Page 36

I need to nip this in the bud right now.

"It's getting late, we should probably head out." I practically rip my hand out of Lionel's as I stand.

"Sure," says Quintin, also standing but being much more chill about it.

"See you all later." I grab my bag and beeline for the door. My boyfriends can come or not. It's up to them. Although I hope they do, because god only knows what secrets will be divulged if they stay behind.

"Why don’t I come over on Saturday to see the new place, and we can finish our movie?" calls Sasha.

Instead of responding, I just toss a wave over my shoulder. This was exactly why I didn't want these two worlds to collide. I want all of my worlds to stay neatly separate. No touching.

"Give me your bag." Coming up behind me, Quintin grabs my bag off my shoulder and hooks it onto his, not even caring that he's wearing all black and my bag is pink with cute little birdies and flowers embroidered on it.

"You didn't have to come out to the bar," I say. Before they can defend themselves, I point out, "You could have met me at the station that's right by our house if you're still worried about me walking home at night."

"You'd told Ender you didn't have a lot of friends, but you had this group." Lionel shrugs. "We wanted to make sure they were nice."

"And I notice you both put on jeans to come out tonight." It had been one of the first things I'd noticed, actually, but I hadn't wanted to say anything because I can already feel their interest piquing now that I have brought it up.

"Do we get a reward for putting them on again?" asks Quintin. "We even did it without being told."

"And without being bribed," I point out.

"Oh no, we still want our bribe," says Quintin.

"In fact, we should get extra because we put them on proactively," Lionel bargains.

"I'm not sure you understand how bribes work." I don't know if I'm more annoyed or amused. Both in equal measure, probably.

"I'm not sure you understand how this works." Lionel takes my hand as we ascend the steps to the platform.

"You're going to have to tell people about us eventually," adds Quintin.

I turn the tables back on them. "Oh, so you've already told your friends and family about me?"

Both of them open and close their mouths as they look to each other.

"That's what I thought." I step onto the train and sit in one of the four seats facing each other. They can follow or not.

"We don't have a lot of friend-friends," says Quintin, following me onto the train. "More like work friends."

"And fans," adds Lionel, close behind.

"Exactly, that's what my critique group is.

They're my friends, but on a super professional level.

And you're not announcing to your fans and followers what's going on in our house.

" Never once on their streaming page or in their chat have they even intimated that any of them has a girlfriend, let alone one they all pay to live with them.

Both Quintin and Lionel give me a surprised look, and I realize I've said something I shouldn't. They're not supposed to know I've researched them. Or that I'm following them and listening to all of their streams so I can hear their voices because they calm me down when I'm stressed or lonely.

"What about your families? You haven't told them," I point out, directing the attention away from my slip-up.

"We all live so far away from our families that it's not likely they'll meet you," says Lionel, finally sitting beside me.

"Then why live here in an expensive city when you could live closer your families?"

"But we'd only be able to live near one person's family. This way it's more fair," argues Lionel.

"Besides, there's better takeout in the city," says Quintin, sliding into the spot across from me.

"You were just home visiting your families for a few days.

" I'm not letting them distract me from this fight.

If they're holding me to a certain standard, they need to be held to the same one.

"You're telling me not once in all that time did you have an opportunity to tell them that you hired a live-in girlfriend to share between you? "

"I wouldn't phrase it exactly like that," says Lionel.

It's exactly like that though . Of course, I don't say this out loud.

"And they didn't once ask during that time what is new in your life or if you're seeing anyone?

" Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm a little hurt that they claim to enjoy spending time with me, but it seems like it's only in the bedroom, and they're not telling anyone about me.

I'd thought we were getting closer, emotionally, these last couple of days with our dates and playing board games. I must have been wrong.

"Our families … aren't the biggest part of our lives," hedges Lionel.

"I'm just saying, you're here talking about fairness, yet you're upset I'm not telling people about you when you're not telling anyone about me."

"You're right." Quintin turns to watch the city go by out the window, and I can't tell if he's lost in thought or just done with this conversation.

We ride the rest of the way home in silence, and when we get off the train, I'm not sure what to expect. But both of my boyfriends take one of my hands as we walk down the sidewalk, three abreast, our fingers linked.

Maybe I shouldn't have said what I did. I could blame the extra drink, but I know that's not why I said it.

I've probably ruined the vibe between us and the fragile friendship we were forming.

And, of course, they'll probably tell the others.

We still haven't had any of the real conversations we should have had at the beginning about what everyone's expectation are for this relationship, and now things are getting even more complicated than they were a few days ago.

I'm sitting here, hurt that they haven't talked about me, when this is just supposed to be a job.

Why I am having stupid feelings about this when feelings were never supposed to be a part of it?

Even worse, I do actually feel more comfortable walking home with Quintin and Lionel. Not that I'm going to tell them that.

Quintin unlocks the front door and waits for me to go inside.

"No, that shouldn't go there," I hear Miles say down the hall. "It's like you've never set a table in your life."

I glance at Quintin and Lionel, but they just wave me on into the kitchen.

"You're home!" says Miles. "We made you dinner."

"I'm supposed to say that to you." I kiss Miles, and he wraps me in a hug.

"Well, someone was supposed to text when you were almost here so we could be ready," he says, frowning over my shoulder at Quintin and Lionel.

"My hands were full," says Quintin, setting down my computer bag.

"Just for that, you're on dishes duty." Ethan sets a casserole in the middle of the table.

"Fine," grumbles Lionel, rounding the table and dropping into a chair.

"Not cool," grumbles Quintin. "You two cook like animals."

"You're going to eat it and not complain," says Miles. "Stop ruining the nice thing we're doing for Clarissa."

"Everything looks absolutely delicious." I give each of my cooks a kiss in thanks. It doesn't look terrible, and after a couple of drinks and no food, I'm starving. "I'm sure you both did a wonderful job."

"At least someone knows how to appreciate us," says Miles.

"What's the special occasion?" I take a seat and admire the effort my boyfriends have gone through.

Ethan dishes out square pieces of casserole onto each plate, then spoons out green beans to everyone, while Miles tosses each of the guys a roll. Mine he sets on my plate nicely.

"I looked up the term you used, Artist Date, and it said you should do something you don't normally do," says Ethan. "For us that's cooking."

"What did you think? Is this something you'll continue going forward?" What I'm really asking is, Will you keep cooking so we don't order so much takeout?

"No," says Ethan immediately. "But it was nice to do this one time. Maybe for special occasions."

"Well, I appreciate it," I say, taking a bite. "Now tell me about your evening."