Page 30 of The Pairing

“I—I just mean—” His olive face has taken on a faint tinge of mauve. “If it’s going to be one of us, why not me?”

Oh. I recognize this approach. Back when we were friends, we used to occasionally compete for the same people. Occupational (bisexual) hazard.

“Is that achallenge,Fairfield?”

“Maybe,” Kit says. “But then, if Fabrizio could pull Florian, maybe the true challenge would be Fabrizio. By the transitive property.”

“Fabrizio’s more available, though. We’re always with him,” I say. “With Florian, there’s a finite window of opportunity. A Florian Fuck Window.”

“Sure, but let’s say one of us succeeds within the Florian Fuck Window,” Kit counters. “The other could just do the same with someone else in the next city. It wouldn’t be a meaningful victory.”

“What are you suggesting? A tournament bracket?”

“I’m not suggesting anything,” he says, though he doesn’t look disinterested, “but if Iwas,I think it would be a matter of seducing a local in the greatest number of individual cities.”

Huh. Nowthat’san idea.

I touch my chin with two fingers, thinking. It started as a bit, but now I’m seeing the potential benefits of a friendly-but-horny rivalry. I like us like this. If having sex with other people will keep things with Kit stable enough to enjoy my trip,andwe both get an outlet for any leftover sexual friction, then why not?

“A body-count competition,” I muse.

“You don’t have to phrase it like we’re murdering them, but yes, essentially.”

“Wedoboth already have one, from Paris . . .” The more I think about it, the better it sounds. In fact, the longer I look at Kit, the more I want to have sex with someone.

“Wait,” Kit says. “You’re being serious? You actually want to compete?”

“It sounds fun. I’m down. Are you?”

When I look into Kit’s eyes, I can practically see the pleasure receptors in his brain crackling. He can’t say no, not a hedonist like him.

“Definehookup.Does that include making out, or over the clothes, or—?”

“At least one person has to come,” I say.

“Oh.” Kit blinks. “That’s easy, then.”

“Is it?”

“What, is it not easy for you?”

“No, it’s easy for me.”

“I personally do it all the time.”

“So do I,” I say. “That’s what makes it a competition. I’m like, the number one seed. Of fucking.”

Kit touches his chin. “Proud of you for resisting a seed joke.”

“Thank you, I’m very strong,” I say. “So, what do you think? A little sex wager between friends?”

For a long moment, Kit doesn’t say anything at all. He just looks at me, searching my face so intently that I feel his gaze like a touch.

Then, like he did on that cliff in Dover, he puts out his hand.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

I grin. “Let’s do it.”

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