Page 35 of The Puck Contract

"Uh-huh." Carlos doesn't look convinced. "And it has nothing to do with the fact that you might actually want to kiss him again?"

"No!"

Yes?

I don't know.

"Whatever you say, man." Carlos returns to the couch, unpausing his game. "But just so you know, if you're having a sexual identity crisis, I'm here for you. As long as it doesn't involve detailed descriptions of Groover's body parts, because there are boundaries in friendship."

"I'm not having a crisis," I protest, following him to the living room. "And there are no body parts involved. It's just kissing."

"For now," Carlos says ominously, eyes back on his game.

I retreat to my bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind me. Alone at last, I flop onto my bed and stare at the ceiling, my mind replaying those few seconds outside the restaurant on loop.

It was just a kiss. Lips touching lips. Physical contact that's been happening between humans for thousands of years. Anthropologically speaking, it's a universal behavior with cultural variations but generally consistent meaning across societies.

I shake my head and turn to my side, trying to convince myself that this strange, fluttery feeling is just nerves about crossing a new boundary, nothing more.

It's not working.

CHAPTER 11

GROOVER

"SO," MATEO SAYS, standing in the middle of my living room looking like he's about to give a doctoral dissertation on kissing. "Ground rules."

I try not to smile at how seriously he's taking this. It's been three days since our impromptu lip-lock outside the restaurant, three days of text messages about "scheduling practice sessions" as if we're discussing hockey drills instead of making out. Leave it to the anthropology student to turn kissing into a research project.

"Ground rules," I repeat, settling onto my couch. "Like what? No tongue on the first date?"

Mateo's cheeks flush—a reaction I'm becoming slightly addicted to causing—but he pushes on. "Like boundaries. Things we're comfortable with. Professional parameters."

Professional parameters. Jesus Christ, he’s adorable.

"Okay," I say, deciding to humor him. "What did you have in mind?"

He starts pacing, hands gesturing as he talks. "Well, first, this is purely educational. A skill acquisition exercise."

"Of course. I'll add it to my CV under 'professional development.'"

He shoots me a look. "I'm serious, Groover."

"Sorry." I'm not, really, but I school my features into something resembling seriousness. "Go on."

"Second, we stop if either of us gets uncomfortable. No questions asked."

This one feels less ridiculous. "Agreed."

"Third, what happens in practice stays in practice. No locker room talk."

I raise an eyebrow. "You think I'm going to tell Becker about our kissing technique?"

"I don't know what hockey players talk about!" he says defensively. "For all I know, you guys compare notes on everything."

"Trust me, if I started discussing your kissing ability, Becker would never let either of us hear the end of it."

Mateo nods, seemingly satisfied. "Okay, so we're agreed on the rules?"

---