Page 93 of Someday Away

“Okay, one, we’re not in high school, Link, so I could care less about seeming desperate. And, two, why wouldn’t I invite her? I mean, it’s an empty house, and we are fucking her pretty regularly.”

He gives me a dark look and flops onto his bed. “Technically, you’re the only one fucking her right now.”

“Right,” I say, raising an eyebrow at him. “Why is that again?”

“You know why,” he says. “I want to talk this shit out with my dad, so he better get his ass home soon.”

I lie down on the bed next to him, staring up at the little glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling—the only reminder of our childhood in his now boring-ass gray and navy bedroom. “Should I be offended you’re all about asking dear old dad advice, but you haven’t bothered to ask me what I think you should do?”

“I know what you’ll say,” he says, turning his head to look at me. His eyes are sad—two pebbles lost in a turbulent gray sea.

“And what’s that?” I ask quietly.

“That I need to just do it—tell her everything, including how I feel about her. Always the enduring optimist, you believe she’ll still care about me anyway.” He takes a shaky breath. “But here’s the thing. I don’t believe that. And other than you, no one’s ever cared for me the way she does. Even my parents’ love was conditional.”

The truth makes my heart ache for him. My parents are shitty, selfish people, and they never loved me—I accepted that years ago. But listening to Link’s voice, thick with pain, I almost wonder if it’s worse to know your parents love you but only when it suits them.

“If you think that, why does your dad’s opinion matter so much? Have you finally forgiven him?”

“Maybe I’m starting to.” Link’s quiet for a moment. “For years it seemed like my dad was trying to buy my love back, especially when he offered me the theater. It felt like a bribe—something to assuage his guilt for being a shitty father—but now the theater is a refuge when I feel overwhelmed, and I can see it as more of an apology than a bribe.”

I inch a little closer so that our arms touch. “Do you remember when we were kids and I was obsessed with that Ironman action figure?”

Lincoln glances over at me, seeming confused by my change in subject, but he answers nonetheless. “You mean the Ironmandollyou carried around everywhere?” He snickers. “I called it your emotional support Ironman.”

“Hey, man, don’t hate on Tony,” I say with a rueful smile. “He was my idol, hiding all his emotional damage under a cool façade of sarcasm and humor.”

“Thatdoessound familiar,” Link playfully pushes his shoulder against mine.

“Anyway, it was the last Christmas present my dad gave me before they left. I moved in with you guys the January after that. Do you remember what happened to it?”

“I remember,” he says, his smile faltering. “I was pissed at you because you kicked your way through my Lego Death Star, so I took Ironman and rode my bike out to Pine Point.” He swallows heavily. “And I threw him into the ocean.” He frowns at the memory. “I felt fucking terrible afterwards. I still do.”

“Yeah, and I was devastated when you told me. But you know what? I understood why you did it, and I loved you, so I forgave you. Sound familiar?”

“C’mon, man.” He runs a hand through his hair. “This isn’t two kids fighting over stupid toys.”

“He wasn’t a stupid toy to me, Link.” I say quietly. “I was ten, and he was all I had left of my father. You were just more important to me than anything else, especially that piece of shit.” I sigh heavily. “I feel like I’ve gotten to know Charlie pretty fucking well over the last few months, probably better than anyone but you. And the way her eyes light up when she talks about you—I know she hasn’t said it, but she loves you, dude. So much.” I huff a small laugh. “I’d be jealous if it was anyone but you. She needs you, Lincoln, and you sure as hell need her. So yeah, you’re right, I believe she’ll forgive you. I mean, someone in this little throuple we have going on has to be the optimistic one, right?”

“Ugh, gross,” Link says, giving me a mean side-eye. “Don’t call it that.”

I chuckle.

We lie in silence for a while before his head tilts to the side to rest against mine. He clears his throat.

“Trey…”

“Yeah?” I turn my face toward him, and my breath catches at the proximity of our lips—they’re practically touching, his breath coasting over my cheeks. His gray eyes bore into mine, and I stay completely still, unsure of his intent.

“I’m not very good at expressing myself like you are, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.” His voice is a low rumble, and I try to force my cock from responding to his proximity, but his body heat and the woodsy smell of his skin are doing weird things to my insides.

“I know, Link.” My voice sounds gruff. I nod as I say it, our lips brushing with the movement, and my heart starts pounding. Link’s gaze bounces between my eyes and my mouth, and my exhale stutters when he presses his mouth gently against mine.

I close my eyes, letting him lead as his soft lips slide against mine. It’s not aggressive and possessive like he often kisses Charlie—it’s hesitant and sweet, like he’s not sure it should be happening in the first place—but it makes me crave more. I push myself up, leaning over him to get a better angle, and I place one hand on his cheek, gently scratching Link’s stubble with the tips of my fingers.

He groans and pulls back, and we break apart, staring at each other in shock, panting quietly. I glance down at the evident bulge in his sweats. I mean, obviously, I knew that Link was cool sharing Charlie, and I even think he’s considered fooling around with me while she watches. But last I checked, he was still straight.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, but he doesn’t move, and the blush that rises to his cheeks is a-fucking-dorable.

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