Liam stops rubbing cream into my back in favour of watching Freddie, then his eyes flick to mine and there’s a question in them. A worried one.
“I thought I’d make pancakes for breakfast,” I say to test the mood. “I’ve got blueberries in the freezer, and maple syrup in the cupboard.”
It’s Freddie’s favourite combination, but his face doesn’t light up. His stomach doesn’t even rumble, which I find offensive. My pancakes are worthy of at least a groan from either gut or vocal cord.
“What’s wrong?” I ask while carefully easing myself down to sit on the corner of the bed. Liam grabs my sweatpants from the floor and yanks them on, no doubt believing our nakedness isn’t helping with whatever is distracting Freddie from the best breakfast in existence.
Freddie smooths the creased duvet over his knees. He’s more interested in that than looking at us. “What . . . what happens now?” he asks.
“Pancakes.”
The furrow above Freddie’s nose deepens. “I meant after that . . .”
I could go on along this line, reply with lunch, then dinner, but Freddie doesn’t look to be in a joking mood, and if I go down that route, Liam will probably kill me.
“You mean between us?”
Freddie nods.
“What do you want to happen?” I ask.
Liam tenses beside me. There’s a lot that could do wrong with that question, but last night, watching Freddie beneath Liam, feeling how turned on Freddie was, there’s no way he regrets what happened. You can’t come like that then wish it away the next day.
“You tell me what you want to happen,” Freddie counters.
“No, no, no,” I murmur. “That’s not how this works. There are three of us, so we’ve all got to say what we want out of this.” I smirk at Liam. “Including you.”
“I already said what I want,” Liam replies.
“To fuck me,” Freddie says.
Liam tilts his head. “To fuck you forever, actually. I thought you enjoyed last night.”
“I loved it,” Freddie blurts, then immediately turns tomato red. He groans and presses his face to the duvet. While he’s distracted, Liam mouths at me, “What’s going on?” I’d be lying if I knew one hundred percent, but I’ve got an inkling Freddie likes to be direct in relationships. He wants to know exactly what this is from the beginning.
“Freddie,” I start, and I wait until he lifts his head before continuing. “We love you . . .”
“I love you too,” he says, glancing at both of us before ducking his gaze again.
“I know this is new,” I tell him. “There’s a lot to . . . figure out, but we want you.”
“Want me to be what?”
“Ours,” Liam says.
“Your what?” Freddie bites his lip.
Ah,I think I understand now. This goes back to when we were in secondary school. Freddie had been seeing a girl, thought they were an item only to be shocked to find her kissing another boy in a stairwell. He hadn’t asked her out. They weren’tofficial. Which meant his being upset was completely unjustified in her eyes.
I snort. “Boyfriend.”
I let that word hang there. Freddie’s mouth lifts with the start of a smile.
“What?” I ask.
He shrugs. “You can’t justassume.”
I roll my eyes dramatically. “Freddie, will you be our boyfriend?”