Flock

“YOU ARE ONE LUCKY BITCH.” I palm my stomach, admiring the snug fit of the dress I bought specifically for tonight. I spent half of another shitty paycheck just to see that shop owner, Tessa, light up. It was a reward in itself. It’s a dangling two-piece, a halter that shows a little side boob, along with a flowing black skirt. It’s a little risqué, and I decide Dominic will love it. The occasion is special. It’s for our first date.

A real date.

His idea.

If that isn’t evidence of progression, I don’t know what is. I try not to question anymore the why of the three of us.

For the life of me, I can’t understand why these two gorgeous guys with so much to offer have settled on me. It can’t be just the sex, because I’ve seen for myself just how capable they are of getting any woman within a five-mile radius. I want to believe that their interest is genuine, that they truly do respect me and are okay with this arrangement because I can’t imagine having to choose between them. I get no grief in return for this tradeoff, absolutely none.

My rainy days with Dominic are scarce because he stays so busy with ru

I rarely let my mind go there because just the thought of it ruins me.

My dreams are filled with them, riddled with them every night. Lately, I’ve been brushing up on my French with a new app, and Dominic sometimes entertains me when we’re together, though he’s rusty himself, the moody Frenchman.

But he does, they both do, they indulge me, and they’ve allowed me this time to be selfish, and it’s been the best summer of my life.

So tonight, I’m going to try like hell to live in the now.

The unmistakable sound of his Camaro tearing down the drive has me smiling as I survey my appearance one last time. Today had been especially hot, but I left my hair down because he likes it this way, constantly pulling the hair ties out when I have it up and throwing them in the trash. He isn’t a fan of makeup either, because he also tosses it when I leave it in his bathroom.

The motherfucker.

But there’s so much I love about Dominic. About the way he communicates with me without saying a word.

I can read him more easily now, gauge his moods, his dislikes, his preferences. Outside the bedroom, you wouldn’t know we are together. Inside the bedroom, he doesn’t go more than minutes without his hands and lips on me.

I love it.

Some part of me thinks I should be offended by his refusal to acknowledge us publicly. Still, another part of me knows it’s just his way, and that he’s probably protecting me from the small-town gossips because Sean and I have been seen quite often around town in a lip lock.

And I am guilty. But I do things often, that I hope show Dominic I’m just as devoted to him.

My time, heart, and attention are distributed as equally as I can spare them, and somehow against the laws of monogamy and human nature, we work. We’re working, and I’m starting to believe them.

There’s no jealousy, no bickering, and no fighting unless the fight is mine. I’ve tried daily for the past few weeks to accept that my heart is split and fully capable of loving both of them, but I don’t see this arrangement as fair to either.

So for now, I’ll take what I can get.

Grabbing my purse, I haul ass down the stairs, leaving my cell phone behind.

I slip outside and smile when Dominic pulls up, his Camaro newly waxed and gleaming.

I slip in and fight the urge to kiss him.

“Hey,” I say, and he takes off. We ride for a few minutes in silence, my fingers aching to touch him. He smirks, keeping his eyes ahead, and I know he knows what I’m thinking.

I roll my eyes. “Asshole.”

“And here I put on a clean T-shirt just to be insulted.”

“We’re alone, you know,” I point out, knowing the minute we’re behind closed doors, he’ll be touching me, and I’ll be begging him not to stop.

“I’m driving. Show some restraint, woman. And we’re never alone.”

I glance around the cabin. “You got some imaginary friend in here?”

“Cecelia.” His face goes blank, and I wait for what seems like an eternity until he speaks. “We’ll be alone later.” It’s as close to a promise as I’m going to get and I decide it’s enough.

“I can keep my hands to myself, you know.”

“Sure you can.”

Smug bastard.

Lips twitching, he shifts, his muscular forearm bulging due to the firm grip he has on the wheel.

“When are you going to let me drive?”

“Easy, never.”

“Seriously?”

“Only one other person has a key to this car, and it won’t ever be used.”

“You know I’ll be searching Sean’s room from top to bottom, right?”

His chest bounces. “Good luck with that.”

“I will drive this car someday, Dominic. Bet on it.”

He takes me to Asheville, where we dine on an outdoor patio. The city is nestled in the heart of the Blue Ridge, but it’s far more populated than Triple Falls and likely the reason why we drove forty minutes out of our way. But di

On the drive home, he lifts my skirt and exposes my panties, slapping my hand away when I try to push it back down. He gets satisfaction in knowing he can glance over and see me vulnerable, and though I feign a

And he is because he fucks me twice before he rolls a joint while I lay back in the seat, my head resting on the door, in nothing but my panties. From my vantage point I’m able to admire his profile, his physique, him. Music drifts from his speakers as I lift my bare foot and playfully massage his side with my toes as he readies the blunt paper.

“What is this?”

“David Bowie. Shhh,” he releases the weed into the paper and reaches for his dash to turn it up. “The first minute and a half of this song is money. Listen.”

And I do, deciding it’s definitely one for us to dissect and repeat. It’s one of our things now. He plays DJ, and we talk about the music. I’m pretty sure if he wasn’t a vigilante/criminal/mechanic, he would have done something in that arena.

“I love it.”

He flashes me a rare, full smile. “I knew you would.”