The party was already dying when the three of them ended up in Natalie's apartment. James, Natalie, and Caroline had known each other for years—long enough that the usual rules between friends had gone soft around the edges. Residual heat from the night still clung to their skin. Beers were opened. Old stories came out.

Someone suggested a simple dice game to keep things interesting.
What started as jokes and light dares turned heavier. Clothes came off. Looks lasted longer than they should have. The line between familiar comfort and something sharper began to blur, and none of them stopped it.

By the time the first light of morning touched the windows, the three of them were in the only bed in the apartment. What happened there was not careful or planned. It was the kind of sex that happens when people who already know too much about each other finally stop pretending the charge isn't there—raw, messy, and completely without the usual boundaries.