Julian had headed straight to the party after his shift. He'd shed his blazer during the board games, leaving him in just a crisp white shirt. The recent morning runs had paid off; his frame was leaner, the muscles of his back and arms more defined. With his shirt tucked into his tailored slacks, there was a supple, rhythmic quality to his movements.

Tracy pulled her gaze back from him, leaning in until her breath brushed his ear. "GB," she murmured.

Heat crawled up Julian's neck. He had assumed she was just making a move, but he hadn't expected her to be that radical.

"So you do know what it means?" Tracy arched a brow.

Julian's fingers tightened around his glass. "I've seen the term online," he admitted, his voice low. He didn't want any misunderstandings. "But I'm not in that circle."

"Then you like men?"

Julian went silent.

"Shit," Tracy hissed, though there was no malice in it. "I had a feeling you were gay. Guess I was right."

The silence between them stretched, heavy with a secret Julian wasn't ready to own. Acknowledging it felt like standing on a ledge. He didn't confirm it, but he didn't deny it either.

"Relax, I won't out you," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "Your secret is safe with me."

Julian let out a slow exhale. "Yours too."

They stepped out from the shadows of the backstage area. Tracy rejoined her crowd, downing a shot in one go. One of her friends glanced at Julian—one of Leo's circle, the international school types from wealthy NYC families—and gave a small, knowing nod. Julian didn't seek them out; he retreated back to his coworkers.

The board games had been packed away. The room was loud, the air thick with the scent of expensive gin and high-stakes Truth or Dare.

Julian was dragged into the circle. The questions were surgical.

"You've never been in a relationship?" A coworker stared at him, genuinely stunned. "With that face? And a degree from Boston? Girls should be lining up."

Julian shook his head, his eyes fixed on the floor. "No. I'm pretty ordinary."

"Modesty is a bore," a male analyst laughed. "If I looked like you, I'd be dating eight people at once."

Tracy Whiteman (Emma) rolled her eyes. "You'd be dead in a week."

The intensity of the game was too much. Julian slipped away, finding a quiet corner near where Leo's relatives were seated—a mix of "old money" and trust-fund kids. They were discussing the marriage market.

"Can you actually find love through those elite matchmaking services?" a girl asked. "The requirements are so rigid."

"Why wouldn't you?" a man replied.

"Because you're filtering for family background, Ivy League degrees, and six-figure careers," she countered. "That's not dating. That's a cloze test."

"It's perspective," the man said. "Once you filter for the essentials, you choose the person you like from the remaining pool. It's efficient. Look at Samuel, the golden boy of the Frost family. That's how he's doing it. He'll find someone he likes within those parameters."

Julian felt a sudden, sharp pang of regret for coming tonight.

"But what if you meet someone you love who doesn't fit the 'requirements'?" the girl asked.

The man's voice was a wall of granite. "That won't happen."

"Why?"

"Because we don't interact with those people. We wouldn't even consider developing feelings for them in the first place."

The girl went quiet for a long beat. "That's... terrifying."

"It's the world we live in. Don't think there's no 'true love' just because there's a filter. We still find the ones we want."

Julian couldn't listen anymore. He stood up and walked away.

He wanted to leave, but Leo was nowhere to be found. He settled at the bar to wait.

"Something to drink?" the bartender asked, sliding a menu over.

Julian wasn't in the mood to browse. He pointed at a random selection. The drink arrived just as Leo returned. Julian, eager to say his goodbyes, tipped the glass back and drained it.

It was sweet, syrupy, and deceptively smooth. He assumed the alcohol content was low. Seconds later, a roar started in his ears. Heat scorched his cheeks, and his throat felt like it was on fire. It was a high-proof bomb.

Julian gripped the edge of the bar to stand, but his knees turned to water. If a hand hadn't caught his elbow, he would have slid right off the stool.

"Wasted?" Leo laughed, waving a hand in front of Julian's face.

Julian's response was a string of incoherent syllables.

Leo guided him to a velvet sofa. "Sit. Stay. I'll drive you back in a bit."

"Don't... bother," Julian managed, his tongue heavy. "I can walk..."

"You'll end up in the river," Leo said, pushing him back down with one hand. He turned to the other analysts. "Julian is down. Keep an eye on him for me."

The team seemed reliable enough. Julian closed his eyes. The room began to spin.

Some time later, a roar of cheers erupted near the entrance. An important guest had arrived. Julian tried to lift his head, but the world was a tilt-a-whirl. He pulled a napkin over his face to block out the neon light and drifted off.

"We didn't think you'd make it!" Leo was beaming, surrounded by the crowd.

"I'm late," Samuel said, his voice a steady, cool vibration in the noise. He handed over a gift. "Happy birthday."

Since it was a work night, the party broke up shortly after Samuel's arrival. People were pairing off to share Ubers; Samuel's car even took two interns who lived uptown.

Leo was organizing the departures when he remembered the sofa. Right. Julian!

He went back to pull Julian up, intending to take him home, but Julian was a dead weight. Leo realized he didn't even have an address.

"Julian? Jules? Kid, wake up. Where do you live?" Leo patted Julian's cheek, but the boy remained in the haze.

"Guess you're coming home with me then," Leo muttered.

"I'll take him."

Samuel Frost was behind the wheel of his car. Leo didn't hesitate; he knew Samuel had already dropped off others. "Thanks, sir. Drive safe. See you tomorrow."

The car glided into the NYC night.

Julian felt like he was on a boat. The air was thick, humid, and suffocating. He felt a hand guiding him, someone coaxing him to enter the code for his front door.

His safety instincts flared through the fog. He shook his head, his lips pressed in a tight line. He was too limp to stand; Samuel had to pin him against the door to keep him upright.

"The password, Julian. Open the door."

Julian gave a fierce shake of his head. "Samuel said... never tell the code to anyone."

Samuel froze. His voice softened, turning impossibly tender. "Can you tell Samuel?"

Julian considered this, then nodded.

"I am Samuel. I'm taking you home. Open the door."

Julian shoved at his chest, his movements clumsy and stubborn. "You aren't him. Samuel wouldn't be here."

He tried to look intimidating, but the drunkenness only made him look heartbreakingly vulnerable. Samuel's resolve wavered. "Why?"

Julian glared at him, a look that said how can you be so stupid? He leaned in, his voice a tragic whisper. "Because Samuel is on a blind date. Samuel is picking a 'suitable' person to marry. Samuel... he wouldn't even interact with someone like me."

Julian waited for a rebuttal. The man in front of him seemed to have turned to stone.

"Did you hear me?" Julian snapped.

"I heard you," the man said. His voice was raw. "You're drunk. Let's get you inside."

"I don't want you," Julian grumbled. He shoved the man away and shielded the keypad with his body, fumbling through the numbers.

Beep-beep—

The door clicked. Julian collapsed onto the floor the moment he crossed the threshold, not even making it to the carpet. He didn't even have the energy to close the door.

Samuel had intended to leave, but seeing Julian huddled on the floor mat was more than he could bear. He lifted the boy and carried him into the bedroom. Julian began to mutter about being thirsty. Samuel turned and went to the kitchen for water.

It was too hot. Too heavy. Julian was so thirsty.

This must be another dream, Julian thought. Otherwise, why would I see Samuel Frost here?