Quinn kicks the barstool in front of him. “It just came out, okay!”

“The hell!” Ambrose chucks the water bottle at Quinn, who is smart enough to duck just in time, only to stand back up and charge Ambrose shoving him against the fridge.

“None of your damn business!” Quinn swings for Ambrose’s face, but Ambrose blocks the punch.

Ambrose grabs Quinn by the shirt and punches him in the stomach. “What.” Punch. “Did.” Punch. “You.” Punch. “Say!”

“THAT WE WERE RAPED!” Quinn yells. “Is that what you want me to admit? Should I yell it louder so the neighbors can hear us?”

Ambrose loses his footing and just crumples to the floor in a heap. He doesn’t look up at me, and Quinn isn’t looking at me either.

“I should go,” Quinn says once Ambrose has his hands covering his head.

“No, stay.” Ambrose gets up. “I’ll go.”

“No,” I yell out. “Nobody is leaving this house until we talk about this.”

“Well…” Ambrose starts walking away. “…good thing it’s a big house.”

Quinn’s eyes squeeze shut for a brief moment. I walk over to him and put my hand on his as he braces himself against the countertop, his fingers white.

“Quinn?” I reach for him.

He abruptly pushes off the counter and turns to me, eyes blazing. “I’m swimming. Wanna join?”

“Are you planning on swimming with me or drowning me?”

“Depends, are you going to ask me about it again in front of Ambrose?”

I shake my head no.

“Then I’ll most likely swim with you.”

“Most likely?”

“Shit.” He throws his hands in the air. “It’s all I’ve got right now, all right?”

Not exactly comforting, but I still follow him out to the pool.

And when he just starts stripping and jumps in the pool without any clothes on, I hesitate.

Ambrose is right upstairs.

Their relationship is already on rocky ground, so I sit near the shallow end on the ledge and drop my feet into the water.

“Afraid of a bit of dick?” Quinn teases, swimming over to me.

“Me? Never. I just thought I should save your life.”

He frowns.

I point back at the house. “You’d be the one getting drowned.”

“Nakedness is natural.” He swims up toward the stairs and then stands, fully erect, his eyes hone in on mine. “See? Nothing weird about being naked.”

“Yes, but there is something weird about being turned on by that unicorn floaty behind you.” I tease, mouth dry as I try to look anywhere but below his chest.

He’s like a Greek god, and I’ve always hated that comparison, but really, where Ambrose is more bulky, Quinn’s lean, has a runner’s body, and isn’t afraid to show it.

Why are all problematic boys running around with the perfect V?

Shit, I looked.

I lift my eyes again, hating that it’s kind of making my stomach feel funny, my heart skips a few extra beats.

It’s only hormones.

And the heat.

He takes a step forward, then another. I lean back on my hands and keep my eyes locked on his. “Did you need something?”