“What the hell?” said Whitney as she shoved open the door to the gym. She glared at Vincent, her dark eyes like laser beams.

“That’s what I said,” Carla murmured, leaning towards her husband. “Welcome, Whitney, we were just discussing our Olympic runner’s dramatic exit.”

“No kidding,” muttered Whitney. She stalked over to Vincent. “What did you see?”

“Hey, you didn’t tell me what you saw,” protested Vincent.

“Yeah, but I also didn’t run out of the gym like the devil was after me. So spill.”

“Fine.” Vincent took a deep breath. He didn’t want to tell this lie again, but he was too deep in it now to backtrack. “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Bull,” said Whitney at the same time that Carla asked,

“You didn’t see anyone? Or was it just too blurry?”

“I don’t… know,” said Vincent, remembering everything about his vision all too well: the heat, the bright sun, Ky. “It was blurry, I guess. I couldn’t even make out if anyone was there.”

His mom sighed, shaking her head. Did she know he was lying? Whitney obviously knew, but he could tell her later. She’d forgive him even if she might not agree with him keeping this secret.

“That’s how mine was,” Carla said. “But that still doesn’t explain you running out. Now everyone’s going to think you saw your mate and were going off to find him.”

At the word him, Vincent noticed Ky move his weight from one leg to another. Other than that, he didn’t react. His face remained neutral, if not a little confused. Did he not know Vincent was gay? Vincent didn’t hide it at all, and he even had a bit of a lisp, which had been how his parents had found out. Well, that and they saw him kissing the only other gay boy in town, Miles Poll.

“Sorry,” said Vincent. He didn’t know what else to say.

His mother pursed her lips, looking like she wanted to ask him something else. Probably how I knew Ky was out here in the first place. But she decided against it and shook her head again.

“I wasn’t looking for an apology. Are you coming back in, or are you and your friends taking off?” his mom asked.

“Um,” said Vincent, glancing over at Ky who glanced at him, “I don’t know. Do you want to stay for the rest of the ceremony?”

Ky shrugged. “It sounds like it’s almost over anyway,” he said, peeking over Vincent’s shoulder at the people in the gym. “I think everyone’s getting up so looks like it’s actually over now.”

Vincent winced slightly. Why had he lied to Ky twice in the first five seconds of seeing him? He was such an idiot. Lying to his mate about them being mates. How was he ever going to rectify this? He should just tell Ky, tell him right now. He opened his mouth—

“But I promised to hang out with Vincent after this was over, so…” said Ky.

He still wanted to hang out with Vincent? Vincent blinked at Ky. “Right,” Vincent said. “Um, you still want to hang out?”

Ky gave him a quizzical look, arching an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said as if Vincent had just asked the world’s dumbest question. “Did you drive here?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. You can follow me back.” Ky waved to Vincent’s mom and dad. “Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Weatherstone.” Then nodded at Whitney. “You too, Whitney.”

“Oh hell no. I’m going with you. You don’t get to ditch me,” said Whitney, poking Vincent in the chest. “You drove me here, so you get to drop me off.”

“Nice to see you too, Ky. You’ll need to come over for dinner sometime,” Carla told him, smiling. Then, she looked at Vincent. “When you come home, try not to wake anybody up.”

“Okay, Mom,” Vincent said, slapping Whitney’s hand away.

“Ready?” asked Ky, and Vincent turned back to him.

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“Ready,” said Whitney.

“Yeah,” said Vincent.

The heat of the day swam across the blacktop in glistening waves as the three of them walked across it. “Where’d you park?” asked Ky, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Right down there,” said Vincent, pointing down the first row of cars to the end where his old silver Toyota baked in the heat.

“Okay,” Ky said. He shifted his weight again, and he looked at Whitney.

“What?” said Whitney.

“Never mind.”

“Okay?” She huffed and linked her arm with Vincent’s. “You too are perfect for each other. You’re both really fucking weird.”

A blush rose on Vincent’s cheeks. Whitney was going to be his goddamn downfall. “Um, I have to take Whitney home first. What’s your apartment number? I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes,” he said.

“Oh, it’s number thirteen. On the first floor,” Ky said. He eyed both of them, and Vincent’s blush grew, reaching for the tips of his ears.

“Cool, got it.” Vincent tugged on Whitney’s arm and yanked her across the parking lot. He hissed, “Did you really have to say that?”

“Oh, come on,” Whitney hissed right back, “we both know that’s who you fucking saw in your stupid vision. Otherwise, how the hell would you have known he was out here?”

“I don’t know! A goddamn text?”

Whitney snorted. “You hadn’t looked at your phone the entire ceremony, and plus you don’t even have his number. Unless he’s on Grindr but he doesn’t seem the type. What do you think I was, born yesterday? I have eyes, Vincent.”

Vincent made a frustrated noise and fumbled with his car keys. He finally unlocked his car when they reached it, and he slammed into the driver’s seat. “Goddamn you,” he muttered.

“Yeah, yeah, goddamn me,” Whitney said. She plopped into the passenger’s seat and stuck her feet up on the dashboard. “So he was who you saw, right?”

Vincent glanced in the rearview mirror and out of the corner of it, he saw Ky hook one muscular leg over his bike, straddling the seat with both thighs. God, he was hot. “Yes, duh,” said Vincent. “And I fucking lied to him about it. I didn’t tell him, Whitney. Why didn’t I tell him?”

“I literally have no idea. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know!” Vincent started the car, and the engine hummed to life. He started backing out of the parking space but was cut off by people from the ceremony walking behind his car. “Dammit, I don’t even know why I lied to my parents.”

Whitney tapped her nails on the console between them. She stared out the window and then twisted to look at him. “I mean, he was standing right there, so you kinda had to,” she said.

“I know but—shit, I don’t know,” Vincent said. He finally managed to back out of his parking space and sped for the exit. “But… why did I lie? Why can’t I just tell him?”

“Maybe you can tell him at his apartment. Maybe you felt pressured or something,” said Whitney. “I mean, this would all be easier if he’d been part of the mating ceremony. Why wasn’t he, anyway?”

“I mean, nobody expected him to come back two weeks ago, and this ceremony was probably planned way in advance. Best I can think of.”

“Yeah, I guess. Still, that would make this a helluva lot easier.”

“Yeah.”

They drove in silence until Vincent turned onto Whitney’s street, a quiet shrub-lined road with expensive houses that boasted three stories, stucco roofs, and circle driveways. Whitney’s parents were gone as they were most weekends, blowing oil-investment money in Vegas. They were loaded and inattentive, a great combination for partying but a bad combination if Whitney wanted more than a scrap of relationship with them. Whitney had her own car, a brand-new hybrid she hated driving because it had been a sweet sixteen gift from her parents, so they always took Vincent’s used pile of crap.

Vincent turned into her driveway and parked. “Oh my God, I’m such an asshole. We’ve only been talking about me. What did you see?” Vincent asked, turning in his seat to face her.

Slowly, Whitney pulled her legs from the dashboard. She sighed, rubbed her nose. “I… saw two people,” she said, staring at her hands. “A guy and a girl in some apartment. It was pretty blurry, but…”

“But there was definitely a guy,” said Vincent.

Whitney nodded.

“Well, maybe you are bisexual. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know, but I just thought I’d figured it out. I thought I was a lesbian.” Whitney rubbed her nose again and then groaned in frustration. “Thanks, mating gods, real smooth. Not to mention I have to tell my parents I’m apparently not monogamous. How many people do you know who have multiple mates? It’s not unheard of, but people call them selfish. My parents did it all the time when we lived in the Nexis pack. There was a polyamorous throuple or whatever down the road from us.”

Vincent gripped the steering wheel, a muscle in his jaw jumping. God, he already didn’t like Whitney’s parents, but this was just another nail in the coffin. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t think they’ll call you selfish to your face at least, if that’s comforting at all.”

“Yeah, me either,” said Whitney. She opened the car door, checking her pocket to make sure she had her phone.

“You might never even meet them,” said Vincent, meaning this as a comfort, but Whitney stiffened.

She clutched the inside handle of the car hard enough her knuckles blanched. “Goddammit,” she said. “There’s that problem too.” She swung her legs out of the car and scrunched her knees together, burying her face in her hands. “What a fucking nightmare.”

“Yeah,” murmured Vincent. He had a nightmare of his own creation to deal with, but he wished he had something helpful to say at the moment. He didn’t. Not at all.

“Whatever, we’ll figure it out,” said Whitney. She stepped out of the car, but before she shut the door, she leaned back in and said, “See you later?”

“See you later,” he said, offering a small smile.

She tried to give him one back, but her eyes darkened as if the act of smiling had just exhausted her. She shut the car door and walked inside, a hand running over the crown of her hair.

Once the front door shut behind her, Vincent turned on the radio. The silence had become deafening.