"What's wrong?" My mind is flying through the possibilities. Maybe one of their conversations with their families went wrong and they're making them move home.
"We read your new book," says Quintin, his gaze hard.
"It was very enlightening," says Miles.
"Oh?" I start to sweat and my feet itch to step slowly out of the room. This cannot be good.
"We weren't aware that we were providing so much inspiration for you," says Ethan. "And your readers."
"I'm a writer." I look anywhere but in their eyes. "We get inspiration from everything around us."
Granted, I did go into this situation knowing that I would use it for inspiration and write about everything that happened between us. But they shouldn't be so upset. It's not like I named them personally.
"But it wasn't just inspiration, was it?" says Helix, standing up straighter and crossing his arms. "You wrote thrust-by-thrust descriptions of the ways we've fucked you."
"No one knows it's you though." It's a weak defense, but it's true. Most people will think I've just dreamed up these scenarios. They'd never imagine that each of these fucks happened with one of my boyfriends. My readers don't even know I have any boyfriends.
"Your critique partners met us, and they've read your book," Quintin points out. "I'm surprised they haven't asked you about it yet. Either way, they probably will soon."
He's right. Sasha had guessed it.
"They'll mark that your writing went from no sex at all to your characters getting dicked down regularly, and they'll notice that the change happened when you moved in with us," adds Lionel.
"I don't know that that's true," I protest. Besides, it shouldn't matter what other people think. Not if my boyfriends really like me. "It's already done, so it's not like I can undo it. Do you want me to apologize? Because I will."
"What we want is for you to have been upfront about using us from the moment you moved in," says Miles.
"You could have been honest about using us for your research so we could have a choice if we end up in your smut or not," says Ethan.
They're acting as if I'd gone into this intending to hurt them. The whole reason I met them and moved in here in the first place was because Helix posted that stupid flyer about hiring a live-in girlfriend.
"You all used me too," I point out, growing angry that they're not acknowledging their own part in how we got here in the first place. "You fucking hired me to be your live-in girlfriend. You've paid to fuck me for this entire time. Do you really think I would have moved in with you if you weren't paying for my rent and food?"
If I hadn't found this situation, I wouldn't be able to afford to live in the city and I'd already have had to move back home.
"We told you upfront what we wanted, and you agreed to it," says Helix. "But you didn't give us the same respect."
"We thought you might be starting to really like us-like us," whispers Ethan. "I mean, you told your friends about us."
My heart breaks at Ethan's words, because it's true. No matter how much I tried to keep things between us professional and told myself I was only doing this because I didn't have any other options, at some point I fell for them. Not just individually,but as an entire team too. Even with just one of them gone from the house, the entire vibe of our group felt off and I hadn't been truly settled until we were all back in the house together.
We're at a standstill.
"What happens now?" I'm more than a little scared of the answer. I wish I could step into their arms and be held and told that it's all going to be okay. But I'm afraid that it won't be.
Miles clears his throat. "We think it'd be best if you moved out."
"You're fired, effective immediately," says Helix, glancing away like he can't stand the sight of me. "You should be out by tomorrow." They all stand and file past me out of the kitchen.
"What the hell?" I can't believe they're acting like this after all the shit they've pulled, no clear expectations. I should have asked more questions at some point, but they put out the add and they knew what they expected going into this If they didn't, then they had no business advertising for the position. Besides, they were clearly ashamed of me and their hiring me because they hadn't even told their families that I exist up until recently. "Where do you expect me to go?"
"That's not our problem," says Quintin, leading his teammates out of the kitchen and barricading themselves in their computer den.
I can't believe it. My boyfriends—ex-boyfriends now, I guess—are kicking me out of the house. The place they've said I should think of as my home. Shoving me out on the streets like they don't care what happens to me.
Holding on tight to my anger, I barge out the front door and to the nearest store to pick up boxes. As soon as I let go of the anger, I know I'll fall apart, and I will not give them the satisfaction of seeing that. Of knowing how much they're hurting me.
Chapter Twenty-Seven