I stared down at the employment contract, the words practically vibrating with the weight of the mistake I was about to make. Across the table, Justin and Elliot sat with matching smug smirks—the kind of looks that said, “We tried to talk you out of this, but now we’re just here for the show.” The clock on the wall blinked 12:35 a.m. How poetic—my worst decisions always seem to happen after midnight.
For weeks, they’d both been lecturing me about how bad an idea this was. And they weren’t wrong—it is a bad idea. The kind of bad idea that could blow up spectacularly in our faces and ruin us all. But here’s the thing about bad ideas: sometimes, they come wrapped in just enough adrenaline, just enough nostalgia, and just enough madness to make them feel irresistible. And now, after one very eventful evening, it seemed even they had stopped fighting the inevitable.
I glanced back at Justin and Elliot, the two of them so annoyingly synchronized in their calm, knowing stares. How had I let them drag me into this? Or maybe the better question was, how had we all dragged each other here? We’d just sealed another deal—this time in sweat, body parts, and the kind of secrets that make Thanksgiving dinners awkward for decades.
The air in the kitchen still felt heavy, thick with the aftermath of what we’d just done. My skin tingled with the lingering touch of theirs, the kind that wouldn’t fade for hours, no matter how many showers I took. How the three of us ended up in this tangled mess was anyone’s guess, though if I had to point fingers, Elliot’s uncanny ability to manipulate Justin into doing things I’d spent years trying to convince him to do probably had something to do with it.
It was maddening, really—watching how one raised eyebrow, one sly comment from Elliot could bend Justin’s iron will into submission faster than I could snap my fingers. Elliot had this way about him—a subtle, almost hypnotic charm that made you want to follow him off a cliff, just to see where you’d land. The way he could take Justin, stubborn and unyielding as he was, and coax him into situations like tonight? It was nothing short of dark magic.
And yet, Elliot had everyone fooled. To the outside world, he was just a sweet, mild-mannered guy raising a daughter with Justin, the picture of suburban domesticity. But those people hadn’t met him after midnight, when the polished exterior gave way to something far more sinister—and far more fun. Elliot wasn’t just the grounding force in our dynamic; he was the catalyst, the one who pushed us into doing things we’d never admit out loud. And somehow, he made it all seem like it was our idea.
Whoever thinks Elliot is innocent hasn’t sat across from him at a kitchen table at 12:35 a.m., your body still buzzing from things you’ll never fully unpack, with a contract staring you down and a decision you can’t take back. Innocent? Not even close. Elliot might wear the halo, but he’s every bit as complicit in this chaos as Justin and me—if not more.
But the glow of the night was slowly wearing off, leaving only this—me, a pen, and the dotted line that was about to tie us all together in a way we’d definitely regret someday. Was I making the wrong choice? Probably. Would I question this in a year? Almost definitely. But it was too late now. The adrenaline rush, the relief of being best friends with Justin again, the sheer chaos of the moment—it was all too much to resist.
“Well?” I asked finally, breaking the silence that had settled over us. “Aren’t you two going to try and stop me?”
“No,” they said in unison, so calm it was almost unsettling.
Justin leaned back in his chair, his trademark smugness in full force. “We already tried to talk you out of it, remember? For weeks. But honestly, I’ve come around. This is what you need. If it keeps you from crawling back to that insufferable ex-husband of yours and gives you something to focus on—something that makes you feel alive again—then fine. Besides, if this goes south, all three of us are going down together anyway. So might as well enjoy the ride.”
Elliot sighed, like he was the only sane person in the room. “I had this whole speech planned about why this is still a terrible idea, but honestly? Justin’s right. At this point, you’ve made up your mind. So, fine. Go ahead. But before you sign, I need to say something.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh, this should be good.”
Elliot stood, moving between Justin and me, looking back and forth like a disappointed parent about to deliver a lecture. “You two are finally back to being best friends after a decade of fighting, and I swear, if you screw it up again, I’ll lose my mind. No more petty battles, no more trying to kill each other. I know how this story ends—eventually, one of you is going to kill the other. But we’re not there yet. For now, you’re best friends again, and I’m begging you, for my sanity and my sex life, keep it that way.”
Justin burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but join him. “Your sex life?” Justin asked, still chuckling.
“Yes, my sex life,” Elliot said, completely serious. “When you two aren’t friends, Justin, you’re impossible to deal with. But when you are friends, you’re happy, which means I’m happy. Even our daughter notices the difference when you’re not being a moody jackass. So, for her sake—and for mine—can you two please just keep this truce going?”
“Fine with me,” I said, shrugging.
“Fine,” Justin muttered, less enthused. “But only if Missy over there promises not to go back to her ex-husband or sleep with him again. Oh, and she better not even think about being friends with that Tom Lenal clown.”
Elliot turned to me expectantly. “Sarah?”
I sighed. “Fine. I promise.”
“Great,” Elliot grinned, clapping his hands together like a proud dad. “Now, sign the damn thing.”
With one last glance at the contract, I picked up the pen. This was it. Maybe it was the wrong choice. Maybe we’d all regret this one day. But in this moment, with Justin and Elliot at my side, it almost felt like the right kind of wrong. I pressed the pen to the paper and signed. There was no turning back now.