Hot 4 (Multiple Love)

When we arrive, our guide ushers us from the bus, and we gather with the other tourists, awaiting further instruction. The boys have dug out their exploring clothes, which are practical shorts with large pockets and shirts that cling to their muscular frames in a way that has me swooning. Our group includes two women about my age who can’t seem to keep their eyes off the Banbury brothers. I’m half-filled with jealousy and half with pride that these men are all mine, at least for now.

I slide my hand into Karter’s as he leans down to press a kiss on my forehead.

Holden managed to purchase a guidebook in the hotel store and begins to fill us in on a little of the history as we follow the guide into the ruins. This place is older than anything else I have ever seen, and it opens my eyes to how advanced early civilizations were around the world. I can’t stop taking pictures as our guide, a middle-aged man with a belly that’s stretching at the buttons on his shirt, tries to share information about this place.

My eyes are open to discovery, not just of the outside world but in my own heart too.

I get the boys to pose in front of a temple that houses a monumental Buddha statue. I giggle when they all stand the same, hands in pockets, shoulders back. They look like marines on vacation.

“I’m stoked that we came here,” Holden says halfway through the tour. “If you hadn’t suggested it, we would have stayed at the hotel.”

“If you hadn’t wanted to come with me, I would have done the same.”

“There’s so much to see in Thailand.” Holden rubs the back of his neck, the heat becoming oppressive as midday nears.

“Here,” I search in my purse for a bottle of cool water. Holden takes it gratefully.

When he hands it back, he presses his lips to mine. “Thanks.” These little moments of affection feel new and bright, and as I turn, I see the wide eyes of the women who were eyeing the boys earlier.

Feeling shameless and proud, I give them a wink, which sets them both grinning. It’s funny to remember how people first reacted to Natalie’s relationship and find people doing the same to me. Except, this isn’t a relationship. It’s a fling, I remind myself.

Last night didn’t feel like a fling. The boys moved the bed from the other room, and we spent the night curled up together. Before we slept, they asked me more questions but kept it on subjects less likely to upset me. They know my favorite ice cream is cookies and cream and my favorite film is 500 Days of Summer. They know I have a strange fascination with 80s music, and if I could have dinner with one dead person, it would be Cleopatra. They know that my last meal would be coconut shrimp, my mom’s key lime pie, and the quesadillas from Taco Loco, all finished off with a strawberry daiquiri.

They know my ideal job would involve books and that I’d love to travel the world. They know my most embarrassing moment was walking into my prom with my dress tucked into my panties, and my first kiss was behind the sports building in high school with Bryan Coleman, and that I almost choked on his tongue. They know that I’m not satisfied with my current job. It seems a lot to have revealed and also nothing at all.

And through the process of sharing, I know that Karter is the nurturing one. He’s the brother who’s been most tender with my feelings, scolding his twin when he asked something that he could tell I didn’t want to share. Holden is the one who most likes to be in control. The press of his fingers can still be seen on my hips. Harris is the one who tries not to take things too seriously. And Kane is the one who doesn’t seem to want to be caged in by anything.

Four different men who fit together so well and fit with me even better.

Four men who want to know so much about me but really haven’t shared much about themselves. There’s something deep that links them. Something that happened that caused them to walk away from their family business and become firefighters. I want to ask them about it, but just as they’re careful with me, I don’t want to tread anywhere painful.

This is a vacation fling, after all.

Holden fixes his phone to the selfie stick that doubles up as a tripod. “Group shot,” he says, holding it out. Kane throws his arm around my shoulder, and Karter puts his arm around my waist. Harris stands behind, and Holden gets us all into the frame. Even at a distance, the happy flush on my cheeks is obvious, and the men that surround me smile with so much genuine warmth that I get a lump in my throat. Behind us, a huge buddha looms, and the contrast is stark. The past is everywhere, and here I am suspended in the present, with the future hanging like a specter that is just out of reach but getting closer with every minute that passes.