Kelly Jamieson: Rule of Three

“How about another beer?” Chris offered Dag. They followed her into the kitchen. It seemed very confined in that small space with those two big guys moving around.

“Who won the game?” she asked, filling a pot with water.

“Phillies won, three to two.”

“Cubs kinda sucked,” Dag added.

“It’s early in the season,” Chris said. “Thanks for the game, man.” And he looped an arm around Dag’s neck and pulled him in for a brief squeeze.

She watched the hug then turned away to run water into the big pot for the pasta, the image of that brief embrace lingering in her head. Stuck there. Making her feel…she didn’t know what. And she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she’d never seen Chris do that with any of his other friends. As she set the pot on the stove to boil, she kept thinking about it, even as they moved out of the kitchen with their drinks.

She liked seeing Chris do that. Once again, she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because of what had happened when Chris met her friend Steve. Steve had been one of her best friends in high school, part of the crowd she hung around with, and he was gay. He’d never “come out”—he just always was out. As far back as she could remember, everyone knew it and accepted it. He was a great guy. He had boyfriends, and so did she.

Then in the summer after graduation, he’d been attacked by some kind of sick homophobes after coming out of a gay bar downtown. He’d been close to dying, in the hospital for weeks with serious injuries. She and all her friends had spent hours at the hospital visiting him, sick with grief and rage over what had happened to him. He’d recovered, but after that he’d moved away. They still kept in touch, and when he’d come back for a visit last year, she’d been anxious for Chris to meet him and his new partner. It didn’t bother her at all, but Chris was cool, almost awkward around Steve and Ryan, and that troubled her a little.

She’d tried to talk to Chris about it after. He really didn’t even want to talk about it. Like many guys, she guessed, the idea of two guys together was—what was the word—distasteful? Repellent? She wasn’t sure. She remembered having those kinds of conversations with male friends over drinks in college, trying to get insight into the male perspective of why the idea of two girls together was a turn-on for them but not two guys. She’d even broached that idea to Chris, in an attempt to understand where he was coming from, but he had not wanted to talk about. Even the two-girls scenario.

Anyway. She didn’t think Chris was homophobic, but seeing him physically showing casual affection for a male friend made her feel good. She liked it.

After dinner, she didn’t have anything for dessert and Chris said, “I’ve got the perfect thing.” And he pulled the bottle of Limoncello out of the freezer.

So they poured icy-cold lemony shots of the liqueur and drank them, talking and laughing about all kinds of things, until about ten o’clock when Dag said, “Man. I can’t drive back to the hotel like this. What is that stuff? I’m plastered.”

Chris laughed and showed him the alcohol content. “You’d better crash here, buddy.”

“I can take a taxi, I guess. Come back tomorrow for my car.” It was the Memorial Day long weekend, so neither Chris nor Kassidy had to work in the morning.

“Nah. Just stay here. We have room.”

Chris looked at Kassidy. She had this vague idea that it might not be a good idea but was a little buzzed too from all the drinks, so she said, “Sure. I’ll just make the bed.”

“I’ll help,” Dag insisted, following her down the hall.

“This sofa bed is from my apartment,” she told him. “I just had a little studio apartment so this was all I had room for.”

“So this was your bed,” Dag murmured, and the sexy suggestive tone in his voice made her pulse leap.

“Um. Yeah.”

He helped her pull the bed out and she found sheets and pillowcases and pillows. They both laughed as they bumped into each other trying to stretch the fitted sheet over the mattress, but she was a tad tipsy and almost fell over. Dag caught her and pulled her against him to steady her.

Their eyes met.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” Dag said, his voice a velvet stroke over her senses. “And thanks for letting me monopolize your boyfriend today. I know you two just moved in here and you probably wanted him home.”

“That’s okay,” she said, a little breathless. Her heart had picked up speed. The warmth of Dag’s body heated her. His sexy mouth curved into a smile, not far from her own, close enough for her to see the whiskers shadowing his square jaw. “He’s glad you’re here. Of course you should spend time together.”

He nodded, eyes searching hers. She felt something, like Dag’s thoughts floating beneath the surface, but didn’t know what they were. And then they moved apart and she picked up a pillow and began shaking it into a pillowcase. Dag did the same.

“There ya go,” she said, and moved to the door. “Help yourself to anything you need in the bathroom.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Kassidy.”

She caught his eye as she walked out the door, and for some reason she thought the look in his eyes was…loneliness.

Where the hell was he?

Dag blinked at the strip of brightness around the edge of the blind on the window and peered around the dim room. Jesus. Chicago. Oh yeah, he was in Chris and Kassidy’s new place.

His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes. Chris and Kassidy.

Why the hell had he come back here? Some kind of misguided idea that after all these years he could come back to Chicago, which he’d missed like hell, and see Chris again, who he’d also missed like hell, and it would all be okay.

He groaned and rolled over in the bed. They’d had such a great time yesterday at the Cubs game, almost like old times. They’d fallen back into easy conversation, laughing and joking like they always had.

Then they’d come home to Kassidy.

Sweet and sexy Kassidy, who was just as easy to talk to as Chris. They’d sat around drinking and talking, and hours had zipped by before he even realized it, along with the better part of a bottle of Limoncello.

Which accounted for the way his mouth felt dry as sand and his head ached faintly.

He rolled out of bed and reached for his watch on the small dresser. Nearly nine o’clock. Were Chris and Kassidy awake yet? Guess he’d find out. He dragged on his jeans before leaving the small bedroom to use the bathroom. The faint sound of a TV drifted down the short hall. Someone was up. Probably Chris. He’d never been one to sleep in or lie around in bed.

Of course, with a woman like Kassidy in bed with him, that could be a whole different story.

Dag found a toothbrush still in a cellophane package sitting on the vanity in the bathroom. Huh. That had to be from Kassidy. He ripped it open gratefully and brushed the sand out of his mouth then washed up.

He wandered out to the living room and found Chris sprawled on the couch watching TV, a cup of coffee clasped in both hands resting on his flat belly. Morning summer sunlight flooded in the arched window, glowing on the polished hardwood floors and turning Chris’s light brown hair gold. He glanced up. “Hey, you’re up.”

“Yeah. Morning.”

“Want some coffee?”

Dag made a face. Chris laughed. “Oh yeah, I forgot you hate the stuff.”

“Got any Coke?”

“Yeah, I think there might be a couple of cans in the fridge. Help yourself.”

“Chris.” Kassidy’s voice came from behind him, and Dag turned to face her. Hell, she looked just as good first thing in the morning, her face bare and pink-cheeked, hair loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at Chris. “He doesn’t know where anything is. You could get up off the couch and look after your guest.”