Page 32 of Grumpy Puck

Grr.Bastard.It’s like he cursed me when he wished me pleasant dreams—and there I went, dreaming of his naked chest and of running my fingers through the hair there.And that wasn’t the worst of it.I felt his beard in that dream, both as we kissed and as he went down under—a glorious experience, if only in my imagination.

Mom calls as I drive to work and tells me that journalists are hounding the circus, hoping for a sighting of me.

“It’s great for business,” she says.“We’re all probably going to get raises thanks to you.”

“Happy to be of service.I’m just hoping they don’t figure out where I currently live and bug me there.”

If they do, Michael might want to walk me all the way to my door, and that way lies the possibility that I’ll accidentally invite him in, and that his cock will accidentally end up inside me.

“So,” Mom says conspiratorially.“Have you taken any cooking lessons yet?”

What?“Why?”

“You’ve got a new boyfriend,” she says.“Everyone knows the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

That sounds like something a serial killer would say.“Did Seraphina not tell you all?”I ask.“He’s not my boyfriend.It’s just for show.”

“Yeah, right,” she says.“I saw the video, and the pictures.If you were that good of an actress, you wouldn’t be in the circus.You’d be on Broadway instead.”

“I’mnotin the circus,” I remind her.“And I assure you, none of it is real.”

“Let’s agree to disagree,” Mom says.

“This isn’t a situation where you can use that phrase.”

“Let’s agree to disagree twice then.”

I nearly run over a goffer tortoise crossing the street.Fortunately, I brake in time.“I forgot to tell you, I’m driving,” I say to Mom as I wait for the tortoise to pass.“It’s not safe to multitask like this.”

“On that, we’re in agreement,” she says and hangs up.

Onthatwe are?So she still thinks Michael and I are dating?I mean, I know she and Dad want grandchildren, but I didn’t realize the desire has gotten so desperate that it’s causing her to deny reality.

Whatever.

When I finally get to work, I hold off on changing into my bear suit.I need a few volunteers from the team to help with an idea I have for my shtick, and I’m hoping they’ll take me more seriously in street clothing.

So… I make the mistake of watching them practice.Or more specifically, I make the mistake of watching Michael do his drills.His beard is even more noticeable today, and it’s all too easy to picture him drilling into me, his cock hard as a hockey stick and his beard pleasantly scratchy on my?—

“Hi, Calliope,” Coach says, scaring the bearjesus out of me.

“Hello, Coach.”I wipe my mouth on the off chance that some of the copious amounts of drool I’m producing has escaped.

“Can I help you with something?”he asks.

“Yeah.Make Michael shave,” I blurt.

That way, it will be easier to keep my sanity around him—and reduce bodily fluid production.

Coach grins.“Sorry, but no can do.They never shave before an important game, and I won’t get in the way of that.Particularly in Michael’s case because when he first joined, he mocked this particular superstition on the grounds of ‘too many people are doing it, so how can it give you an edge?’The fact that he’s since joined in with them tells me hereallywants to win the upcoming game.”

Did he just say “they?”I look at the rest of the players.Yep.All are indeed unshaven.It’s just that Michael is able to grow his beard faster and bushier.

Speaking of Michael, I catch him glaring at me, for no reason at all, so I flip him the bird and turn back to Coach.“I was joking anyway.But I could use some help.”

“What can I do?”Coach asks.

“Not sure if I want to do this to you,” I say.“Better I get a few volunteers from the team.”

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