The sunset paints Salem State's parking lot in shades of orange and purple as I try to remember how legs work. Mine feel like overcooked spaghetti, wobbly and unreliable after a day that's rewritten everything I thought I knew about my life.
"You've got everything?" Lilly asks from the driver's seat of their Corolla, her usually perfect hair slightly mussed from hours of fucking.
I pat my pockets, finding my wallet and keys. "Yeah, think so."
The digital clock on their dashboard reads 8:04 PM. We've been going at it since Chemistry Lab this morning. My body feels simultaneously drained and electrified, like I've been plugged into a socket and had all my energy sucked out at the same time.
Rose leans out the passenger window, her smile predatory even in the fading light. "Don't forget to text us when you get home," she says, gesturing to the phone in my hand.
I stare down at the two new contacts in my phone. "Rose 🌹" and "Lilly 🍑" and a hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat. The Harris twins' phone numbers. In my contacts. Because they're my girlfriends now. Both of them.
"You're sure I'm not dead, right?" I blurt out, only half-joking. "Like, that car this morning actually killed me, and this is some elaborate heaven scenario?"
Rose snorts, rolling her eyes. "Yeah? Are you sure you're good to drive? I can drive your car home for you if you want?"
I glance at my Honda sitting a few spaces away, looking exactly as I left it this morning, before my entire universe shifted on its axis.
"No thanks. I'm not drunk or anything," I assure her, though honestly, I feel more intoxicated than I ever have from alcohol. "Just... processing."
"Alright," Rose says, though she doesn't look entirely convinced. Her eyes narrow slightly, studying me like I might collapse at any moment.
Lilly leans across her sister, her green eyes serious in the dimming light. "We'll see you tomorrow?"
The question carries more weight than its simple words suggest. It's a confirmation that today wasn't just some bizarre fluke of the universe.
"For sure."
Before I can turn to leave, Rose beckons me with a curled finger. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
Her expression says it all, she wants a goodbye kiss. My stomach does a little flip as I lean down toward her window.
Rose meets me halfway, her lips capturing mine with that same hungry intensity from earlier. Her hand snakes around the back of my neck, holding me in place as she practically devours me. When she finally releases me, I'm breathless.
"My turn," Lilly calls softly from the driver's side.
I circle around the front of their car, still dazed from Rose's kiss. Lilly's approach is different, slower, calmer. She cups my face gently, her thumb tracing my bottom lip before she presses her mouth to mine. Where Rose was fire, Lilly is a slow-burning ember, no less intense but more controlled. When she pulls away, her eyes linger on mine for a moment longer than necessary.
"Drive safe," she whispers.
With a final wave, they pull away, taillights disappearing into the darkening evening. I watch until they're completely gone, feeling suddenly, inexplicably hollow.
The walk to my car is only twenty feet, but it feels like miles. As I sink into the driver's seat, the silence hits me like a physical force. After hours of their voices, their laughter, their moans, the absence is deafening. It's that weird emptiness that always follows something amazing, like the strange vacuum left behind after a concert ends and you drop off your friends.
I start the engine, but sit there for a moment, just breathing. My lips still tingle from their kisses. My body aches in places I didn't know could ache. And my mind, my mind is a hurricane of thoughts and feelings I can't even begin to sort through.
The drive home is a blur. I'm on autopilot, muscle memory guiding me through familiar turns while my brain keeps replaying fragments of the day. Rose's wicked smile. Lilly's powerful gaze. The way they both looked at me like I was something precious and rare.
I pull into my driveway and kill the engine, sitting in darkness for a moment. The house lights are on. Evelyn must still be here. How the hell am I supposed to act normal after today? How do I walk in there and not have "I JUST HAD SEX WITH MY DREAM TWINS AND NOW THEY'RE MY GIRLFRIENDS" written all over my face?
My phone buzzes with a text. It's from Rose, "Miss you already."
Before I can even respond, another text comes in, this one from Lilly, "Are you home yet? Maybe you should share your location?"
I quickly thumb a reply to both of them. "Just got home safe. See you tomorrow ❤️"
I stare at that heart emoji for a solid five seconds before hitting send. Is it too much? Too soon? But after what we just did, a little heart seems pretty tame in comparison.
Lilly's follow-up about location sharing makes me chuckle. It's cute how protective they're being, but I'm not about to have them tracking my every move. That's a conversation for another day.
When I finally drag my pained body out of the car and up to the front door, I'm hit with the reality that I need to act normal. Chris will probably be in bed by now, but Evelyn might still be around. I take a deep breath, run my fingers through my sex-mussed hair in a futile attempt to look presentable, and step inside.
The living room lights are on, and there's Evelyn, perched on our couch like she's been frozen there for hours. Her expression is anything but put-together. She looks... tense and annoyed.
"You're home so late," she says, and it's not a question but an accusation.
I blink, genuinely confused. "Yeah? I was out with some friends from college."
"It's after eight," she continues, her eyes tracking me as I set my backpack down. "I was getting worried."
"I don't have a curfew, Evelyn," I point out, trying to keep my tone light. "I'm eighteen, in college. Mom doesn't even care what time I get home."
Something flashes in her eyes, something I can't quite identify. "Men shouldn't be out alone so late," she says, her voice dropping lower. "It's a dangerous world out there, Seth. You know that."
The statement is so bizarre that I actually laugh, which immediately feels like the wrong response when her expression darkens.
"Evelyn, what's going on?" I ask, suddenly concerned. This isn't like her at all. "Are you okay?"
"I was worried you might have been raped," she blurts out, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Raped?" I repeat the word, my voice catching in my throat. The accusation is so unexpected that I take a step back, nearly tripping over my backpack. "What? No, nothing like that happened."
Evelyn's shoulders slump with visible relief. She runs a hand through her blonde hair, messing up her usually perfect ponytail.
"I'm sorry," she says, not quite meeting my eyes. "It's just... someone like you..." She trails off, gesturing vaguely at me.
"Someone like me?" I prompt, completely lost.
"You're very independent," she says finally, though her tone suggests that's not exactly what she means. "You don't always recognize when situations might be... unsafe."
I feel completely adrift in this conversation, like we're speaking different languages. What the hell is she talking about? I've never been in any kind of danger that would warrant this level of concern.
Rather than push it, I just nod awkwardly. The silence stretches between us, tense and uncomfortable, until Evelyn suddenly brightens.
"I ordered pizza for dinner," she says, her voice artificially cheerful. "There's some leftover in the kitchen if you want some."
My stomach growls on cue, reminding me that I haven't eaten since breakfast. Between the car accident and the marathon sex session with the twins, food wasn't exactly a priority.
"Oh hell yeah," I say, grateful for the change of subject. "I'm starving."
I head toward the kitchen, eager to escape the weird tension in the living room. As I pass by Evelyn, her hand shoots out, grabbing my arm. I freeze, looking down at her in surprise.
"Seth," she says slowly, her eyes fixed on my neck. "What are those marks?"
My hand flies up instinctively to cover the hickeys that Rose and Lilly left all over my throat. In the heat of the moment, I hadn't even thought about how visible they might be.
I try to pull my arm away, but Evelyn's grip is surprisingly strong. Her fingers dig into my skin, keeping me locked in place as her eyes scan the constellation of purple and red marks decorating my neck.
"Jesus, Evelyn," I mutter, still struggling against her hold. "What's with the death grip?"
She doesn't let go. Instead, her gaze intensifies, boring into me. My confusion deepens with each passing second.
"These are hickeys," she states flatly.
I finally wrench my arm free, taking a step back to put some distance between us. "Yeah. They are."
Her face falls, a shadow passing over her features. She looks genuinely upset.
"Was it..." she hesitates, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "was it forced on you, Seth?"
"What? No!" I sputter, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. "Why would you even think that?"
Relief flickers across her face before being replaced by something that looks suspiciously like jealousy. She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, composing herself.
"It's just... you've never come home with marks like this before," she explains, not quite meeting my eyes. "And you were out so late without telling anyone where you were."
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly self-conscious about the evidence of my day with the twins. "It's not like that. I, uh... I got a girlfriend today."
The words feel strange coming out of my mouth. Not wrong, just new. Like trying on clothes that fit perfectly but you've never worn before.
"A girlfriend?" Evelyn repeats, her voice unnaturally high. "Who is it?"
I shift uncomfortably under her intense stare. There's something almost desperate in the way she's looking at me, like my answer matters more than it should.
"It's too new," I say, taking another step toward the kitchen. "I don't really want to tell you yet."
Her face hardens at that, jaw clenching visibly. "Too new for what? I've known you since you were a young boy, Seth. I'm practically family."
"Yeah, and that's why it's weird that you're interrogating me about my love life," I counter, feeling a flash of irritation. "Can I just get some pizza? I'm starving."
Evelyn follows me into the kitchen, hovering as I grab a plate and pile it with cold pizza. The weight of her stare makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"Come on, just tell me who it is," Evelyn persists, leaning against the counter as I take a bite of cold pepperoni. "Is it someone I know? Someone you went to high school with?"
I chew slowly, buying time. The pizza tastes like cardboard in my mouth as anxiety builds in my chest. "Evelyn, stop. It's not like my mom will even care who I'm dating."
Her eyes narrow slightly, and she crosses her arms. "I know she won't. That's exactly why you need me around, Seth." Her voice takes on that condescending tone I hate, like she's explaining something to a child. "Your mother wouldn't care if you sold your body on the street as long as you checked in with her every few months."
I set my plate down. "Evelyn, you're making me really uncomfortable right now."
Her expression shifts immediately, eyes widening as if suddenly realizing she's crossed a line. "I'm sorry," she says softly, uncrossing her arms. "I didn't mean to upset you."
The kitchen feels too small suddenly, the air too thick. I pick up my plate again, desperate for an escape route. "I'm gonna eat in my room. I have homework."
Evelyn's shoulders slump slightly, and she exhales a long breath. "Alright then," she says, her voice softening. "I'll head out. Let you have some space."
The sudden shift in her demeanor throws me off. Just like that, the intensity is gone, replaced by resignation. I watch as she collects her purse from the counter, feeling a mixture of relief and guilt.
"Thanks for taking care of Chris today," I offer, an olive branch in the awkwardness between us.
She pauses at the kitchen doorway, a small smile touching her lips. "Of course, Seth. That's what I'm here for."
I follow her to the front door, maintaining a safe distance. She pulls out her keyring, and I spot the shiny key my mom gave her years ago.
With a final glance back at me, she steps outside, carefully locking the door behind her. The click of the lock feels like the period at the end of a very strange sentence.
I stand there for a moment, listening to her footsteps fade down the walkway, then the sound of her car starting. Only when her headlights sweep past the living room window do I finally exhale.
My room feels like a sanctuary when I finally make it there, pizza plate in hand. I kick the door shut behind me and collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling. The events of the day crash over me in waves.
I set the pizza on my nightstand, my appetite suddenly gone. My stomach is too twisted with everything that's happened.
'I don't know what it is, but something just feels off today.'