I'm stalling. I've been standing out Casper's front door for an embarrassingly long time. If I stay out here any longer, his neighbors might call the cops.

      There's no reason to make such a big deal out of this. Rolling my shoulders back, I take a few steadying breaths before bringing my finger to the doorbell. There's no going back now.

      I'm shocked by the rapid response. The way the door opens immediately leads me to believe that's he's been waiting by the door. My lips quirk to tease him for his eagerness, until I realize that he likely knew I was there the whole time.

     "Oh god, did you see my car pull in?" I ask, eyes wide with horror.

      He shakes his head, but the sparkle of amusement in blue eyes tells me differently. I haven't even stepped inside yet, and my cheeks are burning.

      He holds the door open as I walk in, hanging my purse and jacket for me.

     "That's new," I comment.

     "What is?"

      "You're a gentleman now," I tease, nudging my head towards my coat on the hanger. What happened to the boy who used to steal my snacks?

      He chuckles softly. When I turn my head back his way, I catch the way his gaze leisurely slides from the dips of my hips and up to my chest. When his eyes finally come back up to my face, he realizes that I caught him checking me out.

      "I'm working on it," he says, though the fire in his gaze is just as bright. "You look great."

      I mumble my thanks, feeling hot again. I hide my face from him as he leads me to the kitchen, exaggerating my curiosity of his décor to cover my jitters. For a bachelor, the house looks great. The kitchen looks like one you'd see in a home décor magazine. It's far from what I expected from Casper.

      "It's only fair that I checked you out, considering the way you were assessing my ass at work."

      Of course, he wouldn't drop the subject.

      I fumble with the stool that he had pulled up for me and inhale sharply. He couldn't have possibly seen that.

      "I did no such thing," I object. "My professionalism would never."

      "Martha said otherwise when she pulled me to the side later in the evening. With the way you were practically salivating, she thought you skipped your break, again."

      That little witch. "Well since you've got a little tease of cleavage like she requested, are you going to give in to the strip tease?"

      He smirks at me, gaze never leaving mine as he ties a bright pink apron around his neck. He loves games, and I'm starting to worry that flirting is going to become his new favourite challenge. He's going to make my work life a living hell. That smirk is the reason I won't survive the night. "My professionalism would never," he throws my words back at me. "Although I could be tempted to put on a show tonight."

       My mind betrays me by picturing him naked under his apron. I need to put an end to this conversation before my mind really slips into the gutter. "Do you need help with anything?"

      That damn sparkle in his eyes returns, and I know he's about to twist my words into a dirty request. I rephrase my question. "Is there any cooking I can assist you with?"

      He pouts as I kill his joke. "Nope. I've got it all covered. You just sit there and look pretty...Shouldn't be too hard."

      I groan. I'm hopeless if such simple words have my heart racing.

      "What's the story with the apron?" I ask. I would expect flashy when it comes to Casper, but bright pink with sparkles probably wouldn't have crossed my mind. It could belong to a girlfriend... The idea hadn't occurred to me until now, and the wave of nausea that hits me is unhealthy. Am I really so desperate that I'm already feeling possessive of a man that I haven't seen in a decade?

      "I begged Lawson to teach me to cook for months, and this was the only way he agreed." He grins. "He thought it would deter my determination."

      My gaze passes over the apron with greater appreciation. There was something inexplicably attractive about a man who was comfortable enough with his sexuality to oppose gender norms.

     "We're you really that bad of a cook?"

      He sighs and waves the spatula dramatically with his words. "I almost burned the kitchen down one time, and the man never forgives me!" He mumbles something about being distracted, and I can't help but laugh, pleased that their relationship hasn't changed all these years.

      As if speaking his name spawned his presence, I hear footsteps coming our way and I recognize Lawson's voice immediately. "What time—" His words die in his throat as our eyes connect across the hall. Our eye contact doesn't last long, as if I've lost control of my eye movement, my gaze traces every inch of the very naked man in front of me. The towel that was hanging loosely by his side swings forward in his desperate attempt to cover up. His panicked movement finally triggers me into action. I cover my eyes with my hands, even though the damage has already been done.

      Never missing a chance to further fluster a person, Casper wolf whistles.

      "Christ, Casper! You didn't tell me she was here." Lawson's head shoots my way, eyes narrowing in a mixture of apology and humiliation. "I'm so sorry. Please forget this happened." He wraps the towel around his waist with a tight grip. Even with the towel on, he's a sight to see. I barely resist following the drops of water running down his tone chest.

      "I didn't see anything." I try to reassure. I'm lying through my teeth. I can't tell who's blushing more, me or Lawson. That image is going to be burned in my thoughts for the rest of my life. I can just picture myself, ten years from now, married, unzipping my husband's pants, and thinking of Lawson Novak's freshly showered dick.

      "I highly doubt that you could have missed that monster," Casper states nonchalantly.

      An exasperated grunt rises from Lawson's throat before he disappears down the hall.

      "You're cruel," I tell Casper.

      He only laughs and leans over the counter, so his face is in front of mine. He props his head on one hand and uses the other to rub a thumb across the corner of his lips. "You've got a little something here."

      "Jerk!" I push his face away. How can he flirt so blatantly with me and then tease me for drooling over his best friend, with an even bigger grin? Casper seems to think nothing of what just happened, continuing to cook as if I wasn't just introduced to Lawson's monster cock, if I'm to use Casper's words.

      Again, I grasp at straws to divert my dirty thoughts. "Are you guys roommates?" The way Lawson was comfortable walking around naked, and was clearly here long before I arrived, lead me to my suspicions.

      There's the promise of a secret dancing on his lips, a secret that he doesn't share yet. "Yep." So, when he said they still hangout, he meant that they lived together. "Roommates. Just like Patroclus and Achilles."

      I swallow my laughter. He clearly didn't know their story as well as I did. There was nothing historians could say, to convince me that those two weren't romantically involved. I don't care how much I loved Ivy or my siblings, requesting that our ashes be buried together is not a plan of mine.

      "We've been living here, three years, now."

      "Wow." I mumble. That explains the gorgeous kitchen. Lawson always had good taste. "I'm surprised he's put up with you this long."

       Again, with that secretive smile. "Nah, he loves me. I'm his favourite pain in the ass."

       Lawson returns a few minutes later, a faint blush still painting his cheeks. I'm not rushed to differ my gaze this time. How did they both turn out so beautiful? To match their opposite personalities, Lawson's dark hair is well styled, face covered with a few days' worth of stubble versus Casper's clean-shaven look. Eyes as dark as his hair, years have sharpened his features.

      I was so focused on his dick, that I barely registered the tattoos lining his skin. The forearms that I remember doodling on in class are covered with intrinsic designs. I wish I had taken advantage of the opportunity to admire the artwork also hiding beneath his clothes.

      "Nice to see you again, Desirae." Oh, sweet baby Jesus, the way he speaks my name on top of the fire in Casper's gaze is going to make me combust.

      I don't think the mumbled words that part my lips are comprehensible, but always the nice one of the two, Lawson doesn't tease me for it. He takes a seat two stools away from mine.

      "You're not helping him cook?" I ask. "He told me about the time he almost burned the house down."

       "Don't get him started!" Casper grumbles.

       Too late. By the time the guys are done squawking, Casper places the lasagna in the oven.

      Abandoning the pink apron, he regards us both with a grin. "Drinks anyone?"

      I know it's a bad idea, but I'm craving something to take the edge off. Lawson and I both shrug a shoulder in answer.

      We move into the living room. Something tells me that Casper was granted the privilege of designing the living room. The colors are erratic, with more decorations than anyone could ever need. But somehow, it's still cozy. A lot like he is.

      They settle on the couch, while I take the love seat. After handing us our drinks, Casper makes himself comfortable, lounging on the couch with his legs in Lawson's lap. Lawson doesn't blink an eye.

      I cradle my Vodka and orange awkwardly, as a brief silence overtakes us. To no surprise, Casper is the one to break it.

      "Getting down to business, tell him why you're here." He nudges his head towards Lawson who perks his brows at me.

      I shrink in my seat, already knowing where this is going. "I'm here because you requested that I come over to catch up." I emphasize the 'you'.

      Casper rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Now, tell him the revolutionary news you shared with me."

      Lawson's eyes grow even wider in anticipation, and I groan. "You're making this into something much bigger than it is. I see you're no less dramatic than you used to be."

      He rolls his eyes again and flicks his hand in gesture that clearly means, get on with it.

      I sigh and own up to it. Because why should it matter how 9-year-old me felt? "I had a huge crush on you and Casper in elementary school."

      "What?" Lawson's chokes on his whiskey. I've never seen his aloof façade break so fast. He looks stunned, pensive eyes flashing with something I don't understand.

      I'm not repeating myself, so instead I defend myself. They're both looking at me like I betrayed them for not voicing my feelings. "I didn't want to come between the two of you!"

      "We probably would have liked you there." Casper sips his drink casually, as if I'm the only one that feels the weight of his words. Between them... My fantasies don't need that twist. If my palms get any sweatier, I might drop my glass.

      It's subtle, but I don't miss the way Lawson nudges Casper's hips. Casper feigns indifference, but there's something in the look they share. So much said without speaking, and I wish desperately that I was a mind reader. Lawson's thoughts, I would especially like to know. There's some kind of understanding in his gaze, and I can't tell if he's angry or pleased with Casper.

      "That would have been a mess," I try to keep my tone light, but I swallow nervously. I need this conversation to end. Maybe the alcohol was a bad idea. My thoughts are only going to swim further adrift.

       "Guess we'll never know..." Casper speaks carefully, looking at me as if expecting a reply. What am I supposed to reply to that?

      I chuckle nervously, desperate to change the subject. "So, what got you into social work?"

      He knows exactly what I'm doing, running from an uncomfortable conversation, but for once he doesn't call me out on it. He answers my question genuinely. We fall into an easy conversation, and I relax in my seat. We talk about classmates that we've kept in touch with, about high school and college, and other milestones we've missed in the past ten years. This is what I was expecting when he said catching up.

      By the time supper's ready, I've had two drinks more than I planned on having. I'm totally screwed, but I'm having too much fun to care. I'm too far gone to regain control, giggling at their every word.

       I'm not the only one who's feeling good. Casper acts like he's drunk on life all the time, so it's harder to judge his current state, but Lawson's cheeks are flushed and his posture sloppy. I giggle again because my tipsy brain thinks that he looks cute that way.

      "I can't believe I criticized myself for my pathetic unrequited crush for so long, and you felt the same way!" Lawson exclaims during supper.

      Casper cackles and clinks his glasses against Lawson's. "Ditto."

     "You were not pathetic," I refute.

      Lawson shoots me a patronizing glare, and I hide my smile behind my glass.

      Casper being Casper, eggs him on. "You were literally his phone background for three years."

      Lawson huffs. "You're one to talk, you kept a picture of her on your nightstand."

     For once I'm happy that alcohol paints my skin red, it partly hides the new blush on my face. I hide my face in my hands and laugh at their bickering.

      "You invited her to your boys only party," Casper goes on. I wonder if it's been three years of this constant back and forth with them.

      "I was basically one of the guys back then." I'm trying to help Lawson, but something tells me that he knows how to handle Casper.

      "You weren't even that much of a tomboy. I think all the other guys just had crushes on you, too." So, much for trying to make him feel better, now Lawson's coming for me too.

      "Don't be ridiculous."

      They both shoot me incredulous looks. "We, the entire male population, of our class, used to spend recess chasing you. Forget the monkey bars or soccer nets, all we needed was a Desirae Larue."

       "It was a game," I counter. "And you two were definitely the worst."

      "I think you mean the best," Casper objects.

      "You both used to steal my hat and snacks. Talk about a declaration of love."

      "It's really a wonder you had a crush on us," Lawson laughs.

      I don't disagree with them. I take pleasure in bringing up every little stupid thing they did, and every chuckle that escapes them makes my head fuzzier. We keep teasing each other, until our foggy brains run out of memories.

      I'm shocked when I take my phone out to look at the time. I grimace at the 1am pictured on my cell. Even though they seem to be enjoying themselves, I don't want to impose. I squint my eyes, as I try to google the nearest taxi company's number. "I should get going."

      "You're not driving like this," Casper objects, tone sterner than I thought in his capacity.

      "Of course, not." I wave the phone in his face. "I'm calling a taxi."

      He puckers his lips distastefully and comes behind me to look at the screen over my shoulder. "You're looking at taxis across the border."

      "Oops." I try another site, but Casper flicks the screen off.

      "Hey!"

      "I'd rather you not take a taxi alone like this. I don't want to see your face on the news tomorrow."

      "This is an accredit-di-t-ted site," I stumble on my words, and Casper chuckles. I stick my tongue out at him for laughing at me.

      "Oh boy. I think it's time to get the both of you to bed." It's only then that I realize Lawson has disappeared. I whip my ahead around to look for him and find him sprawled on the couch, limbs hanging loosely as if his body gave out on him. He's staring at the empty glass on the table in front of him, as if it deceived him. I giggle at his furrowed brows, tempted to sooth the angry lines with my tongue.

      "He's cute when he's drunk," I inform Casper with a whisper.

     "Only when he's drunk?" He teases.

      I pretend to seal my lips in secret keeping.

     Casper throws his head back in laughter and leans closer so he can press his lips against my ear. "I think you're cute when you're drunk too."

      "Just when I'm drunk?" I return.

      My chest swells with pride at the pure amusement dancing in his eyes.

      "I'd reserve a different choice of word for that. Words that shouldn't be uttered when you're this drunk."

      I groan at his words. He's such a tease. Before I can run my mouth more, he silences me with a finger. "You'll thank me for this in the morning." He laughs at the pout on my face, and instantly I forget why I'm upset. Why would I ever be upset with someone so pretty? Standing this close, I get to really admire his face, and I decide that he's got the best lips in the whole wide world. I can only imagine what lips like that could do.

      I frown when Casper swears under his breath. Why is he so grumpy all of a sudden? Maybe he's a grumpy drunk. "Alright. Let's get you into something more comfortable, and into bed."

      He takes my hand like he doesn't trust that I won't wonder off and leads me to the laundry room. I sway on my feet as I watch him root clumsily through the basket of clean clothes, eyes tracking the muscles in his arms as he moves. He pulls out the first shirt and pair of boxers his hands come across. My treacherous brain takes them with no objection, as if I make it a habit to wear random men's underwear.

       He guides me to the guest bedroom and forces a glass in my hand before leaving. "Drink it," he urges.

      I take a sip and spit it out. "That's water."

       Though he laughs, a grumble parts his throat at the same time. "Please, Desirae. Take the water, and then I'll let you be."

      Part of me doesn't want him to leave, but the other part of me is desperate to please him. He stays put until I swallow the last drop of water. He heaves a heavy sigh, points at the outfit clutched between my fingers, and heads for the door. "You put that on and go to sleep on your side. I'll be right around the corner if you need anything."

       "You're not going to help me change?"

      He has his back to me, one leg out the door, and his entire body tenses at my words. He turns around with a stilled expression. "No," he answers simply. "I am not going to help you change... Do you often let men change you when you're drunk?"

       I raise a brow. I did not, but what's it to him if I did? "Not often, but that's really none of your business." No kink shaming on my watch.

       His jaw clenches, and it's so wrong but all I'm thinking is that an angry Casper is hot. Did I mention I was horny? The Lawson signature glare coming from Casper has me desperate to change because these panties are soaked.

      "I'm a woman with needs, Casper, you can't get annoyed with that... I like sex, deal with it." I place my hands on my hips, loving the feeling of defying him almost as much as the idea of pleasing him.

      He doesn't bother with a verbal response. He rubs his hands across his face, shoots me one last exasperated look before slamming the door shut. I smile at the door because I know he's not angry with me. I only gave him a taste of his own teasing. I hope he's horny too because both pricks had me aching all night.

       The minute I'm naked and covering myself with their clothes, I know I've made a mistake. I say their, because both the shirt and the boxers have distinctive smells. I can't tell which belongs to who, but the idea that I'm wearing a part of both of them, has me reaching a whole new level of desperate.

      I usually have a lot more control, but I'm tipsy and Casper and Lawson are a different breed of hot. Control has been thrown out the window. I can't help but run my finger through the hole in the crotch of the boxers I'm wearing. I tease myself like I know Casper would. I rub my clit in circles and just as I'm about to jump over the edge, I pull away, drawing it out like I know Lawson's secret darker side would.

       The idea that the material against me has touched one of them is too much to fight the temptation. I pull my hand out of the hole and press the palm of my hand against my center. I grind into my hand, imagining that the pressure comes from any part of them. Grinding against Lawson's thigh that threatened to break out of his tight jeans. Grinding against Casper's damning smirk or evilly wicked tongue. Grinding against Lawson's well-endowed cock... My orgasm hits me like a truck and my inebriation fails to swallow the gasp that escapes. I'm too high off my climax to care if either of them hears. Let them feel a fraction of the torture they put me through tonight for simply existing.