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"She's not there," I tell him. "She's been working nights all week."

He and Silas exchange a look.

"Can we come in, then?" Tate asks.

I shrug. "Sure."

We step into the living room. The lights are off in my apartment, but the TV is still on, playing the sameHoardersmarathon my mom had been watching before she left for work.

"I fucking hate this show," Silas says. "Sets my OCD on fire."

"You can change it," I say, sinking into the sofa. The second I lie down, my eyes are heavy. "Will you make me one?"

"One what?" Tate asks.

"A fake ID."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"Does it matter? I want one."

"Fine," Tate says. "What do you want your name to be?"

"I don't care. Make it something really girly,though. I'm tired of seeing the disappointment on people's faces when I show up for job interviews, and they realize I'm a girl."

Tate scoffs. "That doesn't happen."

"Yeah, it does."

"Okay, what about Delilah from New York City?" Tate suggests.

"Because you look so pretty," Silas adds.

I scoff. "Yeah, right. Delilah is fine, though. I like it," I tell them, letting my eyes close.

"Times Square can't shine as bright as you, baby," Tate says.

"Stop."

I must pass out because their laughter is the last thing I remember, and when I open my eyes again, the television is off. For a second, I think I'm alone, but then I hear a loud groan.

"Fuck, that feels good," Tate rasps softly. "Go faster. I'm so fucking close."

Enough light comes in through the front window for me to see Tate sitting on the other sofa, his legs spread, biting his lower lip while Silas pumps his hard dick in his hand.

I freeze. What do I do now? I don't think they've noticed I'm awake. Should I leave the room? Close my eyes?

I knew this about Tate—I knew he was bisexual; I didn't think Silas was. And even if he was, I wouldn't have thought they'd be together like this. Is it the first time? Does Mia know?

But before I can close my eyes, Tate catches me watching. "It's okay, Noah," Tate groans. "I want you to watch me come."

Silas stops what he's doing for about half a second, his hooded gaze meeting my eyes before he goes back to work, sliding his fist up and down Tate's cock.

Iquickly look away before Tate says, "We're still playing the game, Noah. You should obey."

Logically, I know I don't have to. Still, I turn back and watch. Silas picks up his pace, working every inch of his erect cock from base to tip. I squeeze my thighs together tightly, my underwear soaked by the time cum explodes from the tip all over Tate's chest and drips down Silas's fist.

Tate grips the back of the couch in his hands and throws his head back, moaning while Silas pumps it out of him.