Page 52 of Grumpy Puck

“No,” I tell Wolfgang.“The cheddar is for later, a treat for your performance on the ice.”

I’m pretty sure Wolfgang understood that because his eyes glint with anticipation.

Striding to the bathroom door, I bang on it with all my might.

“One second,” Michael snarls.

“I’m also running low on time!”I shout.“I won’t even have time to put on my outfit if you don’t come out.”

“So put it on now,” says a growl from inside the bathroom.

“I’ll look ridiculous on the way to the stadium.”

“Not my problem.Should’ve thought about that before oversleeping.”

Fine.This won’t even be the first time I’m furry in public.Also, he’s fake-dating me and will have to walk in with me, so we’ll both look ridiculous.

Sighing, I unseal Mr.Bloom and get inside him—but save the headgear for after I brush my teeth because priorities.

Finally, the door opens, and Michael steps out.

As I take him in, all angry words die on my lips.Somehow, he’s gotten more handsome overnight, though it’s possible that my perception has been altered by those orgasms he gave me.And his shoulders have gotten broader.Even his eyes look blacker, and the white in them whiter.

Wait a second.The skin around his eyes has never looked this smoky before, and I can’t believe that even the best orgasms would make me seethat.It’s exactly as if?—

“Are you wearing black eye makeup?”And how is it that said makeup makes himmoremasculine?

“It’s not fucking makeup,” he growls.“It’s war paint.”

Not bothering to ask him what the difference is, I ask, “Isn’t that cultural appropriation?”Unless… did ancient Russians wear war paint?

Michael narrows his eyes, and the war paint makes him look feral as a result.“Batman does this.Why can’t I?”

Batman?Oh, right.The Dark Knight had to wear similar eye makeup to cover the white skin around his eyes while he wore his cowl.But… “What for?”

He takes a menacing step toward me.“The best game I ever played was after a fight where I got two black eyes.Now when it really matters, I do this to help my chances.”

Overwhelmed by his nearness—and bigness—I step out of his way.“So you wouldn’t let me into the bathroom because you were too busy with a silly superstition?”

His reply sounds exactly like the roar of a certain wild animal that I promised not to compare him to.“I’m late.”With that, he strides for the suite door.

“Wait!”I shout.

“What?”he barks over his shoulder.

“We need to talk.”I dart a glance toward the bed.“About what happened.”

“We shouldn’t have done what we did,” he says bluntly and steps out of the room.

I fight the urge to run after him and yell about just how much I agree that what we did was a mistake.But I can’t.If I want to make it to the stadium, I need to hustle.

Fuming, I brush my teeth.Then, just to make things worse, stupid nature makes a call, so I have to take off my suit to take care of it.

As soon as I’m back inside Mr.Bloom, and Wolfgang is perched on my shoulder, I give my mirror self a quick pep talk, then take the bear’s head and stomp into the hotel corridor.

As I approach the elevator, I see a cheesecake awaiting pickup from housekeeping, one that is missing only a single slice.

“It would be a shame to let food go to waste like this,” I say to Wolfgang.

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