’t a joke?”

“No! This isliterallywhat is happening in my life right now.”

“Holy shit. All that stuff Mitch was saying at the gala? That wastrue?”

“Yes and no.” My jaw hardens at the memory of Mitch’s cruel words. “I’m not going around sucking dicks left and right. I’m dating Will. As in genuinely dating him—it’s not only a physical thing.” I bite my lip. “But I’m also dating Beckett Dunne. Will’s teammate.”

She blinks in surprise. “At the same time?”

I nod.

“Oh my God.”

“I didn’t plan for this to happen,” I moan. “It just…did. And they know about each other, by the way. It’s, um, kind of their thing. But no one else knows. Not even their friends.”

“So you’re in a secret relationship with both of them, and nobody knows?”

“Well, you know now. But yes.”

Looking amazed, Faith collapses in my desk chair. “Wow. This is wild.” She wrinkles her forehead. “Are you happy with them?”

“It’s complicated, but…yes. They make me feel like, I don’t know, like I don’t have to choose between being one version of myself or the other. They just get me. Even if it’s messy.”

“Messy might be an understatement.” She laughs again, then dons a thoughtful expression, scrutinizing me.

I know exactly what she’s thinking.

“Just ask,” I sigh.

“Do you fuck them at the same time?” she demands.

“Yes and no.”

Humor dances in her eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means sometimes I’m alone with Will, and sometimes I’m alone with Beckett, and sometimes…” I let out a breath. “Sometimes it’s all three of us.”

“One in each hole?”

“Faith!” I chide at her crudeness.

“What? It’s an honest question!”

“No,” I confess. “We haven’t done that.”

“Yet?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” I can’t deny the idea of taking them both at the same time is…appealing.

She goes quiet again, back to processing. Then she jumps out of the chair, her curls bouncing on her shoulders as she starts pacing back and forth in front of me.

I follow her quick movements, smiling wryly. “What?”

Without warning, she’s bombarding me with questions.

“How will this even work? Like, logistically?” Her hands and hair fly around as she paces and talks. “Is there a schedule? What happens when you want to go out in public? Do you guys all hang out together, or do you act like just friends in front of people? And what about holidays? What are you going to do if one of them gets jealous? Have you thought about marriage? Or kids? Who’s going to be the father? Or are they both going to be the father?”

She’s rapid-firing so many bullets I feel like my head might explode. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out right away. How am I supposed to answer all that when I barely have answers for myself?

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