Hawaii

I shrugged. Playing it noncommittal is always good. Yes, V, noncommittal.

"Tony likes you, you know," Benji blurted out just like the good little hen that we've always known him to be. "He's batty about you."

"Batty?"

Benji shrugged. "Bad wording, sorry. I'm still tired from last night." He yawned. "Sorry that I'm not a very interesting date."

I laughed at this. "Ben?"

"Yeah, V?"

"I had more fun dancing around this place with you this afternoon than I have had since I arrived in Hawaii." Alright, so maybe that wasn't all truth. Having sex with Paul was fun. Having sex with Tony wasn't bad. Having sex with….Wait. That's all I've done in Hawaii is have sex. Huh. Funny. Why didn't I notice this before?

Benji yawned again. "I think I need a nap, V."

Yes, a nap sounds divine. And do you know why? Because a nap doesn't involve sex! I must be a slut to have not realized that . . . Right. Shut up, V. Shut up before you freak yourself out.

* * *

Paul stood in the doorway, staring at the pair. They looked entirely peaceful together, cuddled tight in one another's arms. She was smiling blissfully, and so was he. Like little angels, he wanted to say but couldn't. The fact was simple: he didn't want V to be happy like this with anyone else. No. He had started out this trip uninvolved. She was just a friend. She was just a friend that he was taking on vacation- with Tony- for a good time. Some sex. Laughter. Maybe some joints. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be left, standing here, less than halfway through the trip, staring at V like she was the love of his life. No. This was bad.

"Just pack some shit and go," Tony urged, walking up behind him. "Just for tonight. Alright?"

He nodded. "Fine."

"I'll call you later," Tony promised and then disappeared.

There were few things in life that Paul could count on. Taxes being one of them, and Tony never keeping a promise another. Tony would not call tonight.

* * *

I have never had a cell phone. Not that I have never wanted one- sure, sometimes the urge to keep up with the Joneses does knock at my door. I just never felt the desire to have the accompanying monthly bill. Yeah. Gross. I have enough of those. But right now, what I want more than anything is a cell phone. Yes.

Benji's been asleep for hours. He calls this a nap, I call this sloth. Tony and Paul are nowhere to be found. Tony's cell phone is lying on his bed, and that means he's unreachable. Wherever he might be. Paul is MIA. Has been MIA for the past, oh say, well…Since I woke up this morning. I don't like that. And I hate that I'm missing him. That I'm wishing I had a ridiculous metallic item just so that I could call him and hear his-

"Good morning, Sunshine."

"You're awake," I observe, staring into Benji's still somewhat sleepy eyes. He yawns but grins. "Did you have a good nap?"

He nods. "I dreamt of you."

"Oh?"

"And Tony."

"You're a pervert," I laugh and toss my pillow into his face.

He giggles like the schoolgirl we all know he is. "I can't help it, V," he yawns again. "Have you seen his ass? When he walks? It's straight out of a dream. I just want to grab a piece of-"

"OKAY OKAY," I scream with mirth. Fact is, he's right: Tony is hot. And the idea of Benji and Tony as lovers is, sure, somewhat sexy. But right now, my mind is stuck in one mode and one mode only. And it does not involve a blonde vocalist. It involves a husky, poetic brunette who plays-

"ROOM SERVICE!"

"TONY!" Benji squeals with glee and he's out of the bed in record time. Yes. So much for being a mature man. When he's around Tony, I swear he acts like he's just short of puberty. Actually, let's be straight: 90% of the time Benji is acting like a little girl.

Tony appears clad in a black apron and a wide grin. There does not appear to be much more to his attire than the apron and the grin. Ugh. "I thought you sleepyheads might be hungry when you woke up."

"I'm starving," Benji groans as he rubs his stomach. He looks almost asinine as he rubs his tattooed hand over the giant "PUNX" ink on his body; he looks like an inked two-year old. Now that's an image.

"And how about you, madam?"

Is he talking to me? He must be talking to me. I run a hand up into my black hair and sigh. How about me? I don't know about me, Tony. I don't know. "Sure," I hear myself half-heartedly agree. "What'd you get?"

Tony sweeps his hand over the silver cart and smirks. "Whipped cream and strawberries."

"Yummy," Benji coos excitedly.

"Yes," Tony smirks back at his best friend. "Yummy, indeed."

* * *

Benj continues to giggle like a woman. "That tickles, Tone. Seriously. That feels so funny."

It probably does. Benji is lying in the middle of Tony's bed, staring up at the ceiling. From head to toe, he's covered in whipped cream swirls and small slices of strawberry. His nipples are covered with fruit, his belly button, his hands and feet. Tony has even strategically placed whipped cream onto the tattoo of the Virgin Mary on Benji's neck. He's currently sucking heartily as his friend laughs. The laughter is amusing and almost childish, but his erection is anything but. It's abundantly clear that someone is enjoying this very much. Very, very much.

"Hard much?" Tony pulls away and licks cream off his lips. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was someone's fantasy."

Benji blushes. "You already knew that, bro. I told you that before I arrived."

Tony sends a quick glance in my direction, as I continue to make whipped cream tattoos on Benji's left leg. I don't bother to answer. He knows I'm okay with this. Just as I've been okay with virtually everything that has occurred on this vacation, thus far. It's all sex, right? There's the occasional expensive meal, the goth club. Some bondage here and there. But mostly, Tony brought me to Hawaii to fuck. It's obvious to me now. It has been obvious for some time.

"I want you to give me head," Benji pleads. His voice has roughened, deepened with his want. He sounds raspy and wanton; like he's dying for our caresses. Yes. This is a good way to have Benji.

Tony nods. "Go to it, V."

"No," Benji sits up slowly and a strawberry falls off his chest and lands on the duvet. "I want you to blow me." He lowers his gaze and looks almost embarrassed. Almost. "Please, Tony. I need you."

Tony is not covert as he turns his attention to me. His blue eyes are full of desire. "V?"

"Yeah?"

A hand is placed lightly on my thigh. Tony leans in and his blue eyes are warmed with his need. "V, I need to do this for him."

"Okay."

"You won't….." his voice trails off. I know what he's asking. It's clear.

I nod. The thought of Tony performing oral sex on another man is hot. That man being Benji Madden is even sexier. If I were in my own bed at home, lying around conjuring teenage threesome fantasies, this might be at the top of the list. Unfortunately, right now, I feel completely out of my own body; as though I am not myself. So I simply nod and think of the one person that's missing from this equation. The one person that I am truly longing for.

Tony clears his throat. "V, I want you here with us. With me. You're somewhere else and I need you here."

He needs me.

"I want you to help me," Tony's voice is soft for once, gentle. He's pleading with me as Benji has just pleaded with him. "Please, V. I want you to-"

"Blow me," Benji begs. "Please, V. Please."

There's a lot of pleading going on in this room. Two beautiful men- a sexy blonde on his knees and a stunning raven-haired punker on his back- and they need me. Are begging me.

"Fuck," I hear my own voice fill the room. "You're so sexy."

* * *

There's something so over-the-top, erotically speaking that is, about sharing a hard cock with another man. I've given blow jobs, hell, I've even had threesomes; but it's always been situations where I shared a man with another woman. I've never been with two men before. And the sounds that Benji has been emitting for the past thirty minutes as Tony and I pleasure him . . . I think I'm liking this.

"V," Benji is cooing right now. "V, can I fuck you now?"

Tony's mouth is full, but he smiles. "She's ours, Ben."

"I want you, V," Benji pleads. "Please?"

"He wants you," Tony echoes and I almost want to make a snide comment. I'm not deaf. Or stupid. Though perhaps I am stupid to have become involved in their ménage a trios. Because right now, despite the caresses of two totally gorgeous naked men, I cannot help but think of-

Benji is sitting beside me, kneading the soft flesh of my back. "I want to be inside you, V," he whispers into my ear. "I want to fill you and make you scream."

"And I want to watch," Tony quips like a child.

And so the night goes. Benji plunges into my waiting pussy, Tony enters from the back. Their rhythm so perfect, I wonder if they have partaken in dual pleasures previously. They must have. They choreograph their moves perfectly, and it lasts for hours. And hours.

And then comes sleep.

And dreams. Dreams of the one man that was not involved in tonight's pleasures. Paul. Where he is and why he's left, I'm not really certain. But in my dreams, he's right beside me, inside me. He tastes like cotton candy and smells like the ocean. He's smooth like velvet with a tongue like satin. He knows when to speed up and just when to slow down, and he's never too rough and always just right.

"Just right," I moan. "So perfect."

The voice that responds is a laugh and not a laugh that belongs to Paul. "You can call me whatever you want. Whatever gets you off, V." Tony.

Fuck it. I can ignore this. Because right now, Tony's soft skin feels like-

"I just needed my watch," is the statement that interrupts penetration. My eyes gaze lustfully up toward the familiar, scruffy face of the missing. "I came back to get some shit," he clarifies, staring down at my exposed body. Hurt washes over his face. At least, that's what I believe that emotion is. Could he be…attached? Does he feel the same? "I just needed my watch and some shit," he rambles.

"That's nice," Tony offers, burying his face between my breasts and replacing his erection inside my warmth. "Shut the door on your way out."

"I'll do that."

"Did you two have a fight?" I hear myself blurt out. The tension in the room is so thick, it's, well, bigger than the cock inside me and harder to decipher. Bad analogy, but true.

Tony glares up at me, Paul glares down at me. There's silence. I push Tony off me and he lands beside me on the mattress. "Seriously," I sit up and sigh. "Something's wrong. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," they both state in different tones of annoyance.

"Something is wrong."

"Everything is great," Paul winces as he searches through a pile of laundry. "Just peachy."

"Where's Benji?" I question, for the first time aware that I did- yes I did!- fall asleep between him and Tony last night; and now I am beside only one of the pair. Benji is gone. As Paul had disappeared yesterday.

"Out," Tony smiles.

"Hmmph," Paul makes a noise and slams a pile of dirty boxers into his duffel bag.

"WHAT IS WRONG?"

"NOTHING!" Paul growls and storms from the room.

Tony smiles. "He's just mad that he didn't get any nookie."

"Something's wrong," I repeat for the umpteenth time. "What did you do?"

And suddenly, Tony Lovato is pulling the old innocent routine. Yes. He's tried this many times before and will try it many times again. But tonight, it won't work. I know he's guilty.

"What did you do?" I demand.

* * *

Strangely enough, I never did find out why Benji left- just that he left that night when I fell asleep. I presume this had something to do with the attitude that Anthony has been copping lately. You know the one, the infamous Tony Lovato ‘tude. He's a fuckhead, shitface, cunt-licking- Actually, he's good at cunt-licking. He just sucks with people.

And I suck for hurting people. Specifically, the ones I care about: I have a knack for that. So here I am, lounging in the sun tanning beside an obnoxiously grouchy Tony Lovato and minus a very hurt and upset Paul Thomas. Paul's been missing in action since that night, and I believe I have lost count how many days ago that was. Or maybe I'm lying to myself. Because I know exactly how long ago I last saw Paul: 4,338 minutes ago.

"You might want to say something," comes an annoyed growl from the plastic lounger beside me. Tattoos scrawled across the chest and stomach suggest that Tony is in fact- unfortunately- the cause of the ruckus.

"Like what?"

"Anything."

"You're a bitch."

Tony raises his sunglasses to his forehead and glares daggers tipped with arsenic. "And so are you."

Yes, this is how the past 4,339 minutes have gone.

"Look, V, don't you think we should try and discuss?"

"Discuss what?"

"This."

"What's this?" I raise my arms and wave them emphatically. Hey, I'm Italian too.

Tony sighs. For once, he's being mature and I'm avoiding; what a change of roles. "You know what I meant."

"I thought I wasn't allowed to mention-"

"Not him," he interjects immediately. "Us."

"There is no ‘us,' Anthony."

Tony frowned. "V, you're not understanding what I have been trying to say to you since-"

"I don't give a shit!"

"-before we left to come here. To Hawaii."

"Tony, I don't give a shit!"

"V, I love you!" And there it was. Shit. Piss. Fuck. And balls. "V, I love you! Why don't you understand that? I wanted you to make the trip so I could feel the situation out and spend more time with you. I knew I liked you- shit, you're awesome!- but I didn't know if I liked-you-liked-you."

Tony Lovato: Valley Girl. Like oh my gawd.

"V, please. I know you're not listening to me and this is important to me."

"You sent him away."

"Who?" he scratched his hairline as though he really did not know whom I was referring to. Right. Play clueless and you fail, Tony. You fail at everything.

"PAUL!"

"I said I didn't-"

"Look, let me be blatantly clear for you." I paused, wrapped a towel around my body and began to slide off my lounger. "I didn't want to come, but you begged me and annoyed the fuck out of me until I relented. You KNEW- scratch that- you KNOW I have a crush on Paul. So you bring me to fucking Hawaii- across the world from fucking Chicago- so that you can wine me and dine me, and you expect that once you banish Paul I'll just fucking forget?"

Tony bit his lip ring and lowered his head in silence.

"Tony, you're a friend. All you will ever be is a friend."

"With benefits," he added softly.

I nodded. And as I walked slowly back to our room, it occurred to me that I'm the bad girl here. I'm the no-good slut that took advantage of my best male friend and just single-handedly destroyed his trip to Hawaii, Paul's trip to Hawaii, and then broke Tony's heart. Great. "I suck!"

"Oh good," came a familiar amused laugh. I opened the door further and glanced down the hallway. What the fuck? "Cause I could use a good suck to calm my motherfucking nerves."

I turned and locked gazes with familiar brown eyes. Fuck, what the fuck is he doing here now? Just what I need, really. But I can't let him know that he is the last person I would have wanted to find on this bed at this moment. Not when he is sprawled there clad in only his beach shorts and a pair of sunglasses. His chest is cherry red and his ears match. That is about the only endearing thing about this man. "What the fuck are you doing here?" I hear myself blurt.

He lowers his sunglasses and sits up slightly, grinning. "I am here because I could use a good cock sucking to calm my nerves. Have you gone deaf since I last saw you, V?"

My answer to that was nothing more than my middle finger.

He grinned. "So when I last saw you, you were fucking who was it? Oh right, you were fucking that guy Chad that everyone hated."

I would not oblige this conversation, so instead I took a seat at the desk in the room and reached for a piece of stationery. Perhaps concocting a letter to my missing lover would allow me to clear my thoughts and erase the tears I felt brewing behind my eyes. Do not cry, V. Do not cry.

"But you really wanted to be fucking Paul," he continued, tossing his sunglasses across the room and onto a chair by the closet. "Everyone except Paul knew that much. He was too busy with that chick that he was dating. He didn't really notice you, V. You acted desperate around him and he still didn't notice you. That must have really sucked, huh?"

The question hit me like a brick and my heart froze inside my chest. Desperate? Had I ever been desperate? Sure. Right now I was desperate to be anywhere other than here and now. With this man that I have never liked. And I hate that he knows me so well. Better than Tony, in fact.

"What's worse is that you never even noticed that that look you gave Paul when he entered every room or closed every door. That was the same look that Tony gave you as you did the same thing," he observed and shrugged his freckled shoulders. "You can hate me for my honesty but all I have is what I have seen with my own two eyes."

"And what is that?" I challenged, bitter and jaded.

"Tony loves you, Victoria," he smiled and there was less hatred behind it now and more empathy. "He has never loved another woman the way he loves you. Don't you see that?"

"Hardly."

He adjusted himself on the bed, leaning against the headboard and with his tattooed arms crossed against his exposed chest. I could say so very many things about him, but the first would be admitting defeat. Because, fuck, he is sexy. "V, I didn't fly out to Hawaii to fuck with your head and you look totally mindfucked right now."

"Then why did you come here, Joel?" I questioned and my voice still held the hungry edge of bitterness.

He shrugged. "Tony called me and told me to hop the next plane if I wanted to live out my fantasies and get a tan. So here I am," he gestured around the room. "So how about that blow job?"

* * *

The choice between two evils is a thin line of dental floss to teeter upon. That is the choice between providing my arch nemesis with oral favors or trying to do right by my heartbroken best friend. And in a difficult situation, I always find it best to choose what is personally best for myself: and apologizing to Tony is much better for me than having any kind of contact with Joel Madden. I really, really hate that man. Which is especially odd, because I adore his twin.

Tony sat on a flimsy plastic lawn chair out on the small balcony of our suite. A cigarette was pressed between his lips, and the thickness of grief that exuded from his pores was apparent from ten feet away. I took a deep breath and hoped that the nicotine in the air molecules would pierce my lungs and make life happier. Somehow. Or at the very least, not quite as painfully stressful. Deep breath. Talk. "Do you mind if I join you?" That was dumb. Dumb.

Blue eyes glance upward and I realize that something I have never before witnessed is occurring: Tony Lovato is crying. Real tears. He is crying and his eyes look heavy with sadness. He simply shrugs and allows his feet to fall off the plastic table top and crash heavily onto the paved balcony floor. "It's a free country."

"Don't be like that," is the best I can offer.

"Like what?" he challenges, eyes cold and hurt. "How am I being, Victoria?"

When you hear your real name twice within ten minutes, you know that the shit has hit the fan and it's bad beyond bad. Yoga breathing could not save me now and since I don't know shit about Pilates, I think I'm going to have to wing this one. One breath. Two breaths. Slow and steady wins the race. "You're being an asshole, Anthony."

"So that's how you're going to fix this?" he removes the cigarette and places it into a small clay ashtray, then laughs. "You're just going to show up and expect that you can make it all okay because you hate being uncomfortable?"