There were several agenda items potential partners needed to contend with in regards to viewing Micah Sayoko through a romantic lens. The first and most important: don't.

This underlying fact left Micah paralyzed with what he could only describe as fear. The romantic lens was a requirement for matchmaking parties. And now, Micah was forced to reckon with the fact that the one person amongst nearly a hundred others at that party was now, also, forced to view Micah with a future ideal in mind. How else was he to look Alistair in the eyes and convince himself the man wasn't imagining every which way he'd wine and dine Micah across Manhattan?

Caught like a deer in headlights, Micah looked away, sharply, and then with a crack in his voice, said, "So what's wrong with you then."

Alistair laughed. "Excuse me?"

"I just—I just mean—" Great start, he thought, because not only was he supposed to let Alistair down politely, but he was also supposed to be somewhat friendly with his best friend's brother.

And, if Alistair really did move to the delightful hellscape that was New York City, then Micah was bound to see much more of him.

Micah caught Alistair's grin out of the corner of his eye and only mildly relaxed. Only a sick fuck at a matchmaking party would find what Micah had said endearing. Micah wanted terribly to throw up and leave—preferably the latter would come first.

"I get it. It's fine," Alistair said, his grin narrowing on the cusp of sinister. "And since you asked, I'm too self-centered and independent to make most relationships work. And yourself?"

With that, Alistair performed a demonstration. He plucked Micah's drink out of his hands and took a sip of it for himself, all with his eyes on Micah.

Micah swallowed hard. "I just like to fuck," he confessed.

Alistair stared at him a moment and then, returning the cup, laughed in earnest. He tried to hide it, which just made it all the more contagious.

Micah hid his amusement behind a scowl. "It's not that funny. I'm deadly serious."

"No, I know you are, which is what makes it so funny. Do you use that on first dates?"

"I don't go on dates."

"Then what do you do, if you don't mind me asking." At this, a very clear invitation, Alistair leant into the console table beside them.

Micah tried not to linger on Alistair's chestpiece again, which he saw now delved deep between his pecs and into the shadows his red button-up left behind. Micah's mouth went dry at the words that burst into his head like a goddamn firework. I wonder how he'd feel if I called his pecs tits.

"Well," Micah said, slowly, "I usually skip dinner. I only go to movies if I really like the director or have a craving for public sex."

"Really? Right there in the back row?"

"Just blowjobs or handies." He took a sip as Alistair digested his bluntness. After wetting his lips, Micah confessed, "Never found anyone willing to go further in a theater, though. Bathroom is a bit different."

Alistair's eyes were stuck where Micah's tongue had graced his bottom lip. "Just a bit," Alistair agreed, slowly. His eyes jumped up to Micah's. "So you aren't interested in dating, I take it."

"No."

"Even if, say, the other person also hates intimate outings at bars and restaurants." Alistair's voice was low, barely discernible in the growing volume of conversations around them. The musical chairs of everyone finding their partners had died down enough to leave them cloistered near the entrance.

We could just... slip out and no one would even register it, Micah presumed, glancing subconsciously around for Kennedy and Benny. He spied Kennedy's bright dress through a thicket of people, lounging at the couches.

"No, I don't think even then," Micah confessed. He reached Alistair's eyes once more. "What's the point of a label if I still see other people?"

"Who said anything about labels?" he said. "I take it you get tested regularly."

"Yes."

"Then saying as a man who travels a lot, is barely in town, is medically anxious..." Micah was, admittedly, intrigued. Alistair shrugged. "How many people do you see regularly?"

"Depends on the timeline."

"Past month."

"Three, then." He screwed his eyes shut, rubbed at his hair, and cursed. "Fuck, no, two now. Just broke it off with someone. You?"

"Last month, one. Too much going on at work to juggle more."

They paused to stare at one another. And then, with a suspicious level of weight, Micah asked, "How long have you been seeing that person?"

"On and off... five months. We aren't dating."

"Do they know that?"

Alistair grinned. "Yes. I'm interested to know your answers to the survey."

Micah's nose crinkled. "This isn't a horoscope."

"I'm deadly curious. Have mercy on me."

Micah relented, and so they compared notes. Remarkably, Alistair's were similar, though he'd placed his sexuality in the leading questions as bisexual. Micah was gay (except for the one time he slept with Kennedy, but Micah believes this to not count, as it occurred during a threesome).

"You're a neat freak," Micah accused, turning to show Alistair the answer he gave for the sex-in-an-unmade-bed question.

"I make my bed every morning," Alistair said, simply. He resumed scrolling through Micah's answers. "Sex would never happen on an unmade bed in my apartment."

"Clearly you've never had morning sex."

"Okay, well, that doesn't count. The bed started out made and we're still in it."

"No. I don't agree. If someone leaves the bed, it resets. The bed is unmade at that point."

"Well, fuck you, I guess. That isn't how I see it." Alistair pointed to Micah's answer to control-during-sex. "We conflict here."

Micah sneered a little down at his own screen, scrolling to Alistair's answer. Indeed, Alistair preferred to take control. "I'm not budging here."

"Neither am I." At Micah's disdainful scoff, Alistair said, "I know what I want."

"So do I."

"Then tell me and I'll make it happen."

A hot flush washed over Micah. He refused to fluster, though the smug grin Alistair was giving him confirmed that he was, indeed, flustering.

"I'm starting to hate you, actually, so you don't need to know the answer to that," Micah said, which just made Alistair laugh.

Ears hot, Micah handed Alistair's phone back. His skin crawled at how remarkably quick Alistair was. He could excuse Alistair's bed-making habits—Micah had no real opinion on the matter and just liked to see the way Alistair's expression hardened against a challenge.

And now it was clear to him that Alistair knew Micah's wills and wants. Micah wanted desperately to keep those to himself, to nurture on his own, and to satiate his desires with nameless faces that would never perceive him in real life. The life he had in strangers' bedrooms was private and exhilarating.

And Alistair seemed to know that.

Alistair tucked his phone away and gave a long sigh. Micah couldn't hear it, but he saw Alistair's shoulders slacken. "I get it. The need for control."

Micah leveled him with a glare and glanced away. It was one thing for Micah to prefer fluidity in his sex life, but he preferred control over his body. In some ways, he believed this to be the crux of his relationship issues—his sense of independence was too sacred to consider giving a single spec of himself to another person.

And that included control.

"Whatever," Micah said. He wanted to leave the conversation. Fast. And preferably the entire building.

But there he was, talking sexually with his best friend's brother. Whom he was destined to be in the proximity of for the rest of the weekend. He rubbed his hand between his brows, frustrated.

"Cute. He pouts when he doesn't get his way," Alistair teased, canines and all.

Micah spied Kennedy cutting her way through the crowd toward them, drink in the air to avoid spilling. Micah polished off his own cup, flipped Alistair off, and headed for the door. It was at this moment Micah's arm was caught by the refreshing presence of Kennedy.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kennedy said. "Have you even found your match yet?"

Micah stared at her, and then, at Alistair from over her shoulder. Alistair looked pointedly away, but not without a gesture of surrender, two palms out. It wasn't as sassy as Micah had expected.

"No," Micah said, "I didn't match with anyone."

Kennedy's jaw dropped, snapped shut, and then she blurted out, "Seriously? We had an even turn-out I thought!"

"Maybe not everyone took the quiz," Alistair reasoned.

"Did you take the quiz?" Kennedy questioned.

"No."

"It's not a big deal," Micah told her before she could strangle him for (allegedly) singling Micah out of the dating pool. "Seriously, you know matchmaking events aren't my thing. That's Benny's thing."

Kennedy shuffled a bit, pouting. She stomped her foot, brow furrowed, and said, "I know that. A girl can hope, can't she?"

"Yeah, because you're an idealist and Benny's a romantic," Micah said.

Kennedy jabbed him in the chest with a manicured nail. "And you're—! The bane of my existence. Was the drink good at least?"

"Magical," Micah deadpanned. "How's your match?"

She sighed, a little dreamy, a little exhausted. "Good... It's so loud here so we're gonna head back to her place. You have my location still?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." She winked at him, waved cheekily at Alistair, and said, "Nice meeting you, Alistair!"

"Wait!" Benny's voice sounded a flock of people away. He squeezed past, toting along some girl he'd been matched with that Micah had never met. She flushed under their attention as Benny said to Alistair, "You're leaving already?"

"Yeah, Micah and I are heading out," he said, which earned him a glare of betrayal. Micah had wanted to leave. Alone.

"What about your match?"

Kennedy was tapping her fingers to her forehead, aggravated. "He didn't fill out the survey."

"I was right there! He totally filled it out."

"I didn't submit them," Alistair said, and whether or not he was gaslighting Benny was irrelevant. Benny believed him fully.

"Well, I'll go with you guys and—"

"No." All three of them were in agreement, which sent Benny's match startling at Benny's back. She looked up at Benny, who scowled at them all.

Alistair reassured him by clasping his shoulder and saying, "Don't worry about it, man. I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

"Okay..."

And with that, Alistair shook the girl's hand with both of his own and said, "Pleasure meeting you, future sister-in-law."

"What—!" Benny cried as the girl beamed, giggling, and waved as Alistair swept out into the hall and around the corner, out of sight.

Micah leant into Benny then and said, "Your brother's an arrogant prick."

Benny blinked. "Oh, I thought you already knew that."

He waved to Benny's future wife as the air was squeezed out of him by Benny using him as a huggable stress-toy. Micah rolled his eyes as Benny said, "I love you. So much! Text me when you get back."

"Whatever. Bye."

Micah left before Kennedy could mistake Benny's hug as an opening to also hug Micah. He escaped to the hall where, to his utter disappointment, Alistair was waiting for him.

Partygoers had flooded out into the hall by that point. Alistair blended in swimmingly even as an outcast—unmatched and disinterested in the romantic festivities. Two people were already snogging in the stairwell, which Micah saw by virtue of the stairwell being next to the elevator.

Alistair pushed off the wall to join him, hands in his pockets. "So you prefer to be the pursuer."

Micah squinted at him. "I wouldn't say that."

"Enlighten me. In what situation was a proposition made to you that you actually wanted to go home with them?"

Come to think of it, Micah didn't have a good answer. It was easy to stop talking to people on apps if they became a little too eager to see what Micah's bedroom was like. Not that he cared in the grand scheme of things—plenty of people had seen the inside of his bedroom. But in person, there was something rather aggressive to Micah about a man leaning into his space to say, "Why don't we go back to your place and...?"

Hypocrite, he knew, because he'd used the same line on other men. But evidently it was fine coming from him. He reasoned that he was able to get over this emotional hurdle more often than not.

"Plenty of times," he answered at last. There were at least two scenarios where he had been pursued in such a manner that he indulged in.

"You sound defensive."

Micah scoffed. The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. "Am not. I'm just not interested talking to you about this anymore."

"Since nothing's going to happen," Alistair concluded.

The elevator security guy brought them to the ground floor as Micah looked pointedly at Alistair and said, "Exactly."

Alistair's smile was one of a man who liked challenges and had found one. "Okay."

Micah really didn't want his skin crawled under.