I tell her the truth . . . carefully

“Heather,” I say, “Of course. I couldn’t say no to you if I wanted to, and I don’t.” Her face lights up and she captures my hands with hers. “But I need to tell you something.” I watch her stiffen, the light in her face dimming, and I want to cry, or run away. “It’s a good thing Alyssa told me, because a couple days later, one of my clients asked me to be her boyfriend—one whom I had previously asked to go out with me; one I’ve grown quite attached to over the course of the semester.”

“I want you to understand,” Heather interrupts, her voice husky, “I’m not asking you to give up your business. I don’t want you to. I’m not asking you to stop fucking your clients. I don’t want you to feel you have to. I’m not even asking you not to date at school.” I start to interrupt, but she leans close and silences me with a soft kiss.

“No, Andrew,” Heather says quietly, “listen to me, I’m completely serious. I’ve dated so many other boys, it would feel terribly unfair to ask you not to date any other girls, and I cannot bear the thought of being unfair to you like that—much less of having you think of me as unfair, selfish, or controlling. I want you all to myself forever, but I don’t ever want you wondering if you could have had something better. I want you to be my boyfriend, but I’m not going to ask you to be exclusive this semester; I will be, because I don’t want anyone else anymore, but I want you to be sure you don’t want anyone else either before I ask you to commit fully.

“I admit, I don’t like the thought of you fucking other girls . . . but even more, I don’t want you to resent me for having fucked so many other boys. I don’t want it to be an issue later, so I want you to feel free to take the semester to be sure of how you feel and what you want. I promise you, my feelings for you won’t be any less when we’re home again for the summer.”

“Thank you,” I say, equally quietly. “I told Rachel—that’s her name—about you, and us; I told her what Alyssa had said. Her response wasn’t what I expected: she said she’d thought for a while that a threesome with another girl sounded hot, and wondered if you would be open to that—on a permanent basis, or semi-permanent, I guess; basically, a steady three-way relationship. As a side note, she has a family house that would have easy room for all three of us if you transferred to BSU, so that would be useful.

“Heather, I won’t give you up; if you want me to give up Rachel, I will. But I have to admit, I don’t want to give her up either—I’d like to keep both of you. It’s not just hormones talking, either; I’ve done a couple two-girl threesomes, and I didn’t think they were all that and a bag of chips—but I had no emotional investment in those girls. I do in Rachel, and you—I’ve been in love with you for years.

“I’m not going to pressure you at all, into anything. I don’t want you doing anything you’re uncomfortable with, or because you feel like you have to; I don’t want to manipulate you, or coerce you, or mess with you in any way. But Rachel wanted me to ask, and if it worked—well, like I said, I want to keep both of you. Would you be willing to consider it? Would you be willing to give it a try?”

As I’ve been talking, Heather’s face has been a kaleidoscope of emotions. She stares at me for a moment, her face unreadable, then heaves a huge sigh and says, “This is not how I thought this conversation was going to go.”

I can’t help it—I burst out laughing. She looks at me in complete confusion, clearly wondering if she’s being laughed at. I get myself under control and say, “That’s exactly what I said when Rachel hit me with that—word for word.”

Heather’s face goes blank for a moment, then she starts giggling. “I guess I can see that,” she murmurs, her voice still unsteady.