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He’s a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a handlebar mustache. His face invites conversation. “Hey, man. What do you know about Susan and Bill? They must be pretty important people to be having a shindig like this, huh?”

He drapes the towel over his shoulder. “Oh, they’re big shots, all right. Real estate tycoons. They own half the buildings in Manhattan.”

“Impressive. Have they always lived in the city?”

The bartender shakes his head. “They moved here from Chicago about twenty years ago, shortly after the birth of their son. They started their empire by flipping properties.” He picks up a glass and polishes it. “Rumor has it they play dirty, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Their son is about your age now, if I’m not mistaken,” the bartender says, eyeing me. “He’s around here somewhere.”

Hopefully, he’s not a trust fund brat who wants to “network” with me. I hate those guys. They think their shit doesn’t stink, and if you don’t act the same way they do, you’re persona non grata.

The bartender scans the room. “There he is. Over by the hors d’oeuvres.”

I follow his gaze and promptly choke on my sparkling water. Standing by a tower of shrimp cocktails, looking as if he stepped off a fashion runway, is Harrison Price.

He’s wearing a sleek black number with a skinny tie. His dirty-blond hair is artfully tousled, and his blue eyes sparkle under the bright lights. He has a plate in his hand and is popping shrimp into his mouth as if they’re M&M’s.

I stare, my brain glitching, sending sparks down my spine and straight to my cock. Harrison is Susan and Bill’s son?

Reflecting on what the bartender said about his parents’ activities, it all makes sense. And while it’s surprising to see him here, considering he loathes this world, I can’t deny he fits the part in an outfit that does wonders for his lean physique.

I drag my eyes away from him as laughter fills the air near the entrance.

My parents are now greeting everyone who comes in as if they’ve known them all for years when, in reality, they all hate each other.

I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard my parents bitching about people or cackling with glee when someone ends up in prison for some “heinous crime.” And by “heinous,” I mean tax evasion or money laundering. Stuff that they all do.

I finish off my water before biting the bullet and walking over to my parents. Not Harrison.

“Daniel, darling!” my mother exclaims loud enough for half the room to hear. “You made it!”

She pulls me in for a hug that I happily give. Even though I might not love what they do at times, she’s still my mother. When she releases me, I nod at my father.

“Dad.” I extend my hand, and he shakes it once. His grip is so tight that it crushes every bone.

“Son,” he replies gruffly. “Glad you could join us.”

My mother loops her arm through mine and steers me toward a well-dressed couple nearby.

The woman is tall and slender, with blonde curly hair and a string of pearls around her neck. The man is shorter and balding, and his round belly threatens to rip his tuxedo jacket in half.

“Susan, Bill,” my mother trills. “I want you to meet my son, Daniel.”

Susan’s eyes widen in recognition. “Daniel! We’ve heard a great deal about you.” She holds out a manicured hand, and I put on a show by bending down and planting a chaste kiss on it. Her skin is cool and smooth. Porcelain, like her son’s.

Bill claps me on the shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. “You’re the baseball star, eh? Your mother has been bragging about you all night.”

I’m not surprised. Same as me, she might not love what I do at times, but I’m still her son. She’s proud of me, regardless.

“I wouldn’t say star,” I say, blushing. “At least not yet. I’m just the catcher on the university team.”

“Don’t be so modest, dear,” my mother says, squeezing my bicep. “Daniel’s the best player on the team.”

Susan appraises me the way one does a prize stallion. “I’m sure you have bigger plans for after graduation, though, no? Sports are lucrative, but all it takes is one wrong move and snap”—she snaps her fingers like Thanos—“you’re drunk off your ass and reminiscing about the glory days.”

My mother jumps in before I can respond. “Of course, he has bigger plans. Daniel plans to follow in his father’s footsteps and work with him on Wall Street.”

Wall Street. A cesspool of poison is what it is. My father’s investment firm is a soulless corporation that specializes in hostile takeovers and laying off innocent workers. I’d rather eat glass than work there. But I love my parents too much to ever say no to them.

Susan waves to someone behind me. “Harrison! Come here, dear. There’s someone you must meet. ”

Peering over my shoulder, I watch Harrison saunter toward us with his hands in his pockets. He’s wearing a look of indifference, but I note the tension in his shoulders. When our eyes meet, a splash of pink appears on his cheeks.

“This is my son, Harrison,” Susan says, beaming. But I know it’s fake. The tightness in the corners of her eyes and the way her smile is slightly too wide to be completely genuine are the dead giveaways.

Harrison extends a hand to my parents and then to me. I take it, surprised to find it’s a firm, almost formal shake.

“Nice to meet you all,” he says coolly.

I blink. Once, twice. Is he serious?

I search his face for some hint of what he’s up to. Nice to meet you? We’ve already met. More than met. That night in the holding cell. The night of the poetry slam. Today at Finn Field…

I clear my throat, deciding to follow his lead. For now. “Yeah, nice to meet you too.”

“So, Daniel,” Bill cuts in, swirling his champagne with his finger. “What’s it like balancing school and sports? Must be quite the challenge.”

I shrug. “It keeps me busy, but I manage.”

Harrison pops his hip. “I hear Daniel’s excellent. At sports. I can’t speak for his education.”

Is that a compliment? It sounds more like he’s reporting on the weather. I cock my head, confused as hell, but his eyes aren’t on me. They’re on the giant clock above the band. I wonder if he’s figuring out how long he has to make small talk before he can make a hasty exit.

Susan smiles brightly and claps her hands. “Oh! Maybe Daniel can get Harrison some tickets to his next show.”

Game, I want to say. But I know better than to make waves.

My mother unlinks her arm from mine and pats Susan on the shoulder. “That’s an excellent idea. We should let the boys talk. I’m sure they have plenty in common.” She turns to Bill. “Tell me about your latest project. ”

The four of them wander off, leaving Harrison and me standing in awkward silence. I cross my arms over my chest. “What are you doing?”

He meets my gaze with icy eyes. “Playing nice.”

“Nice? You’re acting as if we don’t know each other.”

He rubs his hand over his mouth and scowls. “Because it’s easier this way.”

“Easier?” I uncross my arms and take a step closer to him. “Easier than what?”

“Explaining how the star catcher knows me. That would invite more questions than either of us is prepared to answer. I mean, do you want to tell your parents that you were arrested in a pink mankini?” My face contorts into a horrified expression.

Harrison snickers. “That’s what I thought.

And I can’t exactly tell my parents why I was arrested, now, can I? ”

“No, you can’t.”

I rub the back of my neck, unsure of what to say. He has a point. As much as I am curious about Harrison—about the possibility of us—this isn’t the time for me to swoop in and save him from his oppressive parents. We’ve been navigating this world our whole lives. We know its dangers all too well.

“So, what do we do? Pretend that this is the first time we’ve met?”

He shrugs. “Could be fun to wipe the slate clean and start over. At least this way, my first encounter with you will involve clothing and a flaccid penis.”

I blush. I sputter. I throw wood.

He chuckles at my reaction and holds out his hand. I focus on his long fingers. They’re thin, leaner than Charlie’s, but just as intriguing.

Our palms connect, and we shake. Less firm, more friendly this time.

“To new beginnings,” he says before letting go and beckoning me to follow him to his table.