Page 162 of The Charlie Method

She kisses each of us in turn. “Thanks for last night. And this morning. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun.”

“Anytime,” Will answers, his voice soft. I note the way he looks at her, the way his gaze lingers as she gets into the driver’s seat and buckles her seat belt.

“See you on campus?” she asks, looking up at us.

“Of course,” I answer before closing the door for her.

Once she’s safely driving out of the lot, we climb into Will’s SUV and follow suit. The silence is different now, though. Heavier. Loaded with questions neither of us know how to voice.

“I think about her all the time,” I finally confess, and I hate how exposed that makes me feel. “Charlie. She’s always there, in the back of my mind.”

“Same,” Will admits. “She’s different. Special.”

I hesitate again before asking, “What is this, mate? With the three of us. Like, how the hell is it supposed to work?”

He considers the question. “I don’t know. But maybe we don’t need to know right now. Let’s just…let it play out.”

Biting my lip, I give a slow nod. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. No need to overthink anything.”

Will grabs his phone and pulls up a different playlist, the strains of chill, folksy rock filling the front seat. The tension dissipates, as does my confusion.

Whatever this is, with Charlie, with all three of us…

We’ll figure it out as we go.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHARLOTTE

Some seriously good exclusive sex

NEW SEMESTERS ARE SO PROMISING. ANICE, CLEAN BLANK SLATE, WHEREeverything feels manageable again, the stress of the previous semester momentarily lifted. I love meeting my new professors. Getting my hands on the syllabus for a new class. It’s like this one magical, optimistic moment where the future is mine for the taking and anything seems possible.

This snowy January day, I’m in a great mood, no pressure waves in sight. My morning Rehabilitation Engineering lab was utterly fascinating, gearing up to be my favorite this semester. We’re learning about assistive devices, and today we spoke in depth about prosthetics and their impact on patient mobility and quality of life. I almost regret not choosing to design a rehabilitation device for my capstone, but it’s far too late to change direction now.

Will meets me outside the lab, looking gorgeous as always with his brown hair swept away from his forehead and his jaw clean-shaven. Boyfriend #1 is the epitome of the boy next door, and yes, I am now referring to him as my boyfriend. It’s a lot easier than continuing to call him “the guy I’m seeing” or “the hockey player I’m banging.”

Boyfriend #2 is looking more rugged these days thanks to the beard he’s growing out for hockey purposes. Briar is killing it this season, and I’ve discovered that hockey players are superstitious as hell. Beckett forgot to shave on the day the team dominated what was supposed to be a brutal matchup, so obviously, his facial hair is the reason they won. Not skill or anything. I told him he looks like an Australian mountain man now. I’m into it.

I’m intothem. But to the world, Will is my main man. My only man.

Beckett doesn’t seem to mind that he’s not the public face of our arrangement, but it still activates a jolt of guilt inside me each time I’ve held hands with Will at Malone’s while Beckett is standing five feet away. Sure, he fingered me in the car on the way home the other night while Will drove, but I still feel bad. I don’t want him to think I’m ashamed of him, although I get the feeling he likes having that distance between us. Beckett doesn’t do love. He’s made that clear.

Not that I’m in love. You can’t be in love with two men. That’s just crazy.

I’m certainly in lust.

Totally in like.

But I’m not taking this any more seriously than I need to. We’re having fun, that’s all.

“Do you want to grab lunch at Carver Hall or drive into Hastings?” Will asks as I wrap a red wool scarf around my neck.

“Let’s just do the dining hall. I have that stupid Delta Pi meeting this evening, so I want to stay on campus. But I’ll come over later after the meeting.”

We’re almost to the exit when his phone rings. He glances at the screen, and his jaw tightens. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

“It’s fine. Go ahead.”

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