Trouble : Boston Bolts Hockey

With her lip pulled between her teeth, Mel studies her phone, then taps the screen like she’s sending a text. All afternoon, we’ve strolled down Hope Street, perusing the shops and admiring the Christmas decorations in each one. Mel has purchased at least one thing from every store, like she wants to support the shop owners, and she’s only too happy to talk to each one of them, taking her time to smile for pictures when they ask and asking questions about the history of each place.

Between shops, she creates stories about each couple we pass. Made-up tidbits that are so detailed, I’d swear they were true if I didn’t actually know most of the people she’s spinning complex stories about.

“Something making you smile?” Or someone? That’s what I really want to ask. I’m greedy. I’d rather not share those smiles with anyone but Dec.

She turns the phone to face me, showing me the message thread.

Declan: Can’t Keep Our Hands to Ourselves?

“Declan texts you?” I say, chest tightening.

She shrugs like it’s no big deal.

Fuck, he really likes her.

Emotions war in my head, and my gut cramps at the realization. He’s treating her like she deserves to be treated, and fuck if I don’t love and appreciate that. But those feelings are mixed with an unease I can’t name. Am I jealous that he texts her and not me? Am I envious of the bond they share that doesn’t involve me?

I don’t truly think it’s that.

With a deep breath in, I decide to worry about it later and continue on, reading her response.

Mel: You reading it?

“Reading what?” I ask.

Mel presses her lips together, fighting a smile, but her eyes dance, nonetheless. She nods toward the corner of the shop we’re in and leads me over.

Once we’re out of earshot of the shopkeeper, standing between a clock that looks like a chicken screaming cock-a-doodle-doo and a Christmas tree with legs, she leans in close. “It’s this week’s book club read. It’s about two best friends who fall for the same woman.”

A horde of thoughts flutter through my mind at that statement, but only one makes its way to the forefront. “Declan is part of a book club?”

The pang in my chest is all the evidence I need to understand that this feeling really is jealousy. Mel is getting glimpses of him that I’ve never seen, and it fucking hurts.

With a laugh, she splays a hand over my chest. “No. The guys in the department. Shawn says Declan never participates.”

A wave of relief hits me then. Thank fuck. My best friend hasn’t completely hidden a side of himself. Though I am intrigued by the idea that he’s reading this book. Did he know what it was about before he picked it up? Is he interested in exploring what a real relationship would look like between the three of us?Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Am I?

What does any of this mean, and what the hell am I doing diving so deeply into my psyche while standing beside a dancing Santa toy?

Mel watches me closely, reading my every thought as if it’s flitting across my face.

She licks her lips, her expression soft. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Does he know how you feel?”

Heart in my throat, I shrug. “I think I’ve done a decent job of hiding it.” I blow out a breath. “Or I did. Until you.”

“Why me?” she whispers, her eyes searching mine.

“I don’t know. When it was just Dec, I could hold back these feelings. But the idea of you and him together? It does something to my brain chemistry⁠—”

“Alchemy,” Mel says so quickly it’s almost like it’s part of her breath. Like she’s been holding the word back. Like she’s been waiting for this moment. “There’s no other way to describe this feeling between the three of us.”

“Alchemy,” I repeat, my heart beating just a little faster. Outside of the Taylor Swift song, I’ve never heard the word. “Means chemistry?”

Melina shakes her head. “It’s so much more than that. It’s freeing yourself from fears, altering and transforming, refusing to limit yourself to what the world at large may believe is right or proper. It’s the art of transformation, inner liberation, and change.”

“Alchemy.” Wonder and hope course through me at that single word. She’s right. That’s exactly what transpired between the three of us in the pub weeks ago. Declan’s eyes on her? That simple act ignited a need inside me like the flame of an old kerosene lamp that had lain dormant and dredged in water for years. When the fire sparked, it burned dark at first, the soot transforming as the years burned away until it was just a bright, beautiful dancing flame. One I’m not sure can ever be extinguished.

Will I get burned if I get too close? There’s a good chance. Regardless, I’ve been cold for too long. I could use a little warmth.

Her phone buzzes in my hand, and without looking, I hold it out to her. Whether it’s Declan or not, it’s none of my business.

With a smile, Mel looks up from the device. “Declan wants to know what we’re doing.”

My heart skips a damn beat at the affection mixed with need in her tone. “What do you want to tell him?”

Eyes sparkling with the same kind of heat that’s growing in my chest, she says, “That we’ll do whatever he wants.”