I stopped.
And breathed, “I’ve had sex dreams that started just like this.”
Because a big fat ray of sun had burst through the clouds and was shining upon Ryan Foxheart, who was galloping toward me atop a steed, its white mane billowing majestically. He wore his Knight Commander armor, which looked as if it’d been spotlessly scrubbed, cuts of red rock embedded into the silver metal. His sword was drawn, and as I watched, he flourished it almost as if he were in slow motion, his wavy hair jostling about his head, green eyes bright.
He looked like every fantasy I’d ever had, and it was imperative that I fuck him senselessly into the nearest surface, not caring if we had an audience or not. Even the fact that my parents were there wouldn’t stop me. I was going to destroy him. He was going to be covered in my spunk, so much so that it was going to make Gary’s glazed donuts seem like work done by an amateur.
“Yeah,” I muttered, not caring who could hear me. “You ride that steed toward me, you dirty motherfucker. You’re not going to be able to walk for a week by the time I’m done with—”
And that’s when I saw the horse upon which he rode was not actually a horse at all.
It looked suspiciously like my best friend standing next to me. Aside from the fact that it had a large, shimmering horn atop its head.
Which killed any and all sexy thoughts. Mostly.
Because what.
“What a fucking show-off,” Gary muttered, coming up beside me. “Did he really think he would get away with that? It’s so racist.”
“Who?” I asked, unsure of what the hell was going on. “Ryan?”
Gary rolled his eyes. “Not Ryan. Terry.”
“Terry.”
“Yes, Terry.”
“Terry.”
“Why are you repeating his name? Do you really hate me that much?”
“I don’t—wait. Terry. As in your twin brother Terry.”
Gary squinted at me. “So you got stupid in the woods, huh? That’s unfortunate.”
“Your twin brother. Is here.”
“You don’t have to keep reminding me. I was against this, but Ryan and Justin thought we needed him.”
“I have no idea what’s even happening right now.”
Gary sighed. “Maybe if you would stop drooling over your boyfriend riding my brother, you’d be able to figure it out.”
“Oh my gods, phrasing. You can’t just say it like that!”
“It’s literally what is happening. Ryan is straddling my brother, thighs wrapped around his middle while he rocks back and forth—oh look. There’s the Prince.”
Grand Prince Justin of Verania was walking toward the gates, still a distance away behind Ryan and Terry. He didn’t look too pleased, as he appeared to be carrying quite a few bags.
“Oh thank gods he remembered my scarves,” Gary said. “I would have hated to see his blood spilled underneath my hooves.”
“Your brother,” I insisted.
“Yeah,” Gary sighed. “My brother.”
Gary and his family… well. They didn’t exactly have the most loving relationship. Oh, sure, I knew they cared about each other, and Gary didn’t exactly have a terrible childhood, but things were strained between them. The last I’d heard, his mom and dad had been off on some swingers tour that had apparently lasted for at least three years, where they would tour the world and apparently partner swap with other magical creatures at large orgies that sounded amazing in theory (taste the rainbow!) but disgusting in actuality (it tasted nothing like rainbows!).
And even though Gary and I had been friends for years, I had yet to meet any of his family. They sent letters every now and then that always seemed to be dusted with copious amounts of glitter, and Gary and Tiggy went to see them once years ago, with Morgan refusing to let me go with them, saying that a seventeen-year-old me did not need to be surrounded by three unicorns. Something about potentially triggering an apocalypse or whatever. I’d made Gary promise to bring me a souvenir. He’d told me to go fuck myself, and then he’d brought me back a T-shirt that said I’M NOT GAY BUT MY GIRLFRIEND IS. It had confounded me greatly.