It's summer, meaning the night air is humid within the cramped walls of the motel room. Within the span of the conversation—the four of you sprawled in a little circle on the floor. The boys have long peeled off their shirts. Tashi's lithe legs curl in your lap.

Everyone's hot, sticky, and buzzed. Nobody is under any pretences as to what's going to happen tonight. The question is when.

Tashi is used to sharing her toys. With you, specifically. Best friends share everything, right? Lecture notes, lip gloss, little boys with harmless crushes on the playground. Angel-faced, doe-eyed blondes with curly-haired, devil-may-care best friends.

You had to admit, you knew them more as Fire and Ice rather than Art and Patrick ("Boys Junior Doubles' winners has a nicer ring to it." came Art's smooth tenor, quavering only just the slightest to betray his veneer of confidence. Patrick's flashy grin and side-step "But you two can call us yours".)

"What about two of you?" Tashi's finger crooks between them. Laughter bursts briefly from Patricks chest, before he glances at Art—whose eyes go blank before his lips part in realisation, bemused. "What do you mean? Oh!"

Patrick's lips twinge wryly. Art continues. "No. Why, is that surprising?"

It is, actually. You and Tashi exchange a glance, and the spark in her eyes is dangerous. The silence in the room isn't awkward, but it isn't exactly comfortable, either. Fuck. It's still boiling in here.

"We're out of beer." Tashi declares noncommittally as she slides her legs out of your lap and slips onto the end of the bed. Her gaze falls onto you first, and she inclines her head, and you know exactly what she's demanding of you. Before you even realise it, you're following after her.

Her hands find your thigh, warm and calloused and familiar. Her fingers angle your jaw towards her, gaze dropping to your lips. The two boys watch like wide-eyed, eager puppies. It's nothing new to you—it's hardly the first time you and Tashi have made out, audience or not.