Theo takes Leanne’s glass and folds her hand into his arm. “Before I start giving out names, I’ve got another for you to try—Petite Syrah, extremely robust.” He whisks her back to the bar, but not without giving Julian one last look that could only be described as a warning. A warning of what though?
“Hey, so you guys know each other, right?” Azzi asks, already looking around.
“Julian is my TA,” I practically squeak. I wished I still had wine to sip.
“Oh cool, good. So you guys talk for a minute and I’m just gonna go find that guy again—what was his name?”
“Doug,” I answer.
“Yeah, okay, so find like a corner or something? I’ll be back in a minute.” She spins around to walk away without further adieu.
I turn to Julian and smile awkwardly. I can’t gage how well he and Azzi know each other by the exchange I just witnessed—Azzi acts familiar with pretty much everyone. I hope he knows her well enough to know that about her. Otherwise he might think that her immediately leaving us alone together is because she knows about us having sex. However, asking him anything that might lead to enlightenment on these subjects is more mortifying than just being left to wonder so instead I say, “So, yoga?”
“Don’t tell, but I’m a virtuist at my core. My career obviously keeps me covered in the mind department and I think I’m doing all right with soul, but yoga, among other things”—there it is again, that twinkle, that silent laugh that can only exist between people who share secrets—“is how I cultivate my body. Have you ever tried it?”
“No,” I admit, as I back up to the staircase, which is the only corner-like part of the apartment that is not already inhabited.
“Well, what do you do to cultivate your body?” he asks, following me slowly, his lips curling up into a smirk that is somehow both fond and predatory.
“I uh, well, I…” I step backward onto the first stair. This makes me almost as tall as him, which, instead of making me feel less whatever I’m feeling, only makes the path between his lips and mine more direct. “I—I like to dance.”
“What sort of dancing?” he asks, his tone light and conversational. Maybe I am imagining that he’s just a little too close to me, that the way he followed me backward toward the stairs is anything other than what is necessary to continue a polite conversation.
“You know, just dancing.” I sort of laugh. “Like, I put on music when I’m alone in my room and just move to the beat. Even if it isn’t structured exercise, it’s definitely exercise.”
“That makes sense,” he echoes my words. This time I know I’m not imagining that playfully coy little quirk in his smile.
The most I can manage in response is to keep breathing. I used to think I was good at witty banter. I was wrong. Or at least, I’m not any good at it when the person I’m bantering with is so very kissable.
— Tristan —
I’ve got one eye on Roxanne Yang and the other on Julian and Mia. I wonder why Theo invited her. I’m pretty sure neither she nor her friend are prospectives.
I know that Theo and Julian have a beef, and judging by Theo’s reaction to his arrival, he did not know Julian was coming and is not happy about it. I can’t help but think that this is not a coincidence. Does Theo know something? And if so, what exactly? I need to know but I can’t ask him.
I glance to the left and see that Azar has captured Douglas Adams again. Azar could be a tap for any of the societies given her family’s wealth. It seems more likely that she was invited and brought her friends along rather than either of them being invited…I’ll just ask her about it. Doug is so stoned that as long as I’m subtle I should be able to ask what I need to in front of him without worrying that he’ll put together anything worth telling.
I wait for them to go back out onto the balcony. In preparation, I manage to steer Roxanne into conversation with Olivia Winthrop and Cameron Coulter, both rumored members of Scroll and Key. I get them talking about options in trademark law, a specialty that has made Olivia’s father one of the most successful lawyers in Manhattan.
It doesn’t take long for Azar and Doug to make their way back to the balcony. I wait a few minutes to ensure Roxanne is properly engaged. Our families have recently become entangled in a merger, and my mother would be furious if she heard anything to indicate I’d been less than a proper gentleman with Roxanne. Luckily, Olivia is good at making every bit of information she’s got sound juicy, and it’s been over a minute since Roxanne even glanced at me. I excuse myself to use the restroom, then maneuver a loop around the room so I can skirt out onto the balcony unseen.
I stand on the other side of Azar and hold my hand out for the joint. Over her head Doug and I exchange a nod. “S’up, Trissy?” Azar says as she passes the joint to me.
I hate being called Trissy. She knows this. “Just needed to be less sober.” I shrug, taking a drag. Doug always has the good stuff. “Didn’t know you were interested in joining?”
“I’m not,” Azar says. “My friend Leanne is, I guess. Theo invited her; I just came for the booze.” She jiggles her glass of tequila, which she carelessly dangles over the edge of the balcony.
“Leanne is the one who was invited?” I clarify, just to be sure.
“Yeah.” Azar shrugs. “She and Mia hung out with Theo and Chase the other night and hit it off. I didn’t know that Leanne was a prospective, but then again, I don’t really care about those things.”
“You’re really not going to take it if you get a tap? Even for Wolf’s?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Azar and others like her have always been somewhere between baffling and downright annoying to me. They take wealth and power for granted and aren’t interested in actually growing it themselves. Like they don’t realize they aren’t the ones who have the money and influence—their families are. The only way to truly have it is to be the one in control. To do that, you have to do more than just inherit, you have to play on the world board. Joining the right society is a very, very important step if that is your goal, as it is mine.
“I don’t think so.” She takes another drag, then hands the joint back to Doug. “I mean, maybe if I’m tapped, my intuition will lead me to follow, but I won’t know until I know.”
“Cheers to that,” I say, knocking my glass into hers. We both take a drink and then, staring out at the pedestrians below us, I say, “So either of you know why the TA is here? It’s pretty clear that this party is for prospectives, and he was never a member, right?”
“Oh, Julian? I invited him,” Azar says. “He’s my yoga buddy. I didn’t know this was a Key mixer, I thought it was just a philosophy nerd party, and he’s totally nerdy. You’re in Bogner’s class with Mia and Leanne, so you know him, too, right?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And your friends are in Berkeley with me, but other than that, I don’t really know them.”
I hyper-focus on her face, looking for any reaction to what I’ve said, hunting for any indication that she knows I’m lying. I get nothing, absolutely nothing. So Mia still hasn’t told her friends? What a good secret keeper. This helps me relax just a bit.
Doug passes me the joint again. Doug and I know each other because he went to Hotchkiss Prep with my cousin, where he knew everybody because he always had the best drugs. Clearly, nothing much has changed about him.
“So what’s your favorite yoga position?” he asks Azar, obviously horny. I guess they’ve never met before. Well, if they aren’t a stoner match made in heaven, I don’t know what is.
My mind quickly irons out the math of the information I’ve collected. So Mia and her friend Leanne were invited, and they invited Azar who invited Julian. Julian being here is complete coincidence, then, and it has nothing to do with Theo. Which means it is not an indication that Theo, or anyone else in the Brotherhood, knows about me and Julian.
Theo probably thinks I’m out to bone Mia; after all, I wasn’t exactly subtle at the Y.U.P.S. meeting. That shouldn’t matter though…unless th
at is the reason he invited her. If she’s not a prospective, why would he care if I’m trying to bone her?
Maybe her friend really is a prospective—I can’t see why though. She’s nothing special, no family background, no huge academic honors, nothing that should make the Brotherhood interested. Is it possible Mia is a prospective? Doesn’t seem likely, and she’s never been invited to one of these events before. Of course, neither has her friend…
And then the math starts to look bad:
So Theo’s interest in them must be because I showed up at the meeting. Maybe he’s trying to get information about me out of them? That could be very, very bad. Theo hates Julian, and my…extracurricular activities would cause problems under any circumstances, but the fact I’m with him would keep me out of Key. No question. Shit.
I immediately shut down this line of thought and take a deep breath. This is no time to panic. If Mia didn’t tell Azar then I doubt she told her other friend. If she had, it certainly would have shown at the Y.U.P.S. meeting. So I don’t really need to worry. Anyway this is exactly the reason I got blackmail on Mia in the first place. I should be fine.
Unless she’s so drunk that she’ll just not think about what she’s saying…Or unless there’s something in her drink that will make her not think about what she is saying. Double shit. Mia’s with Julian right now though. As long as she’s with Julian, Theo won’t ask her anything that could incriminate me. He won’t go near her, in fact.
I take another long drag of the joint. This stuff is strong. I hand it back to Azar. “Gotta get back to my date,” I say in parting. They both nod; obviously neither of them particularly care—they’re busy flirting.
I slip back inside. Roxanne is still talking to Olivia and Cameron. I make sure to stay out of her line of sight as I work my way back toward the kitchen. I don’t see Mia, Julian, or Theo. Fuck.
I work my way around the room, wishing I hadn’t taken that last drag. My brain is too fuzzy. Fuck, that stuff was really strong. I’ll have to get some from Doug.
I somehow manage to make it through the kitchen, the downstairs bedroom, scout past the bathroom, and circle through the living room without catching Roxanne’s eye—lucky me. Unfortunately, I don’t see Mia, Julian, or Theo anywhere, which means they either left or they went upstairs. It’s unlikely Mia left without her friends, so upstairs it is. Careful to make sure no one is watching me, I sneak up.
There is a loft area and three doors, all closed. There are only two people up here. I can’t see their faces because they’ve got them glued together, but I can tell from the backs of their heads that they aren’t my lovers and neither of them is Theo, so I don’t care.
I put my ear to the first door and hear nothing, so I gently knock. No response. I open it and discover that it is a closet. I do the same with the second—it’s an empty bedroom. The third, I do hear muffled voices from—too faint to make out the words or to distinguish whom they might belong to.
I hesitate before knocking. Given this is a party full of Keymen and prospective Keymen, I don’t want to walk in on anything that may cause problems for me in the coming weeks. However, for all I know, Julian left and Mia and Theo are in there and he’s asking her anything he can think of. That would do much more harm to my ambitions than interrupting before Theo found out anything—assuming he hasn’t already.
I knock on the door, prepared to play the harmless drunk looking for the bathroom if need be. The voices immediately quiet. This sends my paranoia through the roof. I open the door, my mind racing with all the ways to lie, misconstrue, and manipulate my way out of anything Mia might have said.
To my relief the first face I see is Julian’s, the second is Mia’s, and Theo is nowhere in sight. The two of them are sitting on a bed, close enough to each other that I might have walked in on something, but not something that has gone far enough for clothing to be removed. Mia’s hair looks just a little messed up though, messier than it did last time I saw her, and even in the dim light I can make out the bulge between Julian’s legs. I guess I did walk in on something.
“Dumb of you not to lock the door,” I drawl as my eyes shift from his crotch to hers.
Mia instantly flares up. “We didn’t lock it because we were waiting for Azzi and—and just talking.” She loses some of her gusto near the end though.
“Liar,” I state—it’s not even an accusation, just an observation.
“We were…” she weakly insists.
“We were,” Julian says, “...until we weren’t.”
His eyes beckon me toward them. I stand firmly where I am. This is the worst possible place to get wrapped up with them, no matter how appealing the idea might be.
As if Julian knows what I’m thinking he turns back to Mia and slides his hand up her thigh. Mia, to my great surprise, does not stop him or protest or do any of the things I’d expect. I guess she’s finished “thinking about it,” then.
I watch his fingers slide all the way up until they hook into her panties. Her fingers are in his hair, trailing up and down his neck as they slowly kiss. What is it about the way they kiss that instantly makes my balls tighten and my legs feel weak?
You need to turn around and walk away, the rational part of me insists. You’re in Roger’s apartment and half of this party is Keymen. This is not the place to get caught with Julian or have Mia freak out and run away because she can’t deal with the fact that she likes double dick.
But now he’s leaning her backward, and her thigh is rising. The lines where her thigh meets her pubic bone give way to slopes of flesh on either side, and I want to bite into that little dip. As she lands fully on the bed her dress pushes back and her pussy is obscured by only his fingers, reaching inside her tight little panties, which the not rational part of me wants to rip off with my teeth. Fuck.
— Mia —
I lean back onto the bed as Julian teases my entrance by sliding his fingers through my folds without actually slipping them in. I have definitely had enough to drink because I really don’t care that I’m about to have sex on a stranger’s bed while my friends are downstairs. I am even drunk enough that I don’t need to run the loop of all the reasons Tristan is too objectionable to have sex with before finally giving in. I am drunk enough that I can fully admit to myself that I want Julian and I want Tristan and the very idea of having both of them, either of them, watching them fuck each other, all of it, it all turns me on.
I moan as Julian lets go of my lips and latches onto the skin where my jaw and ear and neck meet. He’s so smart. He’s learned my body so well from only a few encounters. I wonder what he’ll learn from this one?
His fingers move just enough to capture the nub of my clit between his knuckles. He continues to rub up and down, up and down. I wonder if he could somehow know that he’s doing enough to make my thighs melt and my labia engorge and my entire reproductive system throb with desperation, but not enough to bring me all the way to orgasm.
His lips land back on mine. With one little swipe of his tongue, my lips part to welcome his kisses. I must be imagining the emotion they seem to hold. His kiss is soft and sweet, but it doesn’t need to be—right now, I don’t need to be coaxed. I know what I want.
I suck on his bottom lip a bit harder but then pull away. He half-opens his eyes and rolls over, letting me climb on top. I do, but only long enough to pull one last kiss from him. Then I stand and walk to Tristan.
Tristan’s face is almost pained. Torn. I wonder why he is hesitating now when he seemed so willing before.
I imagine that I am walking toward him slow and seductive, like Julian does, but I stumble and this makes me laugh. Considering my dress is still pushed up to my hips and what little makeup I put on has almost certainly smeared, I don’t think my attempt would have worked anyway. Thanks to my good friend vodka, instead of being mortified, I just laugh harder.
I stop barely an inch away from him, our bodies perfectly aligned. My giggles fade, but my smile stays. I touch his st
omach with the tips of my fingers and run my hands up his chest. They are almost to his neck when he catches them.
I rock onto the balls of my feet and lean in. My nose brushes his, but he pulls back. “What’s wrong?” I ask, as if we have the sort of relationship in which I would care and he would answer.
“This is a bad time,” he whispers, his voice tense.
“I thought you wanted to do this again,” I object, confused.
“I do,” he groans.
“Why are you whispering?” I giggle. “The music is loud!”
“Shhh,” he hisses, his face twisting up with worry and even a touch of anger. I almost giggle again, but instead I push forward and up. This time I catch his lips. He pushes back against mine for just a second before breaking the kiss.
His hands still on my wrists, he forces me back, putting several inches between us. He looks over my head and says, “Julian…”
I turn around and mimic him. “Julian…what’s wrong with Tristan?”
Julian sits up and I see his pants are now completely open and he’s freed his rock-hard cock. His coppery eyes shift between us but land on Tristan’s. “No one saw us come in here,” he says.
“How can you be sure?” Tristan demands quietly.
“I’m always watching. I know how much it matters to you,” Julian replies, his voice steady as he very deliberately strokes himself. My eyes fixate on this and the urge to shove his cock down my throat fills me.
I turn back to Tristan. “Why do you care if people know you’re bi?” I ask. “This is the twenty-first century. It’s legal. No one really cares anymore.”
Tristan’s eyes harden. “Some people still care,” he says cryptically.
I think that if I wasn’t drunk it would occur to me that what Tristan just said matters. However, I am drunk, and Julian has me really worked up, so the rest of me decides that whatever Tristan is saying is just words getting in the way of what I really want, which is for both of us to be closer to Julian, with less clothes. So I say:
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