Page 73 of The Puck Contract

She raises an eyebrow but scans my panic purchases: a twelve-pack of Mountain Dew, a garden hose attachment, a bag of premium cat food (I don't own a cat), and a fly swatter.

"Big weekend planned?" she asks, the corner of her mouth twitching.

"Just... restocking the essentials," I manage, swiping my card so fast I almost break the machine.

"Right. The essentials." She hands me the bag, eyes dancing with amusement. "Have fun with Groover!"

I mumble something that might be "thanks" or might be "please kill me" and sprint out of the store, clutching my bag of shame.

***

BACK IN THE safety of my apartment, I dump my purchases on the bed and try to figure out what the hell I'm going to do with a garden hose attachment when we live in a third-floor apartment with no yard.

Carlos finds me staring at my haul, contemplating my life choices.

"Rough shopping trip?" he asks, eyeing the cat food.

"The cashier recognized me as 'hockey boyfriend guy,'" I explain. "I panicked."

"So naturally you bought... cat supplies? For our non-existent cat?"

"It was the closest thing on the shelf!" I defend. "I just grabbed whatever I could reach."

"And the garden hose?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Carlos shakes his head, laughing. "You're a disaster, Rossi. A beautiful, bisexual disaster."

I freeze at the label. Bisexual. I thought it, of course, but hearing it out loud still feels like someone turned up the gravity in the room.

"Am I though?" I ask quietly, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Bisexual?"

Carlos's expression softens. "Dude, you spent three hours researching gay sex because you want to bang your very male not-fake boyfriend. I'm not saying you need to pick a label right this second, but... if the condom fits, you know?"

I snort despite myself. "That was terrible."

"Made you laugh though."

He saunters to the kitchen just as my phone buzzes on the nightstand—a text from my father that makes everything even more complicated.

Dad:Just checking on spring break plans. Mom wants to know if you're flying home or driving with Elena.

Spring break. Home. Family. The real world outside the bubble Groover and I have created.

I sigh. At some point, I'll have to reconcile these two worlds—the one where I'm exploring something new and exciting with Groover, and the one where I'm my parents' straight son with a fake boyfriend for publicity reasons.

But not tonight. Tonight, I'll just text my dad that I'll figure out my spring break plans soon. I'll hide my purchases in my desk drawer. I'll try not to overthink what it means that I want Groover in ways I've never wanted anyone before.

One step at a time. One search query at a time. One panic purchase at a time.

The rest will have to wait. At least until after I figure out what to do with a garden hose attachment and premium cat food.

CHAPTER 21

GROOVER

CANDLES? CHECK. MUSIC? Low enough that it suggests mood lighting without screaming "I'm trying to get laid." Bedroom? I've changed my sheets twice and vacuumed under the bed like my mother might conduct a white-glove inspection. Lube? Hidden in the nightstand where it’s accessible but not sitting out like some kind of fucked-up charcuterie board.

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