Chapter 67: Crash and burn.
Chapter 66
Jack
Now why would he say that?
"That’s different," I say eventually, voice tight, defensive.
Nolan doesn’t blink. He just stares at me, steady, cutting, like he’s dissecting every excuse I might try to hide behind.
"Uh huh," Nolan merely responds, cool as ice.
"Okay," I lean forward on the table. "So what’s the plan here? Let’s get things straight."
They both glance at me.
"All three of us are aware that I’m in love with Ciel," I continue, voice steady but tired. "But you guys want me to do... stuff with Nolan?"
They both nod.
"You want an open relationship?"
"No," Ciel says for the first time since this started.
I raise an eyebrow. "That’s what an open relationship is, sunshine," I say softly.
"Okay, no one else. Just Nollie."
I exhale, feeling very tired. "And you’re okay with this?" I turn to Nolan.
"Yeah," he says simply.
"This is not going to end up well, you guys know that, right?" I say, and I mean it. It probably won’t.
"For how long is this arrangement supposed to last?" Silence.
They didn’t think this through.
"You know what—whatever." I raise my hands. "I just hope you guys won’t regret this."
I mean, why would I complain? Most people can barely have one person. I’m being handed two.
*
"I’ll be back soon," I say to Ciel, who’s sprawled on the bed with Lanny squealing in his lap.
He hums without looking at me, his whole world narrowed to our son.
I head downstairs.
The kitchen’s dim, the undercabinet lights the only glow, painting Nolan in sharp lines. He stands at the sink, water running, his tank top clinging damply against his skin where splashes have hit. His bare shoulders flex as he scrubs, jaw tight, movements sharper than they need to be.
He could’ve used the dishwasher, but of course he didn’t. He always insists on the harder way.
"You of all people should know this is a dangerous idea," I say, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"It’s not that bad. Even if it is, we’ll deal with it when it happens." He doesn’t turn, keeps scrubbing, the sound of sponge on porcelain filling the silence.
I watch him for a long beat, the curve of his back, the way his shirt clings to his waist.
"I thought the little doggy was supposed to protect its owner from dangers—even self-inflicted."
"I can’t protect him from everything. Even if I want to." His tone dips, low enough that I almost miss it under the water’s hiss. "Besides, I don’t think it’s such a bad idea. I mean..." He trails off, shoulders stiff.
That gets my attention. I push off the doorframe.
"No matter how you want to play it—as the self-sacrificing friend—you’re doing this for you too, aren’t you?" My voice is quieter now, measured, as I step closer.
"Duh. This wouldn’t work if I wasn’t attracted to you."
"Uh huh." I close the remaining distance until I’m right behind him.
I slip my arms around his waist, press my chest to his back, and catch his hand before it can dip the scrubber in the sink.
"I’m busy. Go away." He snaps, but his voice isn’t steady.
"No." My lips brush the edge of his ear before I bite gently at the lobe. The one with the matching piercing he shares with Ciel.
He freezes, tries to mask it, but the sharp intake of his breath betrays him.
"I think there’s another reason why you agreed to this absurd idea," I whisper.
"Wow, mind reader now?"
"I don’t need to read your mind to tell you want me."
"Of course I do—"
I spin him around, pressing him back lightly against the counter, pinning him there without touching too much. His chest rises fast, his tank top clinging, eyes wide and burning into mine.
"We both know that’s not what I mean."
Those eyes, they’re ridiculous, too pretty, too expressive. I can see every crack in him.
"I just want to sleep with you. It’s physical, that’s it." He takes a step back, but the counter’s at his hips. He’s caged.
"Bullshit." I crowd forward, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off his skin.
"You’ve set us for a crash and burn."
"You’re wrong." His jaw locks, his chest rising faster.
"Bullshit again. I won’t deny you’re in love with Ciel. But you like me too. How greedy, little doggy." My eyes flick down to his lips before locking on his again.
He jerks his gaze away, mutters, "I don’t know what you’re talking about," and tries to slip sideways.
I catch his wrist, pull him back, make him face me again.
"You’re a really bad liar. Honestly, it’s surprising Ciel hasn’t noticed anything. Your eyes are too expressive."
The water still runs behind us, but all I hear is his breathing, quick and uneven.
And they are. This is exactly why I didn’t want to cross the line. But these two best friends? Idiots.
This is a stupid-ass love triangle.
I can’t believe I’m in a love triangle.
Nolan shoves me off him, hard enough that my shoulder bumps the counter. I take a step back, chest rising with a slow breath.
"You’re mistaking physical attraction for something else," he says, voice like a blade.
Well. Since he’s denying it...
"Liar," I murmur. My smirk sharpens.
His glare could cut through stone. "Don’t be so fucking cocky, Jack. I don’t like you."
Horrible liar. Absolutely horrible.
"It’s not your fault," I shoot back lightly. "It’s easy to fall for me. After all, I’m perfect."
His eyes flash. "You infuriating son of a bi—"
I don’t let him finish. I close the distance in two strides, my hand shooting up to the back of his neck. My fingers press into the short hair there, hot skin beneath, and before he can so much as gasp I crush my mouth against his.
For a millisecond he’s frozen. His body goes rigid, hands caught awkwardly between us. I can feel the rapid thrum of his pulse under my thumb. And then—like a dam breaking—he kisses me back.
He fists my shirt in both hands, yanking me closer as if he hates me, as if he’s going to kill me, but his mouth moves against mine like he’ll drown if he doesn’t.
My tongue parts his lips, and he doesn’t fight me. He groans, deep in his chest, and it rattles into my bones.
The dish rag slips from the counter. The tap keeps running, a background hiss against the storm we’ve unleashed.
I press harder, pinning him into the edge of the sink, and he gasps against my lips, nails scraping over my shoulders like he can’t decide whether to shove me away or drag me in deeper.
"Jack—" he manages between kisses, but I don’t let him speak. I swallow his protest, tilting his head with a rough grip to claim his mouth again.
My hand slides from the back of his neck to his jaw, angling his face the way I want, forcing him to give me everything. His breath shudders, his lips part wider, and for a second the world narrows to just this—his mouth on mine, his pulse racing under my fingers.
Then I pull away. Abrupt. Cruel.
His eyes snap open, wide, dark, furious, needy. His chest rises and falls like he’s run a mile, and for a beat he doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me, lips swollen, damp, begging without a word.
I almost give in. Almost.
"Jack—" he whispers again, but I cut him off with a slow drag of my thumb across his bottom lip. His breath hitches.
"Well," I murmur, tone maddeningly calm compared to the storm between us. My thumb presses into the corner of his mouth before sliding away.
"Still think this is a good idea?"