Page 127 of Necessary Roughness
But we laughed about it, and cuddled, and didn’t care.
Logan and Roman returned the next day, and we all picked up where we had left off. Knox let the two of them have me that night, a threesome that left every inch of my body covered in sweat—and other bodily fluids.
I was excited about my spring semester. Now that I’d finished Physics and Art History, the only classes remaining from this point forward were for my graduate degree. That meant they were far more intensive, but I was only taking twelve credits—four classes—so the work was manageable.
Since the football season was over, I got to spend a lot more time with my athletes-slash-roommates-slash-boyfriends. Lazy mornings before class, and happy afternoons spent studying together on the porch as the weather grew warmer. And of course, every night was spent in a different bed.
“You know,” I told Roman one evening, “the original deal only covered the football season. You never formally extended the offer to the spring semester.”
“I was never part of the original deal,” Roman replied, rolling over until he was on top of me. “And even if I was, I don’t care about the terms. I plan on doingthisuntil Logan and Knox graduate in May.”
“Doing what?” I asked.
He smiled, then spent the next half hour showing me.
Eventually, the honeymoon phase petered out and we weren’t having sex every night like in the fall. I still shared a bed with one of the guys every single night, but we only had sex three or four times a week. Enough to keep all of us satisfied and eager.
Can you imagine? Thinking that sex four times a week wascutting back?
Knox and Logan had to keep in shape for the NFL combine prior to the draft, so they were still working out twice a day. But Roman used his new free time to cook dinner every night. And he turned out to be a phenomenal cook.
“My nonna taught me to cook,” Roman explained one evening over a meal of pork Bolognese. “She told me the way to someone’s heart, whether they’re a friend or more than a friend, is through their stomach.”
“Did your nonna teach you how to fuck, too?” Logan asked.
Roman slowly put down his fork and placed his hands flat on the table. “Please never talk about my nonna like that again.”
Logan glanced at me and said, “I guess that’s a no.”
One thing that surprised me the most was just how well we all meshed together. I’d had my share of roommates, good and bad, and it felt like a miracle that the four of us actually got along. Sometimes we watched TV together. Sometimes we didn’t. Knox taught me to play one of their shooting video games, so the two of us and Logan played that together when there wasn’t any good television to watch. We respected our shared spaces, and always had our own individual rooms to retreat to if we needed some alone time.
I couldn’t believe how easy it all was.
One day at the end of February, I received a card in the mail. It was from Morgan.
“Your old roommate?” Knox asked. “What’s she want?”
“That’s the one,” I said while tearing it open. “Something tells me this is going to be bad.”
But to my surprise, it was a black-and-white photo of Morgan and Zane holding hands, their lips only an inch apart like theywere frozen in time right before a kiss. And when I flipped it over…
“Awedding announcement?”I said in disbelief.
Logan snatched the photo out of my hand and read the note on the back of the photo. “This says she dropped out of school. And Zane quit his job.”
I took it back from him and read the note out loud. “Dear Sloane. I hated you when you first moved into my apartment.” I lowered the note and made a disgusted noise. “Even now, she thinks of it asherapartment, notours.”
“Keep reading!” Roman urged.
“But if it weren’t for you, and specifically your promiscuous nature, I never would have met the love of my life. I am glad your disgusting situation bore positive fruit. Zane and I have moved to Arizona to build a life together. I have added you to the spreadsheet for our Christmas card. Please notify me if you change addresses so I can update our spreadsheet. Much love, Morgan.”
“Huh,” Logan said. “If you gave me a million guesses, I never would have predicted that.”
“We should send them a wedding gift,” Knox suggested. “A vibrator. Maybe that will loosen her up.”
I wagged my finger at him. “Hold on, now. Let’s not shoot from the hip on a wedding gift. I bet they have a registry spreadsheet of everything they want!”
That turned out not to be a joke. There was a URL on the bottom of the wedding announcement… and it led to a Google Sheet of everything they had registered for.
