Page 63 of Gates of Tartarus

Come again?“You’ve. Decided. To date. Me.”

“Sí,” Jorge replies, leaning forward on his knees, hands clasped. A few dark-chocolate strands are brushing his jaw.

“And by ‘we’, you mean…?”

“All three of us,” Emlyn says, looking at me with heavy-lidded eyes. He’s loosened his tie and is stretched out, arms resting on the back of the couch.

“But you like beautiful but cruel blondes.”

“Come over here,” he growls, “and I’ll show you what I think of blondes.”

I quiver at his tone, my nipples inadvertently puckering, and Kavi’s arms tighten around me. “Me first.”

I’m stumped. Sure, I’d been having some hot and heavy dreams, but that’s just what they were. Dreams. Anddating? How was that supposed to work? “Don’t I get a say?”

“No,” Emlyn tells me kindly. “Now, who wants some dinner? I picked up a Chinese take-away on my way home from the station.”

“Gracias,amigo. I worked through lunch.” Jorge gets to his feet and stretches.

“Come on, Maelaladki. Throw on some clothes and meet us in the kitchen.” Kavi stands, lifting me up, then the three of them file out of the room, leaving me staring after them. For a moment, I’m so stunned I can’t move, then I grin. I have a boyfriend-s. My mother will go mental!

Falls the Shadow

Friday, 16 November – Maela

Once I come down from the high later, some time in the early hours of the morning, I’m full of questions. I lie in bed and wonder, waiting for the dawn to break. When did they get so chummy? And why have they decided to date me – all three? Are they going to be brother-boyfriends, like we’re in some sort of cult? And, how is this going to work? Do we just go with the flow, or will I be expected to make rounds, to ensure that everyone has equal time? Breakfast is beyond weird; but they’re all matter of fact, as if sensing I’m skittish, and then go off to work, leaving me to do my exercises and reading.

I end up getting the day off – hooray for working on government projects! – as Emlyn needs to meet with the prosecutor again and Seef is trying to coordinate a work-around on the CDS situation with Maddox Smith, so I spend the time reading on the library couch. I’ve decided it’s my own personal domain. It’s big and squashy and molds itself deliciously around me when I curl up under a plaid throw. I should probably try to help tidy the place up a bit, but,eh. Maybe this weekend. I still haven’t got my head round this whole group-dating malarkey. Part of me is agog and excited, but another part worries what people might think and how this will all work. What happens if I have a falling out with one of them? What then? Or what if two ofthemhave a falling out? Can I kiss one of them in front of the others? Do I just reach over and haul the lucky guy down, or should I wait for him to make a move? And what about S-E-X? Yes, I’ve thought about threesomes and recently about foursomes, and I’ve got some wizard scenarios planned, but there’s a big difference between fantasizing and doing. As T. S. Eliot so wisely wrote, “Between the idea / And the reality / Between the motion / And the act / Falls the shadow.”

By the time the guys get back that evening, I’ve worked myself into a fairly impressive froth. We’re running low on some staples, so we go to the supermarket, all four of us, like it’s no big deal, which just wigs me out further, the guys bantering about food throughout. Kavi insists on a special brand of chai tea; Emlyn reveals an unexpected fondness for Cheez Doodles; Jorge laments the lack of goodjamón. I make sure a vat of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream is added to the cart, but otherwise my contribution is to bite my nails. They’re practically down to the quick by the end of dinner. Up in the lounge, while we’re watching a film, another sort of action thingy, I peer at them covertly, wondering. Emlyn’s looking relaxed in a pair of jeans and dark-blue sweater. It turns out his mother didn’t have a heart attack. The doctors are running tests, but it may have been something as simple as heartburn. Jorge’s looking edible in a dark-brown top that sets off his coloring, like a life-sized chocolate caramel; and Kavi is sensuality personified in a wine-red sweater and loose, black yoga pants. He catches me mid-stare, and I blush; but he just smiles, crooking a finger, and brushes an affectionate kiss across my lips when I lean forward questioningly. Taken off guard, I squeak; but Jorge and Emlyn just glance over then go back to watching the film, while Kavi wraps an arm around me, tucking me into his side.OK… I’m trying to relax when Kavi suddenly stiffens.

“Kavi?” My eyes widen in alarm, as he clutches his chest. “Kavi!” His eyes slide shut, and he starts to pant.

“Emlyn! Jorge! Help! Kavi, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He groans. “C– C–”

“Yes? Yes, what is it?”

“Cosmic death kiss!” he gasps, collapsing back into the couch. I stare at him for a moment, nonplussed, then realize what he’s said.

“You idiot!” I grab a cushion and start walloping him, while he laughs, a deep, booming sound that fills the room. “I can’t believe you just scared me like that! Stop laughing! It’s not funny!”

“Your lips are my undoing!” he chortles. I give him another wallop, then throw the cushion aside and pounce. “Not funny!” I poke him in the chest. “Bad Kavi!” I poke him again.

“Ow! I surrender! His eyes glint merrily up at me, under his shock of black hair, and I can’t help an answering twitch in my mouth. Emlyn and Jorge, the two loons, are grinning.

“Hmm.” I give him another poke for good measure, and he twists and pins me down, a determined look on his face. Then he’s tickling me, and I’m hooting. “Gah! Stop!” I’m insanely ticklish. “Eeeep!” I squeak. Jorge decides to join in the fun and manages to worm his fingers to the sensitive spot between neck and shoulder. “No! Ah!” I’m snorting with laughter and squirming. “Emlyn! Help!”

He looks over. “Now, Kavi. Jorge.” They stop for a moment, and I catch my breath. “I wonder if Maela’s feet are also ticklish.”What! No! I go to plant my feet on the couch, but Emlyn catches my ankle and runs the tip of his finger along the sole. When I try to kick him off, he runs his finger up and down, up and down, grinning evilly. “Please!” I squeal. They stop when I start to wheeze with laughter, and I sigh in relief, slumping into the cushions.

Emlyn leans forward: “Are you going to stop being such a silly dollop?”

“We’ll work this out, Maela,” Jorge adds, tapping my nose. “Just remember that I kissed you first.”

“I kissed herbetter,” Emlyn retorts.

“Gauntlet thrown down and accepted,” Kavi chimes in.

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