Chapter 9: The Morning After
The first thing Aidan registered was the weight. A warm, solid pressure across his ribs. Then the smell: his own deodorant failing under layers of sweat, whiskey, and the unmistakably sweet, musky scent of sex. Morning light, the color of weak tea, cut through the gaps in his blinds, striping the wreckage of his bed.
He was on his back. Catriona was half-sprawled atop him, her fiery hair a riot across his chest, one arm flung over his stomach. Her breathing was deep and even. To his left, curled against his side with her head on his shoulder, was Freya. Her blonde hair tickled his chin. On his right, back pressed against his arm, was Jenny. She slept neatly, her hands tucked under her cheek.
Aidan didn’t move. He stared at the ceiling, memory returning in a cascading flood. The cards. The losing hands. The feel of Catriona’s mouth, then the feel of her from behind. Freya’s trembling collapse. Jenny’s commanding voice in the dark. You finish where and when I say.
His body ached in a profoundly pleasant way. His mind, however, was a static buzz. This had crossed a line so definitive he couldn’t even see the other side anymore. The easy camaraderie of their shared fridge, the complaining about laundry, the movie nights with strict no-phone rules—it all felt like a archived file from another life.
Catriona stirred first. She let out a low, contented groan, stretched like a cat, and the movement woke the others. Freya blinked, her blue eyes soft with sleep and confusion for a second before they focused on Aidan’s face inches from hers. A faint pink tinged her cheeks, but she didn’t pull away. She smiled, small and private.
Jenny was already awake, Aidan realized. She was just lying there with her eyes open, staring at the wall. Calculating.
“Well,” Catriona’s voice was raspy from sleep and other things. She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking down at Aidan, then at the other two. A wild, triumphant grin spread across her freckled face. “That was a fucking game night for the history books.”
Freya let out a breathy laugh, hiding her face against Aidan’s shoulder for a moment. “I think my poker face is permanently broken.”
“You never had one,” Catriona shot back, poking her.
Jenny finally moved, rolling onto her back. She cleared her throat. “We should probably talk about the IOUs.”
The mood shifted, the lazy warmth tightening into something more alert. Aidan carefully sat up, dislodging everyone. The floral quilt pooled around his waist. “Right. The IOUs.”
“Mine’s been called,” Catriona said, flopping onto her back. “And gloriously paid. No complaints here.” She shot a look at Aidan, her eyes gleaming. “You deliver, programmer.”
“What about mine?” Freya asked, sitting up and pulling the sheet to cover herself, a gesture that seemed more habit than genuine modesty now.
“And mine,” Aidan added. “You stopped me from cashing that one in last night.”
Jenny sat up too. Her curly hair was a magnificent mess. She reached over the side of the bed, her fingers scrabbling on the floor until they found her jeans. She pulled them up, dug into the pocket, and produced three small, crumpled slips of paper. The sight of them was absurdly potent. Just lined notebook paper, but they’d rewritten the entire topography of their friendship.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jenny said, her voice assuming its familiar, logical tone. The paralegal presenting a case. “A weekend. A change of scenery. I know a place. A cabin, up near the lake. Belongs to a client’s family. Empty until October.”
Aidan felt a collective breath hold. Catriona’s eyebrows shot up. Freya went very still.
“What’s the play, Jen?” Catriona asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial level.
“The play is… no play.” Jenny unfolded the slips, smoothing them on her thigh. “No structured game. No turn-based rules. We go up there Friday night. We take these.” She tapped the papers. “These are the entry tokens. The only rules are the ones we make in the moment. A full weekend. To call in these favors… or to explore whatever else comes up.”
Silence, thick and heavy, filled the room. Aidan could hear the distant hum of the fridge in the kitchen. A car door slammed outside.
“A whole weekend?” Freya whispered. Her expression was unreadable—part trepidation, part blazing curiosity.
“What’s the catch?” Aidan asked. His throat was dry.
“No catch,” Jenny said, looking directly at him. “But it’s all of us. Or none of us. We all agree, or we burn these right now and go back to… whatever this is on Monday.” She gestured vaguely at the tangled sheets, the intimate proximity. “Which, let’s be honest, would be objectively weird forever.”
Catriona laughed, a sharp, delighted sound. “You’re a genius, you know that? A scary, scary genius. I’m in. Obviously.”
All eyes turned to Freya. She chewed her bottom lip, her gaze drifting from Jenny’s serious face, to Catriona’s eager one, to Aidan’s. He saw the competitive yoga instructor warring with the reserved young woman. She took a deep, centering breath, the kind she probably used in class. “Okay,” she exhaled. “Okay, I’m in.”
Three heads swiveled to Aidan. He was the final vote. The fulcrum. He thought of Monday morning, of making coffee in a kitchen heavy with unspoken things. He thought of Jenny’s controlled command, of Freya’s surrendered gasp, of Catriona’s triumphant grin. He thought of a cabin in the woods, and three slips of paper that were no longer just IOUs, but tickets to a door they’d already blown off its hinges.
A slow smile spread across his face, matching Catriona’s. “Well,” he said, echoing her earlier sentiment. “How could I fold now?”
Jenny’s answering smile wasn’t bright like Catriona’s. It was deep, satisfied, and held a promise that made the morning air feel charged. She carefully folded the IOUs and placed them back in her pocket.
“Good,” she said, standing up. She didn’t bother covering herself, moving with a new, unselfconscious authority towards the door. “Pack light. I’ll send the details. We leave Friday after work.”
She left, closing the door softly behind her. The room felt different. The aftermath had solidified into a before.
Catriona jumped off the bed, stretching her arms high overhead. “I need a shower that involves industrial solvent. And then coffee.” She winked at Aidan, then followed Jenny out.
Freya lingered for a second. She leaned over, pressed a soft, unexpected kiss to Aidan’s cheek, her blonde hair a curtain around them. “See you at breakfast,” she murmured, and then she was gone too.
Aidan was left alone in the quiet, sun-streaked chaos of his room. The emptiness was sudden and immense. He could still feel the impressions of their bodies on the mattress. He looked at the closed door, then at the rumpled sheets.
Friday suddenly felt a lifetime away, and also like it was hurtling toward him at impossible speed.