“I don’t know your password.”
“There isn’t one.”
I sighed dramatically. “You mean I could have stolen your phone and messaged my evil minions at any time?”
“The fact that you never even tried it is what convinced me I was wrong about you.”
He was finally admitting I wasn’t a thief? A weight lifted off my soul, and I felt light and giddy.
“When exactly did you decide I was innocent?”
“Just now.”
“Fuck off.”
“I don’t know. A few weeks ago, I guess. I started testing you by leaving my phone lying around and you never even looked at it, let alone picked it up.”
I tapped his phone screen and the screensaver appeared. It was a picture he’d taken of the three of us when we were goofing around at the beach the week before. I wasn’t sure why he’d taken the picture, but we’d been having fun at the time, and the three of us were grinning at the camera. Thank goodness I’d been wearing my bathing suit that day because there had been days where the mood to swim had struck, and I hadn’t bothered to do more than strip out of my clothes.
The three of us looked happy together. Right. I wished I had a copy of the picture to put up in my next apartment.
I figured out how to open his phone, although I’d never had an expensive one like his, and looked through it for his music app.
“What do you want to listen to?” I asked.
“What do you like?”
I shrugged. “Aside from the radio, all I have is an old iPod from when I was a kid. It’s had the same music on it since I was eight.”
“So like...top forty?”
“More like pop punk. Nothing with too many swears because...I was eight.”
He gave a soft laugh. “So you were a little rebel, even back then.”
“You know it.”
“And you haven’t been interested in expanding your musical tastes?”
“I never have much extra money, and almost all of that goes to buying books I absolutely need to own physical copies of.”
“Like mine?” he asked slyly.
“My love for your work has died a ghastly death.”
“Oh, am I supposed to believe you’re not going to be the first one in line to buy my book when it comes out?”
“I’m hoping for a complimentary copy—preferably autographed. After all, I helped you with your research.”
“No, you help Zero do research, and I’m helping you do your research. I’m not getting anything out of this deal, so why should I give you my work for free?”
“Maybe because you need my feedback?”
“I don’t need your feedback, but I have to admit I like it.”
“And maybe our games haven’t helped you with this book, but they might be good research for one of your future books. Besides, if you tell me that abusing me the way you do is a big boring chore, I’m going to call you a liar.”
“Maybe it’s not all boring.” He smirked at me as though we were sharing a joke, and I could feel myself mooning at him like a preteen. God, the last thing this guy needed was for me to still be obsessed with him. The problem was that my obsession had moved from being about his writing to being about him, instead. And then there was Zero. I wasn’t sure which of them I was most in love with. The answer was both of them, for completely different reasons.
“I’m glad you don’t find me dull, anyway. Nice of you to help a new writer with her research and her craft.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t have time for an actual relationship.”
I stared at the road, trying not to hold my breath. What exactly did he mean by that? If he had time for a relationship, would he, and by extension Zero, choose me? Or was he saying he’d only given someone like me the time of day because he didn’t have a real girlfriend?
When he didn’t elaborate, I glanced over at him as coolly as I could and raised a brow. “Oh?”
“You’ve given me the chance to explore some of my darker interests. I’m not sure a normal girl could hold my interest anymore.”
Right. It wasn’t about me at all. It was about what I was willing to do that he didn’t think other women would tolerate.
I gave a self-conscious half laugh.
Yeah, this whole business was definitely a one-way street where they were concerned. I kept grasping at straws when they said something nice to me, but their vague affection for me was mostly about the holes they liked to use.
“At least you’ll always have Zero.”
“Zero is pretty, but he’s not as pretty as you.”
I smiled politely, but kept my eyes on the road, afraid that if I looked at him and he looked at me he’d see how I felt about him. Then again, he probably didn’t care if I fell in love with him. It would feed his ego. As long as I went away when he was done with me, and didn’t become a nuisance, it was all good.
The pretty comment probably meant nothing other than the general politeness of a man interested in continuing to use my body.
When this was over, what was I going to do with my life?
Maybe I would move closer to my aunt. There seemed to be more jobs available there compared to this little town. I could set myself up in a bachelor apartment—maybe get a real phone and the Internet. I could get some clothes to wear to interviews and keep working on my novel when I had time off. Maybe Zero and Vandal would feel kindly to me even after this was over, and stay friends with me, and would keep helping me with writing and tell me how to get a publisher.
It sounded pretty good compared to the life I’d been living not long ago, but I was going to have to work hard not to compare it to the life I was living now. The time to relax and never having to worry about bills or food was all lovely, of course, but it was having someone in my life to talk to, to share deep thoughts with, to touch me and maybe even care about me a little bit—that was the part I wasn’t sure if I could live without anymore.
In a bigger city, maybe I’d find someone to care about me like that. I might even find someone to love me. But it was like Vandal had been saying—what were the chances I’d ever find anyone who shared my passion for the written word, for the same genre, the same movies, for everything we did together in basements and cages, and all of the creepy shit I loved so much? The three of us fit together like a well-played Tetris game, but even more satisfying. I didn’t know if I could go back to having a relationship where my partner only vaguely understood me, and we didn’t connect at deeper levels. I’d spent months now living in this artist commune, more or less, with two men I was in love with, and I wasn’t sure life was going to be this exciting and fulfilling ever again.
“Hey, little monster. I thought I told you to put on some music.”
I realized I was still clutching his phone, staring blankly out the window.
“Are you plotting? We can talk it through if you want.”
I wrinkled my nose, my eyes stinging with tears I managed to blink back.
“Sorry. Yeah, I was plotting. I think it’s something I have to figure out for myself, though. Thanks.”
He grunted, and I scrolled through the music options and asked him what he wanted.
“I don’t know. Kink Monsters? Fitte?”