Page 149 of What We Bury

What happens to Amy’s face should be studied by science. Her mouth drops open. Her eyes go enormous. She points at the door, then at me, then back at the door.

“Tall,” she says. “Brown hair. Blue eyes. Built like a fitness model. Forearms that should be illegal. I passed him on the stairs and thought,that man is either a detective or a felon, and honestly, either way, I’d climb that.Was thatHolden?”

Heat crawls up my neck. “Maybe.”

“Maybe.” She smacks the couch cushion. “It’s a yes. Your face is doing a yes.”

I cover it with both hands. She’s right. My face is a traitor.

“Okay,” I say into my palms. “Don’t make it a whole thing.”

“It’s already a thing. It’s been a thing for the four seconds since I learned his forearms exist.” She pulls my hands down. “Is it serious? What happened to Milo?”

“Milo is still happening.”

I brace for impact. Amy’s voice goes up a full octave. “Still?” Her eyes flare. “Oh my God, are you doing alovetriangle?”

“No. No, and also, selfishly, I could never handle the drama?—”

“You are handling the drama. Right now. In real time. With two professional-grade hotties.” She flops back onto the couch next to me, clutching a throw pillow like she’s going to hyperventilate into its sequins.

“Do they know about each other?”

“They do. Theyallknow about each other, actually.”

It’s out before I can sand the edges off it. Amy freezes mid-bounce.

“All?” Her eyes go wide, and I scramble to figure out how much truth I can hand her.

I can’t tell her there are five. Can’t tell her they’re one thing—a single unit that has, with terrifying calm, decided to share me. As open and accepting as Amy is, I don’t think even she could understand what I’m doing with one group of five men.

So I give her the only version that’s clean.

“I’m seeing a few people,” I say. “Casually. Figuring out what I want. Nothing’s labeled. But we’re all open with each other. Radical honesty and all that.”

For a second I think she’s going to look at me the way Tyler looks at me. Like I’m a problem with legs.

Instead she lights up like a small town getting power for the first time.

“Sage.” She grabs both my hands. “Do you have any idea—you came here aghost.You flinched at the toaster for a week. And now you’re sitting here with a bitten lip andoptions.” She’s actually misting up. “I have a documented history of strong opinions about people being single, and you are out here datingplural,and I have never been prouder of anyone.”

I laugh, and it’s real, and it cracks something loose in my chest I didn’t know was clenched.

“You’re being safe though, right?” she adds, sobering by a degree. “I’m not your mom, I’m just—condoms. Are we doing condoms? As your emergency contact I am legally?—”

“You’re not my emergency contact.”

“I should be. We’ll fix that.” She squeezes. “Safe? Yes?”

“I’m safe, Amy.”

There’s no safer place on the planet than inside the attention of five men who would take the world apart before they let it touch me.

“Okay.” I shift so I’m facing her properly, before she can fire off any follow-up questions. “Your turn. How are things with Tyler?”

It’s small, the change. If I wasn’t looking at her directly, I might miss it. The smile stays but the wattage drops, like someone reached behind her eyes and turned a dial.

“Good,” she says. “Busy. You know.”