Tides of Want

Stevie’s confession. My own admission. Yael’s laughter, the way they pulled us both into that fierce, joyous hug. It all feels like a dream, hazy and unreal in the light of day. But the warmth in my chest, the giddy flutter in my belly… that’s real. That’s all too real.

I roll out of bed and pad into the kitchen, where Yael is already puttering around, humming softly as they crack eggs into a bowl. They look up as I enter, their expression softening into a smile that makes my heart do a funny little skip.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” they say, their voice warm and fond. “Sleep well?”

I nod, feeling suddenly shy. “Like a rock. You?”

Yael’s smile turns wry. “Eventually. Took me a while to wind down.” They don’t elaborate, but the implication hangs in the air between us. Last night was… a lot. For all of us.

I hover in the doorway, unsure of what to say or do. The easy camaraderie of the past few days feels strained now, charged with new meaning. Every glance, every touch, every word feels loaded with significance.

Stevie emerges from their room a few minutes later, their hair tousled from sleep, their eyes still heavy-lidded. They pause when they see us, a flicker of uncertainty crossing their face.

“Morning,” they murmur, their voice rough with sleep.

“Morning,” Yael and I chorus, a little too brightly.

We eat breakfast in near-silence, the clink of forks against plates unnaturally loud in the quiet. I can’t quite meet Stevie’s eyes across the table, my gaze skittering away every time they look at me. Yael keeps up a steady stream of light chatter, but it feels forced, like they’re trying to fill the awkward spaces between us.

After breakfast, we drift apart, each of us retreating to our own corners of the house. I settle on the porch with my sketchbook, trying to lose myself in the familiar scratch of pencil against paper. But my thoughts keep circling back to last night, to the warmth of Stevie’s hand in mine, the solid strength of Yael’s embrace.

I glance up as Yael steps outside, a mug of coffee in each hand. They settle beside me on the porch swing, handing me one of the mugs. I take it with a grateful smile, wrapping my hands around the warmth.

We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, sipping our coffee and watching the waves roll in. The awkwardness from breakfast still lingers, but it feels less charged now, more like a shared vulnerability than a source of tension.

“So,” Yael says finally, their voice casual, almost too casual. “Last night was… intense.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

They nod, their gaze fixed on the horizon. “I’ve been thinking…” They hesitate, biting their lip. “About what Stevie said. About what you said.”

My heart skips a beat. “Yeah?”

Yael turns to face me, their expression serious. “I feel the same way,” they say quietly. “About both of you. I have for a while now.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. “Yael…”

They hold up a hand to stop me. “Let me finish. Please.” They take a deep breath, their eyes searching mine. “I was scared to say anything. Scared of ruining what we have. But after last night… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t keep hiding how I feel.”

They reach out, taking my hand in theirs. “I care about you, Crosby. So much. And Stevie… they’re incredible. Kind, brilliant, gorgeous.” They smile, a little wryly. “I’m pretty sure I’m falling for both of you. Hard.”

My heart is pounding now, a frantic drumbeat against my ribs. “Yael, I… I feel the same way. About you. About Stevie. I just… I didn’t know how to say it. How to even let myself want it.”

Yael’s smile turns tender. “I know. Believe me, I know.” They squeeze my hand. “But we can’t keep dancing around it. Not after last night. Not after Stevie was brave enough to put it all out there.”

I nod, my throat tight. “So… what now?”

Yael takes a deep breath. “We talk to Stevie. All three of us. Lay it all out on the table. No more secrets, no more hiding.” They meet my gaze, their eyes fierce and determined. “We figure this out. Together.”

I swallow hard, my stomach churning with nerves and hope and terror. “Okay,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

We find Stevie in the living room, curled up in the armchair with a book. They look up as we enter, their expression guarded.

“Hey,” they say, setting the book aside. “Everything okay?”

Yael crosses the room and perches on the arm of Stevie’s chair, their hand coming to rest on Stevie’s shoulder. “We need to talk,” they say gently. “About last night. About… us.”

Stevie’s eyes widen, their gaze darting from Yael to me and back again. “Oh,” they say, their voice tight. “Okay. I… I thought maybe you’d changed your mind. Both of you.”

I shake my head vehemently, sinking down onto the ottoman in front of them. “No. No, Stevie, that’s not… God, no. That’s not it at all.”

“We haven’t changed our minds,” Yael says, their hand sliding from Stevie’s shoulder to tangle in their hair. “We feel the same way, Stevie. About you. About… each other.”

Stevie’s breath catches, their eyes going impossibly wide. “You… you do?”

I reach out, taking their hand in mine. “Yes,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “Yes, Stevie. I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. With both of you.”

The words hang in the air between us, raw and vulnerable and true. For a long moment, none of us speak, the weight of the confession settling over us like a blanket.

Then Stevie is moving, surging forward to wrap their arms around me, their face burying in the crook of my neck. I hold them tight, my own arms coming up to clutch at their back, my face pressed to their hair.

Yael joins us a second later, their arms wrapping around us both, their cheek pressed to Stevie’s temple. We hold each other like that for a long time, the three of us tangled together, breathing in sync.

“We don’t have to figure it all out right now,” Yael murmurs finally, their voice rough with emotion. “We can take it slow. One day at a time.”

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. Stevie just holds me tighter, their shoulders shaking with silent tears.

“But we’re in this together,” Yael says, pulling back just enough to look at us both, their gaze fierce and determined. “All three of us. No matter what happens.”

“No matter what,” I echo, my voice hoarse.

Stevie nods, their eyes shining with tears and hope and a fierce, unwavering love. “No matter what,” they whisper.

And in that moment, I believe it. I believe in us. In this strange, wonderful, terrifying thing we’ve found.

The future is still uncertain, a vast and uncharted ocean stretching out before us. But with Stevie and Yael by my side, I feel like I can face anything. Like I can navigate any tide.

We spend the day in a haze of shared glances and tentative touches, the air between us charged with a new kind of awareness. Every brush of fingers, every lingering look feels like a promise, a question, a dare.

As the sun begins to dip toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Yael clears their throat, their gaze darting between me and Stevie. “I’m going to start dinner,” they say, their voice casual, almost too casual. “Should be ready in about an hour.”

Stevie nods, a faint blush coloring their cheeks. “Sounds good,” they murmur, their eyes meeting mine for a brief, electric moment before skittering away.

I bite my lip, my heart pounding in my throat. An hour. Sixty minutes. Three thousand six hundred seconds. It feels like an eternity, like a stay of execution and a countdown all at once.

I stand abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. “I’m going to go for a walk,” I announce, my voice rough with nerves. “Down to the beach. Anyone want to join?”

I don’t look at either of them, afraid of what I’ll see in their eyes. Afraid of what they’ll see in mine.

“I’ll come,” Stevie says quietly, and my heart leaps into my throat.

Yael hesitates for a beat, then nods. “I’ll be here,” they say, their gaze steady on mine. “When you get back.”

The walk to the beach is quiet, charged with unspoken words and crackling tension. The sand is cool beneath my bare feet, the wind whipping my hair around my face. Stevie walks beside me, their hands shoved deep in the pockets of their hoodie, their shoulders hunched.