"Wait." I placed my hands squarely on his broad chest and took a step backwards, effectively pushing myself away from him.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, after a few false starts. "I don't mean to be rude, but..."
"What the fuck? How did you get here?"
I whirled around to see Andrew, sitting up shirtless in bed, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired, but extremely, extremely angry.
Patrick looked at him for a second and then looked at me quickly, then back to him, like a trapped animal, unsure of what to do.
"Uhh, sorry, I didn't know that you were here-" he began.
"You didn't know I was here? What the hell are you talking about? I fucking live here. What I want to know is how the fuck did you get here?"
"Well, I, uh..."
"Actually, I don't even want to know. Just get the fuck away from her, and get out of my house. She's made her decision, and it's not you."
Patrick smirked cockily. I was actually incredulous, standing with my mouth gaping open as if my feet had been glued to the floor.
"Did she, now? Are you sure about that?"
"Sure she did," Andrew said assuredly, crossing his arms and getting up, crossing the floor quickly to stand behind me. "Ask her. Tell him, Lyra." He put a hand on my shoulder, lightly but firmly.
I was still dumbstruck. A million questions ran through my mind, and I opened and close my mouth repeatedly.
"I, uh...I..."
They both stared at me, and I was trapped in no-man's-land, smack-dab in the middle of a battlefield where neither side was backing down.
"You know what?" Patrick said, laughing dryly in an effort to break the tension. "It doesn't even matter. I don't mind. If she hasn't made her mind up yet, there's no saying we can't just share, for the time being."
"What?" I looked to him, then back at Andrew, more dumbfounded than before, if that was even possible. For some odd reason, though, Andrew didn't look nearly as surprised.
"I won't say I haven't thought of it," he said, nodding slowly, almost as if he was entertaining the proposition. "It would for sure be a lot easier..."
"What?" I repeated. "I'm sorry, fucking, wh- WHAT?"
"C'mon, Lyra. It'll be fun." Andrew removed his hand from my shoulder and instead began tugging at my hand. I stayed frozen in my spot on the floor. Patrick took two quick steps forward until he was standing directly in front of me.
"I'm guessing this means you've never been a part of a threesome before?" Patrick smiled down at me, reaching out to grab my face, brushing a stray hair out of my eyes. A devilish glint played across his features and through his gray eyes. Meanwhile, Andrew let go of my hand and instead brushed a hand across my back, sliding his fingers ever so lightly beneath the thin strap of my tanktop, sliding it off the top of my shoulder and to the side.
"I find that unsurprising," Andrew mused, pausing in his undressing of me to take of his shirt in one quick movement. I gulped, still unable to make any sense of what was occurring in front of me. "But it's kind of a turn-on. Don't worry, Pat and I will show you how it's done."
What.
Patrick then slid his hands from my face to my stomach, sliding them up and under my tank top. Andrew grabbed my arms and held them above my head so that he could then slide it up and over my head.
I stood there, half naked and trapped between two of the three epic romances of my life thus far.
Patrick leaned in, at first, I thought, to kiss me, but instead, he wrapped one arm around me and used the other to touch Andrew's face, drawing a curved imaginary line across the red stubble growing at the base of his jaw. He then leaned in, and before I could process what was happening, he and Andrew were making out. Right in front of me.
"Patrick??!!" I screamed, and something inside me snapped.
"Lyra," Andrew said, his voice an octave lower than usual, and husky. "Lyra." Someone was shaking me. The smell of morning breath fanned my face. "Lyra, wake up."
I sat bolt upright, blood rushing to my face, the tips of my fingers and toes, my core. I could feel my pulse racing, and I was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. I propped myself up and pushed off the blankets, blinking wildly as I looked around. I was in bed. Andrew was next to me, now wide awake, his hand on my thigh. I was still clothed. Patrick was nowhere in sight.
"Are you alright? You were screaming."
I looked to the floor, and then over into the bathroom. The bathroom door was open. There was no broken glass, that I could see, on the floor. Hendrix was nowhere to be found.
I started to breath again, very slowly and as evenly as I could.
"Wh- I- We..." After attempting to form a coherent sentence several times, I finally said some words.
"Bad dream," I said quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat and trying desperately to calm down. I shook my head, willing the flashbacks from the crazy dream I just had to fall out of my mind while I did so. No such luck. Visions of Patrick and Andrew's tongues in each other's mouths flashed before my eyes, taunting me. What the fuck did having a dream like that mean? Had I really made my choice, or was dream-Patrick right? Was I just acting?
Andrew looked at me nervously, like I was not quite sane. He sighed.
"Well, if you're sure you're okay, I'm gonna take a shower. Ma's probably already up making breakfast, if you want to go downstairs and see." He got up and stretched his muscular arms, reaching them above his head and then rolling out his broad shoulders. His plaid, festive pajama pants hung low on his hips, revealing a well-defined lower abdomen and a V trailing further down. My breath caught in spite of my inability to focus on anything.
"That is," he said with a smirk, "Unless you'd rather join me in the shower."
I didn't even have the presence of mind to roll my eyes at him or make a snarky comment.
I was in dire need of a best friend to talk this out with. While Andrew was rummaging around in the bathroom, I racked my brains to think of what to do. I briefly pondered calling my mom or dad before ruling them out because they would almost certainly judge me for what my brain had just concocted. I hadn't spoken to them as frequently as I would've liked since I got on the show, but they couldn't really blame me. After all, it was my mom's idea, and my dad was totally on board. They wanted me to get married and have grandchildren, stat.
I considered my sister Olivia, but she was younger, and though I wasn't naïve enough to believe that she didn't really know the more adult ways of the world, I didn't necessarily feel like talking through them- especially as the pertained personally to me- with a hormonal high school girl.
The thought of calling or Facetiming Shawn ran through my mind, but... he was an international celebrity. So are you, now, Lyra, a voice in my head chided, but I thought it away. He definitely was busy or had better things to do, although we had become quite the pair of unlikely friends ever since our chance meeting at that concert. It seemed like so long ago now.
I couldn't call Jazmin, though she, too, had become one of my better friends since the show had started, oddly enough. She was with Patrick and her family, now, presumably. Patrick. The thought of him sent a new wave of shivers down my spine, and I had the sudden urge to text him or talk to him, just to find out what he was doing. I hadn't spoken to him beyond the occasional stoic greeting when we passed each other back at the house, since we had our big fight. But there was a Patrick-shaped hole in my usual routine, and as much as I hated admitting it, even to myself, I missed him.
Before I could think better of it and change my mind, I found our last conversation in my phone and smiled despite myself. He had sent me a flood of memes a couple weeks ago. We had a frequent habit of trying to out-meme each other via text. Not to brag, but I usually won. I held my breath and texted him a quick message asking how he'd been, and how Jazmin was, trying to sound casual.
Then I took a deep breath and called the only remaining person I could think of.
"You better either be dying or extremely fucking menstrual right now, because you are interrupting some very important morning-after activities."
"Jesus, what if I really was dying? Also, you know menstrual isn't really an adjective, right?"
Uriah yawned loudly into the phone. "It is now. What do you want, dude?"
I could hear a distinctively female voice somewhere in the background asking him who it was.
"It's Lyra, baby, she's complaining because Andrew has a small dick."
I scoffed. "Am not! Is that Rose? Tell her I say hello and that her Instagram post from the other day was absolutely adorable."
"Well, thank you. I must say, I did look pretty bangin'. I was thinking of getting a fresh cut just for the occasion but-"
I cut him off. "She was cute. You were simply alright."
Now it was his turn to scoff sarcastically. "Right! It's a wonder I don't hang up on you right now."
"It's fine," I said, sighing. "We don't need to talk long, I just don't really know what to do and I could use your help." I could hear him getting up and walking to somewhere that was possibly out of Rose's earshot.
"Ahhh, and suddenly I've become useful to you." I could almost hear him smiling wide. "Well, make it quick. I had sex last night with the most heartbreakingly beautiful woman I have ever met and I would like to repeat the experience as soon as I possibly can. She seems eager to do so, as well."
I smiled. "That's good for you, Uriah. I'm happy for you guys." I really meant it, too. He was a really good guy, and from the couple times we had talked to each other, I could tell that Rose was really sweet, too. They deserved each other. And happiness. It looked like they were finding that the two went hand in hand.
"At least someone's getting some action," I muttered under my breath. Uriah heard.
"Girl, whaaat? What do you mean? Have you- have you and Andrew not fucked yet?"
I rolled my eyes at his terminology, though he couldn't see me do so, and he also wasn't wrong.
"It's not like we haven't gotten close. We've just been interrupted every single damn time, either by others or by ourselves."
"Whoa, whoa, slow down, homie, do you mean to tell me that you don't want to have sex with him?"
"I mean, no. I mean, I definitely do, I just-"
"Hold up, please, please, tell me this doesn't have anything to do with Patrick."
"Well, I don't really know, but it might..."
"Lyra! I thought you had made a final decision and that you were over him!"
"I did!" I paused. "Well, I said I had made my choice. I didn't necessarily say I was over him..."
"The two are not mutually exclusive! You gotta do both. Now seriously, what is wrong with you, woman?"
"I wish I knew, Uriah. What I really wanted to tell you was I had the strangest dream last night and I have no idea what it means."
"What about?"
I paused again, unsure if I really wanted to reveal this to him. But I swallowed my pride and decided that I needed to tell someone.
"ImaybehadadreamthatPatrickcamehereandthatmehimandAndrewhadathreesome?"
There was silence from the other end of the line.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Motherfucker! Just when I think you can't get nuttier! What the actual fuck is going on with you, Lyra?"
"It just sort of... happened. It's not like I can control what I dream about."
"Shit like this ain't just happen, my dude. You have some serious issues. You may have made a choice on paper, but you are very clearly not made up in your mind."
"Lyra?" I heard a voice calling out to me from downstairs. "Lyra? Breakfast is ready, if you're awake, honey."
"Hang on a sec," I said into the phone, and then yelled down in response. "Be down in a second! Thank you!"
I put the phone back to my ear. "Uriah? Yeah, unfortunately, I have to go, but we can continue this conversation later. I hope you and Rose have fun with... round two, and with the rest of your week. Happy holidays!"
He laughed. "Yeah, yeah, same to you, homie. Keep your head on right. Seems like you're in for a wild time. Talk to you later."
"Yeah," I said, and hung up the phone. I heard the water from the shower turn off. Andrew would be out soon, then. Perfect timing.
I changed into some dark-wash ripped jeans and a mint green cable-knit sweater. I glanced in the mirror and felt a sudden pang of disappointment at not having my own personal glam team to help me face the music this time. I missed Camryn's gentle touch and no-nonsense attitude, and Jared's humor and constant reassurance. I wondered what they were doing right that moment. I hoped they were on a break. They always looked so tired.
I sighed and decided that some mascara and concealer was enough for today. I was never particularly good at makeup. I made my way down the stairs and eventually wandered into the kitchen after walking in the wrong direction initially. The house was a maze.
Sam, Carter, and Cooper all looked up at me as I entered. The boys had sounded like they were in the middle of a heated conversation about show business with the three cameramen who had been setting up in the kitchen. It was so weird how I kept forgetting they had to be here, too. What an invasion of privacy. But the boys and Ada Mae didn't really seem to mind.
It smelled amazing- like chocolate chip pancakes and banana bread. Oliver was in the same exact spot in front of the fireplace as last night, and a golden lab was now sitting next to him. Sam noticed me looking at them as I sat down.
"That's Angel. She's the good one. Hendrix is a little bitch sometimes. You'd have thought their genders were switched," Sam informed me.
"Samuel!" Ada Mae scolded from somewhere in the kitchen. "Watch your mouth! The twins!"
The twins in question giggled. Sam just rolled his eyes. He was so much like the girl version of my high school sister, it was crazy.
"Not like they don't hear worse from Dad and Junior every day!" Sam replied.
"Speaking of, where is your father?"
"They're in the garage messing with the 'Stang," Sam said. "They were up at the ass crack of dawn. I don't know how they do it."
Rather than reprimand him verbally again, Ada Mae just gave him a stern look. "Not all of us wake in the p.m, Sam." She walked in to the dining area with a plate piled high with pancakes, offering them to me. I accepted gratefully, smiling. She looked even more beautiful than she had last night, but she was also wearing some makeup. Her hair looked even shinier than it had when I first noticed it. I got the feeling that her appearance had something to do with the camera crew. Her clear concern with her appearance reminded me of my own mother, and I felt a brief wave of emotion for my parents back in Chicago at home.
Carter and Cooper laughed again. They were watching some YouTube video and ignoring their pancakes. I looked at them.
"Do you watch the Dolan twins?" One asked. I thought I could tell the difference after last night, but I was hopelessly lost again.
I laughed good-naturedly. "No, sorry," I said. "I can't say that I do."
They frowned identically and looked back to their phones, suddenly disinterested. I felt like I had let them down.
Just then, Andrew appeared behind me and leaned down to kiss me on the cheek.
"Morning, gorgeous."
Sam grimaced. "Oh, God, if you're gonna start this again, I'll go live in the garage with Hendrix and Angel."
"Grow up, loser. Sorry that you still think girls are just boys with long hair," Andrew said, punching him in the shoulder playfully. He punched back, harder, and I sensed that this is often how real fistfights between the brothers started.
"Boys! Behave!" Ada Mae scolded the two of them, and I was rather amused to say that Andrew listened to her just as if he was still a younger boy and not a full grown man. It was kind of cute.
"One of you go get your brother and father in here. We have to leave soon if you guys want to get a good amount of skiing in today. The week before Christmas is always especially busy."
"Half-brother," Sam corrected her. I looked from Andrew to him, thoroughly confused. Sam noticed.
"Wow. You really haven't told her anything, have you?" he said to Andrew. He turned to me to explain. "Junior is dad's son from his earlier marriage. His first wife died and then, when he married Ma, he already had Junior. So technically, he's only half ours."
"Sam! That's enough! He's done more in his life for you than he ever did for himself, so you would do well not to speak about him in that tone! In fact, go up to your room. You can meet us at the car."
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said. "Sorry I'm telling her the truth. Someone's got to." Sam looked at Andrew and Ada Mae pointedly. At this point, even the twins were silent, their phones off for the moment. Ada Mae looked nervous. I was more confused than before, but I sensed there was something going on that I had no idea about. I'm sure the footage of this would make for great show material, later. I shuddered involuntarily. Bullshit.
"Andrew, why don't you take the twins and help pack up the car for Aspen Valley?"
He looked from me to her nervously, but eventually obeyed.
"Come on, Carter. Coop. Let's go get the boards and stuff." The two followed him to put their coats on, leaving Ada Mae and I alone in the room.
She sighed, looking very tired, all of a sudden. "I'm so sorry about Sam," she said, shaking her head and staring down at her coffee. "I don't know what gets into him, sometimes. He just gets very protective of me."
I wasn't really sure I understood, but I nodded. "Don't worry about it. I totally understand."
She looked up at me, something like tears shining in her eyes. "I'm just so glad that my Andrew met someone like you. I was watching the show, and, well... It's clear that he had a lot of worse options. I was just so happy that it was you, dear. I'm so glad that he... that he could find someone before it was too late."
Too late? What on earth was she talking about? I tried to maintain an open, pleasant facial expression.
Junior and Teddy came back into the house, then, cheeks red from cold and eyes bright.
"You girls about ready to head out? Where's Sam?"
Ada Mae looked up and suddenly snapped out of whatever mood she had just been in.
"Yes," she said, smiling sweetly and adjusting her hair around her face. "We're ready. I'll call Sam down."
I smiled at the two of them, but my feelings were turning more and more from the love I had felt last night into something like confusion and anxiety. I could only hope that, come Christmas in a couple days, I would have the mental stamina to stay in everyone's good graces.