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 that probably cost more than his watch.
"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 Sterling," 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 Wells?" 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. "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. "Hope you're good. I hate losing."
"I'll try not to embarrass you."
Emma grabbed her water. "I'll watch then. Cheer for everyone."
She walked to the bench and sat down, smiling.
Noah wanted to grab her hand and just leave.
But Alice was already on the other court and Atlas was walking to his position.
Julian nudged him. "Ready?"
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.
Across the court, their eyes locked.
Atlas's face didn't change.
The air felt different.
Alice served first—clean, fast.
Julian returned it easy. "Nice!"
The rally started.
Noah tried to focus. Ball, positioning, anything except—
Atlas moved like water.
He hit a forehand. Hard. Fast.
Straight at Noah.
Noah barely got his racket up. The ball ricocheted off. Out.
"Our point," Alice called.
Julian jogged over. "You good?"
"Fine."
His hand was stinging.
Atlas was already back in position. Waiting.
Next serve. Another rally.
This time Noah was ready.
When Atlas aimed at him again—and he did—Noah stepped into it.
Hit it back. Hard.
Right at Atlas.
Atlas's racket came up like it was nothing. Sent it back.
At Noah.
Again.
Julian and Alice were playing their own game, solid positioning and good shots.
Atlas and Noah—every ball between them felt personal.
Atlas hit. Noah sent it back. They moved across the court, matching each other.
---
Twenty minutes in, Noah had forgotten Emma was there.
Forgotten Julian and Alice existed.
Atlas's shirt was soaked through, sticking to his chest. His movements getting sharper.
Noah was breathing hard. Not from running—from the way Atlas looked at him every time they switched sides. From the way Atlas's jaw set when Noah returned a shot he shouldn't have reached.
Emma said something from the bench. Noah didn't hear 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. Perfect placement.
Julian dove. Missed.
"Game!" Alice jumped, laughing. Walked over and high-fived Atlas.
Atlas stood at the net, chest still heaving, looking at Noah.
Noah stared back.
Julian's hand landed on his shoulder, breaking whatever the hell that was. "Good game, man."
Noah blinked. "Yeah. You too."
They walked to the net for handshakes.
Julian shook Atlas's hand, smiled. "Nice playing with you."
Alice hugged Noah. "That was so fun! You're really good."
"Thanks."
Atlas held out his hand.
Noah stared at it for half a second too long.
Then took it.
Atlas's palm was hot, slick with sweat. His grip firm.
Atlas held on a beat longer than necessary.
"Good game," Atlas said, voice low enough only Noah could hear.
Noah pulled his hand back. "Yeah."
But he could still feel it. Burning.
---
Alice was already heading to the parking lot. "I'll grab the champagne!"
Emma walked over. "That was intense. You guys were really going at each other."
She had no idea.
Julian wiped his face with a towel, looked at Atlas. "You were ruthless today."
"Was I?" Atlas's tone gave nothing away.
But his eyes flicked to Noah for just a second.
Julian caught it. His expression changed—understanding, maybe.
He didn't say anything though.
Alice came back with a bottle of champagne. Expensive label.
"To the winners!" She handed it to Atlas.
Atlas looked at the bottle. Then at Noah.
"Open it," Julian said, grinning.
Atlas's mouth curved up slightly.
He twisted the cork. It popped, champagne foaming over.
Alice laughed and pulled out plastic cups. "Very classy, I know."
They poured, passed cups around.
Emma took one. "Cheers?"
"To good games," Alice said.
They raised their cups.
Noah's hand was shaking slightly.
Atlas noticed.
He looked at Noah over the rim of his cup.
Atlas took a drink. Slow.
Then lowered his cup and looked right at Noah.
"You put up a good fight," he said.
The words were innocent.
The way he said them wasn't.
"Could've played better," Noah said.
"Could you have?"
The question hung there.
Emma touched Noah's arm. "You were great, babe."
The word hit like a slap.
Alice glanced between them. "Oh, you two are together?"
"Three years," Emma said, smiling.
Alice looked at Noah. Then at Atlas.
Her expression flickered for a second.
"That's wonderful," she said. Her smile didn't quite land.
Julian finished his champagne. "We should do this again."
"Definitely," Emma agreed.
They did the whole polite exchange thing—numbers, promises to meet up.
Finally Alice and Julian started walking back.
Atlas stayed.
He looked at Emma. "Good to see you again."
"You too!"
Then he looked at Noah.
Held his gaze. Long enough that Emma shifted her weight. Long enough that Noah's pulse kicked hard.
Then Atlas turned and walked away.
Noah watched him go—tall, confident.
---
In the car, Emma was quiet for a while.
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 fingers pressed into the wheel. "What way?"
"Like—" She laughed, but it sounded uncomfortable. "I don't know. Intense, I guess."
"He's always like that."
"I know, but—" She trailed off. "Never mind. I'm being weird."
"You're not weird."
She reached over and took his hand.
Her palm was warm, familiar.
"I love you," she said quietly.
"Love you too."
It came out automatic.
That was the worst part.
---
That night Noah lay in bed staring at his ceiling.
Replaying everything. Every look. Every shot Atlas had aimed at him.
The way his hand felt—hot, strong.
The way he'd said: "Could you have?"
Like he knew the answer already.
Noah rolled over and grabbed his phone.
Almost three in the morning.
He unlocked it, opened contacts.
Scrolled down.
Sterling, Atlas.
Company directory number.
His thumb hovered.
He could text. Something about Monday's meeting.
But that'd be bullshit and they both knew it.
Noah locked his phone and dropped it face-down.
Atlas hadn't texted. Hadn't called. Hadn't reached out.
Didn't need to.
He'd said what he needed to say on that court.
In how he looked at Noah.
In how he held his hand.
In that question: Could you have?
Noah pulled his pillow over his face.
Couldn't sleep.
And every time he closed his eyes—
Atlas was there.
Eyes on him.
Still asking: Could you have?