Chapter 1

I walk down the street where I live. It’s a warm, beautiful day. Sunbeams flicker through the elm branches above and brush across my skin. Nobody’s around, so – being me – I spread my arms, tilt my head back, and squint up at the sun through the leaves.

This street I’ve walked a thousand times. Every single day. Soon, though, it’ll change. For good. Kind of a bittersweet feeling.

It’s still summer, but college is creeping closer. I already have a stack of books I want to get through, just to feel ready. And then there’s everything else right now — summer jobs, volunteering, friends. Funny thing — when you’re busy, you somehow find time for even more.

A neighbour jogs up, stops, and grins.

“How’s everything, Alice?” His blindingly white teeth draw all the attention.

“Pretty good. Summer vacation, lots of plans.”

For a split second his eyes flick down to my chest — noted, but ignored.

“Enjoy! And don’t overwork yourself!”

“Sure, I won’t.”

I throw in a quick question about his kid I used to help with math. Everything’s fine, of course. It always is.

“Say hi to your folks!” he says, pointing playfully before jogging off.

“No problem, I will.”

I glance back once more — at this little secluded world of its own. On the one hand, I was definitely lucky to grow up here; on the other, maybe it made me over-sheltered, out of touch, and frankly, probably a bit spoiled.

Still, even here, behind the neat lawns and quiet streets, there are secrets, disappointments, quiet despair — you know, the stuff TV shows have been recycling for years. But that’s not what this story is about.

I’m at a board game café with my favorite little pack of nerds — Stevie, Bert, and Charlie, my only close guy friends. They convinced me to come today; there might not be many chances like this once college starts. Right now, we’re deep into Dune: Imperium.

We pretty much grew up together, geeking out over the same stuff — first the Harry Potter marathons, then D&D (which I still love — though I have trouble admitting it), then endless shows and, of course, more games.

We still haven’t really talked about what’s going to happen with our group once fall comes. Instead, we’re still complaining about school. Well, they’re complaining. For them, graduation felt like getting out of prison. For me, it wasn’t that bad. But I get it — for guys like them, school was harder. People never gave them enough credit, which is unfair, because they have way more going on than people assume.

Halfway through the game, I spot Chris hovering around — linking up with people here, like always. Another guy from school, doing his usual rounds. He notices us too and comes over.

“Dudes,” he says, giving Stevie a not-so-gentle punch on the arm... “High stakes here, yeah?” He grins. “And you even brought a girl along.” He nods toward me. I roll my eyes.

Then he leans closer to Stevie.

“Man, that rig you set up for me? Perfect. Finally runs smooth.”

After that, his attention swivels straight to me. “You coming to Tommy’s party Friday?”

He doesn’t even glance at the boys. I give him a “maybe,” which in my language means no. This isn’t my thing. They never stop asking, though. He could’ve invited the guys too, but of course he doesn’t.

“Keep it up, dudes!” he tosses over his shoulder, already walking off.

As soon as Chris walks off, Stevie starts talking about that time he was over at Chris’s place. Apparently, the whole entourage was there — Pete, Dave, Jake. The guys love trashing them, like they’re the enemy or something, but they still listen like the popular kids’ lives were another kind of TV show — my little gossip boys.

And even the way Stevie tells it, you’d think he walked into some mob sit-down — suspicious looks, cold shoulders. He says he didn’t feel comfortable. I smile. It’s kind of hilarious, like they want it to be ominous.

Bert and Charlie try to act casual, but I can tell they’re leaning in, hungry for details.

“What did those geniuses even say this time?”

“Not much,” Stevie shrugs. “Like I wasn’t supposed to be there. Which is fucking weird, since he asked me to help.”

I smirk — it still cracks me up hearing Stevie swear.

What is it with this fascination? And what’s with trying so hard to hide it? Just say it. Maybe it’s time to leave that behind, now that we’re supposed to be mature.

So I test something. I drop a rumor I’m pretty sure checks out — two of them, one girl. No names, though I know her. Just the story. And their faces instantly do that thing: half grossed out, half tell me more.

It’s kind of fascinating. They look a little jealous, but also ... maybe impressed. Somewhere in between, like even they don’t really know how they feel about it.

I throw in another one — this time mine. I once tutored Jake. It was supposed to be math, but ten minutes in he suggested we watch porn instead. That was pretty much the end of tutoring. He did fine anyway.

Cue another round of looks.

Stevie sneers, “See? Hopeless. Who even thought you should be tutoring him?”

“His mom, I think. My mom knows her. She probably figured I’d be a good influence.”

Who knows, though — maybe his mom had some ulterior motive, I think to myself.

“More like he’d be a bad one on you.” Stevie gives me this weird look.

I just smile. “Don’t worry about me.”

Charlie blurts, “So ... did you watch the porn with him?”

There it is again — that mix of shame, jealousy, and curiosity in their eyes.

“No. Of course not.” I say after a short pause.

Charlie finally says, “Those guys would do anything.”

“Like what?” I ask, looking at him from under my brows.

“You know...” He pulls in a breath, suddenly awkward. “Stuff. Like ... if it was two guys and one girl?”

I bite back a smile — that’s an interesting thought. He says it so seriously, with such a solemn face, that I almost burst out laughing. I look at all of them — it’s this strange kind of admiration buried under resentment. Which makes sense. There’s nothing wrong with being fascinated by someone who’s a bit ahead of you in that area.

What’s even the point of this weird rivalry? They’d probably get along fine if they just dropped those school labels. Chris and the rest aren’t bad; on the troublemaker scale, they’re pretty low.

They’re into all kinds of things, not just sports. They’re not the loud, try-hard types — more the laid-back kind, which, to me, says a lot: they know what they’re doing, they don’t need to chase. Girls just gravitate toward them.

Maybe that’s exactly what gets the guys — the way things just happen for them.

I consider asking Stevie, Bert, and Charlie about that fascination — just to see what they’d say. But we’ve never really talked about sex. Maybe that’s the problem. We probably should’ve; it might’ve helped. But after all these years? Now it feels too late. I could say they’re like brothers, but that’s a lousy excuse. It’s just ... weird. I need to think this through.

Walking back, my head’s somewhere else.

Charlie’s throwaway line about “sharing a girl” keeps pinging around my skull. I’ve fantasized about being shared before — more than once. But I always shoved it down under the chorus of idiots who repeat the same tired line: a girl who does that is “ruined.”

Ruined how, exactly? Show me the science behind it, geniuses.

Even the word — “gangbang” — has a criminal ring to it. Probably on purpose.

And then there are all those cartoonish OF types who turn sex into some kind of weird competition — showing off body counts, pulling stunts, completely missing the point of fun.

Still, my libido is ambitious in a way Tinder guys and a handful of dildos can’t fully kill. How hard would it be to actually try it?

Back home I ping one of my Tinder FwBs — the kink-friendly one who seemed like the obvious shot. I don’t spell out what I want; I’m just feeling the ground. He starts rambling that it’s “pathetic,” like something only trash does. Weird, coming from a guy who flirts with BDSM and power-play. He says it’s different if there’s another girl involved, of course. The whole convo twists something cold in my stomach. Note to self: ghost him slowly.

What’s the real difference — one dick, three dicks? Things feel gross or not for a dozen of reasons, not because of a headcount. I’d been scouting for new people, and now I’m one down. Meanwhile, Chris and Jake had a threesome already. Unfair.

Hold on — Am I on to something here? I know those guys. I know what they can handle. They’re low-key hot — experienced, confident, and they don’t need to prove it. So why not them? If they’re into it — and there’s a reason they keep inviting me to those parties — maybe this could actually happen.