It occurred to Micah that he was living in a nightmare when he woke up for his 8AM class two days later and found a missed call from an unknown number on his phone with the dreaded timestamp of midnight. What followed was a text: "This is Alistair save my number."

"Like hell I will," Micah muttered, and deleted the text and the call history.

The only people calling him at midnight were hookups distantly related to Kennedy's friend group and therefore, had a paper trail leading back to someone who would be willing to give them Micah's phone number. Alistair, of course, was not one of these nor would he be granted priority. Not in Micah's book.

The next call occurred Wednesday night during his bi-monthly dinner with Kennedy. Benny was busy at an industry night event despite not being in the core entertainment industry.

"Oh? A call? At nine in the evening? How risqué."

"Your french major can do more work than that here," Micah said. He turned his phone over and replaced its spot in his hand with a glass of wine. "It's Alistair."

"There wasn't a name on that caller ID."

"Yeah, because it's Alistair. He wants me to save his phone number and what next, a date for the wedding? No thanks."

"Babe, trust me, he does not want to marry you. Not that he shouldn't, but hon, you fucked him twice. What do you expect?"

"I don't need more regulars," Micah said. "I have a life."

"Ah-hah," she agreed unconvincingly. "Do we want Benny to know you two... you know. Right after he left?"

"No. He seems fine knowing we did it once but twice might make him a bit existential," Micah said, and Kennedy couldn't contest this. "How's your celibate journey, Sister Kennedy?"

This earned him a scowl. "It's not funny," she said, though Micah could attest to both of them finding it funny no more than three weeks prior. "I've officially gone on three dates with three different girls."

"Kennedy..."

"What!"

"At least cut one of them loose. Three is too much to juggle if you're pursuing a serious relationship. Do they know you're still looking?"

"Of course not!" she cried in offense. She crossed her arm over her chest, glass to her lips. She took a sip, pondered for a moment, and declared, "I'm thinking about staging my own intervention. If I make a pitch deck for each of the girls, could you and Benny, like, vote them in or out of the group?"

"Sure."

"Alright. I'll do that. Are you free Saturday morning?"

"I think so."

"Perfect. Oh, and see if Erika wants to join. I'm kind of testing the waters to see if she's pissed at me."

Micah blinked. He set his glass down. Kennedy and Erika hadn't been an item since sophomore year when the intrigue of Benny and Micah's new roommate was too high for Kennedy to resist.

They'd lasted nearly the entirety of the school year—the longest relationship of Kennedy's life. Presley had a excursion planned across all of Japan to celebrate Kennedy getting halfway through college. She'd invited Erika, Erika had taken prideful and moral offense to such an endeavor, and dumped her. Neither of them had wanted to do long distance over summer break, Erika had a job, and Kennedy couldn't understand why Erika wouldn't take the free trip.

Which brought Micah to now, the future, where Erika hadn't mentioned Kennedy in any explicit detail and was still accepting what she believed to be apology gifts from Kennedy. She may not agree with the world's best tour of Japan during a summer spent working, but she could accept a new wardrobe.

"Why would she be pissed at you? Did you do something?" Micah asked.

Kennedy grimaced a little, and then pouted. Her shoulders slumped. "Well, you remember how I got banned from Tinder with all the sugaring accusations over the summer!"

Micah did, and he thought the claims were justified. "Yeah, but you aren't sugaring Erika over Tinder so what's it matter?"

She was toying with her glass now, avoiding his eyes. "I got that new phone, you see... And a new Tinder account and we just..."

Micah was alarmed. "You matched with her? Why would you do that?"

"She updated all her pictures, I couldn't help it! My hand just moved on its own—to more than one place, might I add, and—"

"Did not need to know that."

Kennedy leaned forward. "You know in all her pictures she's wearing clothes I gave her. Imagine all the girls she hooks up with because of me. I basically made her. She wasn't even gay when we met!"

Micah laughed. "I can assure you she would not like to be compared to—to a Build-A-Bear Workshop. You didn't make anything out of her."

"Yeah, and did she know how to dress well before me? No. And she didn't know how to eat pussy either. I mean, she caught on really fast." Kennedy thought for a moment, a thought dawning. "Really fast." She pointed to herself, looking to be on the brink of sweating. "Did I teach her that?"

"She didn't cheat on you, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I know, but—"

"You realize I've never eaten pussy before, right? I have no leg to stand on here."

"I just need to gauge if she's still into me," Kennedy insisted, utter desperation tenting her brow, doe eyes wide and pathetically hopeful. "Please?"

"And... you plan on doing that. By staging a voting party for who gets to be your girlfriend."

"Well, when you say it like that—"

"Voting on your future girlfriend is not the way to win Erika back. Do you even want her back, or is this just to ignite your ego or something?"

"No! I mean, yes I want her back—"

"Kennedy," Micah said, seriously, seizing her by the arms. "Stop this madness. I mean it. Erika isn't going to date you if you're juggling three other people."

Kennedy pouted. She settled back into her chair, stared at her glass, and then took a sip. She weighed Micah's words and had yet to respond before Micah was talking again.

"Have you even worked through what upset Erika in the first place?"

"Yes. Well, sort of," she admitted. "I mean, she's applying to med schools, isn't she? And I'm not saying she needs to dote on me, or give me all of her attention. She won't have much time for me."

Micah nodded, waiting.

Kennedy's deer-in-headlights look only got brighter, more apparent, and ended with her shoulders up near her ears.

"Kennedy, the reason you two broke up in the first place was because you two couldn't do long distance. Not to mention you practically shamed her for preferring to work over taking a vacation!"

"It was a free trip to Japan! What more could you want—"

"Kennedy, that trip wouldn't have been free for her," Micah insisted, shaking his head. He couldn't help but laugh a little, but it did nothing to lighten Kennedy's severely dampened mood. "She'd be losing out on three months of paychecks she needs for med school. Sure, she wouldn't have been spending money, but she wouldn't have been making any either."

"I know that," she said, with a bite. She crinkled her nose at him. "I'm not an idiot."

"So you're perfectly fine traveling without her?"

He knew the answer, and dreaded seeing it on Kennedy's face. As much as he loved to see how well Kennedy and Erika meshed when they were together, their differences were glaringly obvious now.

He also didn't want to admit that, after ears of living on their own now, he suspected Erika would take up Kennedy's offers of financial help. He wouldn't blame her but worried, on some level, that Erika's initial concerns of not wanting to use and abuse Kennedy's generosity still stood.

"Yeah," Kennedy said at last, nodding with confidence. "I think so. I could get really into writing letters and stuff. It could be fun."

Micah pushed down the looming sense of doom from his conscience. "So then... no voting intervention."

"No voting intervention," she agreed. She frowned. "Now I need to find out how to break it to the girls... Oh, God, and what if Erika doesn't even take me back?! Would she even go on a lunch date with me?"

"You—You plan to keep the celibacy thing up."

"Of course! I need her to know I'm serious about us. And medical school. I mean—Her going to medical school. Not me." Micah knew from experience that Kennedy couldn't stand the sight of blood.

Micah sighed. This was all starting to sound like a disaster. "Okay then. If you're certain about this."

"I am! Very. Very certain. And this is perfect! Think about it, Erika would never get offended about me bringing you to my family events. She hates family events. It's a win-win."

"Yeah, win-win."

Micah left that evening feeling slightly off-kilter. Not only was Alistair's "booty-calls" weighing on him in one direction, but Kennedy's sudden admission about the seemingly long-forgotten relationship with making added significant pressure. He hadn't thought about Kennedy and Erika in that capacity in over a year.

Upon investigating the scenes in his head he'd catalogued from Erika and Kennedy in the same room, nothing was flagged as bizarre. He supposed... it was odd that Kennedy kept sending Erika presents, but she sent Benny presents, too.

Maybe she's only been giving Benny stuff to mask wanting to gift things to Erika.

Once at the flat, Micah checked Erika's room. There was no sign indicator and, upon a brief glance inside, he found it empty. He circled back to Benny's room posthaste.

Benny was lying on his stomach scrolling through an article on his laptop when Micah appeared in his open doorway. Micah could hear the music in his headphones buzzing from the hall. Benny caught a glance of him, popped one side of the headphone off his ear, and said, "Yeah?"

Micah opened his mouth and realized he had no graceful way to ask, "Did Kennedy mention anything to you about getting back together with Erika?"

The headphones left Benny's head altogether. "Um, repeat?"

"Kennedy. Erika. Is there some development there or...?" When Benny did nothing but stare, wide-eyed and innocent, shaking his head, Micah shuffled uncomfortably. "'Cause I just walked myself into a conversation with Kennedy about the strong likelihood that she's pursuing Erika in the near future. Again."

"Seriously?" Benny snapped his laptop shut and sat up, one leg tucked under his opposite knee. "I mean, she's still gifting Erika stuff, so I figured—"

"Right?" Micah hissed. He glanced down the hall before entering and shutting Benny's door. "She's not home. But I was thinking about that, too. Does she gift you things to make it seem platonic with Erika?"

"Yeah—Wait, you only just found that out? I thought it was obvious."

Micah rolled his eyes. "Catch up. I'm out of the loop, apparently."

"Well, what do you think?"

Micah tipped his head to the side, brow furrowed.

"I mean, do you think Erika would go for her again? Because I can't tell."

Micah put his hands out, completely unsure and fully baffled. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed off to the side. He pressed his cheek into his palm. "I don't know how I feel about this."

"But—!" Benny started, only to falter at Micah's terse expression. His shoulders slumped. "I dunno. It's kinda romantic, don't you think?"

Micah sighed. The fight bled out of him at the heart-wrenchingly hopeful glow in Benny's face. He couldn't deny Benny's love for love. "I guess," he agreed, though he didn't believe it himself. "Which is what makes it so disgusting to me."

He walked away to the tune of Benny crying out in protest. Micah rolled his eyes, pushed through his bedroom door, shut himself up for the remainder of the night. He didn't move from his bed even when he heard the telltale slam! of the front door coupled with Erika's simple, "Home."

He didn't know how to tell her (ask her?) without sounding like an unsupportive, judgmental freak. So he didn't say anything at all.

He woke the next day to an invite sent through the group chat. Micah took one look at it and determined, Yeah, Benny and I are definitely buffers.

"Halloween party! The theme is bachelor/bachelorette party strippers so come prepared." The address that followed made Micah want to bash his head in.

Aside from their usual slew of college buddies, the majority of Kennedy's friend group appeared to be graduated, in the fashion industry, and older than them. This particular couple happened to be in the middle of this demographic venn diagram, with bonus points for evidently being swingers.

He recognized the address from another costume-related party where Micah had gotten so shitfaced he vomited in what he swore was a marble tub and in his haste to clean it out (someone was waiting for their turn in the bathroom), he slipped right into it.

He texted back, immediately (though Kennedy has sent the invite several hours prior): "You know I can't show my face there."

The response was prompt and prepared from Erika. "Suck it up, bitch."

Micah threw his arms down over his comforter and glared at his bedroom door. He threw the blankets back and got to his feet.

Erika was in the bathroom getting ready for class.

"You remember what happened last time," he said, with all the great scathing energy he knew Erika loved.

She grinned at him, leant forward, and shut her eye around a charcoal stick. She dragged it over her waterline. "Yeah, and? It was fucking funny. The hosts probably don't even remember it was you. They were shitfaced, too."

Down the hall, Benny cried, "Ha! That rhymed!"

"Well, I'm not going," Micah said.

"Dude, come on, Kennedy already got you a costume. So I reiterate: Suck it up, bitch. You're gonna look fucking fantastic," Erika said.

Micah trudged out of the bathroom with his head lolling around his shoulders like a toddler throwing a tantrum. He wound up in the kitchen. Benny was making breakfast and, after a ruckus with the blender, delivered Micah's smoothie unto him.

"It's gonna be fun...!" Benny sang, quietly with an encouraging smile Micah merely glared at.

"I'll see the costume and decide if I like it," Micah decided, which was as good as saying yes. Kennedy's costumes were always fantastic.

The following week, their costumes were delivered minutes before Kennedy arrived, chasing after them. Micah had just gotten back from lecture only to realize he'd stepped foot in Kennedy's favorite dollhouse makeover, and Benny was already in lingerie and "strutting it", as the kids say.

"The party isn't tonight, is it?" Micah said, shutting the door.

Kennedy turned. She was in white gogo boots and a Daphne-inspired mini skirt that couldn't even be classified as a skirt. A thong with neon green ruffles was more accurate. "No, we're just doing a test runway. Here!"

A bag was thrust into Micah's hands. He stared at her, uninterested, as she ferried him off to his room to change.

After she shut the door, Micah sighed. He let the bag fall around the fabric he'd managed to grasp in his fist and stared at it, first in disgust, and then in intrigue. He stretched out the vest for a better look, and the smallest pair of booty shorts dropped to his feet.

"You've got to be kidding me," he breathed, though he supposed it was expected. One bachelorette party stripper, coming right up.

He stepped out into the hall wearing nothing but the skimpy, skin-tight, camouflage shorts, a harness, and a padded, "bullet-proof" vest. He'd flicked his sunglasses down. A massive plastic assault riffle hung from one hand as he put both arms out as if to say, "Happy?"

"Oh. Oh. When do you make time to go to the gym, Mr. Six Pack McGee?" Benny said, eyes wide.

"I'm not answering that," Micah said. He held the gun up and shook it. "This? Isn't going to fly. I'll be arrested before we even get there. Also? I thought you hated firearms."

"Oh, I do. Usually. But on you they look so good..." Kennedy said, biting her lip. She hurried up to him with a new box. "Here! I got you combat boots—Hey!"

He smacked the box on the ground. "I'm not bringing the gun. Does the rest sell it, though?"

"Absolutely!" they both cried.

And so it was settled.