Page 117 of Puck Yes

“What do you mean?” Jessie asks.

“When I told you Ivy and I were married and that we’d be happy to go to your golf event.”

“But I saw you there. At the golf event,” she says with shrewd eyes, trying to spot the lie.

It’s not really a lie though. It’s more like a fuck-up.

But…semantics.

“We got married on a dare. And we were on our way to get an annulment that morning. And I said we were staying married to impress you and go to your event.”

Understanding passes over her face as she nods. “I see.”

She steeples her fingers and taps them thoughtfully. I’m about to explain that we’re still together, that it’s complicated but also not, and that I’m sorry I deceived her then even though it’s real now, but her phone rings and she nods to it. “I have to take this. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

There’s nothing to do but say yes and leave, then hope she’s not letting me go permanently.

47

BITE YOUR FACE

Ivy

In the equipment room before the game, I wriggle into my new costume as Briar watches me with trepidation. Parvati’s here, too, biting her lip.

“Does it look that bad?” I ask Briar.

Briar shakes her head, blonde ponytail swishing. “No.”

“Then what’s that look for? You’re studying me like I’m wearing low-rise skinny jeans.” I turn to Parvati, who’s bouncing on her flats. “Why is Briar looking at me like I’m a fashion don’t?”

Parvati covers her mouth with her hand, but a grin sneaks through. “Because…it’s so hot.”

I cackle. “Shut up.”

“No, swear on it. That is the best costume ever. I can’t wait to post pics all over social,” Parvati says. But she’s always positive. I need the thumbs-up from a gal who doesn’t care much about fashion, and that’s Briar. Well, she definitely cares about her yoga fashion. Her leggings and sports bras are on point.

I glance down at the tawny fur I’m wearing, the form-fitting waistline, and the lush tail—long, but not so long I could trip on it on the ice.

Briar grabs the head and thrusts it at me. “I’m reserving judgment till we see it all.”

I tug the head on, then spin in a circle, anxious for an answer. “Verdict, Briar?”

I stop in front of the yoga instructor, waiting eagerly. Briar taps her lips for a few seconds, then the concern in her eyes vanishes. It’s replaced by approval in the form of a confident nod. “It’s official,” Briar declares. “That does not suck.”

I let out a whoop. “Finally!”

“This team has a long history of sucky mascots.”

“The polar bear was good,” Parvati interjects.

“Good. But not great. This is next level,” Briar says with an authoritative tone.

“That’s true,” Parvati agrees. “It’s better than a bear.”

I can’t wait to check it out, so I head over to the mirror, then smile from the inside. “I look cute but like I could bite your face off.”

Just like the owner wanted. And like I suggested when I sent her a card along with the boob-gap-no-more blouse. I still can’t quite believe she liked one of my ideas, but here I am, wearing the proof.

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