Page 2 of Tobias

I put on the last corner of the sheet and toss the comforter back on the bed, then fix the pillows. If her parents catch mehere, they’ll be furious. We aren’t supposed to spend nights together, even though we’re both adults. Definitely aren’t supposed to be having sex. Her parents think she’s a virgin. I wasn’t even her first.

Marianne likes to push boundaries, and when she offered for us to have sex well before the wedding, I wasn’t going to say no. I am a man, after all. If only it was worth the shit I’ll get if someone were to find out. It’s not that she’s bad in bed. I’m pretty sure she’s great. She does all the right things, she’s loud and talks dirty. I imagine if she were a guy I’dreallyenjoy those things. Maybe I’m just losing my mind.

Is it normal for people to question their sexuality before their wedding? I have no idea, since I’ve never been married before. These thoughts have come to me fleetingly over the years, but never as consistently as now. Maybe it’s stress. What I do know is I can’t go the rest of my lifenotknowing. I need to figure this out before I make a huge mistake.

I take the shot of whiskey that burns when it goes down, putting the glass on the bar top.

“You should just tell her,” Asher says, raising his hand to get the attention of the bartender—Morgan, his girlfriend.

“Absolutely not,” I say. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“If she’s as cool as Morgan, she won’t care,” he answers, running a hand through his dark hair. It comes down to hisshoulders, and it’s the type of thick, luscious hair women are jealous of. Hell, I’m jealous of it. Morgan comes over to us, resting her elbows on the bar. “Can we get two more beers and shots, babe?”

She winks at him, then goes off to get our drinks. He stares at her ass as she goes. It’s a big ass; pretty sure she’s had one or two Brazilian butt lifts done. Her blond hair is long enough to reach her lower back, and because we’re friends, I can absolutely admit how hot she is without the threat of getting knocked out by Asher.

“No one is as cool as Morgan,” I answer, and Asher chuckles.

“Yeah, I got lucky.”

He really fucking did. I mean, how many women are confident in themselves enough that they don’t care if their boyfriend is bisexual and enjoys having sex with guys? She joins in sometimes; other times she lets him do his thing.

I’d considered bringing this up to Marianne and using them as an example. Explaining to her that a relationship can function like this. Asher said it was cool to do that, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Marianne is not Morgan, and bringing something like that up is a death wish. Marianne is cool for the most part, but she’s notMorgancool. Once I put that information out into the universe, I can't take it back. Suggesting that is giving her dangerous information that I'm not sure I can trust her with. Also, Idon’t want to be with Marianne at all. So, even this setup wouldn’t work for me.

“Maybe it isn’t because she’s a girl but because she’s her…” I suggest.

Asher shrugs. “Maybe. She does look kinda prudish.”

I chuckle. “Oh, she’s not.” He raises a brow. “Just last night she was begging me to fuck her in the ass.”

“Please tell me you did.”

I frown. “I did not.”

“Lame!”

“Who’s lame?” Morgan asks, putting our drinks in front of us.

“Marianne asked Theo for anal last night, and he didn’t do it.”

Morgan shakes her head and leaves.

I scowl at Asher. “Seriously?”

“What? You know she doesn’t care.”

I know she doesn’t, and neither does he. They’re both my best friends. We’ve been a little trio since Elementary school. I’m lucky to have friends as close as them, that I can trust with everything—especially something like this. There aren’t many people who would be so accepting of all this shit going on in my head. Asher and Morgan like Marianne enough, they've known her as long as me, but their loyalty lies with me. Always has, always will. And it’s the same with me. It’s a good thing they don’t argue and fight, though, because I don’t know who I would choose.

“Here, this is what you need.” Morgan slaps a business card down in front of me. I pick it up to look at it.

“Foxy’s Rent-A-Date? Seriously?” I groan.

She’s grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah, Jacob down there,” she points to the end of the bar, but I refuse to look because it’s weird, “is an employee.”

“So, he’s a prostitute?” Asher says, grabbing his shot glass. Morgan leans over the bar and slaps him upside the head.

“Hey!” he shouts, his shot spilling a little. “Alcohol abuse!”

“Well, don’t be so stupid. He’s not a prostitute.”

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