Page 51 of Pack Me Up

Then Cody sighs, shakes his head, and says, “I should have seen that coming. Fuck it, just stay.”

I scoot over to give him room, but he stays at the foot of the bed, arms crossed. Brittney pats the space next to her, and after a pause, Cody gives in, dropping onto the mattress with a grunt.

The three of us arranged like this feels right in a way I can’t explain. I like the symmetry.

We fall into easy conversation as we try to get to know each other on a deeper level. Brittney plays with the hem on her sheet, listening as we trade dumb stories from our high school years. I start with a story of breaking into the teacher’s lounge for exam answers, then talk about how Cody once flipped a desk just to see if it would break in half. Then we have to admit how mad Saint got at us. Sometimes she laughs, and every time she does, the air in the room gets a little sweeter.

I can feel the shift happening. My body recognizes hers, wants hers, and the urge to touch, to press, to claim, is so loud that for a second I can’t hear my own voice. I look over, and Cody’s feeling it too. His knee is just barely brushing Brittney’s ankle, but his gaze is locked on her mouth, unblinking.

She notices. Of course she does. She’s the only person in the world who can read us, really read us, and that knowledge seems to make her braver.

She stretches, long and slow, and leans back into the pillows. The sheet falls away, exposing her thigh, the curve of her hip. We are caught, absolutely pinned, by the sight.

I can’t take it anymore. I reach over, find her hand, and lace our fingers together. Her pulse is racing. I squeeze, and she squeezes back.

Cody’s gaze is fixed on our joined hands. He lifts his own, traces his thumb along her knuckles, then leans in, close enough to breathe the same air.

We shift, the three of us, until we’re all sprawled across the bed, shoulders overlapping, legs tangled. The bed is a fortress of pillows, soft and endless. I bury my nose in Brittney’s hair, inhale, and feel my whole body light up.

Cody brushes his lips against her temple.

I catalog every micro-expression she makes.

I laugh, and she joins in, and the sound is so pure I almost choke on it.

We breathe together, limbs tangled, the weight of the bed and the night settling over us. I close my eyes, letting the thrum of the trio lull me into something close to peace.

I don’t know how long we stay like that. Maybe an hour, but when I open my eyes again, Brittney is asleep, head on my shoulder, her hand still linked with mine.

Cody’s already watching me, his gaze softer than I’ve ever seen.

“She really gets us,” I whisper.

He nods, once. “She does.”

And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like half of a person.

I feel whole.

I run my fingers through her hair, untangling a knot at the nape of her neck. It wakes her up, but she relaxes under my hand, smiling. For a while, we just lie there, warmth pooling between the three of us, the only sound the synchronized beat of our breathing.

It’s Brittney who breaks the silence. “I have to tell you something. Promise not to be weird about it.”

I can feel Cody go rigid, just a fraction, like he’s bracing for a bombshell. “We promise,” he says.

She swallows, picks at a loose thread in the sheet. “I’ve never actually… You know.”

For a second, I don’t get it. Then I do.

I feel the heat crawl up the back of my neck, straight into my face. “You mean-”

She nods, too fast, cheeks flaming. “Yeah.”

The alpha part of my brain goes absolutely feral, all at once.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Nobody’s touched her.