Eric's POV

When your girlfriend suggests a threesome, one of two things could occur. One, you could be heartbroken and insist on keeping things monogamous—possibly even attempt couples therapy to work out each other's insecurities. Or two, go through with a threesome and perhaps discover more about yourself and your partner in all good fun.

Little did I know, there was a third option. As I ventured into the latter choice, I found myself confronting my own insecurities while the others seemed to be having inexplicably more fun than I did. That night last semester, which we agreed would be a one-off, inconsequential moment of our college careers, was the bane of my existence and catalyst for everything to change.

It wasn't that I didn't know I was queer going into that, or the complexity of my love-hate relationship with my self-imposed label of bisexuality despite never engaging in homoromantic pursuits led to my self-doubt. It wasn't that I had assumed that my relationship with Izzy wasn't as it used to be when we first dated in high school and that this was her way of cutting me out so she could find someone new.

No, the problem stemmed from including my best friend, baseball captain, and roommate, Kenji Uehara, in my relationship with Izzy.

It would have been one thing if I was jealous—it should've been the most logical feeling when it came to involving another person in a relationship. I should've been furious with Kenji for touching and kissing Izzy the way I had done for years. But no, I wasn't jealous, not of Kenji, but of Izzy. Of the entire situation, really. I had never felt that sort of liberating feeling before with anyone, including Izzy. Maybe I'd never explored that side of myself, and I had never really slept around before Izzy. But I never knew how much the idea of being cared for in the same way I cared for Izzy appealed to me.

It didn't help that Kenji's charismatic and playful banter came at the expense of shameless flirting, lingering glances, and intimate touches. And now I was remembering those exact touches we shared that night. The gentle caresses and whispers—a side of him I had never seen before.

I was used to the teasing, the playful jabs and taunts about my ass, and whatever other ridiculous sexual jokes he told me in front of the team. What scared me was how much I wanted more of this side of Kenji, the gentle and attentive nature he gives people in bed. It was the dichotomy of it all, really.

The only reprieve I've had was the long summer break I've spent avoiding them both. I opted to return home to Chesterfield, Virginia, to work at the baseball camp I attended as a kid instead of staying with Izzy at her grandmother's home like I did last year. Working on building my resume and gaining experience in training and conditioning with young athletes was my reason for trekking the 430 miles from Connecticut to Virginia.

Even if it meant awkward phone and FaceTime calls with Izzy and Kenji.

"Those kiddos kicking your ass yet?" Kenji had told me a month after that night, his face taking up my phone when I thought Izzy was calling. In the background, I could spot her stirring a pot on the stove behind him. It was almost too domestic watching them in the kitchen, Kenji occasionally passing Izzy the spices she needed.

"They pitch better than you," I managed to tease, but not entirely in the same easy tone it used to be. It was hard to meet his gaze even through a camera lens.

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, I've been practicing over the summer. Coach would kill us if we didn't."

Usually, I'd have some silly retort, but it was difficult to think with the camera so close to his face.

"Well, I'm just letting you know that Izzy and I are offended that you haven't picked up the phone yet." He pouted, and it took everything in me not to remember how his lips looked around—I gulped. "Even Mr. Mew Mew is distraught with you."

Kenji tilted the screen to the gray British Shorthair lounging on the armrest of Izzy's favorite loveseat. Sir Isaac Meowton, or Mr. Mew Mew, as Kenji's always called him, was the cat we adopted and stowed away in our dorm room sophomore year. He was technically my cat on paper, but we considered him our son since we rescued him from the campus streets. He was a scrawny little thing digging through one of the trash bags near the sports center, eyes crusted and coat riddled with mange that hid his gorgeous gray coat and stunning gray eyes. The name was Kenji's idea.

As if on cue, he meowed before continuing to groom himself.

"Sorry, little guy," I cooed at him as the camera flipped back to Kenji. "I've just been busy with work."

"Yeah, but a call would be nice. It's not like we're in different time zones. You know I'd be fine with you calling at three in the morning."

"I'll be better about it."

"Good, we miss you up here."

I hated that a part of me hoped there was some underlying message in there.

"Well, I should let you talk to your girlfriend before she threatens to hit me with the spatula or something."

The camera shook like he dropped the phone before Izzy appeared in the frame. Her brown wavy hair was tucked neatly in a low, messy bun as she wore one of her grandmother's aprons. "Hey," she said, and I think with one glance, she's figured it out. Her eyes narrowed, and her lips pursed before turning to Kenji. "Kenj, can you watch the pot? I'll take this upstairs."

Even without seeing him, I can already guess that he made some joke. There are a few tense, silent moments before Izzy sits at the edge of her bed. "Is this about our threesome?"

I didn't respond, too scared that I'd spill all the convoluted emotions if I opened my mouth.

"Babe," she stressed. "You can talk to me."

"I've been busy—"

"I know," she interrupted. "But somethings been on your mind if you've been avoiding us."

I gnawed on my bottom lip. Izzy wouldn't relent; it was in her nature to get to the bottom of things. She was the communicator of the two of us, never scared to ask the tough questions to get answers. While I hated any form of confrontation, I would much rather avoid something or someone until the last necessary moment. "I'd rather not talk about this over the phone. I'll be back up there in a couple of weeks."

She frowned, obviously disappointed with me, but she nodded. "You'll call us sooner than that, though, right?"

I agreed, and while I did call a few times after that, I kept them short and brief.

It had been the perfect excuse to wallow in my misery and pretend that I was fine after that night.

Except, now that I was sitting in the empty apartment I had signed with Kenji at the beginning of the year, I second guess everything. Today was the day that I'd have to see him in person again. I'd have to face him and the memory of that night with him and Izzy.

While he was still in Connecticut, I made it to the apartment first, picking up the keys from the main office while he and Danny, our second baseman, rented a U-Haul to pick up furniture we left in storage.

Kenji insisted on paying for it, even though I had told him I could chip in since I bought most of the oversized items from a secondhand store or thrift shop.

I jolted as my phone rang, then grimaced as Kenji's name flashed on my screen. I let it ring two more times before answering.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey, we're pulling up right now," he said. "You've got the keys and everything?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, Danny's trying to reverse park. Meet you outside?"

I hummed before grabbing the extra set of keys off the counter.

I was barely out the front door as Kenji turned the corner from the garage.

"Hey," he said sheepishly. His dark hair was longer, or longer than I had assumed through the video calls, pinned neatly with two Bobby pins. That was new; usually, he just gelled it back like a haphazard Grease character. Either Izzy had given him hair tips, or he was experimenting; I didn't know which answer I preferred.

"Hey."

Danny cleared his throat from behind, glancing between us before acknowledging me with a nod. "Sup."

He squeezed around Kenji and patted me on the shoulder. "I hope you worked those arm muscles this summer. That couch was a struggle to load. Let's hope it fits through the door."

"It should. We got it through the door of the dorm room."

He clapped a shoulder on Kenji's shoulder. "Welp, we'll find out. Let's start on those boxes first. We put the fragile stuff on top. Hopefully, nothing broke; the drivers out here are crazy. You'd think we were in New York with how they were honking and tailgating us." He mumbled about a particularly bad driver as he walked back to the truck, Kenji and I awkwardly following behind him. As we waited for Danny to roll up the door, Kenji turned to me.

"Hey," he said, almost stepping in for a hug but stopped himself. Instead, he settled on a half hug, closer to the ones most jocks did with their teammates. "How was Virginia? We missed you up here."

Maybe it was because Danny was here, but Kenji had asked that multiple times over the phone, especially, and my response was always the same. Maybe he'd have cussed me out if Danny wasn't here, and I probably deserved it.

"Same old; hot during the summer, but the summer camp was fun. Kids were great."

"I bet."

I nodded, glancing at the boxes labeled dishes Danny deposited on the curb. "I'll go and put these in the kitchen."

He blinked, looking once at the boxes and back at me. "I'll see if Danny and I can tackle bringing the couch in. Getting it in the truck was easy, but I worry about damaging the doorframe."

"Right."

He nodded, hesitating as if wanting more to say. "Okay. I'll have Danny bring in Mr. Mew Mew first. He can't wait to snuggle with you again."

It was clear that I was being colder to him than usual; his face said it all. He wore his heart on his sleeve and always has.

It wasn't fair to him, but how was I supposed to look at him the same before? How was I supposed to let him go back to shamelessly flirting with me and pretend it didn't mean anything different?

Luckily, having our cat back here would ease some of the tension. I could always count on him to provide some relief to distract myself.

But as Kenji walked back into the U-Haul, Danny eyed me suspiciously once he grabbed Mr. Mew Mew's carrier from the front of the truck.

Danny's eyes darted between us as he placed our cat's carrier down. "Everything alright?"

Mr. Mew Mew scratched at the carrier, pressing his body up against it as if to get closer to me. I bent down to unzip it first, letting him step out first before picking him up in my arms. He immediately purred in my arms. I turned to Danny. "What do you mean?"

"Seriously. Usually, you wouldn't leave his side. He's practically glued to your hip, and you're acting like he's got Covid."

"Nothing happened," I lied. I'm just stressing about moving in. I would've liked to start furnishing and decorating a couple of weeks ago, but I only made it back here two days ago."

He hummed incredulously. "Y'all were always close. I almost suspected you two would spontaneously get married and never tell the team. The sad thing is we wouldn't even notice either."

"Notice what?" Kenji asked as he held another box.

"Nothing," I quickly responded, practically prying it from his arms with my free hand and avoiding Danny's eyes. "I'll go and take care of this. You two grab the couch."

I headed back inside with the box in one hand and Mr. Mew Mew on my shoulders and mentally cursed myself. I didn't know what I would do about this living situation or this weird energy between me and Kenji, but I'd have to figure something out. With school starting and baseball practices right around the corner, I'd have to do something.