Grace slips right into the family dynamic like a glove. I'm not sure whether it's because she's been raised in politics and she's used to having to fit in, but she talks to my parents like she's known them her whole life. She has my mom writing down her secret cinnamon bun recipe within an hour of being here, and Annie is still fawning over her even though she vehemently disagrees with her father's social policies.
"How the hell are you guys friends with her?" Annie sidles up next to me, her mouth half-full of pie, and elbows me, asking the question softly.
"You act like we don't have friends." I pretend to be offended.
"She's classy," Annie notes, shoveling another forkful of pie into her mouth.
"I'm aware."
"So you and Aiden aren't exactly… uh… in the same league."
"Says the girl who just shoveled half a piece of pie in her… pie-hole?"
Annie makes a face and sticks out her tongue. "I like her. I really don't like her father at all, and she supports him, so I really shouldn't like her. But she's really nice."
"Yup." I nod, afraid to say anything else because if I do, I'm going to reveal what I really think about Grace. If I open my mouth, I'm going to talk about how great she is. I'm going to gush, and that's not something Noah Ashby does. Noah Ashby grunts, and maybe acknowledges once in a while that someone might not be an asshole. But I don't gush about how much I like someone.
So I just nod and say, "Yup."
"Yup," Annie says, her eyebrows raised. "That's all you have to say?"
I look at Grace across the yard talking to my father. My father is smiling and looks positively taken with her. When they walk past, Grace grins when I ask where she's going.
"I'm going to show her the old Chevy," my dad says.
"I like old cars," Grace explains.
"Really?" I ask.
"Yep.” She turns to look back at Annie and I as she walks away. "And your old man is cool."
My dad's face turns bright red.
"See?" Annie asks. "She's already got Dad talking cars. He and Mom are never going to let her leave."
I grunt my response, and Annie is silent for a moment before she gets a weird look on her face. "Wait a second."
"Wait a second, what?" I ask. I know exactly what she's about to say and I'm not about to let her say it. I look around for Aiden. "Where's your brother?"
She points at me, ignoring my question. "You. You guys said you were acquaintances."
"Yeah, so?" I shrug. "We are."
"No, you're not. You like her."
I give her my best "what the fuck" expression. "Uh, you must be drunk, Banana."
"Huh-uh," she says, shaking her head. "You're weird. You're weird about her."
"No one's weird, Annie."
As soon as Aiden walks over, she starts right in on him. "What's the deal with Noah and Grace Sullivan?"
Do not answer the question, I think, staring at Aiden as if we share a brain and I can psychically transmit that thought to him. Do not respond. Just shrug the way you do when someone asks you about politics or what your career plans are.
"Deal? What deal?" Aiden asks, sounding guilty as sin. "I told you, we barely even know each other. We've really hardly met."
"You're both lying."
"Lying?" Aiden asks, his voice suddenly falsetto. "You're accusing us of lying about Grace? That's really something, Annie."
"Oh my God, you are totally lying. That's the thing you do when you're lying – deflect and get angry. It's the same thing you did when we were kids and you took all the heads off my Barbies and put them on sticks and told me they'd been executed."
I snort. "I remember that. I think we were playing Roman Empire."
"You guys were both assholes," Annie accuses. "And both of you are weird. The question is why are you weird?"
I shrug. "Whatever, Banana. You know we're both weird in general."
She shakes her head. "Nope, this is more than that."
I sigh exaggeratedly. "Anyone want another beer? Because I'm going to get a beer. Annie?"
"Why?" she asks skeptically. "Do you want to get me drunk so I'll forget you guys are acting weird about her?"
"Yes, Annie. You got me. My nefarious plan is to feed you beer until you forget my evil ways."
One of her friends rushes up and interrupts. "We need a group photo."
Saved by the selfie.
"This isn't over," Annie says, narrowing her eyes at us before she runs off.
"Have fun in Europe," Aiden calls.
She flips us off behind her head as she walks away to join her friends.
Aiden turns on me. "What the hell, dude?"
"Don't look at me. It's your sister who's insisting something's weird with us and Grace and -"
Suddenly I hear my mother's voice behind me. "Annie is insisting something's weird with you and Grace?"
"What?!" Now I'm the one whose voice goes up an octave as I feign innocence. "No idea what you're talking about. Nothing's weird. And you might want to go grab the camera from Annie’s friend- someone apparently has a cell phone.”
My mother just nods. “I’ll confiscate it. Your father is out in the garage showing Grace his fixer-upper. You might want to head out there after a few minutes before the poor girl is bored to tears."
"She likes old cars," I say quickly, then pause. "I mean, that's what she said. I wouldn't know what she likes or doesn't like. Cars, hobbies, hell, I don't know what food she likes."
Shit. Stop talking. I have to actually think it before I can get my mouth to do what the fuck my brain is ordering. I'm almost afraid I said the words aloud, but my mom isn't looking at me like I have two heads any more than she was just a minute ago, so I think I'm safe.
"Oh?" my mom asks. "Because she seemed to know an awful lot about both of you."
"Huh." Aiden stares at her and I know he's trying to look innocent but he really looks like the cat that ate the canary.
"I can't imagine how," I say. Lying to my mom feels like shit.
She looks at both of us long and hard. "Grace wouldn't be the girl you were so pissed off about the last time you were here, would it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." I couldn't sound less innocent if I tried.
Aiden shrugs exaggeratedly. "Me neither. I don't remember being upset."
"Uh-huh," my mom says. "Well, if the two of you are arguing about that girl –"
I groan. "Mom, we told you we're not fighting over her."
She doesn't finish her sentence. She just stops and looks at us. "No, you're not fighting over her at all, are you?"
A look of understanding passes across her face. My mother knows Aiden and I are both with Grace.
"You need to be careful there," she says softly. "That girl is not just some girl."
"We hardly know her," Aiden protests, still sticking to our story, oblivious to the fact that my mother has already deduced that it's all lies.
"Don't treat me like some naïve old woman," my mom starts, putting her hand up immediately when Aiden tries to interrupt, "and don't tell me the details, because I don't want to know. But I know that I've not seen either of you look at a girl the way you look at that one."
I groan. "It's not –"
My mom leans in, her voice low. "You better make damn sure it's not just a fling, because that girl is the daughter of the President. And the way she talks about both of you… it's just a matter of time before someone notices."
"Bess, there's nothing –" Aiden starts.
"I already told you, I don't need the details. But it's rude to just outright lie to my face." My mom puts her hands on her hips and glares at us. "At least come up with better stories than the one you have, do you hear me? Because if the three of you have something going on –"
"Oh my God, Bess," Aiden hisses.
She narrows her eyes. "The two of you need to be careful. You're men. If something like that were to come out, you look like the big men on campus. She gets ruine
d. That's not right, mind you, but that's how the world works."
"We're being careful, Mom."
"Noah," Aiden whispers.
"Oh please, you heard her, she knows anyway. Nothing is going to come out. We'll make sure of it."
"You brought her to West Bend," my mother whispers. "With the three of you making eyes at each other the whole night, it's a wonder everyone here hasn't already figured it out."
"We're more subtle than that," I say. At least, I thought we were. I didn't think it was written all over us, the way my mom seems to think it is.
"Just don't be idiots. And don't break her heart, either."
"Nobody's heart is getting broken, Mom," I say brusquely.
"Yeah, you know Noah doesn't even have a heart," Aiden points out.
"That's hilarious, coming from the guy who –" I start, but my mother interrupts.
"I mean it, boys," she says firmly. "Love is complicated enough when two people are involved. I don't want to see any of you with your hearts broken."
"Who said anything about love?" I ask.
"None of you did," she says. "But call it mother's intuition."
As I watch Grace walk back into the yard with my father, wearing a white sundress, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders, I have the fleeting thought that my mother might not be so crazy with her talk about love.
38
Grace
"Ta-da!" Noah gestures.
"So this used to be your room?" I look around the over-the-garage space. It's a large open room set up as a guest bedroom with two beds on opposite ends, a throw rug in the middle, and paintings of Colorado scenery on the walls.
"Well, it was both of ours once Aiden moved in," Noah says. "I haven't been up here in years. I figured Mom would have converted it into an office or something."
"At least she took down the posters and shit from the wall," Aiden says. "There was football crap everywhere. Do you remember?"
"It was like football exploded in this room," Noah says. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here tonight? Or get a place in town? There's a bed and breakfast. The owner, June, is nice. She'd be discreet."
I shake my head. "My cover story was that I came here for an interview. When my mother finds out the interview was 'cancelled', she's going to wonder what the hell I was still doing in West Bend. Or at this house, if my security blabs."
"You're a kind person who decided to visit the sister of one of your big donors as a favor because the sister has a slight obsession with you."
I laugh. "Annie was really sweet."
"Did my mother interrogate you?" Noah asks. "She can be a little… intense."
"She was wonderful. Both of your parents were," I tell them, and I mean it. They're the kind of parents I wish I had – loving and kind and genuinely concerned about their kids. Paul and Bess have the kind of relationship that I'd hope to have in twenty years; the way they still looked at each other, even in the middle of a party, made it clear they are still head-over-heels in love.
"She was on her best behavior with you, then," Noah says.
"Maybe." I can see how Bess could wheedle gossip out of anyone. She was casual about it, prodding gently while making dessert, but she was definitely probing. I wonder how much about me and Noah and Aiden she's put together.
"Did she ask you about us?" Aiden asks.
"No. Why? Did she ask about me?"
Noah and Aiden look at each other. "She knows there's something going on between the three of us, but she also knows not to say anything. In fact, she was more concerned about us hurting you."
"Hurting me?"
"She told us not to hurt you. I mean, your heart. Not you physically. Not… your ass or anything." Noah babbles the way he does when he gets really nervous.
"My ass?"
"Her ass?" Aiden asks the question at the same time I do, punctuating it with a loud snort.
"I'm glad your mother wasn't worried about my ass."
"I'm worried about your ass," Aiden says, reaching out to put a hand on my butt.
"Is that so?" I ask. "What are your concerns, exactly?"
"Well, obviously I'm worried that your ass is starting to feel neglected."
"Hmm," I muse. "We don't want that."
"No, we definitely wouldn't want anything like that," Noah agrees. He steps close to me, sliding his hand around my waist to pull me toward him, and I crash against his chest. He takes my mouth without another word, his kiss demanding. Reaching behind me for Aiden, I grip his shirt, turning to kiss him next. His kiss is softer, gentler.
Being with both of them is starting to feel so comfortable.
Too comfortable.
I think I might be falling for them.
The thought pops into my head as our clothes come off, and it stays in my head as they shower my body with kisses. It stays in my head as their lips cover my breasts, my thighs, between my legs. They take turns there, their tongues on me and their fingers inside me, a rhythm that's developed between them.
The thought keeps running through my head like it's on a loop, over and over as Aiden steps away and Noah dives between my legs. Over and over as his fingers thrust inside me, until I start to lose any sense of reason.
Over and over until… Noah pulls away and I open my eyes to see Aiden standing beside us, holding a…
"What the hell is that?" Noah asks.
Aiden grins. "It's festive."
"Where did you get that?"
"I brought it with me." Aiden grins, holding up a red, white, and blue butt plug festooned with sparkly star-adorned streamers. "I like to be prepared."
"Is that a Fourth of July butt plug?" I ask. I'm not sure whether to be appalled or intrigued. Appalled. I should definitely be appalled. Except the throbbing between my legs won't let me be that appalled.
Even Noah laughs. "What the fuck, dude?"
"We didn't get to go into town for the fireworks…"
"So you thought we'd make our own?" I ask.
"Every time we're together, it's fireworks. I just thought we should add a little extra…pizzazz."