“You know,” she said, breathless, “we were going to invite him.”

“He’s out cold ,” Miami said, giggling. She poked his cheek with a bare toe. Leo’s on-screen self didn’t even flinch. He just let out a soft, whistling snore.

Then Miami picked up a marker from the side table. She leaned over Leo’s forehead and, in careful block letters, wrote:

The climax of the video—pun intended—wasn't sexual. It was at . The three of them, flushed and tangled in a blanket, had paused to drink water. Jenna looked at the camera, then at Leo’s peaceful, oblivious face.

Marcus just shook his head, grinning. “He was the linchpin .”

“The inspiration ,” Miami corrected, leaning over to plant a slow, deliberate kiss on Marcus’s lips. Then she turned, cupped Jenna’s face, and did the same.

They weren't alone.