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Living with Whitaker as a roommate might have been the best decision she'd ever made, Trinity thought, watching him clean the living room over her phone.
When she'd suggested Whitaker move in with her, he'd been hesitant, telling her he couldn't afford to pay her in the near future, yet Trinity didn't care, thinking a free maid was very tempting.
And so it had been. Dennis had immediately found ways to be helpful and not a burden, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom when needed, always offering to set and clear the table and signing up like a game show when the trash needed to be taken out.
"You know," he called one day, about three months after moving in with her.
Trinity put down the book she was reading and sat down on the couch to look at her friend, who was currently busy with the fridge.
He wore highlighter-yellow gloves and a headband, which kept his longer-than-usual curls from falling in his eyes.
“If you want to live here, Huckleberry, you have to have some style. Rule number one for sharing my apartment: grow that hair out a bit, you can't be seen with bangs.”
She remembered how Dennis brought his hand to his forehead, gently ruffling the blond locks. Her lips quirked slightly as she remembered the look of outrage on her friend's face.
“Luckily, I used to clean stables as a kid, because this… isn't that different! Damn, how long have these strawberry yogurts been here?” He gripped the rim of the container with two fingers, bringing it close to his nose to sniff, almost throwing it away when a pungent smell hit his nostrils.
Trinity just laughed, going back to reading her book.
“Trinity? Are you okay?” Her friend called back, bringing her back to the present.
Dennis sighed, rubbing his forearm across his forehead and leaning the broom against the wall, looking proudly at the now almost gleaming living room.
“I was just thinking you have a future as a stay-at-home wife, Huckleberry. There are rich, old men who would line up for someone to clean their house from top to bottom.”
She looked down immediately, chuckling under her breath and not noticing the shocked expression on Dennis’s face.
The boy swallowed a little and nodded.
“Sure, what are you doing tonight? I mean are you… going to your girlfriend or something?”
Trinity looked up from her phone again, this time to examine her friend.
It was the first thing she'd said to him before entering the apartment, just to make sure the boy wasn't some kind of homophobic fanatic.
"Just for the record, I'm a lesbian, so if that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, I advise you to go fuck yourself right now." She twiddled the ring of keys in her fingers, the sound of metal clattering on metal helping her relax.
"What? No! Of course not. I'm gay, actually, and then I imagined you were a lesbian—"
"Excuse me?" A dramatically exaggerated offended tone escaped her mouth, making Dennis's eyes widen.
He looked smaller in his dark gray T-shirt and brown sweatshirt, with dark circles around his eyes and pale skin, as he held his hands out in front of him as if to defend himself.
“No! I meant, well, I was just thinking that, maybe—”
“I'm kidding, Huckleberry, don't give yourself a heart attack. And, gay? I didn't think a little mouse from Nebraska like you could be gay.”
She laughed, inserting the key into the lock. Dennis behind her raised his arms before letting them fall limply to his sides. The boy really hoped he wouldn't regret accepting the offer.
Dennis looked at her, his lips pressed into a thin line, shifting slowly from foot to foot as if he didn't want his (obvious) tension to show to his roommate.
She turned off her phone, placing it next to her on the soft material of the couch. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her eyes.
“Dennis Elijah Whitaker—”
“That's not my middle name.”
“Are you hiding something from me? Why do you care?” She interrupted him, a small smile on her lips. The boy laughed, a fake, very embarrassed laugh, looking around.
"What?! No, why should I hide anything from you?" He ran a hand through his blond curls, trying to put them back in place. Without another word, he left the living room, presumably heading for his bedroom.
Trinity watched him leave, picking up her phone again, only to drop it onto her lap when Whitaker returned seconds later with his tail between his legs.
“Actually, there’s something—”
“I knew it! I knew you were hiding something from me.” She clenched her fists, raising them in the air in victory.
Dennis huffed, rolling his eyes and sitting down on the couch too, not far from his friend.
“You know I have a boyfriend, right?” Dennis looked down at his hands as he spoke, for some strange reason not looking into Trinity’s eyes.
The girl nodded, crossing her legs on the couch and cocking her head like a puppy—well, a very dangerous puppy.
“You mean your mystery boyfriend, whose name you won’t tell me, whose picture you’ve never shown me, the one I wasn’t even sure existed until five seconds ago? Oh, yeah! We’re practically best friends.” She snorted in amusement when she saw Dennis's "stop-it-or-I-won't-tell-you" expression. The girl took pity on him and motioned for him to continue.
"Well, the apartment complex where he lives had some electricity problems—nothing serious, obviously—but the building manager decided that everyone had to leave tonight so a team of electricians could come and fix it."
Dennis paused, looking at his friend and twisting his fingers. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for Trinity to say something.
"...At night?" She asked simply. Dennis scratched the bridge of his nose, sighing almost in defeat.
"Yeah, don't ask me either, I don't know why it's not a job that can be done during the day or with the residents inside the building. Anyway, since you often go to your girlfriend's..." He gritted his teeth, folding his hands in front of him as if he was pleading.
“I was wondering if he could come stay here just for tonight. I swear, the—he's a good guy, he wouldn't hurt a fly or steal anything—”
“Okay, okay, calm down, cowboy.” She put her hands in Dennis's face when the boy started babbling, making him freeze in place like a toy soldier.
“Fine, as long as he doesn't make a mess and as long as you two don't have sex on my bed.” She saw Dennis's cheeks flush, wondering how a twenty-seven-year-old could still be so prudish.
“Are you sure? If it bothers you, I can ask him to find another place.” Trinity closed her eyes, shaking her head and letting her black locks tickle her cheekbones.
“No problem, Huckleberry, just let your lover stay here, if he really exists.” She stood up from the couch, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door, holding onto the doorframe for a second to look at her friend as the teasing left her lips.
The last thing she saw, before heading to the shower to wash up and get ready for Yolanda, was Dennis's shocked, comical face.
"Okay then, remember," Trinity called as she busied herself with pinning her hair back with a pink and white clip.
Dennis arrived, bouncing like a bunny rabbit. He was sweating, probably from the intense cleaning session, and his blond locks stuck to his forehead, almost touching his eyes.
"No dirty things on my bed or the couch, don't make too much noise or the shitty neighbor will lecture me again and—"
She looked down at her friend, dressed in an old, wrinkled white T-shirt and black shorts that had definitely seen better days.
“Take a shower and change, Huckleberry, you’re unfuckable like this.” She finished getting ready, taking one last look in the mirror to make sure no strands were out of place.
She grabbed her jacket and keys, heading for the door as the boy followed her.
“Yeah, well, I’ll let my date decide that.” He ran his fingers through his wet hair, an almost disgusted expression coloring his face as sweat soaked into his hand.
“Oh my, our little Nebraska boy knows what sex is, I can’t believe it.” She gave Dennis a small nod. She saw the boy’s mouth open, ready to retort with something resembling a tantrum, but Trinity was quicker. She opened the door and darted out, closing it behind her with a click.
She pulled her jacket tighter around her body when a gust of wind hit her as she exited the building. For a second, she wondered why she was doing this: she could have just as easily stayed home, warm under the covers, but when the memory of Yolanda's hands on her body and her voice in her ear hit her, an internal warmth, as powerful as the sun, enveloped her.
Breathing through her nose and trying to hide her smile in the collar of her jacket, she headed for her car, ready to go to her girlfriend.
Yolanda lived in an apartment not far from the hospital. It was a place for the rich, Trinity always thought as she gazed at the small fountain in the center of the communal garden.
On the other hand, Dr. Yolanda Garcia was revered throughout the Pitt as "the best surgeon the hospital had ever had," and Trinity, wholly in agreement, appreciated that after years of study and sacrifice, her girlfriend could afford a comfortable life.
She took the elevator to the fifth floor, practically trotting towards the apartment door. She ran her hands over her jeans, smoothing them out a bit, before knocking with three rhythmic knocks.
She waited a minute, then knocked again when there was no response: still nothing.
She puffed out her cheeks, her expression must have looked comical, but her eyes were slightly annoyed. She leaned against the smooth, cool wall behind her, telling herself that maybe Yolanda was showering and that's why she couldn't hear her knock.
She tried again, tiring only after a couple of minutes spent staring at the slightly tilted painting hanging in the hallway leading to the apartments.
When she got no response, she looked around, as if hoping Yolanda would appear at any moment, popping out from the corner overlooking the stairs to play a prank on her.
She picked up her phone, almost immediately finding her contact saved in her favorites, along with Dennis and Mel's, and pressed it, praying that every annoying beep would be the last before she heard the other woman's voice.
When the pounding sound ended and the robotic voice on the answering machine began to speak, inviting Trinity to leave a message, the girl did just that, clutching her phone a little tighter than necessary.
"Hey Yolanda, it's me, Trinity." She closed her eyes when she realized her tone was a little harsher than usual, swallowed her saliva, and counted to ten, regaining some composure.
"We said we'd meet tonight, at your place, which is where I am now." She turned, pointing to the apartment door as if the woman could see her movements.
"Just... if there's any problem, call me back, or at least call me back to let me know when you'll be back. I'll wait here." She paused for a second, trying to connect her synapses and get her brain working, wondering if this was the right time to end the call with an "I love you."
People did that all the time, right? They'd never actually said it openly, but Trinity remembered how she once told Yolanda she'd marry anyone who could cook a good Pancit.
And she also remembered the twists and turns her stomach made the next day when, as she was passing behind the couch, she saw Yolanda watching a video explaining how to cook traditional Filipino dishes.
That was probably love, right? Or was she just crazy to think something so small and stupid could be considered love?
She thought about it too much, and while she was still lost in thought, she heard her phone emit a long beep, signaling that her time to record the message was up.
"Fuck." She cursed, squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she clutched her phone, leaning against the door with all her weight, causing a dull thud.
After that, she began to wait. She sent one, then two, then three, then ten messages to Yolanda, asking her to respond and telling her she was worried. None of the messages seemed to reach their destination.
Suddenly, a strange sensation rose in her gut. A dark, cold fear surged through her body, reaching her lungs and heart, closing her throat and making her eyes water.
The last time someone she cared about stopped answering her phone, the last time was…
She slipped along the brown wood of the door, falling to the floor and clutching her eyes, dropping the phone to the floor. The sound of glass hitting white tiles echoed throughout the deserted hallway.
“Not now, not now.” She hissed through gritted teeth, trying not to remember her best friend's eyes and smile at that moment.
She lowered her hands, strangely cold and stiff, and pretended the wet drops on her cheeks weren't there. She ran the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her face, scratching a little harder than necessary, before picking up her phone, which had been left on the floor beside her.
Eleven o'clock. Damn. It was nine o'clock when she'd left the house, and it took her about half an hour to get to Yolanda's apartment. She'd been waiting for almost two hours.
She opened the chat with the other woman, hoping for even a measly message that could have given her some update, but nothing of the sort happened. No message arrived, no reply.
Cradling the device to her chest, she looked at the ceiling and the almost blinding light of the lamps above her. She blinked back the few tears that were trying to escape her eyes.
Inhale and exhale, as she'd been taught, over and over again until the feeling subsided.
Suddenly, as if by magic, the bell signaling the elevator doors opened rang. Trinity leaped to her feet, as if under a spell, and waited for those interminable seconds to pass.
When the doors opened and Dr. Yolanda Garcia, in all her splendor, appeared there in the center of the elevator, her hair in a messy bun and the face of someone who'd seen hell on earth, Trinity thought it was the most beautiful sight in the world.
She took two steps, two long strides that took her inside the elevator, and without even thinking, she pulled the taller woman into a hug, perhaps squeezing a little too tightly, but finally feeling at peace.
Yolanda must have been shocked, given the almost comical way her arms were suspended in the air. After those first few seconds of shock, however, she returned the hug, albeit a little less enthusiastically.
“Here's my girl, how are you?” Her tone was strange. Trinity wasn't used to hearing her speak like that: her voice was low and calm, nothing like her usual strong, authoritative tone.
As her brain processed the woman's words, she pulled away from her. Her eyes were red and her hair was disheveled. Her cheeks were probably streaked with dried tears, and her skin was pale.
“How am I?! Really? I've been waiting here for two hours, I texted you, I called you, and you were unreachable. You come here, and all you can ask me is how am I doing?”
She knew it wasn't fair; deep down, she knew that lashing out at the woman wouldn't solve anything. Sure, Yolanda was late, but she was also a grown, independent woman: it wasn't her job to always be available for Trinity.
The older woman opened her mouth slightly, her eyebrows slightly rising to signal her surprise.
“There was an emergency at the hospital, Santos, a fucking pileup during rush hour. I couldn't just clock out and walk out at the end of my shift.”
Trinity pursed her lips, taking a small step back towards the hallway. Her shoulders, however, met the cold metal doors of the elevator. Damn, she hadn't realized she was locked in that small space with the other woman.
“And I've spent the last five fucking hours counting down the minutes, the seconds until I could come back here and have some peace and quiet with you and—”
A dry, humorless laugh interrupted her speech. Her hands went to her hair, further disarranging the strands that had broken free from the elastic.
“And you really want to lecture me for not checking my phone while I was busy hopping from one patient to another?”
Her eyes were wide, almost bulging. Her fists clenched in front of her chest and her expression mixed with anger and tiredness.
Trinity opened her mouth, wanting to speak, to defend herself, or apologize in some way, but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and her throat felt like it was surrounded by many tiny thorns.
When no words came out, Yolanda, who had been silent precisely so she could speak, sighed. Her fists relaxed and fell to her sides. Trinity noticed only then that the woman was still wearing her work coat under her jacket: she had left without changing to get home as quickly as possible, to go as quickly as possible to her.
She saw the woman close her eyes, she leaned forward, and for a second Trinity thought she was about to hug her, but as the woman's arm passed her and went to the buttons behind her, the doors opened with the usual annoying melody.
"I think it's best if you go home tonight. We're both in no condition to be together and I don't want my emotions to lead me to say something I'll regret."
Without another word or waiting for the girl to say anything, she walked past her. Their shoulders touched for only a moment, after which Trinity heard a door open and then close with a sharp click.
She stood there, still and trembling slightly, as the elevator doors closed on their own.
For a few minutes that felt like hours, she could only stare straight ahead at the spot where her girlfriend had been standing before her. When the shaking in her shoulders worsened, she bit the inside of her cheek, finally moving again.
She pressed the button for the ground floor, pressing it so hard that for a second she thought she'd broken it. When she stepped out and found herself outside, the temperature had dropped significantly from when she'd arrived, but she didn't bother zipping up her jacket; it was better to pretend her tremors were caused by the cold.
She drove to her small apartment for two in a near-catatonic state. She'd driven from the woman's house to her place so many times that the movements seemed automatic.
On the few occasions when she stopped at a red light, she let her forehead rest on the steering wheel, listening to the noise of the cars nearby and groaning softly when the light turned green again.
For a second, she considered getting out of the car and yanking the man behind her by the hair, who seemed to be in such a hurry that he honked his horn to encourage her to hurry up.
But Trinity Santos, for once in her life, chose peace, preferring to loudly tell him to fuck off in her car.
When she reached the apartment, she froze. Damn, Dennis and his flame.
For a second, she considered sleeping in her car: it wasn't that cold in there, and she'd rather poke her eyes out with a fork than walk into the apartment and see her roommate and best friend having sex with some random guy in the living room.
She checked the time: eleven thirty. Damn, she had to work the next day and she really didn't want to run around the hospital corridors for hours with a migraine gnawing at her brain.
She got out of the car, walking briskly toward the apartment. Fuck Dennis and his mysterious boyfriend, and fuck everything else, the only thing she wanted was to sleep, maybe eat some ice cream, but definitely sleep and forget that shitty night.
She entered the apartment, almost throwing her keys on the cabinet by the door.
She kicked off her shoes and almost ran towards the kitchen, ready to eat that nectar of the gods and rest.
She froze, as if a sorcerer had cast a curse on her or as if Medusa herself had stared her straight in the eye, when an unusual yet very familiar figure appeared before her in the room.
Dr. Jack Abbot, who could be considered her boss and one of the most important doctors at Pitt, was in her kitchen, her damn kitchen, in his underwear and a tank top.
The two looked at each other, as if the other person were a two-headed monster. Abbot's expression was distorted, to say the least: the wrinkles on his forehead were much more visible now that his eyebrows reached almost to his hairline. His mouth was tight, his lips almost a line.
"Dennis said you'd be gone for the night." He said suddenly, only moving his lips and not changing his expression.
Trinity couldn't speak because, of all people, Dr. Abbot was the last person the girl expected to meet.
Wait.
The mysterious boy. The one who gave Dennis expensive gifts, the one whose name she didn't even know and whose picture she'd never seen was—
She brought her hands to her mouth, the realization hitting her like a train. Abbot gasped softly when he saw the sudden change in expression. He moved closer to the kitchen counter, as if he were afraid the girl would jump on him at any moment and bite his jugular.
"You're the one fucking Dennis!" She pointed at him, her accusing finger pointing to the center of her boss's chest.
Dr. Abbot held out his hands, signaling her to lower her voice.
"You're the one fucking Dennis." She said again, this time almost in a hiss.
Abbot, who seemed to be growing impatient, (how cheeky he was, after all, he was the one in his underwear in a kitchen that wasn't his, preventing Trinity from getting her ice cream from the freezer) nodded.
“Listen,” he began, almost in a whisper. He motioned for the girl to sit at the table.
Without taking her eyes off the man, Trinity followed the order, sitting up straight and feeling her heart begin to race when the doctor did the same.
“I know it's weird, I know I'm probably the last person you expected to see, but let's be quiet, Dennis is asleep.”
He jerked his thumb towards the boy's bedroom.
Dr. Abbot, usually alert and confident, now looked worried as shit.
Trinity watched him take a deep breath, spreading his palms flat on the smooth, cool surface of the table.
If someone had told her that one day she'd see her boss sitting at her table, dressed only in a white tank top, black boxers and a hickey on his neck (she didn't want to think about Dennis doing that to him, no sir), she probably would have thought it was the weirdest thing in the world.
"Before you freak out again, I have something else to tell you." The doctor looked at her again, opening his mouth to speak, then freezing like a fish out of water and looking over Trinity's shoulder.
"Who are you talking to, Jack? I've been hearing you for—"
Trinity's head snapped back, her eyes opening like an owl's when she recognized the voice behind her.
Correction.
If someone had told her that one day she'd see her boss sitting at her table, dressed only in a white tank top, black boxers, and a hickey on his neck, she probably would have thought it was the weirdest thing in the world.
But if someone had told her that not one, but two of her bosses would be in her kitchen at night, when her roommate's "boyfriend" was supposed to come visit, then she would have started to think someone was playing a dirty trick on her.
Dr. Robby was there, standing at the kitchen entrance, dressed only in a pair of boxer and a towel around his shoulders. His hair was damp and his cheeks were red, a sign he'd recently showered.
Robby's body twitched as if a shock had run through him. His eyes widened and his hands clutched the towel like a lifeline.
He looked at Trinity, then at Jack, then back at Trinity.
The girl did the same, craning her neck over and over to look at her half-naked bosses.
"Okay, this is a nightmare.” She said, pressing two fingers to her temples and closing her eyes.
“Just a bad nightmare, and when I'll open my eyes, you won't be here, and my best friend fucking our bosses will just be a nasty joke my brain decided to play on me.”
She pressed her fingers a little harder on her head, but when she opened her eyes, the two men were still there.
“Unfortunately for you, I'm terrified it's all real.” Dr. Abbot tried to lighten the mood, receiving a murderous look from Robby and a shocked one from Trinity.
The man at the door sighed and walked over to the table, sitting next to the other man after spreading the white towel over the chair.
“I know this is weird.” He gestured at himself and the man.
“And I know you, I know you love Dennis and take care of him, and for that we're grateful, but I just want to tell you that this whole thing is… okay. We've been dating him for a few months, it's all consensual and we were going to tell people sooner or later.”
Robby tried to reassure the girl in front of him, who was currently experiencing a full-blown existential crisis.
Huckleberry, her Huckleberry, who was dating two men who were already doctors when he was still wrapped in a white bundle and lying in a crib. The two men who were his bosses and who, from the little information she'd gleaned from Dana, were married.
“Oh my God.” She exclaimed suddenly, her tone a little higher than she intended.
The two older men froze, ready for anything that could have happened to them, from a punch in the face to the girl lecturing them all night.
“My Huckleberry is a slut.”
The sentence would have almost been laughable if it weren't for the girl's shocked and astonished expression.
Jack sighed, looking at his husband.
“Okay, I think it's best for everyone if we go to sleep now and—”
“Sleep?! Are you crazy?! I'll never sleep again after finding out my bosses fucked my best friend in my apartment!”
She ran her hands over her face. To make him pay for this, she was going to have Dennis clean the entire apartment from top to bottom, with a toothbrush and a bottle of bleach.
This time it was Robby's turn to sigh. He scratched his right eyebrow, his crow's feet deepening.
“I know this is weird, but it's best if we all calm down. We'll talk about this tomorrow, with Dennis, like the civilized adults we are.”
Abbot nodded at his husband's words, and after the two began looking at Trinity, the girl did the same. Rising without saying goodbye, she went to her room, locking herself in and slipping under the covers without changing.
She spent an indeterminate amount of time, which could have been hours or minutes, staring into the darkness above her, trying to process everything.
Then, almost without realizing it, she realized that she had forgotten, even for a few minutes, about the situation with Yolanda.
With her heart a little less heavy than when she'd entered the house, she tossed and turned in bed until exhaustion overtook her, finally allowing her to close her eyes for a dreamless rest.
When morning came, the first thing Trinity Santos thought was:
"How strange, I dreamed that my friend was fucking our bosses. I must have eaten something weird."
Then, still sleepy, she lifted the covers from her body, seeing that she was still wearing the same shirt and pants from the day before.
She let her head fall onto the pillow, placing the palms of her hands over her eyes.
Fuck, it was all real. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Glancing at the time, seeing how relatively early it was, she got up, fully intending to take a long, relaxing shower and try to avoid the two men.
Thanks to her luck, however, the opposite happened.
When she opened the door, the smell of bacon and eggs filled her lungs. Her stomach growled despite her best efforts. That treacherous bastard.
Deciding that perhaps the shower could have waited a few more minutes and that there was really no way to avoid the two men, she headed for the kitchen.
The sight that greeted her in the kitchen was… horrifying.
Abbot stood over a steaming pan, bacon sizzling loudly while Robby did the same, but with eggs.
She shivered a little, glad that at least the two men had had the decency to show up in the kitchen wearing pants and no longer wearing only their underwear.
She faked a cough to make herself noticed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes when the two men turned at the same time, almost surprised to see her there as if that wasn't her home.
She sat down at the table, never taking her eyes off both men.
Jack picked up four plates, arranging them around the table and turning again to pick up the pan. He placed slices of bacon on all but one plate.
He sat down, handing a plate to Trinity.
Robby did the same, placing two eggs on each plate and sitting down in front of the plate without bacon.
“All right.” The girl exclaimed, starting to pick at the bacon on her plate with her fork.
She picked up some of the eggs and meat and took a bite, looking at the two men.
“You can explain if you want.” She said, between bites of her breakfast.
Robby looked at Jack, and Jack looked at Robby. Abbot signaled his husband to begin.
“It all started a few months ago.” He began, searching for words.
“Jack and I realized we were both attracted to Dennis. At first we didn't want to do anything because, well, you know—”
Trinity didn't need an answer.
“But then it seemed like Dennis's behavior around us had changed, and we took courage. We asked him out after a shift, and he practically threw himself on us.”
The girl noticed Dr. Abbot smile out of the corner of her eye at the memory.
“Anyway, like I was telling you yesterday, it's a relationship like any other, only that, instead of two, we are three.”
After finishing, the three people around the table looked at each other, all waiting for someone else to make the first move.
“Okay.” Trinity took courage, continuing to bite into her food.
“Okay? Just… everything okay?” Abbot raised an eyebrow.
Trinity saw their expressions calm, as if they truly believed she was completely okay with the situation.
“Sure, okay, as long as everything stays calm.” She looked down at his plate, moving the food around with her fork.
“But I can assure you—” She set her fork down on the table with a thud, startling the two men, who now looked nothing short of terrified.
“A whimper, a scratch, the merest hint of a bruise, a sudden change in mood or even the mere thought that you hurt him and I swear—”
A laugh rippled from her throat.
“That I will make you pay. I will talk to every hospital in America if necessary to ensure you never have a job again, to have you disbarred and you will only be allowed into a hospital as a patient after I’m done with you.”
She looked at them, a fiery gaze that could have burned the two men on the spot.
“Is everything clear?”
Trinity was surprised that the two men weren’t shaking, judging by their faces. They nodded, without saying a word.
After that, Trinity returned to her breakfast.
After a few minutes of quiet silence, when the two men had realized Trinity wouldn’t kill them on the spot and had begun to eat, footsteps rang out in the hallway.
Dennis Whitaker, in all his six-a.m. glory, came into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.
He was wearing a T-shirt, too big to be his, that revealed his entire collarbone, exposing two fresh bite marks, one next to the other.
Still sleepy, he squinted at the scene before him. Then, as if someone had slapped him, his eyes widened and his hands ran to his hair.
“Huckleberry!” Trinity called, almost amused.
“Come on, come have breakfast with me and these old men. You didn't tell me Dr. Robinavitch could cook such amazing eggs.” She finished the last bites on her plate, trying not to let her smile show too much.
She heard a muffled laugh from Abbot and Robby, too, and for a second she wondered how this could have become her life.
Dennis, still wide-eyed, walked as if on a puppet's strings, sitting down next to his friend.
“I can explain.” He began suddenly, turning to her.
“We—I—I mean, they—” The boy looked at the two men, as if seeking some support.
“Don't overload your brain so early in the morning, buddy. The two old men already explained everything to me, we had a… nice talk.”
Dennis, even more shocked than he already was, looked at Jack and Robby, who nodded decisively.
“Of course, Den, Dr. Santos explicitly told us how she will ruin our lives if we harm so much as a hair on your head, which we would never do, for the record.”
Robby continued eating his eggs, trying not to laugh with his mouth full at the boy's expression.
“It's all true, she was very thorough. Anyway, Santos, we owe you. We know you were the one who convinced Dennis to grow his hair and for that we are infinitely grateful.”
Abbot clasped his hands together as if in prayer, bowing his head slightly towards the girl.
And when Robby laughed and Dennis began to babble, his cheeks red, she thought that that wasn't the worst morning of her life after all.
"Well," Trinity thought as she tied her hair in a ponytail before going to work.
"I never thought I'd get ready for work with Dr. Abbot and Robby, who happen to be my roommate's boyfriends."
She turned her head, just in time to see Jack press a kiss to Dennis's temple and Robby run his hands through the younger boy's blond hair.
She pretended to gag, deliberately so she could be heard. Jack and Robby looked amused, Dennis a little less so.
She picked up her phone, startled when she saw a text from Yolanda.
With her heart in her throat and a bit of anxiety in her chest, she opened it, the sounds of Abbot and Robby teasing Dennis in the background.
“Hey, I was an asshole yesterday, sorry. I was tired and couldn't control myself. To make it up to you, dinner at my house tonight, I'll make Pancit.”
And then, the last part, the part that made her heart race.
“I love you, see you later.”
She stared at the screen for a few seconds, even when it went blank and she saw her reflection in the device.
A smile spread across her face. She opened the door and started to leave, but stopped, turning to face the three men.
“Oh, I forgot.”
She saw the three of them stop, craning their necks to look at her.
"You and I are just the same, Huckleberry. I'm also dating a senior at the hospital, but maybe I'll tell you about it the day you catch Dr. Yolanda Garcia in our kitchen in the middle of the night. Well, it's getting late, see you at the hospital!"
Without waiting for a response, able only to watch the three men's eyebrows rise and their mouths drop, she closed the door, almost running down the stairs.
Oh yes, she couldn't wait to start her shift.