Aaron regretted agreeing to the bachelor party paintball game the moment he stood in line, weighed down by his heavy protective gear. The referee droned on about the rules, emphasizing the absolute prohibition against aiming for the face, and Aaron wished it were over.

Aiden, Cameron, and the other men looked eager and ready for a fight. Naturally. This sort of thing was typical for them. The group comprised Cameron, Aaron (and his brothers and brother-in-law), plus a few childhood friends who'd arrived early for the wedding. Uncomfortable among them, Aaron stood stiffly near Aiden, finding the usually annoying kid his only safe haven.

The referee continued his explanation of how to load the paint guns, the scoring system, and the course's foam-structure obstacles. With nine participants, the referee enlisted an employee to balance the teams.

Aaron ended up on the orange team with Aiden, Cameron's old neighbor Josh, and both of Cameron's brothers. The blue team consisted of Cameron, his brother-in-law Mike, his friends Donny and Chris, and the employee.

The hour-long session was divided into three fifteen-minute games with breaks in between.

The first game was a blur. Aaron was hit with so many paintballs he lost track of what was happening. His teammates yelled incessantly, urging him to move or at least duck, but he always reacted too late. The blue team won.

The second game wasn't much better. He slipped and slid in the paint, eventually ending up flat on his back. Aiden forcibly grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to a hiding place. Aaron felt utterly humiliated.

This was awful. Why had he agreed? Oh right, to be a decent friend. It wasn't worth it.

Cameron's brothers, experienced paintball players, performed surprisingly well, their teamwork seamless. They scored point after point. The orange team won the second game, seemingly oblivious to Aaron's presence—a fact he didn't mind. He was sore from the hits and his fall.

"Sorry for dragging you back there, dude," Aiden said sheepishly, handing Aaron a bottle of water during the break. "I couldn't let Cameron win every game; he'd never let it go."

Aaron, unfamiliar with such intense inter-friend competition, decided to forgive Aiden this once. He accepted and drank the water.

"What do you think the girls are up to?" he asked.

"They're at the spa," Chase replied. "My wife wouldn't stop talking about it all week. She's never been to a real spa before."

The single men wrinkled their noses. "Lame!" "What's so fun about that?" "Boring chick stuff."

"Don't knock it till you try it," Aiden shrugged. "My girlfriend and I went to one in Stockholm, and it was great."

The single men's eyes widened, viewing the scrawny kid in a new light.

"Cam, who's this kid again?" "He works with me."

Aiden dramatically clutched his chest. "That's all I am to you, Cam? I'm wounded."

Cameron rolled his eyes and ruffled Aiden's hair. "Come on, let's get back out there. Who wants to bet on the winner?"

Everyone groaned. Cameron rarely lost bets.

"What's the bet?" Aaron asked flatly.

"The losing team takes their shirts off until we reach Aaron's apartment," Cameron grinned. His apartment was the largest among the New York residents, and he'd arranged for a housekeeper to clean afterward.

Aaron scowled. If he lost, his neighbors might see him.

"Why do I get the feeling this is targeted at me?" he said coldly. Cameron just raised his eyebrows.

"I'll take you on!" Aiden declared. "You'll be the one embarrassing yourself!"

Aiden then realized he'd lose either way. He'd find a way to make Cameron pay. For now, he'd be lenient; the wedding was in two days.

They donned their goggles, reloaded their guns, and returned to the field. Aaron preferred to stay out of sight, but he knew Cameron and Aiden wouldn't let him off the bet.

Unfortunately, the other team anticipated his strategy and forced him into the open. He scrambled for cover, slipping in the paint.

"Aaron!" Aiden yelled. "Behind you!"

He ducked, but a blue team member slipped, falling in front of Aaron and accidentally firing his gun. The paintball hit Aaron's goggles. While usually sturdy, these goggles were damaged, and the plastic detached, allowing the paintball to strike Aaron's left eye.

He doubled over in pain, and the referee immediately called a timeout. Everyone gathered around. Aaron clutched his eye after removing the goggles, and the referee examined it. It was swollen shut, but appeared undamaged. The referee insisted he see a doctor and apologized profusely for the faulty equipment. Aaron had signed a waiver, so the apology was genuine.

"I'm so sorry," Cameron squeaked. "Are you okay?"

A tense silence fell before Aaron barked, "Aiden, take me to the hospital. The rest of you—go to lunch. Meet me at my place later."

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