Three-Way Split

by Elia Winters

  As she drove home, Mitchell and Ben following close behind, her decision settled more comfortably on her shoulders. They would fuck, and she’d make sure she could enjoy the sex without having feelings attached to it. She’d had a lot of meaningless sex in her day; what was another fling? Enough of these long, soul-baring conversations. She didn’t want to end up needing Ben and Mitchell for more than friendship and warming her bed. She needed only herself.

  The queasiness in her stomach was just from anticipation.

  The night was cold, and the wind whipped around Hannah as she found her keys in her coat pocket and unlocked the front door. Her hands were shaking. That was weird. She should be excited about the upcoming sex, not nervous. She’d already made up her mind, and Ben and Mitchell were getting out of their car behind her. The ship had sailed.

  She put on a smile as she turned on the lights to her living room. Ben and Mitchell followed in behind her, taking off coats and shoes, doing the regular shuffle of getting into a warm place after being cold outside. This was what it would look like if they lived together: they would each do this same shuffle after work, coming into their home, settling in, the three of them hanging out like a different style of family unit.

  The thought made her breath catch in her throat. But no. She was putting those ideas aside. No risk of failure, no risk of depending on someone who would decide she wasn’t worth the effort. There were reasons to keep her emotions closed away. Surely she was making these choices for her own good.

  Mitchell didn’t resist as she stepped in and kissed him. After a second, he stepped back, using a hand on her shoulder to keep her away.

  “Wait. Don’t you think we should talk, after that workshop?” He looked over at Ben, who gave a slight nod. “That was a lot. I feel like we should talk about this thing between us. Clarify what we want.”

  “I don’t want to talk.” Hannah licked her lips. “I think we’ve been talking too much lately. Can’t we just have fun?” A panicked desperation was welling up inside her, that longing to feel instead of think. “Ben? What do you say?” Ben had always been the one who put his emotions aside. He kept his distance. He would be with her in this. She reached out for him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him even closer.

  Ben shrugged. “If she doesn’t want to talk, Mitchell, she doesn’t want to talk.”

  Mitchell took Hannah’s face in his hands, studying her, his eyes only a few inches away from hers, their noses nearly brushing. He had the look like he wanted to say something else, but instead he only kissed her, bruisingly hard, holding her in place. The power he exuded weakened her knees and sent shivers racing down her spine. Yes, this was what she wanted. She reached up to grip his arms for balance.

  The kiss ended, and she wanted more. Reaching over to one side, she grabbed Ben instead, dragging his mouth down to hers. Mitchell was so close she could feel him, and she pulled at him as well, her movements awkward as she fumbled both men closer. The need to feel them here, the solidity of their presence, rose like a living thing inside her.

  She wanted this. And she wanted it tomorrow, and next week, and forever. Fuck, she was thinking of forever. This desire running rampant through her veins wasn’t just for pleasure, for sexual release, but for the intimate closeness, both physical and emotional. Maybe instead, she could lose herself in this moment. Maybe sex would be enough to quiet her brain. Maybe right now, maybe forever, this could be enough.

  …

  Damn, Mitchell should have known this was going to be a bad idea. Hannah was acting like there was a wall between them. She’d been closed off since the last part of the workshop, and now she was groping them like some kind of lust-filled animal. He didn’t want this, or at least, he didn’t want to limit their relationship to this, as much as he tried to convince himself that sex was almost as good as love. Worst of all, though, Ben seemed fine with this parody of what they’d shared together before.

  Now, as he tumbled into Hannah’s bed with her and Ben, his physical desires waned against the empty feeling inside his heart. God, he shouldn’t push this. That emptiness represented everything he wanted and couldn’t have. The people in his life were giving him something, friendship and sex, and that was more than some people ever got. Wanting something different was selfish. Fuck every single part of him that wanted something other than this. If this was what the other two wanted, he would have to be all right with it.

  Hannah was amazing. She was smart, independent, and strong-willed, and she challenged him. He had seen what was possible for all of them today in that workshop. They could have something special, the three of them together. Instead, though, she didn’t want to talk. She seemed to want…less than before.

  Hannah rolled over and faced him, her eyes bright and her hair loose and wild across the pillow. God, she was beautiful, and her beauty hit him again as though it were the first time. Now, reaching out to kiss her, a thought came to mind that this might be the last time he ever did so. He tasted her lips, opened her mouth with his, delved inside while he held her body against his. Ben moved on the other side of her, his hands skimming over her skin as well.

  Could he forget himself in her body like this? If he tried to quiet his mind, maybe he could let go and just give in to his desire to fuck her. His dick could lead the way. Lots of guys let their dicks take over. Ben probably did it most of the time.

  The thought about Ben brought him up short, too. His body was still going through the motions of kissing Hannah, but his mind raced with thoughts about Ben kissing Hannah as well, Ben sharing this woman with him. God, he wanted that. Why couldn’t he be satisfied with what he was getting?

  He broke the kiss and slid off the bed all in one motion, because if he didn’t do it all at once, he might not do it at all, and he wanted to be done with this.

  Hannah gaped up at him, blinking heavy-lidded eyes in confusion, and Ben looked equally baffled by his sudden move.

  “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. Now that he was out of the bed, he had to get out immediately. At least they were still all fully clothed.

  “What’s wrong?” Hannah propped herself up on one elbow. “Where are you going? Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” Mitchell ran a hand through his hair. “Tonight, all that conversation, I need to think. I can’t just”—he gestured at them—“do this. Without talking about anything first.”

  He paused, halfway to the door. Shit. He was Ben’s ride home.

  Ben seemed to read his mind. “I can call a cab or something.”

  “I can give you a ride.” Hannah touched Ben’s arm, and the casual intimacy of her gesture made Mitchell ache. He wanted more, and she barely wanted anything…or at least, maybe not with him.

  “Okay. Ben, I’ll…see you.” It was an awkward exit, and he felt awkward as hell rushing down the stairs like he was fleeing some kind of scene of a crime, or trying to get out of a lover’s house before their spouse came home, complete with the wave of shame and guilt. He pulled on shoes and coat at the door, not wanting to linger in case he was stopped, but also…well, also kind of hoping they would stop him. He even paused a moment, keys in hand, just to hear if there were sounds upstairs. If he took his time, they could change their minds and come down and stop them. Was that the sound of someone standing up? A creak of hardwood floor? He waited another second, then one more. No one came to the stairs. No one raced down to beg him to stay.

  He left.

  The ride home was filled with the silence of the aftermath. He hadn’t even been in Hannah’s house long enough for the car to cool off. He turned on the heater, and the immediate warmth felt somehow even more humiliating. He hadn’t been able to see it through. He hadn’t had the strength, or fortitude, or whatever it was to be able to just have meaningless sex. Wasn’t this what guys did? Weren’t his former girlfriends always calling him emotionally unavailable? He had never had a real relationship with a guy, but he’d had plenty of short-term sex with them, and they n
ever seemed interested in more, so he hadn’t pursued it. Maybe he would have failed at that, too. Damn him and his needy emotional bullshit.

  Mitchell slowed down for a couple of pedestrians in the crosswalk. The couple in the road held hands, bathed in the light from streetlamps, laughing and talking in casual conversation. Past them, more couples walked along the sidewalks. Everywhere, couples—couples on the sidewalk, couples going into bars and shops, pairs of people wherever he looked.

  A honk behind him broke his train of thought. Right; he was still sitting at crosswalk, so he pulled forward and drove on into the night. It would be weird for three of them to be together, anyway. This was a world for couples, not triads. Hannah didn’t want to date him. And Ben… Whatever Ben might be feeling, he hadn’t responded to Mitchell’s confession of love.

  Right now, Hannah and Ben were probably fucking in ecstasy on the bed he had just vacated, enjoying the casual freedom of sex without consequences. He, the brokenhearted idiot that he was, was driving home alone instead.

  …

  The closing door reverberated all throughout the house. Hannah and Ben had stopped all sexual activity, lying in the same positions they had been in when Mitchell left the room. She was sitting half upright and Ben was sprawled beside her, propped up on his elbows. The silence left behind was deafening. She shifted, and the bed squeaked, but Mitchell didn’t come back upstairs. She waited for him to come back. Surely he would do what people did in the movies and run back into the room to kiss her and make love to her.

  The thought of that idea, him making love to her, shook her as she sat silently in bed.

  When the silence became too much, when it was clear that no one was coming back for them, they each moved on some unspoken signal. Ben scooted up to lean back against the headboard, and she joined him.

  Ben turned to Hannah. “I know why he’s gone.” He didn’t need to ask if she did, too.

  “He shouldn’t want something different.” Hannah had been very clear to him from the beginning. “He understood what he was getting into. Right? You both knew.”

  “We all knew.” Ben reached out and touched her hand, his large fingers resting lightly on hers. “But shit’s changed. You can’t pretend everything’s the same as it was. And honestly, whatever you’re trying to do here, it isn’t gonna work for me, either. Mitchell was just braver than me to leave.”

  Hannah turned her hand over, their palms touching lightly. She stared at their hands together and finally let out a sigh.

  “Is this really what you want?” Ben closed his hand around hers, holding her gently but firmly.

  His expression was so earnest, so honest, that she wanted to cry. Emotion clogged her chest, rushing in thick and fast. Her words sounded foggy. “I thought so.”

  “Do you know how I feel about you?” Ben asked, but she wasn’t ready to hear that, and she shook her head.

  “Please don’t. I can’t.” She kept shaking her head like the shaking might clear it, as if her brain were an Etch A Sketch. “I thought… This was supposed to be fine.” She looked up at Ben, and although she didn’t ask it, the question lingered in her mouth. Why isn’t this fine?

  “Maybe this isn’t right for us. It’s too soon.” He squeezed her hand again before releasing it, disentangling their fingers. “We’ve had a lot going on lately.”

  Hannah laughed, self-deprecating, her own annoyance coming through. “I can’t even do fuck buddies right.”

  “Some people aren’t meant for that.” Ben shrugged. “Not everybody enjoys casual sex.”

  “I’ve always enjoyed it in the past.” She could probably name a dozen guys she’d slept with and everything had turned out fine, exactly as casual and fun as she had wanted it to be. Sure, they hadn’t exactly known what they were doing, and she hadn’t wanted to see any of them a second time, but she had kept her bed warm and she could have orgasms if she wanted them.

  “People change.”

  The simple statement was too trite for her wealth of emotions right now. “So what? We just stop? We leave each other alone?”

  “Maybe we just need some distance to sort things out.” Ben got to his feet.

  Hannah nodded. It would be for the best. She was going to have to put all her attention into finding a job, anyway, when her business went under.

  Their goodbye was casual, too casual, impermanent and awkward. In the aftermath, the house was silent.

  God, the house was silent.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The lights were still on when Ben got home. He sat in the driveway looking at the windows of the condo. Mitchell wasn’t in bed. It was late, yeah, but the lights were on, and Mitchell didn’t leave the lights on when he wasn’t awake. Ben had been awash with feelings ever since leaving Hannah’s, his brain running through everything he had to say, but now that he was sitting in the taxi waiting to go inside, all his emotions had coalesced into fear.

  Now that wasn’t going to do at all. He took two deep breaths. Buck up, soldier.

  Inside, Mitchell was cooking.

  Mitchell couldn’t have arrived home that long ago, but he was already in the middle of some kind of chili, grinding steak into hamburger, onions sweating down in a saucepan on the stove, mise en place laid out in tiny glass bowls along the kitchen counter. The aroma was fantastic. Those must be tomatoes roasting in the oven.

  Mitchell seemed surprised to see him. Not just surprised but shocked, stopping midmince with his hands full of steak.

  “Hello?” Ben ducked and tipped his head to the side. “You seem really surprised to see me. You forget I still live here?”

  “I thought you would still be at Hannah’s.” Mitchell went back to his steak, and for a few minutes, the roar of the stand mixer’s grinding attachment drowned out any possibility of conversation. Ben pulled up a chair at the table, because he was going to be here for a while.

  When the meat had been ground, Ben was finally able to talk and be heard again. “I left.”

  “I see that. Things not take very long?” Mitchell steadily didn’t make eye contact.

  Ahh, a bit of passive aggression. “Mitchell, can we talk?”

  Mitchell glanced up from the onions he was stirring in their pan. “Sure. Talk to me.”

  “I mean together. Can you put this all on pause?”

  Mitchell stopped stirring the onions and looked hard at Ben, as if sizing up whether this conversation was really a conversation he wanted to have at all. After a minute, he nodded and sighed.

  “Okay. I can stop some of it. Give me ten minutes to get the onions off the heat and let the tomatoes finish roasting. Those can rest while we talk.”

  Ben had nothing to do, then, but watch him cook. This wasn’t a luxury he allowed himself very often. Mitchell was so composed, completely in his element right now: stirring the onions, then peeking in at the tomatoes.

  Ben really should have figured out his feelings for Mitchell a long time ago. Maybe if he hadn’t been so obtuse, this would all have been simpler. But there was no denying what needed to be said.

  After washing up, Mitchell flopped down on the couch. Ben came and joined him, making Mitchell move over to make room for him.

  “I couldn’t stay with Hannah tonight.” Ben pressed his palms into his jeans, grounding himself. “Neither could you. It isn’t because you don’t care about her. Why is it?”

  Mitchell made a face. “You said you wanted to talk. I didn’t realize you wanted to interrogate me.”

  “Please, just answer me.”

  Mitchell sighed. “It feels awful trying to have casual sex with her like I don’t care about her.”

  “I feel the same way.” Ben nodded. “I don’t want to pretend.”

  Mitchell hesitated, waiting for more. “Okay.”

  “But this isn’t about Hannah.” Ben took a deep breath. He wasn’t the kind of guy who read emotions as challenging to his masculinity, but damn, feelings were not helping him get this out. “I was thinking on th
e way home that it’s weird to not be able to have casual sex with Hannah when you and I have been fucking that way for years.”

  Mitchell nodded. “Yeah. But it’s different with guys.”

  “Why?”

  Mitchell hesitated. “I don’t know. I just assumed it was.”

  Ben was going to have to circle around this topic from a different angle. He thought back to their early days together, when he was trying to get himself back on his feet and Mitchell was there, no questions asked, to give support and advice and not judge him. After that were their early restaurateur days and the difficulties of getting started, the way they felt like it was them against the world. Then there was the first time he offered Mitchell some casual sex and the way Mitchell had gone with it, the two of them fitting together in bed as naturally as if they were born for it.

  “Mitchell, I’m in love with you.”

  Mitchell froze. His reaction wasn’t laughter, as Ben had feared, or anger, as Ben had also feared, but neither was it tearful realization or obvious joy. Instead, his expression shifted to utter disbelief. Overtalking at this point wouldn’t be good, but damn, he had to give Mitchell at least a little bit more.

  “I realized today at the polyam workshop that you’re the person I’m closest to. It’s friendship, but it’s also different than friendship. I don’t know how long it’s been since it was ever just friendship. I think I’ve been in love with you for years and have been in denial about it. And then you said it last week, and I just wasn’t ready to face it.”

  Mitchell swallowed, then swallowed again. God, Ben could read a lot of emotions in the minutiae of Mitchell’s twitches, but this was hard even for him.

  Mitchell looked down at his hands. “Why were you in denial?”

  “Shit, you know everything with Vivian. She broke my heart. And when things ended with her, I lost one of my best friends.”