by S. E. Law
9
Violet
I’ve been happy before, but never like this.
Maybe that’s selfish to say. Maybe I should be more grateful for how idyllic my childhood was. Maybe I should remember all the fun I’ve had with my friends, or how I’ve always adored the hustle and bustle of New York City. Blissful memories twinkle like stars in my mind; I should look up at them more often, and show gratitude on a daily basis.
But this happiness is different. The ecstasy I’ve experienced in the past month with Mike and Scott makes everything else seem to pale in comparison. The utter euphoria that overwhelms me when I’m in their arms is like nothing I’ve ever felt. I couldn’t have even imagined this kind of happiness, couldn’t have dreamed it. It’s almost indescribable.
I’m in love with both of them. I know I am. I can tell by the way my heart races when Scott looks at me a certain way, or when Mike aims his signature half-smile at me. I don’t love one of them more than the other, either--my feelings are just as immense for each of them, as if they both consume half of my heart. Both of them make me want to be a better person, and somehow, bring out the best in me no matter the circumstances.
They treat me, after all, like I’m an angel descended from the heavens. They’re always complimenting my looks, or my intelligence, or laughing at my dumb jokes. They open doors and pull out chairs for me to sit in. They cook delicious meals at their apartments--we alternate each week from Mike’s to Scott’s--and if we all sleep in the same bed, they claim my body from either side. Mike and Scott treat me like a precious object, like someone to be cherished. In short, they make me feel worthy.
It’s been hard to keep the secret from my parents. Rose and Wilbur still call once or twice a week, usually to ask how my weight loss is going. Never have our conversations been more annoying, but I’m learning to let it go. In the grand scheme of things, an extra twenty pounds doesn’t matter. I still shudder at our last conversation though.
“How are things?” Rose asked.
“Fine,” I say.
“What does that mean?” my mom quips.
“Just fine!” I chirp. I used to be annoyed by her constant badgering, but now, I’m learning to let it roll off my back. I haven’t lost a single ounce since the beginning of the semester, but Mike and Scott worship my every curve.
“You sound different,” my mom worries, her voice a bit suspicious. “You sound happier. What is it? Are classes going well?”
“Super well!” I enthuse.
“And Kristy’s a good roommate?”
“The best.”
“Violet,” she says then, her tone growing hushed, “have you met a boy?”
I laugh. Clearly, Rose is still hoping I’ll get my MRS degree at college. “Nope!” I say. It’s not even a lie. I haven’t met a boy. Instead, I’ve met two fully-grown, smoking hot, better-than-my-daydreams men.
It’s not even just the sex, although that, of course, has been mind-blowing. It’s how much Mike and Scott respect and admire me. They look out for me, helping me with my homework and providing much-needed life advice. When I was struggling to decide what to major in, we put our heads together and made a list of subjects in which I was particularly interested. (To their chagrin, astronomy was not on the list.) I remembered that I used to love reading medieval fantasy books as a kid and still had a lot of lingering interest in the Middle Ages.
“Is that something I can actually study?” I asked at Mike’s kitchen table.
He laughed. “You can study whatever you want!” he said.
“If we can study space, you can study European history,” Scott confirmed.
Suddenly, I was actually excited about school again. I never hated class, but it was becoming boring drudgery instead of something interesting to look forward to. Plus, I wouldn’t have reached a major decision without Scott and Mike’s guidance. Each and every aspect of my life seems better because of their influence.
I’m even having better hair days, I think as I scrutinize myself in the mirror. It’s true. My brown curls spring with life, and the natural golden highlights gleam softly. Could it be the sex doing it? I ask with a smile. Does that affect your hair?
But then I giggle. I’m getting away with myself. Mike and Scott and I are having a date night in public tonight, and it’s important to look pretty. Usually we just have dinner and watch a movie at one of their apartments, but we decided to go to an actual restaurant this evening. The place has a small back room that we were able to reserve, so we won’t risk anyone seeing us. I worry sometimes that Mike and Scott are bothered by having to keep things so discreet, but if they are, they haven’t said anything. I’m just glad that I’m able to confide in Kristy.
As I’m spritzing my favorite perfume on my neck, my roomie strolls into our dorm room. “You look amazing!” she enthuses.
“You think so?” I ask, and do a little spin to show off my outfit. I’m wearing a little black dress, patterned tights, and booties. My hair curls all the way down my back, held back only by a black satin headband. I even broke out the red lipstick--long-wearing and kiss-proof, of course.
“What’s the occasion?” Kristy asks, plopping down onto her bed.
I can’t help but smile. “I’m having dinner with Mike and Scott at that new Italian place down the street. They have a back room so no one will see us.”
For a split second, an emotion I can’t place flits across Kristy’s face. It isn’t the excited grin I was expecting from her. Instead, it’s something far more strange. Her brows furrow and her lips twist into a sneer. Could she be jealous?
It’s gone, though, as quickly as it came. I shake my head a little. Maybe I was imagining it.
“That sounds nice!” Kristy says, with no hint of anything but excitement in her voice. I frown at myself in the mirror, feeling guilty for thinking that my best friend would be anything but supportive of me. I definitely imagined her sneer and put it out of my mind.
“I think it will be,” I say. “Are you doing anything fun tonight?”
Kristy holds up her laptop and grins. “Just watching Netflix instead of studying.”
I laugh. “Sounds like a good time. No dates tonight?”
“Um, no,” Kristy says, staring at her laptop. “Haven’t had one for about a week or so.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling a little bad that I haven’t noticed. “I’m sorry. I’m sure the boys will be banging down your door again soon.”
She nods but her expression is distracted as she surfs Netflix, trying to find something interesting to watch. Meanwhile, I grab my purse and coat and head out the door, saying a quick goodbye. My mind’s eye betrays me and for a moment, I see Kristy’s sneering face again. I hesitate for a second, almost turning back to say something. But then, I shake my head and close the door behind me. It was just my imagination, I’m sure.
“Are you going to try this?” Scott asks.
“If you insist,” I reply with a smile.
I swirl my fork into a pile of pasta and stick it in my mouth. I melt immediately. There are few things I love more than butter and carbs, and enjoying butter and carbs alongside my two favorite men is nothing short of heaven.
The restaurant has only been open a few weeks and we were lucky to snag one of their back rooms. The lighting is dim and moody, casting Mike and Scott in a sexy glow. My men have never looked more handsome in their black jackets, with the white of their collars emphasizing the strong bronze of their throats. I long to press my mouth to those throats but giggle again, knowing my time will come later in the evening.
“This is amazing,” I sigh happily.
“What, us being together or the pasta?” Mike retorts.
“Why not both?”
Mike reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. “I agree,” he says with a dazzling grin. “Although us being together definitely trumps the pasta.”
“Ehhh...” I say, appearing unconvinced, and we laugh again.
“I have definitely
carb-loaded today,” Scott says, leaning back in his chair to place his hands on his muscular stomach. “But it feels good.”
“You have to sometimes,” Mike says. “Just for the nutrients, if nothing else.”
“I do it all the time,” I chime in with a smile. “Pasta is my favorite!”
Both men eye my luscious curves appreciatively and a flush forms on my chest.
“And it looks amazing on you, sweetheart. By the way, are we going to get some dessert?” Mike growls, looking hopeful.
“Yes please!” I cry, grabbing at the menu. There’s a chocolatey-cherry cheesecake, or ice cream with warm fudge, or some kind of bread pudding that looks absolutely divine. My mouth waters at the thought of any of them gracing my plate.
“As soon as the waiter comes back,” I say, “tell him we want… um…”
“One of each?” Mike suggests.
Scott looks skeptical, but I clap my hands in childish glee. “One of each! One of each!”
“I guess there are three of us, so it could work,” Scott says, and Mike and I high-five in victory.
I especially love the rapport that we have as a group. One minute, we’re joking and teasing each other like best friends. The next, one of their hands is on my inner thigh under the table, making my heart beat faster and my face blush furiously. I’m so grateful that we’re comfortable enough to be friends and passionate enough to be lovers. I’ve never quite experienced this type of perfect relationship balance, and it’s everything for which I could have hoped.
“Flag the waiter when he comes back in,” Mike says to Scott, who’s facing the door. He nods. But then a shadow appears, and the blood drains from Scott’s face. The handsome man’s jaw stiffens visibly and he sits up straight.
“You’re not the waiter,” he growls, hackles rising.
Mike and I turn around.
“OMG!” I gasp, staring at our new visitors. After all, the man standing in the doorway is definitely not the waiter. Instead, it’s the Dean of the school, with his bald head and frumpy brown suit.
Even more odd, standing by his side is my friend Kristy. What is she doing here? But then her expression gets ugly and she points and accusatory finger at me.
“I told you!” Kristy shouts, as Dean Horton tactfully closes the door behind him so that we still have some privacy. Mike and Scott have both immediately risen to their feet, but I’m glued to my chair in shock. What the hell is the Dean doing here, and why is Kristy glaring at me so viciously?
“I told you!” Kristy repeats, stamping her foot like a petulant child. Her hair has escaped the bun on top of her head, and her face is flushed. She looks like she ran the whole way here. She whirls to face the Dean. “They’re all fucking each other and flaunting it in public!”
Even though I’m sitting down, I worry, for a moment, that I might faint. My blood sounds like an ocean roaring in my ears, and my arms and hands begin to tingle as my stomach sinks. Scott and Mike place protective hands on my shoulders, but I feel tears welling up in my eyes. Nothing they can do can protect me from the pain of betrayal from my best friend in the world.
Meanwhile, Kristy continues yelling as the Dean tries to calm her down. Why is she so angry? Why did she rat me out? But then I remember the ugly look that flashed on her face today. Maybe I should have been more wary, and less trusting. Maybe I should have been less naïve, but never in a billion years would I have expected Kristy to do this to me. We’re best friends. Why would she suddenly turn against me?
“Kristy?” I croak from a dry throat. She swings her gaze to me and it’s so nasty and filled with hatred that I can’t help but shrink back.
“This is all your fault,” she hisses. “If you weren’t such a slut, I wouldn’t have to do this.”
I recoil as if I’ve been slapped. Only Mike and Scott’s hands on my shoulders keep me from falling out of my chair.
“What? Why are you doing this?!” I cry, but she just looks away, refusing to meet my gaze.
“I’m sorry to bother you, Professors Kamp and Mason,” the Dean finally says, looking at Scott and Mike in turn. “But I hope you realize how inappropriate it is for you to have a relationship with a student.”
“We never intended to cause any trouble,” Scott begins, his large hand still tight on my shoulder. “We did everything we could to keep this private, between us. Certainly we have a right to a personal life.”
“Yes, but if other people were to find out about this, it could tear the school apart,” the Dean shakes his head. “You have to understand my concern, gentlemen.”
“And you have to understand ours,” Mike retorts. “Why did this young woman come to you to blab about our private lives?”
“It was my duty to the school,” Kristy retorts, looking prim. “I’m doing the right thing! I’m upholding the honor of NYU!”
I finally find the strength to stand, and to speak. “You’re just jealous,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry that Nolan hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend. I’m sorry you’re sleeping with a ton of guys, and none of them seem to want you. I’m sorry that you’re a big fat zero when it comes to long-term relationships, while I have two men who adore me. But maybe you should be more careful with whom you share your body. I know that has to be really hard to hear, and I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but it seems that you’ve been a whore and are upset about not getting your way.”
“Shut up!” Kristy shouts, her face red and mottled with rage. “You’re the whore! Seriously, sleeping with our professors, and two of them, at that! You should be ashamed of yourself, slut!”
I can think of plenty more risqué things that Kristy has done in her life, and my mouth pops open as I prepare to list them all. But then Scott gently squeezes my shoulder, and I take a deep breath instead. I don’t want to sink to her level.
It suddenly dawns on me, though, that I have the solution to all of this. After all, I made the decision to be with Scott and Mike after careful deliberation. By no means did I leap in with my eyes closed and it seems my preparation will pay off.
“Well before you accuse me of more misdeeds,” I say. “I want to say my piece. It doesn’t matter that I’m dating Professors Kamp and Mason because I’m not actually their student. I’m only auditing Astro 1.”
“What?!” Kristy shrieks, her eyes bugging out. “But you’ve been going to every class and doing all the homework assignments!”
“Maybe I forgot to tell you,” I continue calmly. “I dropped it at the beginning of the semester because a math class opened up that I needed the credit for. So I’m auditing Astro 1, and Professors Kamp and Mason have no power over my grades or GPA.
Kristy’s mouth open and closes a few times. Finally, it snaps shut.
“That doesn’t make a difference,” she spits. “Sex with two men is disgusting. You’re a cunt no matter what you claim.”
“Actually, it does matter,” Mike says. “Right, Dean Horton?”
The older man looks troubled.
“If what Miss Means is saying is true, and she is just auditing the class,” the Dean says, “then, yes, I imagine there’s no conflict.”
“Also,” I continue, now relishing the look on Kristy’s face, “I didn’t tell you this either, but I’m transferring schools. I just put in an application to Columbia. I want to study European History and they have an amazing department. I’ll probably hear back from them any day now, and I expect to get in, which only make your accusations totally pointless and inane.”
My former friend’s eyes bug open.
“Columbia? Why didn’t you tell me any of this?!” she whimpers. “What the hell? I thought we were best friends!”
I shrug. “Maybe I knew, deep down, that you really weren’t my friend after all.”
“Fuck you!” Kristy screams, her face red. “Fuck all of you! You’re all polyamorous amoral assholes! You just love those double-dick threesomes, don’t you, whore?! You like getting meat stuffed in your mouth? In your ass?”
“That’s enough!” the Dean says, looking sternly at Kristy. “NYU will not tolerate any kind of discrimination.” He looks back at me again, and then at Scott and Mike. Mike now stands with his arms around me from behind, and Scott firmly holds one of my hands. “Very well,” says the Dean, nodding his head. “I apologize for interrupting your evening, Professors Kamp and Mason. Carry on. Evidently your paramour will no longer be a student at NYU much longer, so I have no say over your private life.”
“No worries, Dave,” Scott says. “Just try to flag our waiter on the way out, will you? We’re really hoping to get some dessert.”
Kristy manages to shoot me one more venomous glare before stomping out in a huff, and after she and the Dean depart, Mike, Scott and I are left with the heavy silence. I look at my handsome men, barely breathing. Did that really just happen? Did we really evade disaster by the breadth of a hair? Judging from the relieved looks on their faces, we did, and my heart begins to beat again.
10
Violet
I was so excited about dessert. Now, every spoonful tastes like ash in my mouth.
When Kristy and the Dean left, the three of us didn’t say anything. What was there to say? After a moment, though, Mike and Scott made a joke to get me laughing and ordered our dessert. They sat me down, kissed my knuckles, and told me funny stories to get my mind off the scene that had just taken place. For a few minutes, I could pretend like everything was fine. Now though, the reality of the situation is dawning on me like a cold new day.
We could have lost everything. Everything. Because of the actions of someone I trusted, someone I loved like a sister.
One of these things alone--losing my relationship or being betrayed by my best friend--would have been bad enough. But both of them together burns like poison in my throat, all the way down to my stomach.
How could I have been so stupid? I should never have told anyone about my relationship with Mike and Scott, not even Kristy. I should have been more wary and careful. I should have considered that Mike’s and Scott’s jobs were on the line. Instead, I was selfish, thinking only of myself and what I wanted. I focused on my own pleasure instead of the possibility of pain.