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We certainly never planned to have a threesome.
My best friend, Kathryn, her fiancé, Joe, and I had spent the late afternoon drinking in a pub garden before heading back to mine for a takeaway dinner and a movie.
I thought the evening was winding down, that they’d soon be ordering an Uber and I’d be stashing leftover slices of pizza in the fridge for a cold, hangover breakfast the next morning.
But then I made a joke about kissing my best friend.
Best friends: translated. Post continues below.
I’d always thought Kathryn was beautiful and been very vocal about it, telling her – and anyone who’d listen – that she was my girl crush. It was mostly just banter. But that night as I sat close beside her on the couch and joked about wanting to kiss her, Joe said, ‘go on, then’ and Kathryn looked at me expectantly.
I’d had just the right amount of wine. I felt brave, but wasn’t sloppy. I leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.
I thought that would be it. A quick kiss – a tipsy moment of bravado that might make Joe want to get her home and into bed fast.
But Kathryn leaned into it, wrapping her arms around me, one of her hands getting lost in my hair.
And then suddenly Joe was on his knees in front of her, pulling her top up over her head, slipping off her bra.
Silently, we moved to the bedroom.