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Clarissa and Amanda had been doing their weekly girls' night for eight years when Mark started dating Clarissa.
In the early days, Clarissa had tried to invite Mark rather frequently, and he'd turned it down every time. I'm not a girl, was his excuse, that's the whole point of girls' night, also Amanda definitely doesn't want me there. She had something against him, he knew that for sure. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd done to earn her ire, but he figured it would be best not to make it worse by intruding on the night reserved for the two best friends.
Eventually, he'd rejected the offer enough that Clarissa stopped asking. Until they got married, that is, and suddenly the question came back.
"You're my husband!" she exclaimed, the excitement of being able to say it glittering in her eyes. "That gives you a pass!"
And this time he would consider the offer a little more seriously, if only because he hated to let her down, especially after everything that happened. But still, he declined; this time, entirely because of Amanda. He wasn't stupid—he knew what he saw the day of the DIY wedding, what he heard as he walked into the pizzeria. Clarissa might have brushed off the interaction entirely, but Mark saw the expression on Amanda's face during the whole ceremony. You could only look so happy for your best friend when your heart was actively breaking.
He'd also seen the way Clarissa looked at Amanda sometimes, although she didn't seem aware of it herself. It was a serious conversation he needed to have with Clarissa that he wanted to take the time to get into, which meant he'd rather not do it in the ten minutes before she made for Amanda's place. So for the time being Mark simply said no, citing the same reasons as before and waving her off with a grin. There wasn't much he could personally do for Amanda, as bad as he felt. The least he could do is let her keep their girls' night as a special thing just between the two of them.
And then Mark found a way to have that conversation, and Clarissa had some realisations, and eventually his wife got a girlfriend. Everything was great, and Mark felt like he could relax for once in his life.
Until suddenly he had two girls asking him to join girls' night.
"The three of us are, like, a thing now," Amanda explained. "Not literally, obviously, because we're not dating, but like. We're a little polycule. It makes sense for you to be there."
"I'm still not a girl," Mark pointed out, because it felt like a crucial detail the two of them were ignoring. "Isn't that the whole point?"
"I've told you so many times that doesn't matter!" Clarissa whined, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes he still hadn't learned to be immune to. "It's the essence of it, Mark. You don't have to be a girl, you just have to embody one for the night. I know you have it in you!"
"I'll think about it," he relented, finding himself unable to give an outright no when there were two of them asking. It was worth it to see Clarissa's face light up.
"Okay!" She leaned up to peck him sweetly on the lips. "When you're done thinking about it, your answer better be yes!" She then bounded away, humming happily to herself. Mark watched her go, endeared by her energy, until a quiet clearing of the throat brought his attention back to Amanda.
"I know the main reason you've been turning it down is because of me," she said quietly. There was an intense look in her eyes—the same one she'd always had when she looked at him, except this time no longer tinged with jealousy and distaste. It was odd being faced with this intensity without feeling like he'd personally wronged her. "Don't worry about that. We both want you there—I wouldn't be here asking you if I didn't. It would really make Clarissa's day if you came."
"You're sure you wouldn't mind?" he asked, not quite convinced. "Because if you're just doing this for Clarissa, I can still say no."
"Quite frankly, I'm interested in what you'll be like. I feel like I'll get to see a new side of you."
Mark nodded at that, making his mind up. "Then I'll be there."
Amanda grinned, smug satisfaction written across her face. "Good answer." Then, aimed towards the doorway, "Clarissa! We got him!"
"Yes! Thank you, Mark, thank you, thank you!" Clarissa cheered loudly, suddenly spawning back in the room and barrelling into his arms.
Which was how he found himself sitting on Amanda's couch and feeling entirely out of his depth as Clarissa brandished a range of nail polish bottles at him.
"I figured makeup would be too big a leap for your first time, but nail polish is totally doable for you! It'll be a good way to indoctrinate you."
"Indoctrinate?" Mark repeated, flustered. "What is this, a cult?"
"Yes," Amanda said, entirely seriously.
"Huh?!"
"Don't be silly, Amanda," Clarissa scoffed. "There's only two of us. You can't be a two-person cult."
"Well then don't use words like 'indoctrinate'. We're, like, integrating him. Assimilating."
"Acclimating?" Mark offered.
"Yeah, nice."
"You're distracting us!" Clarissa exclaimed, batting at Amanda's arm. "Mark, pick a colour."
"Uh…" His eyes scanned the rainbow sitting innocuously in front of him. He'd never painted his nails before, never had anyone offer to do them either. He wasn't sure he'd like it at all, nevermind what colour he got. Maybe black would be the safe option…?
"You're taking too long," Clarissa declared. "Amanda, help me pick."
"Be nice to your husband, honey," Amanda said, pecking Clarissa's shoulder before resting her chin on it and looking straight at Mark. "He looks so lost right now."
"I feel lost," Mark admitted. "I'd rather you guys pick, honestly."
"Sure. Gimme your hand."
"I think he'd look good with teal," Clarissa commented as Amanda took his hand and held it next to each bottle in turn. "Or light blue maybe? To match his eyes."
"I was thinking navy."
"Ooh, that's good too. Oh, I want to do both of them now!"
"We'll do both then," Amanda decided with a nod, picking up the navy bottle. "Mark, get in the middle, we'll do one of your hands each."
"What about you guys?" Mark asked as Clarissa excitedly jumped to her feet and he awkwardly shuffled into the middle. He hadn't expected to be the centre of attention—wasn't Clarissa the one who was dating both of them?
"We'll do ours later!" Clarissa said, plucking the light blue bottle from its place in the line and pulling his hand into her lap. Amanda followed her example more leisurely.
"We've done each other's nails and makeup thousands of times now," she explained, slowly but confidently applying the first coat to his thumb. "You're fresh meat. Obviously we want to start with you."
"We don't actually think of you as fresh meat," Clarissa reassured him.
"Clarissa doesn't think of you as fresh meat, because you're her husband. Jury's still out for me."
"She doesn't mean that."
"Don't put words in my mouth."
"You love me," Clarissa stated casually, and Mark couldn't help but smile at the faint flush that stained Amanda's cheeks at how blasédly she'd said it. "And I love you and I love Mark too. So you have to be nice to Mark."
"I have to tolerate Mark. You never said anything about being nice."
"It was implied!"
"I don't have to be here," Mark spoke up, shifting a little self-consciously. "I told you that before."
"You're staying," both girls declared, and Mark just sighed as he settled back in his seat and let their conversation wash over him.
It was odd, getting his nails painted. Nobody had ever offered to do it before, and he'd had no incentive to try it out himself—it would have given his father more ammo to make fun of him with, anyway. As he watched the two shades of blue take over his fingers, he considered how he felt about it. He didn't feel uncomfortable, as he had somewhat expected to. It was kind of nice, actually, if a little out of place on hands he didn't really take care of. Maybe it was weird to see two entirely different shades on each hand. It would probably look better if the two colours were alternating, but the girls had already settled on how they were doing it, so he figured it was best to let them be. Maybe he'd suggest it next time.
…If he did join next time. Why was he already thinking of next time?
"Done!" Clarissa announced, setting the bottle aside with a flourish. "Hold your hands up for me, I wanna see them together!"
"Wait, I'm not done yet," Amanda said, tightening her hold on his hand to stop him from moving as she swiped the brush over his pinky one more time. "Okay, there. Now you can move."
Mark held his hands out in front of him, putting them side-by-side. The colours looked good on him—the girls certainly had a better eye for it than he ever would.
"What do you think?" Clarissa asked, leaning her head on his shoulder to look at his nails with him.
"It looks great," he answered honestly, turning to kiss her on the cheek. He misjudged how close she was and ended up kissing her forehead instead, but she giggled anyway. "I really like them."
"Awesome. And now you can't use your hands until they're dry," Amanda said, turning to pick through the row of bottles again. "Don't ruin our work."
Mark blanched. "How long will that take?"
"Well, you can watch us do our nails, and then we'll see. Clarissa, come here."
As Mark and Clarissa swapped seats again, she looked at him with a sparkle in her eye. "You wanna try painting mine?"
He thought about the painstaking care and steadiness they'd painted his nails with compared to his much clumsier hands that were now covered in drying polish. "I don't wanna mess yours up. Amanda already said I can't use my hands."
"Ah, that's a shame," she sighed, leaning into his side as Amanda took one of her hands and started painting a pastel yellow onto the nails. "Next time, then."
There it was again. Next time. Clarissa wanted Mark to join them again, and he himself had been considering the idea. Part of him had assumed this was a one-time-offer and now he'd finally taken it, he'd stop being asked for good. But Clarissa seemed to just assume he'd come back, which really shouldn't have been that much of a surprise now that he thought about it.
God, hardly anything had happened yet. He'd barely been listening to the light gossip the girls had been sharing. Was he really considering joining girls' night again just because he liked his painted nails?
Would Amanda even want him to join them again? It sort of sounded like she'd only wanted him there as an experiment.
"Hey," Clarissa murmured, nuzzling into his side a little more. Mark looked down to see that Amanda had already moved onto her other hand. "You okay? You're being quieter than usual."
"Haven't I been quiet this whole time?" he asked.
"Yeah, but like. This is a different kind of quiet than before."
"Your face went into this, like, thinking mode," Amanda commented. "What's on your mind, honorary girl?"
"Wh…what—"
"'Cause it's still girls' night even if you're not a girl."
"That…yeah, okay."
"Were you thinking about the nails?" Clarissa asked, prodding at his hands with her currently unoccupied one. He noticed her nails were all being painted the same shade of yellow. "Do you not like them? We can take them off if you want."
"No, I love them, I promise," Mark reassured her, lifting up his hands to look at them side-by-side again. They already felt drier, although he didn't think he'd be able to tell when they were fully dry. "I mean, maybe they'd look better if the colours were alternating instead of being one per hand, but I like them anyway."
"So you do have an eye for this sort of thing," Amanda mused, gently blowing on Clarissa's nails as she finished them off. "Look at you go. Guess we know what we're trying next time, then."
Next time. Even Amanda was saying it. So did that mean he was invited? Or did she just mean she was going to ambush him one day to paint his nails again?
…He wasn't used to overthinking situations like this. Was this another effect of joining girls' night?
"Your turn, Amanda!" Clarissa cheered, reaching for three different shades of green before taking Amanda's hand.
Mark blinked at the action, surprised. "You're gonna jump straight into painting her nails while yours are drying?"
"I know what I'm doing!" Clarissa chirped, happily getting started.
Amanda just gave him a smirk. "Like I said. We've done this a thousand times. We know what we're doing."
Mark only sighed amusedly in response, sinking further into the couch as he watched his wife hum cheerily to herself as she painted her girlfriend's nails. He could see the soft adoration he felt for Clarissa reflected in Amanda's gaze.
Yeah. Despite the internal turmoil in his mind, everything was great. If nothing else, Mark could say he was content.
"I can't believe he fell asleep so quickly!"
"I'm not surprised. He's been quiet all night."
"Yeah, but quiet doesn't mean tired."
"Actually, it does, a lot of the time. Has he been dealing with shit from his dad again?"
"I don't think so."
"Are you sure?" Amanda glanced over at Mark, who had drifted off some time between Clarissa finishing with Amanda's nails and the two girls debating which movie to put on. They'd turned to him for his opinion only to find his eyes shut and his breathing soft. "He seemed like he was thinking about something the whole time he's been here."
"Usually he tells me if it gets worse than usual," Clarissa mused, gently taking his hand and running a thumb over his knuckles. They looked so soft together, the way Mark had lightly toppled over to lean into Clarissa's side. In the past, Amanda's stomach would've churned with envy and heartache at the sight. Now, knowing that Clarissa loved her back just as much and that Mark was really happy for them both, she could regard the sight with fondness. Clarissa and Mark really did work together, despite the hiccups they sometimes ran into, and it didn't hurt to admit that anymore.
"What counts as worse than usual?"
"Physical violence."
"Ah."
"And getting tased, but he said he's learned how to not react to that anymore."
Amanda blinked, having forgotten that Mark said he got tased sometimes. "That's…not a good thing."
"I know," Clarissa murmured, softly resting her head on his. "I wish I could just get him out of that stupid house. He says his dad doesn't drink as much and he's getting better, but it's still not good. I've been looking at apartments, but there's no good ones close enough that I can still look after my mom."
"Why not ask him to move in to your place?" Amanda asked.
"I did, he said he doesn't want to burden my mom."
"What a stubborn boy," Amanda muttered to herself. "I'd offer my place but it's barely big enough for me and my dad. God, if I could kill his father…"
"Please don't murder someone," Clarissa giggled, her eyes alight with amusement and a content smile painted her lips. Confused, Amanda quirked an eyebrow at her.
"What do you look so happy for?"
"I'm glad you get along with him now," Clarissa said, reaching out to hold Amanda's hand. Once she had it in her grasp, she lifted it up to her lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. Unbidden, Amanda's face flushed. "Enough to want to kill his dad. My two favourite people in the world care about each other so much! Everything is perfect."
"His dad's a piece of shit, I wanted to kill him even when I wasn't close to Mark," Amanda muttered, half-distracted by the way her hand still tingled in the place it was kissed. It was going to take a while before she got used to Clarissa being romantic with her. Maybe she'd never get used to it at all.
"Still, you love him now, don't you?"
"As a friend. And as my girlfriend's husband. I'm still a lesbian, Clarissa."
"I know," Clarissa giggled again, a sweet, melodic sound Amanda would never get sick of.
"What a trio we make, huh?" she said, squeezing her girlfriend's hand lightly. "I'm a lesbian, you're bisexual, and Mark's straight. We've got a whole spectrum going on."
"Well…" Clarissa hummed, her eyes flicking obviously to Mark before she fell quiet. Amanda blinked, having caught the motion, but didn't push. If she was interpreting that right, that was information for Mark to tell her, not Clarissa, and certainly not while he was sleeping and unaware next to them.
"We're gonna invite him to the next girls' night, right?" she said instead, changing the subject.
"Oh, absolutely!" Clarissa squealed quietly. "We can do the alternating colours for his nails that he suggested, and maybe we can all match colours, oh, wouldn't that be cute? And I'm totally gonna talk him into trying to paint mine, maybe yours too if you'll let him, and we'll choose a movie beforehand so we don't waste time arguing about it, oh! What about—"
As Clarissa kept rambling about all of her plans and ideas for their next girls' night, Amanda just watched her fondly. Mark kept dozing on Clarissa's shoulder, the most at peace she'd ever seen him and undisturbed by the way Clarissa was unthinkingly swinging his hand around. Amanda let her own hand get flailed around unceremoniously without complaint.
This is nice, she thought to herself, feeling soft and in love and content. I think I could live like this forever.