Chapter 2: The Silent Invitation

The party had wound down to a skeleton crew of stragglers and passed-out bodies sprawled across various pieces of furniture. Liam found himself relegated to the living room couch, a scratchy plaid monstrosity that smelled faintly of beer and regret. He'd volunteered for it, really—Jenny had offered him the guest room, but when he'd learned that Amy would be sleeping there too, his gentlemanly instincts had kicked in.

Or maybe it was cowardice.

He stared at the ceiling, replaying the midnight kiss over and over in his mind. The way Amy had melted into Katie's touch, the soft sound she'd made when Jenny's lips found her neck—it was so far removed from the reserved girl who'd been discussing natural selection just weeks ago that it felt like he'd discovered she was living a double life.

You'll get your turn.

Katie's words haunted him. What did that even mean? His biological training had taught him to observe patterns, to look for logical connections, but nothing about tonight followed any recognizable pattern.

The house had settled into an uneasy quiet, punctuated by the occasional snore from someone crashed in a chair and the distant hum of the refrigerator. Most of the remaining partygoers had paired off or passed out. Liam tried to convince himself that sleep would come eventually, but his mind was too wired, too full of questions.

A soft creak from upstairs made him look toward the ceiling. Footsteps, light and careful, moving across the floor above. He wondered if Amy was having trouble sleeping too, if she was thinking about what had happened, what it meant.

Before he could lose his nerve, Liam sat up and swung his legs off the couch. The smart thing would be to stay put, to let the night end quietly and pretend nothing had changed. But the image of Amy kissing Katie with such unexpected passion had shattered something in him—some careful distance he'd been maintaining.

He wanted to understand.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed them, each step feeling like a small betrayal of common sense. The guest room door was slightly ajar, a thin line of light visible underneath. He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated.

What was he doing? What was he going to say?

"Liam?" Amy's voice came through the door, soft but alert. "Is that you?"

Caught. He pushed the door open slowly, finding Amy sitting cross-legged on a mattress that had been pulled down onto the floor. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and shorts, her hair loose around her shoulders. The confident woman from the midnight kiss was gone, replaced by someone who looked young and uncertain.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, which was true enough.

"Me neither." She gestured to the empty space beside her on the mattress. "I keep thinking about..."

"The kiss," he finished.

Her cheeks flushed pink. "You saw that."

"Kind of hard to miss." He stepped into the room but didn't sit down yet. "I didn't mean to stare, it's just—"

"It wasn't planned," Amy said quickly. "I mean, not really. Katie gets these ideas, and Jenny goes along with everything, and I..." She trailed off, looking down at her hands.

"And you?"

"I don't know what I do anymore." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I used to think I knew myself pretty well. But lately, with Katie and Jenny, I've been... different."

Liam finally moved closer, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Different how?"

Amy was quiet for so long he thought she might not answer. When she spoke, her words were careful, measured. "More willing to try things. To let things happen."

The admission hung in the air between them. Liam felt his pulse quicken, but he forced himself to stay still, to let her control the pace of whatever this was becoming.

"That day at the coffee shop," Amy continued, "when Jenny introduced us? I went home and told Katie about you. About how you actually understood what I was reading, how you didn't look at me like I was showing off."

"You weren't showing off. You were just being yourself."

She looked up at him then, and he saw something vulnerable in her eyes. "Katie said I should ask you out. But I kept chickening out. I'm not good at... at being direct about things."

"You seemed pretty direct tonight."

Amy's blush deepened. "That's different. When it's Katie and Jenny, it feels safe. Like playing a role." She paused. "But with you, it would be real."

The weight of her words settled over him. This quiet, thoughtful girl who'd been reading Darwin while the world bustled around her—she'd been thinking about him too, wanting to reach out but held back by her own shyness.

"Amy," he started, but she held up a hand.

"I need you to know something," she said, her voice gaining strength. "Whatever happens—or doesn't happen—tonight, I can't... we can't have sex."

The bluntness of the statement caught him off guard. "Okay," he said carefully. "Can I ask why?"

She looked away again, wrapping her arms around her knees. "It's complicated. Personal. But that's just... that's the boundary. Okay?"

"Of course. I mean, I didn't come up here expecting—"

A loud, unmistakable moan cut through his words, followed by the rhythmic creaking of a bed frame from the room next door. Both of them froze.

"Oh god, yes! Don't stop!"

Jenny's voice carried clearly through the thin walls, breathless and demanding. The sounds that followed left no doubt about what was happening—wet, slapping noises punctuated by increasingly desperate cries of pleasure.

Amy covered her face with her hands, but Liam could see the red creeping down her neck. The moaning grew louder, more intense, building to what was clearly going to be a very vocal climax.

"FUCK! YES! RIGHT THERE!"

Jenny's orgasm seemed to shake the entire house, her cries echoing through the walls before gradually fading into satisfied whimpers and murmurs. The silence that followed felt almost oppressive.

"Well," Amy said finally, her voice muffled by her hands, "Jenny's having a good night."

Despite the awkwardness—or maybe because of it—Liam found himself laughing. "I guess subtlety isn't her strong suit."

Amy peeked at him through her fingers, and he was surprised to see she was fighting back a smile too. "You should have seen her in high school. She once got detention for having phone sex during study hall."

"During study hall?"

"She claimed she was practicing her French pronunciation." Amy's smile broke free now, transforming her face. "The teacher didn't buy it."

They were both laughing now, the tension broken by the absurdity of the situation. But as their laughter died down, Liam became aware of how close they were sitting, how the oversized t-shirt had slipped off one of Amy's shoulders, revealing the pale curve of her collarbone.

"Liam," she said softly, her eyes meeting his. "Would you... would you want to stay? Just to sleep. To cuddle."

The invitation was so quiet, so tentative, that he almost wondered if he'd imagined it. But there was something in her expression—a careful hopefulness—that made his chest tighten.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

Instead of answering, Amy pulled back the thin blanket, revealing the narrow space beside her on the mattress. It would require them to sleep close together, probably touching for most of the night.

Liam kicked off his shoes and settled beside her, hyperaware of every point of contact as she arranged the blanket over both of them. She was warm against his side, her hair tickling his shoulder as she settled her head against his chest.

"This is nice," she murmured, her breath warm against his shirt.

"Yeah," he agreed, though 'nice' seemed like a massive understatement for the way his body was responding to her proximity. Every nerve ending felt electrified, every small movement she made sending ripples of awareness through him.

Amy's hand came to rest on his stomach, just above his belt line, and he had to concentrate on keeping his breathing steady. The 'no sex' boundary was crystal clear, but everything else about this situation felt charged with possibility.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "For not pushing. For not asking too many questions."

"Thank you for trusting me enough to ask me to stay."

She tilted her head up to look at him in the dim light filtering through the window. "I've been wanting to ask you something for weeks, but I could never figure out how."

"What?"

"This." She leaned up and kissed him, soft and tentative at first, then with growing confidence when he responded. Her lips were warm and slightly sweet, tasting faintly of the champagne from earlier.

When they broke apart, she was breathing harder, her eyes bright in the darkness. "I've been thinking about that since the coffee shop."

"Me too," he admitted, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Amy, I—"

She kissed him again, more insistently this time, and he felt her body press closer against his. The kiss deepened, became something hungrier, more desperate. Her tongue flicked against his lips, and when he opened for her, she made a small sound of satisfaction that went straight to his groin.

This was the woman from the midnight kiss, he realized. Not shy Amy reading her textbook, but this other version of herself that Katie and Jenny had somehow unlocked. Bold enough to make the first move, confident enough to take what she wanted within the boundaries she'd set.

When she finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. Amy's cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from the kiss.

"We should sleep," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

"We should," he agreed, making no move to put distance between them.

Instead, Amy settled back against his chest, her hand splaying across his ribs. The room fell quiet around them, but Liam knew sleep would be a long time coming. Every breath she took, every small shift of her body against his, felt like a promise and a frustration all at once.

You'll get your turn.

Katie's words echoed in his mind as Amy's breathing gradually evened out. He stared at the ceiling, trying to piece together the puzzle of this night, of these three women and the complex dynamic between them.

Whatever game they were playing, he was clearly already a part of it. The question was whether he was ready for where it might lead.