THREE MONTHS LATER

Did you know spring makes you horny as fuck?

It used to be that I was just always the same amount of horny, but I’ve noticed I’m getting into a primal groove this spring with the warming weather. Which is awesome except when it’s not. Like, for instance, when you can’t stop stealing glances of your hot boyfriend in the locker room.

We’ve kept things chill in public still. Honestly, I probably don’t care if the whole school thinks I’m gay, but I do worry about what the whole school will think of my girlfriend for being with both of us and Fletch for being bisexual too. He’s on the law school track, man. He’s going to want a job in the spotlight or maybe even politics still. And I don’t want to go to prison for attacking someone for slut shaming Penelope which seems to be what they do to girls a lot.

I never paid that much attention to it before, but now I sense that most people have some kind of barometer for how much they think a girl can like sex before she registers in their Slut Zone. Dudes are the worst about it. They don’t want frigid girls, but they don’t want the chicks they bang to be dirtier than they are either. I’m the opposite. I’ve always liked the girls who get their freak on. Now that I’m in love, that hasn’t changed. I want her to be wild. I want Fletch to be wild. I want us to always be freaky—but I get that things will slow down some. Which is why I want us to be as freaky as we can get now.

I’m sure I’ll get my wish later tonight. But right now, it’s spring, I’m horny, and Penelope is trying to reach a box of pasta on the grocery shelf that is way to high for her. Her shirt is riding up and her ass looks perfect in her jeans, and I can’t stop myself from sliding my arm around her waist and rubbing my already hard dick on her backside while I grab the pasta for her as I grind.

She giggles. “Perv.”

“You ever do it in the bathroom of a grocery store?”

“Gross. No. And you know that since I’ve only ever done it with you in the room.”

I nuzzle her sweet-smelling neck. “We need to find Fletch and get this trip done faster. I want to go home and put the salami away.”

“You are twelve.” She turns in my arms and kisses me.

“Oh my God. Are you kissing your best friend’s girlfriend?

Shit. It’s Aylie, the coach’s daughter. And Coach standing there with her.

Fletch rounds the corner with the bread and stops. “Hey Coach. Aylie.”

She points to me. “Your best friend was just macking on your girlfriend.”

“Aylie,” her dad intones, “this is none of our business. Go get the things on your mom’s list.”

“Dad! He deserves to know they are cheating on him.”

“It’s not our business.”

Fletch puts the bread in our cart and lets out a heavy sigh. He’s weighing the situation carefully, like he always does, but I see the determination in his eyes. I tell him with my eyes to shut it.

Dude, let it go, I beg without talking.

It’s time. We don’t need to live a lie, he answers.

Let’s talk this through first.

He shakes his head. “Coach,” he says aloud, “Shane and Penelope are not cheating on me. The three of us are involved in a relationship.”

Coach is a solid dude. A man’s man. I’m not sure how this is going to go. He clears his throat. “What are you saying, son?”

“We’re in love with each other. All three of us.” Holy shit. That was me. I said it.

“Oh my God,” Aylie says, her jaw dropping open. “You’re gay?”

“Aylie, let me handle this,” her dad tells her, and his voice is one you don’t mess with. When she’s gone, he folds his arms across his chest. Little bit seems intimidated, so I grab her hand. Coach clears his throat again. “Guys on the team know?”

“No, sir,” Fletch answers. “It’s really no one’s business but our own.”

“You got that right. But it’s going to get out now. My daughter is probably already texting anyone she thinks will care.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You best keep it together for the season. I don’t want any romance drama keeping us out of the playoffs. So, if you’re going to break up, do it after season is over.”

“Sir?”

“I mean it. I don’t give a shit what happens at your house, but you bring any crying to mine, we’ll have problems. You can do whatever you want after we win, but until then, you two better do everything you can to get along. Take care of your girl and keep the drama out of the locker room.”

“Yes, sir.”

He rolls his eyes at us and moves along. My heart beats fast in a delayed adrenaline rush.

“Did he just tell us we can’t break up?” I ask.

“I think so,” Fletch answers.

“Well, I guess you’re stuck with us for the season, little bit.”

“Is he always so imposing?” she asks, taking my hoody out of the cart and putting it on like she’s cold. It’s adorably huge on her, but I like seeing her in my gear.

“Yep,” Fletch says. “He’s right about Aylie. She’s still in high school, but she goes to a lot of parties on campus. You know it’s out now, right?”

Penelope shrugs. “I know you guys are worried about me, but really, I’m sleeping with two totally hot jocks who love me. I don’t think I’m going to deal with more than jealousy.”

“We are really doing this?” I ask, still astounded even after the last six months that it’s working so well. That they both still love me. That I am actually good at being in love.

“You heard the man,” Fletch says and slaps my ass. “We’re together now whether we want to be or not. Your ass is mine through the season.”

***

THREE MONTHS LATER

Of course, it’s not always easy.

We took a bit of shunning from some of the guys on the team. Penelope doesn’t talk about it, but I know she hates going to parties now because when we walk in, it’s like a record scratches and the topic of conversation becomes our sex life.

There are people who I thought would be cool and weren’t, and people who I thought would be douche canoes who didn’t give two shits about us. We didn’t make the playoffs, but I don’t really think anyone thought we would.

I’m doing the summer semester of school, so I don’t have to go home. Fletch comes home to me on the weekends when he’s off from his summer job in his dad’s office and Penelope comes home on her two days off from the Pizza Hut where she works. They don’t always overlap, so it’s been a few weeks since the three of us have been together.

I’d like to say that I’m totally cool with everything, but being alone so much and not being with both of them together in so long is starting to make me doubt more than I should. I’m supposed to be strong, right? Why am I acting like such a pansy-ass?

I get a text from Pen: Do you ever go outside?

What?

I hear a tap on the kitchen window. Then another. It sounds like someone is throwing rocks at the glass. I open the back door to yell at some kids and find the loves of my life sitting on a blanket in the backyard. Fletch lets go of the pebbles he’s been tossing to get my attention.

“What are you guys doing here?” I say, hoping they don’t hear how my voice choked up a little there at the end.

“Okay, we’re not as good at planning these things as you are,” Pen says, “but I think we did a good job. Come sit.”

I kiss them both and look at the spread. There is wine, cheese, and crackers. But I don’t even care. They’re both here. “I thought you had to work.”

Fletch rummages around the basket. “Shit I forgot the knife. Dude, how do you always remember all the stuff for surprises? It took us a long time to manage this much. Oh, and we both arranged some time off so we could surprise you.”

Pen crawls across the blanket and lays her head in my lap. “It’s been too long.”

It has. Everything seems right again. We lounge on the blanket for a long time just hanging out. This is perfect. Everything I want. I mean, I want sex, too, in a little while. But this, the three of us, feels like all the pieces of me come back together again.

I don’t know how something like this works in the forever world. It seems like we still have a lot of shit we’ll need to go through, but if we can always come back to this, this inedible cheese, bad wine, too many ants yet perfect picnic in the backyard, then life is just going to work out fine, isn’t it?