The common room was a blur of spinning lights and people dancing - some laughing, some kissing, and some drinking.
You were between them. As always.
Mattheo stood behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his chest. His hands found your hips without asking. They always did. Theodore was in front, his shirt half unbuttoned, his curls falling into his eyes as he smirked down at you.
“Look at her,” Mattheo said. “Dancing like she doesn’t know she’s ours.”
Your breath caught.
Ours.
Theodore’s fingers traced up your bare arm. “She knows,” he said. “Don’t you, baby girl?”
Your pulse kicked. The nickname. The way his voice dropped when he said it.
Mattheo spun you around suddenly, his hands firm on your hips. “One more shot,” he said, guiding you toward the table. “For us.”
Theo poured three and he handed you one. “To crossing lines.”
You hesitated. “Crossing lines?”
They both stared at you like the answer was obvious.
“To finally admitting it,” Mattheo said under his breath. “That we want you.”
The world tilted and you downed the shot.
You woke to the sound of silence... The kind that doesn't soothe, but hums with tension. Your head throbbed and your temples pulsing in time with your heartbeat.
Slowly, cautiously, you opened your eyes.
You were in Theo's bed.
And you weren’t alone.
To your left lay Mattheo, bare from the waist up, one arm slung over his face, as if shielding himself from the world. His torso was all lean muscle and the sheet hung low on his hips.
Oh my...
On your right, Theo lay facing you. His arm was draped across your waist, his fingers resting just above your hip like they belonged there.
You sat up slowly trying not to disturb either of them. The sheet slipped from your chest and pooled in your lap. Every inch of your body ached - not just soreness, but a deep, echoing ache that reminded you of everything that had happened.
Of them.
How had it come to this?
They’d always been your constants, your chaos and your calm. The boys you trusted more than anyone. The boys you swore were only your friends.
But maybe that had always been a lie.
Maybe all three of you had been lying to yourselves for far too long.
Your eyes drifted between them. Mattheo’s strong arm resting across his forehead. Theo’s hand still on your waist, anchoring you in place. They looked peaceful. Innocent, even. Like the night hadn’t shifted something unspoken between you all. Like everything hadn’t changed.
What were you supposed to say when they woke up?
Were you meant to laugh it off? Pretend it had been a mistake?
Would they?
Your throat tightened at the thought. You had kissed Mattheo a hundred times in your head - but last night, it was real. Desperate. Messy. Perfect. You had imagined Theo’s hands so many times, but your imagination had never come close to how he’d actually touched you - reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And now?
Now you knew.
Half of you wanted to run... to get up, grab your clothes, and vanish before either of them opened their eyes. But the other half… the deeper half… didn’t want to leave at all.