A man jumps away from a spot near the door, revealing the dimmer switch behind him. “Oh shit,” he says, his cheeks pink from arousal or embarrassment or both. “Sorry about that. I hit the light by mistake.”

A collective groan fills the room, and everyone quickly disperses, the evening interrupted by the clumsy person who killed the mood and saved me from myself.

“I think I’m ready to go now,” I say to Dean, not daring to look at him as I step out of his embrace. “You?”

“Yeah,” he says hoarsely. After clearing his throat, he tries again. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Chapter Sixteen

Dean

After the security guy unlocks our phones, Solange and I skip down the front steps of the sex lair masquerading as a quaint row home in the middle of Northwest DC.

“So, same time, same place, next Saturday?” I ask nonchalantly.

The tension in my chest eases when I catch the hint of a smile that appears on her dewy face. She looks as though she’s recovering from a burst of physical activity. As if she’s just taken a quick lap around the block and needs to catch her breath.

“Dream on, Chapman,” she says, simultaneously waving me off and fanning herself. “Dream on.”

I feel lighter on my feet knowing nothing’s fundamentally different between us. Sure, I’m growing accustomed to my attraction to Solange. Doing something about it, though, would be game changing. It’s a challenge, but if I can withstand the temptation of being within inches of her at a sex party, there’s literally no scenario I can envision that would break my resolve not to get thrown off course by Solange’s allure.

She doesn’t seem all that fazed by the encounter anyway. And it’s entirely possible her reaction was nothing more than an indiscriminate response to being in a highly arousing situation. Admittedly, an extremely small and selfish part of me hopes that’s not true, but that part of me can fuck right off.

“Did you drive?” I ask her once we reach the sidewalk.

“Yeah.” She points up the street. “I’m a block over that way.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

She nods, and we wordlessly stroll side by side, the air on this balmy evening in July adding weight to even the smallest physical movement.

“So, what are you going to do about Peter?” she asks, finally breaking the silence.