TW: Micah's age gap hookup  LOL Micah's like 21 and his hookup is 50ish. If you want to skip this, there will be a summary at the end of this chapter.

On a private browser, Micah had a LinkedIn tab for every person on Lottie and Theo's list. There weren't many—just four—and the number was made fewer by one member of Alistair's brief office story being a woman.

Micah spent enough time scouring his dating apps to recognize frequent faces. He checked his latest matches to ensure he hadn't, in fact, matched already with any of the contenders. Unfortunately, only one was in Micah's age range.

Micah was in the process of upping his age range when Benny returned from work that night. He slapped a candy bar in front of Micah and said, "Are you still on the path to revenge?"

"Yeah," Micah said. Luckily for him, Benny was onboard with retaliating. Unluckily for them, Kennedy was amused by their want for retaliation.

He reopened the tab of the female coworker and showed her to Benny. "She works with him and they know each other. Have you seen her on any apps?"

Benny studied her profile for a minute. He typed her name into Instagram and, within seconds, found her. "No... I don't think so."

"What are the odds these three guys are even into men?" Micah said, frustration leaking in. He dragged a hand through his hair and sighed. "And then how would I even get in contact with them if they aren't on an app?"

Benny pointed out the girl's instagram profile. "See if they have an Insta? And then slide into their DMs."

"Yeah, but you're all over my profiles. What if they know Alistair has a brother?" Micah reminded him. It was too risky.

In the end, only one of the men had a visible Instagram: the younger one on the higher end of Micah's original dating age range. The photos were well-done and likely taken with a camera that cost the same a semester's tuition. Recently, he'd been in Cancun and just as Micah was convinced the guy was single, he swiped on a set of sunset beach photos.

The third was of a faceless man silhouetted between palm trees, drink in hand. What little Micah could see of him was promptly zoomed-in with a pinch of Micah's fingers. No ring on the finger... But that hair looked vaguely familiar. There were only so many young men prematurely greying in New York City.

"Holy shit," Micah said. With his fingers still in an open-pinch, he turned the phone around for Benny to see. "Does that look like Cassian Presley?"

Benny leaned in, eyes widening with a curse. He grabbed Micah's phone from him. "No way," he said. He swiped out of the photo carousel to look at the account. "This Lee guy works with Alistair?"

"Yeah. But back to the Presley part—"

"I mean, Kennedy mentioned a while ago that Presley was seeing someone," Benny said.

"How long's 'a while ago'?"

They scrubbed through the photos posted by Alistair's coworker, Ezra Lee, all the way back to when Kennedy had first mentioned Presley's latest romance. In nearly every carousel, Presley was the third or fourth subject. Not hidden, but not an entirely public relationship, either.

The more they looked, the easier it was to find vaguely different angles of Presley. None were of his full face, or of objects obscuring Presley's face. A drink, a hat, a hand with a smile visible under his palm. Micah's heart ached familiarly. It was as close to appreciating romance as Micah could get—from afar, where it couldn't touch him, and where he could be happy for Kennedy's godfather for having found someone who seemed to enjoy his (eclectic and bizarre) company.

"You should ask Presley to set you up with one of the other coworkers if they aren't on Grindr or Tinder," Benny suggested.

"Yeah, and when has Presley ever been subtle? It'd get back to Alistair faster than I could fuck the guy," Micah said.

"Oh, come on! Presley loves a heist."

"And Presley's probably told Lee about you and by association, me."

"Who says Presley even knows Lee works with Alistair?"

"A new coworker? That's got to be a frequent topic of conversation. 'How was work, dear?' 'Oh, just this new guy I told you about did something stupid.'"

"One: I doubt they talk like that and two: What if it's purely carnal and they don't talk at all."

"What!"

"Well, we could test the waters with Kennedy. Presley would've mentioned Lee worked with Alistair if he knew."

This was true from what Micah understood about Presley's relationship with Kennedy. They texted frequently, he knew most of her friends, and tried his best to keep up with Kennedy's life. He knew enough about Benny after family events and smalltalk to know he had a brother named Alistair, and a name like that wouldn't go unnoticed if Lee happened to mention it.

The promise of revenge was solidifying. High on evildoing, Micah texted Kennedy on this urgent matter of business, which resulted in a phone call not minutes later. "Yellow."

"What do you know about Presley's boy toy?" Micah asked.

There was rustling on the other end like the wind—she was in the car. "Um... I don't know. His name's Ezra and he's some tech bro finance wiz. They met at a luncheon. What's this about?"

Benny leant over Micah's shoulder, holding him by the wrist to put the mic in range of him saying, "Because we found his Instagram because he works with Alistair."

Kennedy laughed maniacally for several seconds before saying, "Yeah, you are not using my godfather's boytoy for your revenge plot."

"That's not what I'm asking. I need him to set me up with one of his coworkers, but if Presley knows Lee works with Alistair, don't you think it'd get too messy? Lee would know I'm friends with his coworker's little brother."

"But if Presley doesn't know about Lee and Alistair working together," Benny continued for him, "then chances are, Lee doesn't know I'm related to Alistair. He's a private person at work and wouldn't mention me at all."

"Okay, give me a sec to process," she said. They listened to the gritty sound of traffic from the other end of the line until Kennedy inhaled to speak. "Yeah, I don't think Uncle Cass knows Ezra works with Alistair."

"Knew it!" Benny shouted in Micah's ear. Micah winced.

"'Cause my uncle knows who Alistair is and would have mentioned it to me if Ezra said something. I mean, Uncle Cass even suggested I give Alistair his contact info way back before he even visited to tour places."

"Seriously?" Benny said. He now had Micah's hand cupped between his own to hold the phone close, eyes wide in astonishment. "So they've talked before?"

"I think so. Uncle Cass knows the owner of the building Alistair lives in, I think."

"You're joking."

"I joke not."

Micah dragged the phone back. "Okay, Yoda, so get me a fucking date with one of Lee's coworkers."

Kennedy took requests very seriously and therefore, Micah could expect results within the hour. "Just to play it safe, I won't say it's a date for you. I'll just say it's for one of my guy friends," Kennedy said before hanging up.

During their waiting period, Micah and Benny collided on the sofa to dissect Alistair's company LinkedIn to see if their prospects would expand Theo and Lottie's list of two.

Near the end of the hour, Benny gasped. Micah looked to him, expectant.

"What if Lee suggests Alistair," he whispered in horror.

Micah blinked. He hadn't considered this reality.

"Do people know Alistair's bi?" Micah said. "You said he doesn't talk about his personal life."

"I guess, but think about it: He's new to the city, his coworkers probably want to introduce him to new people, and—"

Micah could feel his heart in his throat at the horrors of it all. He didn't know if he could survive being set up on a "blind date" with Alistair. Luckily, this was not the case.

An incoming call notification appeared. Micah answered it and switched to speaker just as Kennedy was saying, "Wow, that was easy."

Micah sat up. Benny followed. "You got me a date?" Micah said.

"Yeah, some guy named Eugene Lennon, which—by the way, I refuse to call a man Eugene." Micah shushed Benny before he could exclaim that they already knew what Lennon looked like. "Apparently the entire department has been trying to get Lennon laid. He had a bad breakup last year and honestly, some dick could do him some good. My uncle's words, not mine."

Micah watched the range of emotion warp Benny's face. First joy, then laughter, and now, at last, sorrow.

"Aw, I'm sorry he went through a breakup..." Benny bemoaned, slumped now on the couch looking on the verge of tears. He reached for a hug, but Micah blocked him with his forearm to Benny's chest.

Micah's skin was already crawling at the idea of being trapped in a dinner with a man playing a sad violin and saying, "Woe is me...!"

"I am not about to nurse a man's fragile heart back to health," Micah said.

"No, which is why, you're gonna get him back out there by rocking his world and setting him free. It's a win-win," Kennedy said. "I'll text you the details. Bye-bye!"

In the silence that ensued, a smile grew on Benny's face. He put a hand up, beside himself with joy, and Micah rolled his eyes. He accepted the high five.

Over the next 24 hours, several key agenda items went down. First, he acquired the date and time from Kennedy (Thursday at six); second, he acquired Kennedy's credit card, though she'd already called ahead and the restaurant had it on file (she really liked the restaurant); third, he had Lennon's number.

And Lennon had his number.

"Ezra assured my uncle who assured me that Lennon won't abuse phone privileges," Kennedy had said.

As a man in his forties, Lennon had better things to do than text a college kid anyway. If anything, Micah wondered if Lennon was more concerned than him about giving his number out. After all, Micah was of the belief people his age didn't know when to shut the fuck up and leave him alone.

And, come Thursday, Micah was dolled up by Kennedy under Benny's supervision. They tore apart his closet in search of something suitable but in the end, Kennedy had a new outfit waiting in her car.

She patted down his shirt sleeves and topped the look with a gold necklace that she tucked under his unbuttoned collar.

"I think he should do up one more button."

"No, trust me," Kennedy said, giving the flaps a little swat. She stepped back to join Benny in admiring the state of Micah in the pile that was the innards of his closet. "This is perfect. You're gonna give that old man a heart attack."

Benny stared at her, and then at Micah, and said, "Um, maybe he should do up another button."

"No!"

"He just went through heartbreak and now you wanna send the man into heart failure?!"

Kennedy wriggled out a slim stack of notecards from her purse and handed them to Micah. He barely caught a glimpse when she explained, "Read 'em in the taxi there. They're to help you empathize with him if he does end up talking about his ex."

"Oh my God," Micah breathed, feeling more and more like he just wanted to crawl into bed and fall asleep. He flipped one of the cards over that said, "It's completely understandable that you feel this way." and another that said, "Do NOT say it wasn't meant to be."

Just as he was on the verge of denouncing all of this malarkey, Kennedy put her hands up to stop him. "These may not work on you, but trust me, do not deviate from those cards if you plan on sleeping with him tonight."

Micah was apt to consider the possibility that a forty-year-old man talking about his ex on a first day would be the very last candidate for a one-night stand. It wasn't exactly a mood-setter, but Micah had had one-night stands with freshly-broken up men before. The need for revenge was a powerful tool for making Micah optimistic about his odds.

He wouldn't let Lennon leave that fucking date without going to the man's penthouse to fuck his brains out.

Micah folded the notes and tucked them in his breast-pocket. "Alright. Take a shot for me."

"Will do!" Benny said.

Micah took a taxi toward Madison Square Garden where, off of Broadway and in view of the Flatiron sat Micah's destination. It was a short drive made long thanks to rush hour traffic, but intending to be early just meant that Micah was right on time.

A notification pinged on his phone as he was near the end of his Empathy Flashcard stack. He checked it as he exited the taxi. Lennon would be ten minutes late and to order him a Negroni.

"Yuck," Micah thought aloud. He was already off to a rough start dealing with a man who had poor taste in drinks.

Micah waited at the bar for Lennon for ten minutes on the dot and spent that entire time developing an acute anxiety around heartbreak empathy. He hoped and prayed to God that Lennon wouldn't put him in a position where he had to say, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen," unironically.

He folded the notecards up the second he caught a glance of Lennon in the vestibule before the hostess' counter. She escorted him to the bar where Micah stood to greet him.

Wait, fuck, Micah thought the second he started to stand because he never went on enough dates to know the protocol. Were they supposed to shake hands? No, this wasn't a business meeting.

"I'm not much of a hugger," Lennon said immediately and instead held Micah by the shoulder to guide him back to his seat.

His hand was firm and lingered near Micah's nape as Lennon pulled out the stool beside him.

Micah was fairly positive he blacked out for the next three hours he spent at the bar with Lennon. When the time came for them to go to their table, Lennon asked the waitress, "Can we eat at the bar instead? I hate booths."

The waitress looked like she wanted to say it wasn't allowed, but said they could anyway. Menus were delivered.

"I'm surprised you picked this place. It's one of my favorites," Lennon said as he finished his Negroni. He'd undone his tie by then and left it hanging over the back of his chair. Micah couldn't stop staring at what little he could see of the man's collarbone when he took a sip of his next drink: something tall and fruity. The Negroni was just the pregame to a man that actually had taste.

Micah pointed to the stout, empty glass the bartender was taking away. "Why do you drink that shit?"

Lennon grinned, just a little, and said, "I start with Negronis because sex-on-the-beach doesn't taste how I expect alcohol to taste."

"Alcohol doesn't have to taste bad."

"Says the man with the gin and tonic."

"It depends on the circumstances," Micah reasoned. "If I'm socializing, I drink gin."

"But if you're... clubbing, partying, whatever it is you do."

"Cosmopolitan."

"Ah. Very Carrie Bradshaw of you."

Micah laughed. "Fuck off."

Over dinner, dessert, and after-dinner espresso, Micah had completely forgotten his anxieties around Kennedy's Empathy Flashcards. Lennon was nothing like Micah had come to anticipate. He was stern and had a sour way of looking at people, but Micah adored the way he told stories. Quiet and low so that Micah needed to lean close to hear. There, he could smell the bergamot in his cologne.

The closest they came to even brushing the topic of Lennon's ex was in their last conversation before leaving the bar.

"I'd love to see the new art you bought," Micah said, and when Lennon nearly reached for his phone, Micah laid his hand atop Lennon's to block it. "In person."

For a man who'd been out of the dating scene for so long, Micah's proposition was not missed. Lennon studied him, carefully, while Micah's eyes passed over his cutting cheekbones and even sharper jaw.

"Before we go any further..." Lennon started. He didn't brush Micah's hand off. "I don't know if it's rude to ask, but—"

"I got tested earlier this week if you want to see the results. Clean."

He loved to see the sudden, panicked excitement when a man realized, Holy shit, this is going to happen. It was delightfully innocent, and internally, Micah was reeling that he'd managed to capture such a look on someone twice his age.

He supposed he had Alistair to thank for this.

Micah glanced away to avoid passing along the glare that shot across his expression. Why am I thinking about Alistair now, of all times?! Soon, he would never think about Alistair again and go on with his life knowing he'd satisfied his need for revenge. Even if Alistair never knew.

"I'm clean as well. It's been a while," Lennon said. When Micah looked back, he found Lennon's brow furrowed. Troubled. Before Micah could worry the ex would be mentioned, Lennon explained, "I'm having my kitchen remodeled so the place is a disaster. And I wouldn't want to impose—"

"You're not imposing," Micah said, and immediately kicked himself for it.

His entire closet was still regurgitated across his room. His and Benny's bathroom was a shitshow—neither of them had cleaned their facial hair off the sink after shaving in the morning.

"Let's go then," Lennon declared, and they were up.

It felt like lightning struck him. Dazed, charred, and staggering to his feet, Micah felt the gin sway his brain in his skull. He said, "Do you mind if I use the restroom before we go?"

Lennon freed him to the bathroom. There at the urinal, Micah aimed with one hand and called Benny with the other. He pressed his forehead to the wall and was relieved that Benny's curiosity about the date put Micah's potential call on a High Priority list.

"Did you get lucky?!"

"Dude, I'm about to bring him to the apartment."

"Nice!"

"Not his apartment. Our fucking apartment. I need you to clean my room and our bathroom now. We're twenty minutes out."

Benny's phone sounded like it'd been put through the garbage disposal for all of two seconds before Benny cried, "That's kind of impossible! I'll ask Erika if you can use her bathroom."

Micah let out a sigh. His bladder was now empty. He tucked himself back in one-handed and swapped his phone to his shoulder so he could wash up. "Fine. Whatever. Her bathroom's closer to my room anyway. And give her a heads up for me to stay clear."

"Roger."

Micah's feared he'd keel over and die the moment he and Lennon entered the apartment building. His heart was running a race Micah hadn't signed up for—it was the Empathy Flashcards all over again. He was in over his head trying to convince a wealthy, forty-year-old man he wasn't some degenerate college kid getting high and wasted on the weekends.

My room isn't that terrible, Micah reasoned. Unless Benny did a shit job cleaning it...

He couldn't think that way without beating Lennon to dying via heart failure, so Micah opted to shut off his brain entirely.

Head empty, he unlocked the front door and walked Lennon through a lived-in but tidy living area. The sink was empty, the drying rack full. Erika's "SLEEPING. FUCK OFF." sign was nowhere to be seen. Her bathroom was the only open door in their hallway.

Micah could have cried with gratitude.

Micah's room was acceptable. He surveyed it from the threshold as Lennon asked to use the restroom. While he was gone, Micah scoured his room for anything embarrassing. Benny had put the carafe from his room on Micah's nightstand and filled it with fresh water.

When Lennon returned, Micah pulled him inside and into a kiss. The man's breath was fresh—he must have been carrying mints on him all night for this moment, and the idea struck heat through Micah's system as he shut the door and locked it.

With his hands, he undid Lennon's shirt and tore it out of his jeans. There was resistance, but Micah's force snapped them out of their clips. Stays, holy shit.

He ripped the zipper down on Lennon's slacks without a second thought. Snap undone, he pulled the waistband down enough to see them for himself—black bands ensnared around incredibly toned thighs holy shit.

Micah couldn't help himself. He was panting. "You weren't kidding about being into biking," Micah said.

"Helps with my back," Lennon said as Micah's hands carved their way up the man's hipbones to knead into his abdomen. A thin layer of fat kept them deceptively flat, but as Micah suspected, he was packing muscle there, too.

"And speaking of my back," Lennon said, drawing Micah's eyes back to where they ought to be. "If you don't mind, I do better receiving from the top. Unless you prefer doggy."

Micah's dick came to attention. "Get on the bed. I want to see you on your knees before you ride me."

Micah was determined to see the night through and knew going into it that he'd be holding back. After all, he'd been more concerned about giving Lennon a heart attack than he was about blowing the man's back out. To avoid such a disaster, Micah restrained himself prepping Lennon on his knees before settling back to let the silver fox work his magic.

And holy fuck, was it magic.

I really need to up my age range on Grindr, Micah thought, hand to his face and up to his hair as his hips canted up, matching Lennon's pace. His eyes rolled skyward to watch Lennon's shoulders and legs from the birds-eye reflection above.

God, those tendons—I hope I look like that when I'm forty-two, he thought.

And then he saw it.

Micah was up on his elbows in an instant.

His ceiling mirrors were... missing the grid lines?

Lennon's hips slowed, his weight returning to Micah's pelvis. "Is something wrong?" he said, voice husky.

There was nothing that could convince Micah this was normal, and it certainly wasn't something to concern a one-night stand about.

He flopped back down, making a show of moaning as he said, "No, fuck, you just feel so good—keep going." It sounded fake even to him, but it got the man going again.

All through the minutes that followed, acidic rage seeped from Micah's chest. He'd bought twelve mirror panels online. Twelve. And stuck each one on in a perfect, square grid.

And now there were no divider lines at all. The mirror was flush without a single break.

It was all. One. Mirror.

And the only person to have ever asked where he got his mirrors was Alistair.

Micah dug his fingers into Lennon's thighs, thinking, Stop thinking about him!

Consideration flew out the window. Gone was the bliss of Lennon's experienced and gradual incline—Micah's thoughts were fracturing. When had Alistair stolen my mirrors?! Replaced them?!

Micah pushed up, feet digging into the mattress now. His ass barely touched the comforter as he assailed Lennon, who had taken to gripping the headboard as they finished.

Afterward, Micah was spared from wondering if Lennon would invite himself to stay the night. After cleaning up and making (half-hearted on Micah's part) plans for Micah to see the kitchen after the remodel, Lennon left. He was only slightly limping.

Micah continued to lie there on his bed, scowling at the mirror. His finger tapped irritably on his bicep to the tune of Alistair... Alistair, Alistair, AlistairAlistairAlistair.

God, did Micah want to punch him. He wanted to slap Alistair's ass so hard it'd be bruised for a week, maybe two. And maybe, just maybe, he'd do it all under his own mirrors where they probably lived now. On Alistair's fucking ceiling!

Micah grabbed a pillow, whipped it onto his face, and crushed himself with it to muffle the scream.

A/N: Summary for those who skipped the chapter. Micah successfully sleeps with one of Alistair's coworkers, but they end up at Micah's place and mid-sex Micah realizes that his ceiling mirrors were replaced (the originals were individual square panels, and now it's one massive cohesive mirror). Alistair stole his mirrors and replaced them LOL The stealing of the mirrors is an important plot point. Also important, Lennon is remodeling his kitchen, hence why they hooked up at Micah/Benny's place.