Page 40 of The Puck Contract

Carlos snorts. "Yeah, and Meryl Streep sleeps with all her co-stars too. It's called commitment to the craft."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny," he counters. "Come on, Mateo. It's not the end of the world. It's the twenty-twenties. Nobody cares."

"I care! My family cares!" The words burst out before I can stop them, revealing the real fear lurking beneath the surface.

Carlos's expression softens. "Your family would be okay with it."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Maybe. Dad's pretty traditional..."

"Your sister literally has a rainbow flag in her dorm room. I've seen it on her Instagram."

"Yeah, but she's not his only son," I say quietly. "You know how Italian fathers are about their sons."

Carlos sits up straighter. "Okay, first of all, that's a stereotype that you, as an anthropology student, should know better than to perpetuate. Second, your dad loves you. He's not going to disown you for being bisexual."

"You don't know that," I mutter, though deep down I know he's right. My parents have never been anything but supportive. It's just easier to blame external factors than admit I'm terrified of what this means for my own self-perception.

Carlos sighs. "Look, you don't have to figure it all out today. Sexuality is fluid. Labels are helpful sometimes, but they're not mandatory prison sentences. Maybe you're bi, maybe you're straight with a Groover exception, maybe you're still discovering stuff about yourself. All of that is fine."

I stare at the ceiling, processing. "So what do I do now?"

"Well, for starters, maybe answer the poor guy's texts? He probably thinks you hate him."

Guilt washes over me. Groover didn't do anything wrong. If anything, he was patient and understanding while I had my meltdown.

"And then what?" I ask. "Pretend nothing happened?"

"Or," Carlos suggests, "you could talk to him like an adult. Revolutionary concept, I know."

"And say what? 'Sorry I ran out after getting a boner from kissing you, I'm having an identity crisis, how was your day?'"

"Maybe less blunt than that, but essentially, yes."

My phone buzzes again from under the pillow. With a sigh, I retrieve it.

Sophia from PR:Team leaving Friday. Need confirmation you're joining by tonight for flight arrangements.

Right. The away games. I'd completely forgotten in the midst of my crisis. Part of our agreement was accompanying the team to at least one away series to maintain the relationship image.

Me:I'll be there.

I hit send before I can overthink it. There. Commitment made. No backing out now.

"You're going on a road trip?" Carlos asks, reading over my shoulder.

"Apparently." I toss the phone aside. "Two days in a hotel with the guy I'm actively avoiding. What could go wrong?"

"Look at the bright side," Carlos offers. "If the sexual tension gets too much, you can always just jump his bones and solve two problems at once."

I throw my pillow at his head. "Not helpful!"

"I'm just saying," he dodges, laughing, "you might actually enjoy being bisexual. Twice the dating pool, twice the fun."

"I hate you," I mutter, but there's no heat in it.

"No, you don't." He stands up, heading for the door. "You're going to be fine, Mateo. And for what it's worth, I think Groover's good for you. Fake relationship or not."

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