“Hey Little Dom, does your dad own that farm?” said Karl.

  I glowered and hunched down lower in my seat, “No.”

  “How about that apple orchard?” he asked.

  “No.” I said.

  “How about that factory? Does your dad own that factory, Little Dom?”

  “No!” I snapped.

  “Holy shit, yes he does,” Nick ughed, “Western United Steel? That's one of the companies your dad's firm invests in.”

  Karl guffawed, “Damn Little Dom, I knew you were rich, I didn't realize you owned half the country.”

  I sighed and looked out the window. We had only been on the bus for twenty minutes and I was already wishing I had just stayed at the dorm. The bus was hot and uncomfortable and full of loud, smelly athletes, the two worst of which were sitting right behind me. Karl had insisted, so he could get to know Nick’s “bestie”. We had both made it very clear we were not besties, but that didn't seem to phase him.

  “So what else does Little Dom’s little dad's little company own, Dom?” Karl asked.

  “It's mostly commodities,” said Nick, “Lane Holdings started off as Lane-Cooper Coal, back in the 1800s. Then Charlton Lane used the coal money to start investing in other mining companies, and he made a ton of money during the gold rush. And then recently they've been heavily investing in digital assets. Like NFTs and Metaverse stuff.”

  I turned around and eyed him suspiciously, “How do you know all that?”

  He shrugged, “I did some research after I talked to your dad. It's cool.”

  “Very cool,” said Karl, “So your family's been rich for hundreds of years, Little Dom.”

  “I guess,” I said.

  “That’s so cool, Little Dom,” said Karl, “You've really never had to struggle at all. For generations.”

  “I… guess…” I said.

  “No wonder it was so hard for you to have to share a room,” Karl said, his voice treacly with faux-sympathy, “It's not your fault you're bad at sharing. It's in your blood. Me and Dom are natural athletes. You're a natural rich kid.”

  Nick ughed, “Bossing people around is in his blood.”

  “He’s genetically predisposed to having a maid,” said Karl, “Haha.”

  “Yes, well!” I said, “If my family wasn't wealthy you would be sleeping in shitty twin beds tonight. So you're welcome.”

  “I was wondering about that,” said Nick, “You said your dad would get mad if you took an uber to Batesville, right? But he's cool with you booking a motel room?”

  “His financial manager gives him notifications about travel spending, but not accommodation,” I said.

  “How does that make sense?” said Nick.

  I shrugged, “I don't know. It's a tax thing, I think.”

  Karl ughed, “Of course. Tax evasion probably runs in his blood, too.”

  Nick ughed, “He's got the embezzlement gene.”

  I groaned and slumped into my seat.

  ***

  It was evening by the time we got to the motel. I tried my best not to look actively disgusted, but god, it was difficult. I had spent a rge part of my childhood in various luxury hotels and resorts around the world, and even though I had tried to set my expectations low, this pce somehow was still worse. It was a dumpy two story building, in a U-shape surrounding a parking lot. There was no fine dining restaurant, no casino, no spa. There wasn't even a doorman, if you can believe that. Instead, the coach line all the athletes up in front of a grumpy teenager to collect their room keys. Nick, Karl and I hung back so we could expin our room situation. In the meantime, they kept pestering me.

  “It's a hot date, isn't it?” said Karl, “You're meeting up with your online boyfriend.”

  “No I'm not!” I said, “Don't be gross!”

  “Whoa,” Karl ughed and held up his hands in defence, “Don't get homophobic on me, Little Dom.”

  “I told you, dude,” Nick shook his head, “He's a nasty guy. He freaked out when I told him I was into you.”

  “Oh yeah?” I gred at him, “Remind me what context we had that conversation in.”

  That shut him up. Karl gave me and Nick an odd look.

  “Anyway,” I said, “I’m obviously not homophobic. I'm literally openly gay.”

  “Oh shit,” Nick said, surprised, “Hey, good for you. Seriously.”

  “Yeah, great,” said Karl, “So what is it then? If it's not a date?”

  I sighed. This line of questioning was clearly not going to end.

  “I'm picking up a package,” I said, “It's for… an art project.”

  Nick gave me a curious look. By this point I knew him well enough to understand that he was silently asking if this was part of the pn to take down Kermit. I nodded and he grinned.

  Karl ughed, “You know, you can buy crayons at the mall.”

  “It's not crayons,* I said, “it's… I mean, I don't know what it is, exactly. But it's something that can't be sent by mail.”

  “Holy shit,” said Karl, “Little Dom is picking up a bomb.”

  “It's not a bomb!” I said hotly.

  “Something illegal though, right?* Nick said quietly. He hunched down, closing the distance between us. He was super tall, so there was a lot to close. Karl frowned and leant in as well. Nick kept his voice low, “Do you know the guy you're meeting with? Or the location?”

  “Um,” I felt goosebumps run down my arms. I hadn't really thought about that. I kind of assumed it would just be like picking up a package from the post office, “I have the address. I checked it out online and it's, um, like an old warehouse.”

  Karl snickered but Nick brushed him off, still looking at me, his dark eyes intense, worried.

  “Are you sure this is safe?” he said, “This sounds sketchy as fuck, Nick. I don't think you should go.”

  “Yeah,” Karl nodded, “Sounds like it might be a bit too scary for you, Little Dom.”

  I bristled, “I can handle myself just fine, okay? I'm not just a sheltered rich kid. I'm gonna go tomorrow morning, I'll be back by the time you two are done with your stupid races.”

  “Fuck that, Nick,” said Nick, “This isn't me being a dick, I swear. I've been around shit like this before, okay? Shit can go real wrong, real fast. Especially if you're there alone. Picking up some sketchy package in some abandoned warehouse from a dude you've never met? People die like that.”

  “So, what?” I said, “I just drop it? And we never… we never complete the art project?”

  “I'll come with you,” Nick said firmly, “Wait until after the meet and we’ll go together.”

  “Ew!” I said, “Like my bodyguard or something?”

  “Like another person who's there so that the guy doesn't fucking jump you,” said Nick.

  “Wait, Dom,” said Karl, looking a little nervous, “Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, if someone stabs Little Dom, his dad can just buy him a new liver or whatever. But I don't want you getting hurt. Should I come too? To make sure nothing happens to you?”

  Nick grimaced but pyed it off with a smile, “Nah, I'll be fine. I grew up in some sketchy pces. I know how to handle it. You hang back and cover for us with Coach.”

  Karl looked at him for a moment, then at me with a much less affectionate expression, then shrugged, “Alright. Sounds like a pn. Little Dom, you better look after him, alright? Use those big manly muscles of yours, I don't want my precious boy getting hurt.”

  Nick ughed, but something about it sounded off. I gave him a look and he gred at me.

  “Hey Nick, you have fun watching us race tomorrow,” he said.

  Karl ughed, “Yeah, make sure you bring your bnkie in case you need a nap.”

  I opened my mouth to say something very cool and smart and cutting, but the line had cleared and the grumpy teenager called out to us.

  “Yo! Two talls and a small!*

  We approached the desk to check in. The teen looked at Nick and Karl’s room first.

  “Alright, Dominic Lane and Karl Ofsson, you guys are in room 107. It's a twin room, two beds, kinda shitty, but all the twin rooms here are kinda shitty, so, whatever. It shares a bathroom with room 108 so make sure you knock if you don't wanna see some random dude’s dick or whatever.”

  “Actually,” Karl puffed himself up proudly, “We’re switching rooms with our little buddy here. We’ll be staying in the Executive Elite Suite.”

  The teen blinked, “The Executive Elite Suite? That's… that's the finest room in our whole motel. It's double the price of a regur room.”

  Karl nodded smugly. Nick looked pretty psyched too. The teen shock his head in wonder, then set down the key and picked up the one next to it.

  “Executive Elite Suite is room 108, it's exactly the same as all the other rooms except it has an extra mp. It shares a bathroom with 107 so, again, knock if you don't want to see a surprise butthole.”

  The two of them looked a little defted. I rolled my eyes. How much could they have seriously expected from a pce like this? Did I mention there wasn't even a doorman?

  I took their pce at the desk, “I guess that makes me room 107. I paid for their room.”

  “Sure thing… Huh, Dominic Lane? You've got the same name as that other guy. That's pretty funny.”

  “It's hirious.”

  “So your room is a twin, and…” his eyes widened and he called out to Nick and Karl, “Wait! Guys!”

  “What's up?” said Nick.

  “There's a problem,” the teen said. Nick's shoulders slumped. Karl gred at me as if the problem was somehow my fault. I gred right back.

  “What is it?” Karl said.

  The teen winced, “The thing about that room is… there's only one bed.”

  “Oh, that's fine,” Karl said, “We’re gonna fuck each other in it.”

  …

  I was so excited to get a good sleep that night. Yes, both of the little twin beds were gross, but I had prepared for that and packed accordingly. I stripped the sheets, wrinkling my nose with distaste at the yellowed mattress underneath, then made the bed with my own nicer sheets. I felt a sense of smug satisfaction as I did it. Look at me, Dominic Lane, making my own bed!

  I had brought my own pajamas as well, a really nice, really pretty nightgown with a matching robe. The French would call them a chemise and peignoir. I knew a little French, although Mother only taught me enough to order hotel staff around. I figured out s'il vous p?t on my own.

  Sometimes I worried that I got too excited about my pajamas. What was the line between being excited to look pretty and having a fetish? If a girl got excited about wearing something cute, that was okay. But I wasn't a girl. Probably. Was I?

  I pushed the thought down, like I was so good at doing, and tried to get some sleep. My first time in months sleeping in my own room, in my own clothes, without Nick or Karl or the impending spectre of my visiting father to worry about! I settled back into the pillows with a happy sigh.

  Ah.

  The pillows were not quite as fluffy as I would have preferred.

  I sighed and got out of bed, snatching up the pillows from the other bed as well. I didn't have pillowcases for these, but I did my best wrestling them in with the others, then settled in for a slightly grumpier sleep. It was hard to stay mad for too long, though. Even on this gross little bed, being surrounded by my nice sheets, in my fancy chemise, with my ever-lengthening hair still smelling of the floral shampoo I had washed with before bed… after the wretched ordeal, it felt truly decadent. It made me feel like a princess, and not in the condescending sarcastic way I could imagine Nick saying it, but in the beautiful, reverent way that I could also imagine Nick saying it.

  Hmm.

  There was something else I hadn't done in a while, what with all the stress and scrutiny I had been under. I slipped a hand under the hem of my nightie, tracing along my smooth thigh. What fantasy should it be tonight? The princess and her loyal bodyguard sounded enticing. Nick said bossing people around was in my blood, huh? Well, I had a few orders I would like him to–

  I stopped, my fingers hovering delicately over the trapped little bump in my panties. Should I really be fantasizing about Nick?

  I mean, this was far from the worst thing I had done involving Nick, but he was in a retionship now. They were together at that very moment, only a single room away. If Karl knew I was right next door, rubbing myself off while thinking about his boyfriend, he would probably be really upset.

  Okay, that decided it.

  I was definitely going to do it.

  ***

  I woke up a couple of hours ter, still in a blissful warm afterglow of satisfaction. My neck did hurt a bit, though. Stupid pillows.

  I tossed and turned for a while, trying to get back to sleep, but eventually I gave up. I needed the bathroom anyway. I got up, slipped on my peignoir, and crept to the bathroom door. I didn't want to knock, in case Nick and Karl were asleep. If they woke up they would no doubt start yelling at me, as if I was the loud and annoying one. Instead I crouched down and peeked thought the keyhole. All clear.

  Once I was inside I snuck over to the door on their side to lock it, but as I did, I heard a strange noise coming from their room. It sounded like Nick, grunting and whimpering.

  Oh, ew! They better not be…

  I screwed up my face and tried to block out the thought. Too gross, too gross, too gross. But even as I pushed the thought way deep down, into the dark pit of don’t-think-about-it where I kept all the gender stuff, I realised that the noises were familiar. They weren't the noises Nick made when I was sucking his dick. They were the noise he made when he was in pain.

  “Dom?” Karl whispered, “Are you okay?”

  Oh, shit.

  “Uh-huh,” Nick grunted. I held my breath, hoping Karl would leave it at that.

  “Are you hurt? You sound hurt,” Karl said, and I could hear in his voice that he was worried, “Do you need me to get Coach?”

  “No!” Nick hissed, “I'm, nngh, I'm fine.”

  “You don't sound fine,” Karl said. No, no, no! Drop it, you idiot!

  “Mfine,” Nick grunted. His voice was strained, and I could tell it wasn't just pain he was holding back. I wanted to burst in there and tell Karl to shut up, but unlike him I was smart enough to stay quiet.

  “I can get you some aspirin or something,” Karl offered, “Or a gss of water?”

  “Dude, I'm… I'm fine,” Nick grunted, “It’s just… It just happens, ngh, sometimes.”

  “Oh,” Karl said quietly, “Because of your arm?”

  Nick didn't say anything for a moment, and I could picture him, face screwed up, trying to keep his breath steady.

  Finally, he muttered, “Yeah.”

  “That's okay,” Karl said, and I heard a soft sound as he kissed Nick on the forehead or shoulder or butthole or whatever. “It's okay. You're gonna be okay.”

  “Thanks,” said Nick, and even in that one word I could tell he was feeling a lot more emotions other than gratitude.

  I felt sick. I shouldn't have heard any of that. I mean, god, it shouldn't have even happened, Karl should have been smart enough to stay quiet, but me listening in would've hurt Nick just as much.

  I snuck back out of the bathroom and back to bed, preparing for yet another shitty night’s sleep.