“Suppose women want threesomes and multiple partners or their own harem, good luck to them. I wouldn’t say no,” she said.
Food for thought, I thought.
That was all fine for society as a whole, but what about for two walking, bulging testosterone sacks like Ethan and Tyler? They didn’t seem the types to be on the front line of grand progress and breaking down of society’s ancient norms. I couldn’t see them signing up to be in my harem. But the idea made me smile to myself.
Becky returned to wiping down the range, but it didn’t stop her from talking. “So, did you do everything you hypothetically said you did? No judging here.”
“Oh no, no, this is all still strictly hypothetical. I’m sure our hypothetical friend feels really bad about it, and she desperately wants to apologize for what she did.”
Why would she apologize?
Tyler didn’t want one.
Ethan? What could an apology really achieve at this point? It was too late to say sorry to him.
Herself? I wanted to apologize to myself for fucking up. If I had any chance at all with any of them, I should have gone on at least one date first.
Even Dating-Game Jenny had an actual dinner date with Ethan.
The potential for trust between one of those guys and me had been truly shattered if it ever existed in the first place.
“I hope the best for Miss Hypothetical and the troubles she faces,” Becky said kindly. “We all make mistakes. Not that having two guys is a mistake. I just want that fact to go down on record.”
Did I regret any of it? Truly? No.
It was never going to amount to anything. I couldn’t picture me with a sports star, so the fact that I had fun with two of them in their apartment and one of them cooked breakfast for me. I just had to treasure that short-lived adventure.
For those brief shining moments, being bad was the sweetest thing on the planet.
No regrets.
It was what it was.
While I wiped down the surfaces, my mind still wandered. Would I turn them down if another opportunity arose? And worse still, my mind still wandered to other hunky football players. What would I do if I had my chance?
I was two people.
The life I actually lived most of the time was one version of me. And then what went on inside my head was another me: Kayla, the slut version who wanted nothing more than to be shared by a bunch of guys. It was lucky I wasn’t a Roman Catholic, because I wouldn’t want to confess those sins of the mind, but good heavens above, talking about them made them more real. As if I would ever have the chance to go further with more of them.
“Big order coming in, girls,” Dad yelled through the window.
Dad? What are you doing in the Duck?
“Some kickball club is coming in for dinner. They phoned their order through; there’s a lot of salad and sweet potato wedges with fish or chicken. Apparently, someone clued them in to your high-quality, low-fat lunch menu. Well done, ladies.”
I looked at Becky with a smile. This was something we could handle. This was normal and not something that would ripple out of control. I’d check up on Dad later.
Still, an image of the Rollins twins getting to know me a lot better stewed in my head while I worked.
It isn’t going to happen, Kay.
Just like I thought Ethan and Tyler definitely weren’t going to happen.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
JAKE ROLLINS
Tuesday is the one day of the week that’s completely ours, and more often than not, Lewis and I spend it with our family, or should that be families?
When Ethan, Tyler, and Noah practically grew up together with us, we became as close as brothers, particularly as our families grew close too. It was more like being part of one big, massively extended family.
But this particular Tuesday, it was just Lewis and I kicking back and hanging out. Our parents were away on a second honeymoon. They deserved it. They worked hard. And we saw plenty of our Argonauts teammates on the six days of the week our contracts committed us to work.
On Monday night, Lewis had announced he wanted to go watch shopping on Tuesday. I volunteered to go with him. And really, that’s all we needed to say aloud on the subject.
If a dude wants a specific wristwatch in the twenty-first century, he’d order it online and have it delivered the next day. Window shopping could only be an excuse for something else. There had to be another reason to go browsing the stores. And the best shops in Arlington were in the vicinity of a certain bar where we had humiliated ourselves only a few days earlier.
It was hardly likely to be pure coincidence Lewis’s plans took us back to that area, but I was certainly glad of an excuse to look into the bar again. And I was mildly curious to see what it was like there midweek at lunchtime.