Page 107 of The Puck Contract

"Yeah, it was a three-month thing, I think," Becker replies. "That was Sophia's timeframe."

Three-month thing. Contract. My mind races, trying to make sense of what I'm hearing.

Do they all know?

Has the whole team been in on it this entire time?

"These things always get messy," Wall continues. "Remember when Petrov had that model girlfriend?"

"Ugh. That was a disaster, wasn't it?"

I clench my jaw, anger flaring at the comparison. This is different. This hasbecomedifferent. Mateo and I might have started as a contract, but what we have now is real. Last night proved that beyond any doubt.

The locker room door opens again, then closes with a metallic clang.

"Who was that?" Becker asks, voice dropping.

"Didn't see," Wall replies. "Coming or going?"

I shut off the water with more force than necessary. Grabbing my towel, I wrap it around my waist before stepping out of the shower area.

Becker and Wall stand by their lockers, both freezing like deer in headlights when they see me. The guilt on their faces would be comical under different circumstances.

"How long were you...?" Becker starts, then trails off.

"Long enough," I say, the chill of the locker room raising goosebumps on my damp skin—or maybe that's the cold dread seeping into my bones. "What the fuck are you two talking about?"

They exchange a glance that confirms my fears.

"Look, man," Wall begins, hands raised placatingly. "It's not what you—"

"How long have you known?" I demand, stalking to my locker. The towel around my waist feels like inadequate armor for this conversation.

"I overheard Sophia on the phone a few weeks ago," Wall admits.

"Who else knows?" My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.

"Just us." Becker mumbles. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him apologetic before. "We didn't spread it around, I swear."

I grab my underwear from my locker, pulling it on under my towel before dropping the damp terry cloth. The familiarritual of dressing gives me something to focus on besides the roaring in my ears.

"It doesn't matter anyway, right?" Becker continues, voice hopeful. "I mean, it's obvious you guys are actually into each other now. The contract thing is just a technicality at this point."

I don't answer, focusing on buttoning my shirt with fingers that feel numb.

I dig out my phone from my bag to find three missed calls from Mateo from about ten minutes ago.

"Fuck," I mutter, quickly calling him back.

It rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail. Either he's in a dead zone or he's sending me to voicemail. Neither option feels good.

I try again with the same result.

"Everything okay?" Wall asks, concern etched on his face.

"Mateo called while you two were running your mouths," I snap. "And now he's not answering."

A text notification pops up on my screen.

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