Page 70 of The Puck Contract

Becker created group "Operation Don't Let Groover Fuck This Up".

Becker added you, Wall, Petrov, Washington, Ace, Devon.

Becker:CODE RED. Groover got laid and now has feelings. Need all hands on deck with relationship advice STAT.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?" I growl, just as my phone explodes with responses.

And then, everyone’s nose is in their screen.

Devon:Called it. Was it the thing I told you about? With the thing?

Petrov:Did you try the move I showed you from Russian ballet?

Washington:For fuck's sake. Muting this immediately.

Devon:As the only reasonable gay man in this chat, I feel uniquely qualified to help. What's the issue, Groover?

Ace:Devon, don't encourage them. Groover, ignore everything Becker says on principle.

Becker:BETRAYAL. My relationship advice is gold. Platinum. DIAMOND.

Wall:Didn't your last girlfriend block you on all social media and move to Alaska?

Becker:IRRELEVANT. This is about Groover, not my commitment issues.

I groan. "I'm not discussing my love life in a group chat, you psychopaths."

"Love life!" Becker crows triumphantly. "He said love! Type it so we can screenshot for evidence!"

"I'm going to murder you," I inform him calmly. "They'll never find your body."

"Death threats, the last refuge of the emotionally constipated," Becker sighs dramatically. "Look, Grooves, we're just trying to help. You clearly like this guy. More than the usual hit-it-and-quit-it situation."

"There is no usual situation," I protest. "And I don't need help."

Becker:Update: Groover in full denial mode. Recommending immediate intervention. All personal experiences with catching feelings welcome.

Devon:Communication is key. Tell him how you feel.

Wall:NO. Never tell them how you feel. Play it cool. Act like you don't care.

Petrov:In Russia, we write poetry about beloved's eyes. Very romantic.

Ace:Devon's right. Just be honest. Worked for us.

Wall:COUNTERPOINT: Devon fell for Ace because Ace is fucking hot and scored three goals while concussed. Groover can't rely on that strategy.

Becker:I say go big or go home. Grand gesture. Roses. Flash mob. Jumbotron proposal.

Washington:For the love of god, do NOT listen to Becker. Ever. About anything.

My phone continues to blow up as I finish changing, their increasingly ridiculous advice pinging in at a rate that suggests this group chat is going to be the bane of my existence for the foreseeable future.

"I hate all of you," I announce to the room at large. "Every single one of you."

"You love us," Becker corrects. "Just like you loooove Mateo."

I throw my wadded-up t-shirt at his head, but he ducks, laughing.

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