Page 71 of Playing to Win

Colin turned around then. “What’s so funny?”

Andrew knew if he lied, Colin would think they were laughing at him. “Joey asked our ages so he’d know he wouldn’t get arrested for fucking us.”

The cocktail straw fell from Colin’s mouth. His shocked,shit just got realexpression told Andrew that Colin had indeed thought this was all a joke.

Now what?

The bartender delivered the whiskies, breaking the tension. Colin quickly distributed the glasses to Joey and Andrew. “Okay, then. Get it doon ye!” He threw back the dram in one swallow, then slammed the glass down on the bar. “Let’s dance.”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

ANDREWWASNOTbluffing about the threesome. Colin could tell by the way he and Joey ground against him on the dance floor, one behind, one in front; and by the way Andrew watched with avid interest as Joey slid his hands over Colin’s hips while they danced.

Colin tried to divide his attention equally between them, counting the number of seconds he focused on Andrew, then on Joey. But he kept adding time with Andrew, searching for ambivalence in those steel-blue eyes, hoping to find the answer to his most burning question:Don’t you want me all to yourself?

Finally Colin went to fetch another round of drinks, leaving Andrew and Joey on the dance floor together. At the upstairs bar, he ordered four blended whiskies (an extra for himself, to steady his nerves). While he waited, he gnawed another cocktail straw and Googledhow to survive your first threesome. The search results were monumentally unhelpful and seemed full of dire warnings of ruined relationships.

Did he and Andrew evenhavea relationship? They had fun together, and they shared a love of football, and they made each other laugh. Their connection in bed was unlike anything Colin had ever experienced. He’d always been an intense lover, but often his intensity was faked, a compensation for his uncertainty. But with Andrew, he’d no need to pretend. Andrew stoked every emotion at once inside Colin—hate, rage, lust, fear, and something that occasionally almost felt like love.

How could he divide that intensity between Andrew and another man? If he did, would it vanish? Would he come to see Andrew as just another fuck pal?

The drinks arrived, and Colin pulled a handful of cash from his sporran. All these American notes were the same moldy green color, so it took him a moment to find the correct ones. As he waited for his change, he threw back the first dram to silence the nagging voice inside.

Something’s been born between you and Andrew. Something real. What if this threesome with Joey smothers that something in its cradle? Would it be worth losing him, just to become the delicious meat in a sweaty fuckwich?

“Maybe,” he said aloud, then tossed back another whisky to help him decide. He collected his change—cool American coins!—and took the remaining pair of glasses to the banister overlooking the dance floor, forging a crooked path with unsteady steps.

The DJ was playing one of Colin’s favorite Calvin Harris tunes, a bouncy hymn to hedonism that always made him drink more than he should. He searched for Andrew and Joey, finding them at the center of dozens of hopping bodies. They shouted the lyrics to each other, hands in the air with the rest of the crowd.

They were dancing like mates, Colin realized, not like lads who wanted in each other’s trousers. He smiled and set his drinks on the railing’s shelf, the voice inside him finally speaking reason.Tonight you’ll have both these delicious lads, and you will never, ever forget it.

Suddenly Joey bumped into the man dancing behind him, then bounced forward into Andrew’s arms. They laughed together at the mishap…but then they didn’t let go.

Joey snaked a hand behind Andrew’s head and pulled him down into a kiss.

A red veil of rage dropped over Colin’s eyes. He picked up one of the drinks in a grip so tight he thought the glass would shatter. He wanted to hurl it over the railing and smash it into their heads. Into their stupid kissing faces.

“Hey.” Someone touched his shoulder.

Colin jumped, then turned to see a beefy dark-haired guy in an olive-green T-shirt. “What?” he snapped, half expecting him to be a bouncer informing Colin he didn’t belong in this exclusive club.

“I was about to ask if I could buy you a drink.” The beefcake pointed to the glasses in Colin’s hands. “But I see you’re good.”

“I am good. I am fucking tremendous. And so are you.” Colin shoved one of the drinks into the stranger’s hand, then toasted him, nearly missing the glass. “Cheers.” He drained the dram in one gulp. “Now you can buy me a drink.”

= = =

Andrew broke the kiss, pushing Joey away as politely as possible. “Sorry, not without Colin.”

“Oh my God! Right, sorry.” Joey wiped his mouth with his wrist. “I got carried away.”

“No worries.” Andrew looked around, hoping Colin hadn’t seen the kiss. He kept dancing with Joey, but farther apart, until the song ended. “Let’s find Colin. He’s been gone too long.”

“The lines at the bars get crazy on Friday nights,” Joey said as they made their way off the packed dance floor. “Sorry, I mean the queues get mental.”

“Don’t apologize. I speak American.”

Joey stopped at the curving stairway to the top floor. “He might’ve gone up where it’s less crowded.”

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