Threesome

Gabriel's POV

My hand wouldn't stop shaking. Every time I looked down at my knuckles, I saw the faint red smear where I had actually, God, I actually punched him. I punched Derek Miller.

I was walking back to the dorms my heart doing this frantic, rib cracking dance. Why did he let me go? He should have beat me up. But he just stood there, looking at me like I was some new, interesting species of insect he couldn't wait to pin to a board.

I was so deep in the what if trap that I didn't even see the person in front of me until I was face first in a navy blue blazer.

"Oof!"

We both went down. Hard. My glasses flew off again and I heard the terrifying thud of books hitting the pavement.

"I am so sorry! Oh my god, I am so, so sorry!"

I scrambled onto my knees, my hands frantically patting the concrete until I felt the familiar plastic frames. I shoved them onto my face, my vision snapping back to see a guy sitting across from me.

He looked... well, he looked like me. Lean, a bit lanky, wearing thick glasses and a corporate style button down that looked like he had been trying to impress someone all day.

He didn't look angry, though. He just let out this breathless, shaky laugh.

"Chill, man," he said, reaching out to give me a hand up. "I am the one who wasn't looking. I was so lost in my head. Literally in another planet."

I took his hand. It was warm. I didn't know why but I started fidgeting, grabbing his fallen textbooks and stacking them with trembling fingers.

"No, really, I am just... I am a mess today. I am sorry."

The guy leaned in, squinting at my face. "You look worried, man. Like, dangerously pale. I am Mike, by the way."

"Gabriel," I mumbled, trying to wipe the dust off my jeans.

"Well, Gabriel, you look like you have been haunted by a ghost. And sadly I think I can relate to you right now. Weird coincidence, right?"

Mike tapped his chin. "Tell you what. You don't mind if we hit a bar right now, do you? Because I definitely, 100% need to get high. Or drunk. Or both."

I blinked. My mom’s voice hissed in the back of my head, Drunkards shall not inherit the kingdom.

"Uhm... I don't really drink. Like, ever."

Mike stared at me for a beat, then threw his head back and laughed. "Never? At all? Gabriel, that is exactly why you look like you are about to faint. Come on, man. One night. Let’s just forget our lives exist for like, two hours. Please. I can't be alone right now. I could just die."

There was something in his voice, a tiny crack of desperation that I recognized. A familiar feeling I always felt desperately looking for an anchor that doesn't exist. He needed someone.

The bar was a hole in the wall called The Rusty Tap. It smelled like bleach and cheap, burnt popcorn. By 8:30 PM, the air was thick, and Mike was already on his second glass of cheap scotch.

I took one tiny sip of mine and nearly died. It felt like a liquid blowtorch was sliding down my throat, making my eyes water behind my glasses.

"You know," Mike started, his voice already getting that heavy, slurred edge. "My boyfriend cheated on me. Five years, Gabriel. Five. Years."

I froze, my glass halfway to my mouth. "Five years?"

"Yep. And worse? with a girl."

Mike slammed his hand on the sticky table. "The worst thing you can do in your life is date a bisexual. Seriously. More risk of cheating. You are fighting the whole world for their attention."

I stared at him, feeling this weird pang of guilt. I wanted to tell him about Bradley. I wanted to tell him that my five year investment had just been traded for a billionaire bully. But I just sat there, the good boy who didn't know how to share his own trauma.

"I am sorry, man," I whispered.

"It's fine," Mike groaned, leaning his head on the table. "I get it. I am broke. I am not pretty enough. My ass isn't tight enough... maybe I should just give up on boys. Just get a cat and be done with it."

"No!" I said, a bit too loud. "I don't think... I mean, I heard true love exists. Somewhere. Maybe."

I looked at Mike, but he didn't answer. His breathing had evened out, his forehead pressed against the wood. He was out. Cold.

"Shit," I muttered. "Mike? Hey, Mike!"

Nothing. Just as I was about to panic, his phone on the table started buzzing. I grabbed it. The caller ID said Erica.' I swiped answer before I could talk myself out of it.

"Hello? Uhm... your friend, Mike... he is at The Rusty Tap. He is really drunk. Please come help him."

"On my way, honey," a raspy, confident voice replied. "Ten minutes."

Exactly ten minutes later, the door swung open. A girl walked in, and I actually forgot to breathe for a second. She was wearing these tiny denim shorts and a top that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

She screamed... well, my mother would have called her a Jezebel. But to me, she looked like a firework.

"Gabriel?" she asked, walking over and spanking the back of Mike’s head. Hard.

"Yeah. Hi. You are Erica?"

"In the flesh." She looked at Mike and rolled her eyes. "He still has me, but he’s still out here drinking his life away over a menial heartbreak. so dramatic, isn't it?"

Suddenly, Mike’s head bolted up. He wasn't asleep, he was just... recharging. "Shut up, bitch," he mumbled.

Erica laughed, pulling out a chair and sitting down like she owned the place. "Wow look who’s awake."

Mike turned his bloodshot eyes to her, then shifted them to me. He looked like he was vibrating.

Suddenly, he stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. He looked around the bar, then leaned into Erica’s face.

"I think we should do that threesome," Mike announced. "Right here. Right now. Gabriel’s in, right?"

My brain stalled. My heart did a weird, confused flip. I had spent my whole life in church pews and dusty libraries, thinking that sex was this shameful, hidden thing you did in the dark while crying. And here was this guy who looked just like me shouting about a threesome in a public bar.

I was shocked. My face was probably the color of a ripe tomato. But somewhere, deep under the shock, I was... fascinated. They were so free. They were messy and loud and they didn't care who was watching.

"Uhm... I... I don't..." I stuttered, my hands flying to my glasses to keep them from sliding off.

Erica just winked at me, reaching over to grab a sip of Mike’s drink. "Why do you keep embarrassing me, Mike? Gabe forget about him. We aren't usually like this. I mean I am not.... I am totally you know....a Virgin!" She yelled it, turning around making sure everybody heard it.

Honestly, I knew at that exact moment, I had just invited fucking tornadoes into my life. They both looked like the kind of friends you will have that would do you know good...at all.