Saturday morning came with that annoying kind of perfect sunshine.
Noah met Emma at their usual brunch place. She was already outside—white tennis skirt, matching top, designer sneakers.
"Ready to lose?" she asked.
"In your dreams."
They'd been playing together for two years. Emma was good—fast, competitive as hell. Noah usually let her win because it made her happy.
Today he just needed something to do with his hands.
The country club was twenty minutes out. Old money, perfect lawns, tennis courts lined up like they were on display.
Emma pulled into the lot near the clubhouse. "Got us court three. Eleven o'clock."
They grabbed their stuff from the trunk. The air smelled like cut grass and chlorine.
Court three was empty. They started warming up—easy volleys back and forth, Emma laughing when she whiffed an easy one.
Normal.
Forty minutes in, Noah was almost relaxed.
Then he heard someone laugh.
A woman. Bright, carrying.
He turned his head.
Three people heading toward the courts.
Oh fuck.
Atlas.
Noah gripped his racket harder.
Atlas was in all black—fitted shirt, shorts that showed way more leg than Noah should be looking at. Sunglasses pushed up in his hair.
Next to him was a woman. Tall, stunning, blonde hair in a high ponytail. White tennis dress that looked expensive.
Alice Whitmore.
Noah knew who she was. Everyone did.
She'd been in Atlas's world since high school. Always there, always gorgeous, always right next to him.
The third person was a guy. Tall, put-together, expensive casual. Dark hair, easy smile.
Something about him pinged immediately in Noah's head.
Gay.
Not obvious, just—there. How he moved, stood a little too close to Atlas.
"Oh," Emma said next to him. "Isn't that—"
"Atlas Sterlins," Noah finished.
"And Alice Whitmore. Jesus, she's gorgeous." Emma lowered her voice. "Didn't they date in high school?"
"No idea."
He knew. Everyone thought they had.
The three of them reached the next court over. Alice spotted them first.
"Noah Wellin?" Her voice carried. "Oh my god, I haven't seen you in forever!"
She waved and started walking over.
Shit.
Atlas followed, slow and controlled.
The guy—Julian—came too.
"Hi!" Alice got there first, hand out to Emma. "I'm Alice. This is Julian."
"Emma." She shook, smiling. "Nice to meet you."
"And Noah." Alice turned to him. Her smile was warm. "How've you been?"
"Good. You?"
"Can't complain." She glanced back. "You remember Atlas, obviously."
Atlas was a few feet back, sunglasses on now.
"Noah." Flat. Polite. Nothing.
"Atlas."
They didn't shake hands.
Julian stepped up. "Julian Reeves." Firm handshake, warm palm. "Good to meet you."
"Yeah, you too."
Emma introduced herself and suddenly they were all doing that rich people small talk thing.
Atlas stayed quiet.
Just stood there, arms crossed.
Alice looked at their court. "You guys playing?"
"Just warming up," Emma said.
"We were about to start." Alice gestured to their court, then paused. Smiled. "Actually—want to make this interesting?"
Emma glanced at Noah. "How?"
"Doubles. Mixed teams." Alice's eyes lit up. "Winners get champagne. Julian's got a bottle in his car."
She said it like it was casual.
But Noah knew these people. Champagne wasn't about the drink.
"I don't know—" Noah started.
"Come on." Alice looked at Emma. "You play, right?"
"Yeah, but—"
"Perfect!" Alice clapped her hands. "Boys versus girls is boring. Let's mix it up."
She turned to Atlas. "What do you think?"
Atlas shrugged. "Fine."
One word. Zero emotion.
Julian grinned. "I'm in."
Emma looked at Noah. "Want to?"
No. Fuck no.
"Sure," Noah said.
Alice was already dividing teams. "Okay, I'll take Atlas—we've played together forever. Noah, you're with Julian?"
Julian moved over next to Noah. His hand landed on Noah's shoulder, squeezed. "Hope you're good. I hate losing."
"I'll try."
Emma grabbed her water. "I'll watch then. Go team Noah!"
She walked to the bench, waving her water bottle like a flag.
Noah wanted to grab her and leave.
But Alice was already on the other court and Atlas was walking to his position.
Julian's hand was still on Noah's shoulder. Warm. Familiar in a way that felt wrong.
"Ready?" Julian asked, standing close.
Not even a little.
"Yeah."
---
They took their spots.
Noah and Julian on one side. Atlas and Alice on the other.
The net between them felt both too close and not close enough.
Atlas stood at the baseline, racket loose in his hand.
Then he looked up.
Right at Noah.
Their eyes met across the court.
Atlas's face didn't change.
But something in the air shifted. Charged.
Alice served first—clean, fast.
Julian returned it easy. "Nice!" His hand found Noah's lower back. Quick touch. "We got this."
The rally started.
Noah tried to focus. Ball, positioning, anything except—
Atlas moved and it was fucking unfair how good he looked doing it.
He hit a forehand—hard, fast.
Straight at Noah.
Noah barely got his racket up. The ball flew off wild. Out.
"Our point," Alice called.
Julian jogged over, hand on Noah's arm. "You good?"
"Fine."
His hand was stinging from the impact.
Atlas was already back in position. Waiting.
Next serve. Another rally.
This time Noah was ready.
When Atlas aimed at him again—and he fucking did—Noah stepped into it.
Hit it back hard.
Right at Atlas.
Atlas's racket came up smooth as anything. Sent it back.
At Noah.
Again.
This wasn't strategy. This was something else entirely.
Julian and Alice were playing their own game—good shots, solid positioning.
But Atlas and Noah—
Every single ball between them felt personal.
Atlas hit. Noah returned. They moved across the court, mirrors of each other.
The ball was just an excuse.
---
Ten minutes in, things started happening.
Noah dove for a shot, barely got it over. Landed hard on his knee.
Julian was there immediately, hand out. "Shit, you okay?"
Pulled Noah up. Didn't let go right away.
"That was amazing," Julian said, grinning. Eyes dropping to Noah's face, lingering on his mouth. "You're really good at this."
His thumb brushed Noah's wrist.
From the bench, Emma cupped her hands around her mouth: "That's my boyfriend! Woo!"
From across the net, Atlas's jaw tightened.
His hand curled at his side.
The game continued.
Noah hit a perfect shot down the line. Julian high-fived him, hand sliding around his waist. "Fuck yeah!"
Emma was on her feet. "NOAH WELLIN, YOU'RE A LEGEND!"
Atlas served. Hard. The ball came at Noah like a bullet.
Noah returned it.
Atlas hit it back harder.
They went back and forth—faster, harder, neither backing down.
Julian touched Noah's shoulder. "Easy, save some energy."
Atlas's eyes flicked to Julian's hand.
His knuckles went white around his racket.
---
Twenty minutes in, Noah was soaked through, breathing hard.
Atlas's shirt was stuck to his chest, hair damp. His movements sharp, controlled.
Every time they switched sides, Atlas's eyes tracked Noah. Followed Julian's hands every time they landed on Noah's arm, his shoulder, his back.
Noah made an impossible save—sprinted across the court, dove, somehow got his racket under the ball.
It sailed over the net. Perfect placement.
Emma screamed. Actually screamed. "OH MY GOD! NOAH! BABY! I LOVE YOU!"
She was jumping, hands in the air.
Julian grabbed Noah as he got up, laughing. "Holy shit, that was insane!"
His hands on Noah's shoulders, shaking him.
"You're incredible," Julian said, eyes bright. Dropped to Noah's face. "Seriously."
His gaze caught on Noah's cheeks.
The dimples.
"Those are dangerous," Julian said, grinning. Voice lower.
Atlas's jaw locked. His free hand clenched into a fist.
Alice glanced at him. "Atlas? You okay?"
"Fine." Clipped.
He served.
Vicious. Fast.
The ball came at Noah like Atlas was trying to kill him with it.
---
"Match point," Alice called. "We're up."
She served.
Julian returned.
Alice sent it back.
Noah moved, got under it, set up the shot—
Atlas was already there.
He slammed the ball cross-court. Unreturnable. Perfect.
Julian dove. Missed.
"Game!" Alice jumped, laughing.
She walked over and high-fived Atlas.
Atlas didn't celebrate. Just stood at the net, chest heaving, staring at Noah.
Noah stared back.
Neither moved.
Then Julian was there, grabbing Noah into a hug.
Tight. Full-body. Noah's face pressed against Julian's shoulder.
"You were fucking amazing," Julian said into his ear. Breath warm.
He pulled back but kept his hands on Noah's arms.
His eyes dropped to Noah's cheeks again. The dimples still showing from the exertion.
Julian's thumb came up. Traced one.
Light. Deliberate.
"These," he said, grinning. "I could kiss these."
Emma was there in a second, laughing as she pulled Noah away. "Nope! Mine!"
She wrapped her arm around Noah's waist possessively, pulled him against her side.
Her head on his shoulder. "Only I get to kiss those."
Julian held up his hands, laughing. "Fair enough."
But his eyes lingered on Noah's face.
From across the net, Atlas turned away.
His hand was still clenched. Knuckles white.
---
They walked to the net for handshakes.
Julian shook Atlas's hand. "Nice playing with you, man."
Atlas nodded. Said nothing.
Alice hugged Noah. "That was so fun! You're really good."
"Thanks."
Atlas held out his hand.
Noah looked at it.
Then took it.
Atlas's palm was hot, slick with sweat. His grip firm. Too firm.
He held on longer than necessary.
"Good game," Atlas said. Voice low. Just for Noah.
Noah pulled his hand back. "Yeah."
The contact still burned.
---
Alice headed to the parking lot. "I'll grab the champagne!"
Emma walked over, beaming. Looped her arm through Noah's. "You were so good, babe. I'm so proud."
Julian wiped his face with a towel, looked at Atlas. "You were ruthless today."
"Was I." Flat.
His eyes cut to Noah for just a second.
Julian caught it. Something flickered across his face—understanding, amusement.
He smiled slightly but said nothing.
Alice came back with champagne. Expensive bottle.
"To the winners!" She handed it to Atlas.
Atlas looked at the bottle. Then at Noah.
Emma was pressed against Noah's side, her hand on his chest.
"Open it," Julian said.
Atlas's mouth curved. Barely.
He twisted the cork. It popped, champagne foaming over.
Alice laughed and pulled out plastic cups. "Classy."
They poured.
Emma took one, raised it. "Cheers?"
"To good games," Alice said.
Noah's hand shook slightly as he raised his cup.
Atlas saw it.
He took a drink—slow, deliberate—staring at Noah over the rim.
Then lowered it.
"You put up a good fight," Atlas said.
The words sounded innocent.
They weren't.
"Could've played better," Noah said.
"Could you?"
The question sat there between them.
Emma's hand tightened on Noah's arm. "He was perfect."
The word—perfect—landed wrong.
Alice glanced between them. "Oh, you two are together?"
"Three years," Emma said, smiling. Proud. Her arm around Noah's waist.
Alice looked at Noah. Then at Atlas.
Something passed across her face. Too quick to read.
"That's wonderful," she said.
Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Julian finished his champagne. "We should do this again."
"Definitely," Emma agreed.
They exchanged numbers, made promises to meet up again.
All performative bullshit.
Finally Alice and Julian started walking back to the lot.
Atlas stayed.
He looked at Emma. "Good seeing you."
"You too!"
Then he looked at Noah.
Didn't look away.
Long enough that Emma shifted uncomfortably.
Long enough that Noah's pulse jumped.
Then Atlas turned and walked away.
Noah watched him go—tall, confident, controlled.
Completely aware of what he was doing.
---
In the car, Emma was quiet.
Then: "That was weird."
Noah kept his eyes on the road. "What was?"
"I don't know. Just—" She paused. "The way Atlas looked at you."
Noah's hands tightened on the wheel. "What way?"
"Like—" She laughed but it sounded off. "I don't know. Intense."
"He's always intense."
"I know, but—" She trailed off. "And Julian was really flirty with you."
Noah's stomach dropped. "He wasn't—"
"Noah." She looked at him. "He was all over you. I'm not blind."
"He's just friendly."
"That wasn't friendly." She said it light, teasing. But there was an edge. "Good thing I was there to claim my territory."
She squeezed his hand.
Noah forced a smile. "Yeah."
"I love you," she said.
"Love you too."
Automatic.
The worst part was how easy the lie came now.
---
That night Noah lay in bed staring at his ceiling.
Replaying everything.
Every shot Atlas aimed at him.
Julian's hands on his shoulders, his arms, his back.
Julian's thumb on his cheek.
I could kiss these.
Emma pulling him close.
Mine.
But Atlas's eyes—burning across the net every time Julian touched him.
Atlas's hand clenched white.
Atlas's voice: Could you?
Noah rolled over, grabbed his phone.
2:47 AM.
He unlocked it. Opened contacts.
Scrolled.
Sterlins, Atlas.
His thumb hovered.
He could text something. About work. Monday's meeting.
But that'd be bullshit.
Noah locked his phone. Dropped it face-down.
Atlas hadn't texted. Hadn't called.
Didn't need to.
He'd said everything on that court.
In how he looked at Noah.
In how his fist clenched when Julian touched him.
In that question: Could you?
Noah pulled the pillow over his face.
Couldn't sleep.
Every time he closed his eyes—
Atlas was there.
Staring at him.
Still asking.
Could you?