Dinner wasn't tolerable until the half hour mark was up and Alistair's concerns started to feel a lot less significant. Everyone was enjoying the food regardless of whether or not it was poisoned and soon, Alistair could start to question again why the hell James was there.

James sat beside Micah, timid and uncertain about everything. He looked sleepless, too, with deep shadows under his eyes. His skin was now a smooth olive tan since the last time Alistair saw him.

Alistair glanced at Kennedy. Did she invite James to cause drama with Hunter? He couldn't think of any other reason.

The moderate high left Alistair's tastebuds tingling and ecstatically sensitive to every flavor. Wow, he thought, I need to eat high more often, because as far as he could tell, his brief taste-test hadn't tasted nearly this good earlier.

At the end of the night, Alistair refused help with the dishes, though this didn't stop his guests from tidying up and dispensing all plates to the counter.

"Tomorrow we're meeting at the beach," Kennedy declared. "Eleven! Don't be late!"

"Fine," Alistair agreed.

The door was barely shut when he realized Jennifer hadn't left with them. She was in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, looking thoroughly proud of herself.

"Well that was nice," she said. "Your brother's friends are cool."

"Yeah, they are. I need to clean up now, so—"

She leant forward, pushed off the counter, and approached him. He took half a step back, and she took the hand he held out to keep her at a distance. "How about you clean up after?" she suggested.

There were ants under his skin climbing up to his shoulder. "I can't." His voice was strained.

"Please?" She brought his hand to her skirt, hitching his fingers under where her underwear was already wet.

He pried his hand back. Her grip burned like a rash down his wrist. "I said I can't."

"But—"

He opened the door, propping it with his foot. He grabbed her by either bicep, and she let out a startled squeak when he hoisted her in the air. Two steps put her out in the hall where he left her too stunned to speak.

"I'll see you later," he said, and shut the door. He turned both locks into place.

Alone in the foyer, Alistair trembled with the urge to scream. There was so much to do, and the high had dropped. The anxiety was surging back to the forefront.

It was already clear to him that he wouldn't be getting much sleep, so he threw himself full-force into cleaning mode. He'd been smart enough to shut his bedroom door, so by the time he was done in the dining room, bathroom, and kitchen, he was showered, spotless, and ready to collapse in the safety of a bed just made fresh that morning.

In the morning, he woke up close to nine with a message from Micah.

"Should I tell Jennifer you and I are dating so she stops thinking you two are having six kids together?"

Alistair's eyes were barely open. "What the fuck?" he said, muffled against the pillow. He searched for context in the previous message. "Kennedy scheduled brunch with Jennifer if you want to join," was followed twenty minutes later by, "I'll take that as a no."

Micah's latest ask was new enough to spark adrenaline and hope that Micah hadn't told Jennifer a thing. "No and don't tell her anything about us she's insane," he said, and sent the message. Micah responded with the salute emoji.

After trying to sleep for five more minutes, Alistair picked up his phone again. "And tell Kennedy to stop encouraging her."

"Already did and she responded by organizing brunch."

God dammit, Alistair thought, hand over his eyes. He dragged it down, sinking back into his pillow in hopes of dissolving through the fibers.

He'd been able to tolerate Jennifer until now. Now, all he wanted was to remain on the opposite side of town and ditch North Carolina as soon as his brother and his squad of little college friends left. This sentiment was made all the more stark when he attempted to visualize having sex with Jennifer again and became increasingly nauseous at the thought.

Well, there goes my summer fling, he thought, and dragged himself out of bed with a completely exasperated huff.

Alistair waited until half past eleven to leave, just to piss Kennedy off. Unfortunately, New Yorkers were notoriously hours late to events, so she didn't bat an eye when he crossed the boardwalk from his place to the public beach and was met with smiles and waves on her behalf.

And also Jennifer.

"Perfect timing!" Kennedy said.

"For what? To die?" Alistair said.

"So dramatic," Jennifer teased. She nudged him in the side, crossed her arms as she knew it did her chest wonders, and said, "We're planning a beach volleyball tournament."

Alistair tallied up the pairings in his head and the only logical conclusion meant... "Let me guess. You and I are a team."

She gasped. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

Alistair had already clocked Micah on the opposing team, but only so far as to analyze what he was wearing: plain black swim trunks that sat high on his milky thighs. The start of a toasted sunburn ended just below where they hitched when he walked.

And, just as Alistair suspected, he was looking toned. More than all the rest, Micah's biceps had bulk that either wasn't there before, or Alistair hadn't bothered to notice. It made his forearms taunt and veiny down to the backs of his hands as he swiped the volleyball from the sand and said something to his partner.

Right, who is he—

Alistair looked to the left, where James was staring at him.

I should probably talk to him, Alistair thought, because he really didn't need James breaking a sweat thinking about the last time they'd met.

"First match was gonna be Micah and James versus Benny and Hunter, but since you're here," Kennedy said, swapping names on her phone. "You and Jennifer should go first!"

"Us against Micah, you mean," Alistair clarified.

"Yup!"

Behind her, Erika reclined back in her lounge chair, tipped her sunglasses down, and said, "Go get 'em, partner."

Jennifer slapped him on the ass. "What she said. Come on!"

Alistair hung his head with a sigh, hands on his hips. In the end, he grabbed his shirt by the hem and shucked it off, balled it up, and tossed it to the empty chair beside hers, followed by his phone and wallet. Two seats over, Hunter sat wearing a sunhat, sunglasses, and a loose hoodie. It had to be nearing ninety degrees out (32 Celsius).

Benny was returning from the water, which made hugging Alistair an incredibly wet experience. Everywhere Benny touched became chilled by the ocean. Benny clapped him on the back as he stepped past, saying to Hunter, "Are we going first?"

"Nah. Jennifer called dibs if Alistair showed up," Hunter said.

Alistair eyed Jennifer in annoyance. She rubbed her hands together maniacally, braced and ready for action in her crimson bikini.

Kennedy met them at the net for the coin flip. Up close, Alistair was forced once again to contend with how beautiful Micah was—his hair had continued to grow out, though his neck was sheared close, bangs floppy and windswept.

His eyes hesitated to linger on Alistair, no matter how much Alistair stared. Alistair dropped his attention to Kennedy with a snicker, grinning as Jennifer called tails.

Kennedy flipped the coin. It hung, just for a moment, before Kennedy slapped it onto the back of her hand.

"Tails," she said, and Micah passed the ball over.

Alistair swiped it. He gave it a spin between his palms and spared a glance at Jennifer as he walked to the back of the court. She knew the position numbers and relayed them at her lower back as they both faced the net.

"This is a practice serve," Alistair shouted to the other team.

"Fuck you, no it isn't!" Micah shouted back.

Alistair gave a test toss. "This one doesn't count!"

"Yes it—"

Alistair sent the toss up, took a running leap, and cracked the ball directly in the sand between Micah and James as Alistair's feet touched the ground again.

Micah straightened, the look on his face downright feral.

Jennifer leaned back to offer a high-five as they waited for the ball to be returned. Alistair accepted this. "Never mind. That one counted."

"You—No it didn't!" Micah cried, indignant, to which James said, "We'll get the next one. It's fine."

Alistair returned to the line with the ball in hand, an evil feeling fluttering to the surface. Oh, he just knew Micah loathed to lose, and Alistair was eager to win now knowing this.

His next serve, however, was intercepted. James dove from the back, hands together, wrists popping the ball skyward without a spin.

Impressive, Alistair thought, bracing for impact.

Micah set James up.

Alistair and Jennifer split up, diving to conquer.

James took a running leap, arms swinging, and went airborne, holy shit. The power behind the strike sent Alistair's forearm stinging as the ball ricocheted into the sand and nearly took Erika out. She screamed, arms flailing.

"You—You know how to play volleyball?" Micah stammered, staring at James.

James grimaced. "I kinda got bullied into it by the girl's volleyball team in high school."

Micah beamed at them through the net. "You're so done."

Benny tossed the ball to Micah as Alistair put up both middle fingers. It was the beginning of the single most stressful beach volleyball game of Alistair's life. He didn't consider himself a good or bad player, and Jennifer could say the same, but he hadn't calculated for James being half a fucking professional—!

By the halfway mark, they took a water break at which point Benny, bewildered by the nearly-tied score, said, "Do you still play volleyball? High school was, like, four years ago!"

Sheepish for someone that almost gave Jennifer a black eye from a spike, James blushed. "I, um, still compete. But it's just a bar league on South Beach."

"You—!" Benny startled, eyes wide as saucers and, if Alistair knew Benny just as well as he thought, he suspected there were hearts in those eyes.

And Hunter's mood was souring by the second.

Alistair wished he could look Kennedy dead in the eyes and tell her this was a horrible idea. Instead, he returned to the court all the more determined to win. He couldn't allow James to risk his life by looking not only badass on the court, but also winning. Hunter would kill him.

Before long, Alistair's knees were bruised, hands burned from skidding in the sand for every save just to have Jennifer blunder another set that she always followed up with, "Oops! Sorry!"

For fuck's sake, Alistair thought, lunging to punch the ball up and over the net with one fist.

Micah sent it back over to their side where Jennifer saved it. She lunged to her feet, eyes on the ball, hair askew as Alistair's fingertips caught the ball for a smooth set.

Jennifer leapt up, arm swinging, and slammed it over the net. James' save ended in an AWOL ball and another point for Alistair and Jennifer. On complete impulse, Alistair screamed in triumph—they hadn't even won yet, but that one point put them at a tie.

"Whoa, relax, we aren't going to war, bucko," Erika said as Jennifer lunged into Alistair's arms in impromptu celebration.

He spun them both before setting her down to catch the incoming ball. On Jennifer's turn to serve, she had a mean curve-ball that often threw Micah and James for a loop, and so they secured another point. After, however, they were taken to the cleaners—one point after another was lost to James' serves, their perfect spike synchronicity, and Alistair's frustration growing to a peak at every, "Oops! Sorry!" from Jennifer.

All that to say: they lost. Majorly.

And, as Alistair predicted, Hunter was green with jealousy when Benny leapt up to congratulate Micah and James with hugs and kisses on the cheeks. Micah hoisted Benny on his back to meet Alistair and Jennifer for a post-game handshake.

"That was a good game!" Jennifer said, shaking his hand. She clapped James on the back. "You're fucking amazing at this, you know that, right?"

"Even if he doesn't, we all know it," Benny said, latching his arms around Micah's neck. Beside them, James was bright red like a sunburn.

"Thanks," he said, eyes flighty, smile barely contained. "I'm gonna head to the bathroom, I think." With that, James fled the scene and the daggers Hunter was throwing after him with his eyes.

"What a little cutie," Jennifer said. She gave Micah a nudge. "Kennedy may have mentioned you're gay. Is James your type?"

"Yeah, Micah, is James your type?" Benny teased, shaking Micah's head to and fro.

Micah shut his eyes in annoyance. "On paper, he would be," he said, which just left a slew of questions for Alistair that Benny and Jennifer were ripe to ask.

"On paper! What about in practice?!" Benny cried.

"No comment," Micah said.

"H-Have you guys already—?"

"No! Fuck no," Micah said, already walking away and trying to shake Benny off. "And it's never gonna happen! We're just friends."

"J-Just friends!" Benny cried, a second before being bucked off. He hit the ground with an, "Oof!"

Late lunch-early dinner was delivered near the end of the tournament. Their little picnic was shared on lounge chairs and towels, and to Alistair's great displeasure, Jennifer made herself comfortable between his legs, sharing a chair as they ate. After, satiated and warm under the sun, she relaxed back on his chest, closed her eyes, and nearly fell asleep.

Drinks were distributed, at which point Alistair said, "I have my own beer back at my place."

"What kind?" James asked, and Alistair registered the implication. He gave the brand, though he was sure James didn't care. "Do you mind if I go grab one with you?"

"Sure."

Jennifer leaned forward so Alistair could slip out. His legs had been splayed so far apart that his hips popped and he staggered, catching his balance on the back of Erika's chair.

Alistair's condo was a short five minute walk away, and the moment they were out of range, Alistair glanced over his shoulder to confirm it before speaking.

"I'm not telling anyone about what happened."

"You already told Kennedy," James said. Alistair blinked. "She might have mentioned something about it..."

"Oh." Alistair took a deep breath. "That's true. She's the only one."

"I haven't been able to ask Micah. I'm worried he'd yell at me," James confessed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I've been so worried about it happening again that I just—I haven't been drinking at all."

This was factual to Alistair because the previous night, James had not only declined every alcohol beverage option, but had been chugging water the entire dinner. "I haven't told him and wasn't planning on it," Alistair confessed, but couldn't help but ask: "Why did you accept the invitation down?"

James slapped his hands over his face. "I know. I know."

"Are you asking to be murdered? Because from what I've heard and observed—"

"I know, I know," James bemoaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. It left his cheeks red, but maybe they were already red. "I couldn't—I guess I was just... curious. Why him and not..."

Alistair watched James' hands hang at his sides then, shoulders slumped. "I'm an idiot. I don't know why I thought Benny would change his mind."

As stupid as James was, Alistair not only pitied him, but rooted for him. He wouldn't mind a pathetic, idiot of a brother-in-law if he had to choose. He slapped a firm hand on James' back and gave him an aggressive rub. "You shouldn't torture yourself. Trust me."

"I can't help it. I mean, I might have declined, but Benny asked me directly to come with. Maybe he was just being polite."

Alistair didn't know what Benny's motives were other than to be a complete fucking idiot. He wouldn't tell James that, though. He crossed his arms. "You and Micah seem close."

"Oh. I guess. We had a lot of classes together," James confessed. "He's nice. He has a reputation, but..."

"Reputation how?"

If he was looking, he knew he'd find James blushing. "He's kind of... I don't know. I don't think he realizes how much people talk about him on campus. He's kind of a legend. Maybe not the best kind."

They were at Alistair's building then, opening the door and stepping inside. At the stairs, Alistair asked, "Not the best how?"

"I don't know if I should say."

"I might already know."

At the landing, James paused to stare at him, one foot frozen on the next step. Alistair shrugged.

James' voice cracked a little. "He's kind of a heartbreaker."

"Oh. Then no, I wouldn't know."

"What were you thinking?"

"Nothing."

"Wha—" James couldn't finish. He hurried to catch up to Alistair. "Are there other rumors? Not to be crude or anything, but I know he gets around, but—"

"That's what I thought you were going to say," Alistair confessed.

"Oh. Then—Wait, so have you...?"

"Have I what?"

James squeaked. "Nothing."

"Have you?"

"No!" It was louder than James intended, and it echoed down the stairwell. The stammering started in full-force. "I mean, he's a nice guy, and we've talked about it, but only abstractly and not, like—It definitely wouldn't happen. Ever. He's Benny's best friend. I wouldn't even say he's my type, necessarily—"

It was all Alistair could do to keep from cackling like a maniac. He squeezed James' shoulder, steering him to his unit door. "Don't sweat it, kid. I'm just giving you shit."

James' shoulders slumped. He slapped a hand over his face once again. "I'm such an idiot. I'm so sorry."

"You're entertaining, is what you are. Here's what we're gonna do—"

Once in the condo, Alistair pulled James' excuse together by emptying a can of beer into a glass for himself and filled the empty can with soda. With James' beer excuse on hand and no risk of Engagement Assassination, James was at ease.

James took a sip of his beer-soda as they exited to return to the beach. "Thank you," he said.

Unnecessarily fond, Alistair smiled and locked the door. "Anytime."