Micah wore the combat boots the following two days in a meager attempt to break them in. He arrived at the party with a surplus of bandaged blisters, but at least he knew he looked good under the jacket and sweatpants he'd worn to cover his modesty in the streets.

Kennedy was waiting for them at the entrance in spite of the cold. They'd been instructed to arrive at ten—nearly two hours after the party began. She was swallowed whole by a massive fur coat that fell down past her knees, the rest of her covered by the gogo boots.

As she pranced over him, Micah spent too much brainpower processing how long Kennedy's eyes lingered on Erika versus the rest of them. How had I not noticed...?!

Kennedy fluffed Erika's coat before turning to the rest of them. "I think we all look great. Shall we?"

You literally just dressed Benny and I up in whatever to cover for the fact that you made Velma and Daphne-inspired matching stripper costumes for you and the girl you like. Get real, Micah wanted to say.

Instead, Benny spoke for all of them. "Let's get it!"

"That's the spirit!"

Kennedy towed Benny inside, arms linked. Micah lingered a moment back with Erika to glare at her, knowingly. Erika glared back, just as knowingly. "What," she bit out through clenched teeth.

"Nothing," he said, and stepped ahead. "Nothing at all."

"I know what you're thinking and it's not like that," she insisted. The door had shut behind Kennedy and Benny, which made her comment unheard by then.

He put his back to the door and pushed it open. "Whatever you say..."

"Why you little—"

The party was in full swing—no pun intended. Micah hadn't thought actual swings were involved in the swinger lifestyle, but there they were, hanging from a new beam installation across the entire living room. Micah convinced himself that it looked structurally sound.

"Holy mother of God," Erika breathed beside him, coat slipping from her shoulders.

They were still in the threshold under a blacklight that made Erika's orange costume glow. The walls were covered in neon decals and, the hall to the bathroom, was dressed in white, spiral stripes. Micah came back from staring at it dizzier than before. He nearly tripped stepping out of his sweatpants.

"I need a drink," he said, though the very thought of both drinking and going down that hall made in fear for the state of the swingers' bathtub again.

"Take me with you," Erika said, and trailed after him on their quest for liquor.

There was a raised, padded dance pad in what appeared to be a repurposed dining room. Two stripper poles were mounted to the floor and ceiling, and Benny was already testing his weight on it. It was the pole that spun on its own, so he twirled, ever-so-slowly, around in a circle with his feet off the ground.

"Dude, check it!" Benny cried the moment he saw Micah. He stuck a leg straight out. He looked nothing like a proper stripper.

Micah pretended to be impressed, nodded, and said, "Nice."

"Found it!" Erika declared, and dragged Micah by the arm to the next room, which was barred by the inflatable mouth of a clown. They ducked under its rubber red nose and arrived at a fully stocked bar.

Erika leant into him. "What're we thinking? Cocktail, or a shot?"

The bartender turned to them. Micah had been staring at his g-string and the little kiss tattoo on his ass. The bartender rose an eyebrow at him, and Micah gave his answer to Erika with a simple. "Shots. Several. Please."

"10-4, soldier," she said, saluted, and approached the bartender with the confidence of a woman who was too gay to realize she was staring into the face of someone Micah wanted to fuck so badly it—

A crack! across his ass nearly launched Micah to the moon.

After the sting, heat flared, and Micah was already whipping around to elbow someone in the throat for smacking his ass. Instead, his forearm came to a bare, heavily tattooed chest and a cunning smile.

"Your ass was out. Couldn't help it," Alistair said.

Micah stared at him like he'd rather have seen the actual Grim Reaper. He stepped back, cleared his throat, and pointedly tugged at the hem of his booty shorts. He had, in fact, inadvertently acquired a wedgie.

"You never answered my calls," Alistair said, which threw Micah for a complete loop. Normally people didn't admit that without some embarrassment.

"Yeah, and remind me why you kept calling?" Micah said.

Micah startled at Erika's return, four red solo cup shots in hand. She held them up precariously to Micah and said, "Two for you, two for me."

He pinched one in each hand. He clinked rims with Erika before knocking one back. Alistair stole his second and took it.

"Okay, asshole, you owe me another. I paid for that," Erika said.

"I'll buy another round," Alistair assured and, hand on Micah's shoulder, passed behind him to address the bartender.

Goosebumps traveled down Micah's arms as Alistair's hand left him altogether. He stared, desperately, at Erika to save him. She was too busy muttering, "Asshole. Who steals drinks anyway? And Benny's related to that guy?"

"I mean, Benny always said his brother was an asshole. Not like he covered it up."

"Still!"

Erika took her last shot, at which point Alistair returned with new cups for all three of them. Until this point, Micah had kept his eyes above sea level but now, they were magnetized by the St Peter's cross tied in knots down the valley of Alistair's pecs. It appeared to be proper shibari.

Micah doubted Alistair had tied it himself.

When Alistair took his shot, the grim reaper hood fell back. It was the first time Micah had seen Alistair's hair as its natural color: black, and trimmed so low Micah could see a white scar on his hairline illuminated by the blacklight.

"Well, anyway," Erika said. None of them had been talking. "I'm gonna find Kennedy. And make sure Benny doesn't break his neck on the stripper poles."

"Okay," Micah said, and tried to watch her go. His eyes ended up on Alistair's thighs thanks to the long, trailing fabric of a tattered robe with two (un)helpful slits around the legs. The centerpiece covered a noticeable bulge.

"Did Kennedy give you an invite or something?" Micah asked.

Alistair laughed. "No. Why? Don't believe I have friends?"

"You're new here. Getting invited to... penthouse costume parties?"

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, I'm excellent at making friends."

Yeah, and do they know shibari, too? Micah wondered.

Out of nowhere, fear shocked him. He looked for Erika again, but she'd already left the bar room. It was one thing for Kennedy to dress Erika up in a matching outfit, but another for their rekindling to happen because Micah and Benny were distracted. Benny was the romantic, yes, but it was also after 5PM.

Kennedy would hate herself for giving into the temptation of Erika's Velma lingerie in the middle of a party.

"Something wrong?" Alistair asked.

Micah shot him a glare and began his hunt. "It's friend group stuff."

"Tell me about it."

"Yeah, right."

"No seriously," Alistair said.

"Have you even said 'hi' to Benny yet?" Micah accused, reeling on him.

In the opening of the clown's mouth, Alistair rolled his eyes. They each stepped back to make way for a group of people passing through. "Yes, I have," Alistair said at last.

"So he knows you're here."

"Yes."

"At a stripper-themed party."

Alistair laughed, eyes to the ceiling as if looking for an act of God to come save him from Micah's bizarre line of questioning. Micah knew it was bizarre. All he knew was that he knew Benny cared about Alistair. Lord help him.

"If we're being honest, he knows I'm into weird shit. This isn't a fucking surprise," Alistair said. They stepped out of the clown archway. The edges of the room were dark all except for the neon decals silhouetting them. The dance floor was in full swing and Benny was helping a girl spin around the pole. He was running circles with her legs in his hands like they were at a goddamn playground.

With the girl's hyena laughter as the backdrop, Micah sighed. He'd spied Erika talking to a random girl by the balcony and felt a sick sense of relief. "If you must know," Micah said, dreadfully.

"I'm not twisting your arm here."

"What do you know about Kennedy and Erika?" he asked, and dragged his eyes up from one of Alistair's nipples that was staring straight at Micah.

Alistair passed a hand along his jaw, thinking. He came away with a simple, "Benny mentioned they used to date. But that's been over with for a while, hasn't it?"

"Kennedy's going for it again," Micah said, "and I don't think they're good for each other."

"And pray, tell, what would be good for Kennedy?"

"Someone just as rich and privileged as her," he admitted. Alistair rose an eyebrow. "I mean, sure, she likes a charity case. I mean, look at me."

"I didn't know you were a charity case."

Shit.

Micah hadn't even thought to consider Benny would keep something like Micah's trailer-park background from his brother. As far as Micah knew, Benny wasn't ashamed of Micah or Erika's upbringings. But then again, they never talked about it.

"Whatever," Alistair said, "so your cousin's a charity case, too."

"I just know it frustrates Kennedy that Erika can't do whatever the fuck she wants. And that's it. End of story."

"You might hate to hear it," Alistair started. He leant in close, and Micah stared at Alistair's hairline again. When he finally lowered his gaze to meet Alistair's, Alistair said through a mocking wince, "But I think that's something for your friends to figure out on their own."

"You don't know them like I do."

"Maybe not, but it's also none of our business."

Micah scoffed. He felt the acid of a horrible comment rising at the back of his throat. "Who are you to give relationship advice, Mr. Unloveable?"

Before he could wince and take it back, Alistair laughed. He straightened a little, voice just low enough for Micah to hear. "It's not about being unloveable. Plenty of people love me."

"Your ego astounds me. Don't you ever get sick of carrying it around like a purse dog?"

"Carrying what, my ego or my dick? Both weigh a lot, I have to admit."

Micah shoved him in the arm with both hands.

Alistair staggered away, laughing, and circled back around to continue. "Just because people love you. Or me. Doesn't mean either of us can love back. I never have. Doesn't that ever make you sick? Criticizing how your friends love when you've never been able to?"

It was meant to hurt and, if Micah had a romantic bone in his body, Alistair's words might have just broken it. As much as it disgusted him, he understood Alistair's reasoning.

"And that's why it's none of our business," Micah sighed. "Fuck."

"Do you always get protective over your friends when they find love?"

Micah turned sharply to him. It was a thought he only ever allowed himself to think when he was incapable of stopping it. Usually late at night, early in the morning, when he's trying to fall asleep and can't because horrible ideas keep wriggling their way into his brain.

Like what Alistair just said.

And now Alistair was raising his eyebrows at Micah, knowing he'd struck a cord.

Micah turned away, teeth grinding together in annoyance.

"All anyone ever cares about is people they're romantically in love with," Micah said, quiet with bitterness. "It's annoying."

"And they all leave you behind?" At Micah's glare, Alistair shrugged. "I mean, I've felt that, too. Any friends I had in Arizona who were self-proclaimed eternal bachelors eloped, got hitched, threw grand weddings, and... fucked off to suburbia. I see them maybe twice a year now."

The acid was seeping all over Micah's chest now. He wasn't even thinking about Kennedy and Erika, but that was how the conversation had started. He didn't want to derail, or to put horrible ideas in Alistair's head about his own brother.

"Kennedy's not like that," Micah said, confidently. "She and Erika—I mean, they were together before. And it was nice. Kennedy's too social to ditch her friends. I think it helps that they're both in the core friend group, otherwise it'd just be me and..."

The seconds ticked. "Benny," Alistair filled in.

Micah nodded, eyes on his feet. "He's not like Kennedy."

"Explain."

Micah rolled his eyes and laughed. It hurt. He wanted to go home now. "I'm not gossiping about your brother with you."

"Full offense, but Benny's an idiot."

Micah laughed, shaking his head.

"I'm serious. He's a fucking idiot. You know his high school sweetheart almost convinced him to not go to college, buy a house, and work at her dad's place for the rest of his life. He almost did it, too."

Benny had seriously sugar-coated that story. "Buy a house? With what money?"

Alistair waved his hand dismissively. "She had a weird idea of what a trust fund is. Thought he was getting a downpayment for a house every month and they'd be set for life."

"Well," Micah said, "I'm glad he... went to college."

"Yeah, me too."

As they watched Benny and the girl swap places on the pole, Micah felt compelled to level out the playing field. Alistair had given him this nugget of information, and so Micah would do the same.

It took several deep breaths before Micah had humbled himself enough to admit, "I mean, Benny's usually pretty good about keeping in contact. But there was one person he went AWOL for."

"AWOL?"

"It sounds like I'm exaggerating, but he fell off the fucking planet for this person. He really loved them," Micah said. He hoped he didn't sound strained. "And I just... What if that's what he's like when he's seriously in love? Like, whoever he ends up marrying..."

"You say 'them'," Alistair repeated after a moment. "Don't you mean 'her'?"

"Fuck. Figures I fucking out him..."

"I mean, I've just assumed. He's a bit fruity."

Micah laughed, darkly, and said, "Yeah, I guess he is. But the guy I'm talking about—His name was Hunter. I think he was Benny's first boyfriend. That probably fucked with his head a little."

Micah had analyzed Benny's bizarre attachment to Hunter forward, backwards, every which way. Hunter was the only other man Benny had been intimate with, and Micah suspected Benny had clung to Hunter in a deluded, sentimental effort. Because aside from Hunter, and aside from Micah, Benny only saw women.

"Hunter?" Alistair said, almost laughing. "Jesus. Even the name is a walking red flag."

"Yeah. That time wasn't fun. I was pretty depressed without Benny around."

Alistair hummed. "I get it. So you're, like, in love with my brother. Cool."

Micah openly laughed at him. "I'm not."

"Then tell me: Have you two kissed before?"

"We've done more than kiss."

"So you are in love with him."

"What part of being unable to love don't you understand? You of all people should get it."

"I do, which makes your 'depressive episodes' all the more interesting to me. Maybe you're codependent."

"Probably."

"Who would be depressed about their best friend being with the love of their life?"

"Hunter is not the love of his life. He wasn't himself when he was with that guy."

"But maybe that's just who Benny really is when he's in love," Alistair reminded him of his worst fear. Micah shut his mouth. "And if love does that to everyone else, maybe what it does for you is make you depressed."

"Fine," Micah agreed, irritated. "And if we're apparently so fucking compatible, then by that logic, I should be depressed right now."

"Are you?"

"No, I'm not fucking depressed because I hate you."

"Then since you hate me so much..."

Alistair didn't finish the sentence, but Micah had been thinking as much since Alistair's accusation. Since Micah hated Alistair so much, fucking him shouldn't be such an issue.

"Fine," Micah agreed, again, and walked away. "Let's go then." He didn't look back to make sure Alistair was following him.