While I pack my stuff, Jet bounces on my bed like an excited child. “I knew there was more to you and Ollie than y’all were letting on.”

He’s been in a fit of laughter ever since I told him my predicament. From meeting Ollie in a bathroom months ago to agreeing to keep up this ridiculous charade for Ollie’s family.

“Are you guys fucking now?”

I glare at him. “Your mouth’s seriously gonna get you in trouble one day.”

He finally stops bouncing and his face drops. “Why does everyone keep telling me that?”

“Because one day, when you’re big and famous, you’re gonna say the wrong thing to the wrong reporter, or celebrity, or random person, and then you’re gonna be in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons.”

“No such thing as bad publicity.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Do you think your brother would agree with that?”

Matt’s story going public got him kicked out of the NFL.

“Good point,” Jet says. “But probably won’t matter anyway. The whole fame thing probably isn’t gonna happen for me.”

My hands freeze, holding a balled-up shirt that I was about to throw into my suitcase. “Do you really believe that or are you fishing for a compliment?”

Jet looks away, a wave of shaggy brown hair falling across his forehead. “We have a meeting with a record label next week, but—”

“What?” I exclaim. “Jet, that’s awesome. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t know if it’s a good fit for us. The guy who came to the club to meet with us said they’d need to change a lot for us to be marketable. They want to change my name, change the band’s name, change our image, pick one genre for the first album instead of the eclectic shit we play.”

“Who’s the record label?”

“Joystar Records. You heard of them?”

I shake my head. “Nah, but that doesn’t mean anything. And it sounds like they’re already invested if they’ve already made plans for you. This could be your big break.”

I wish I could take a photo of his face right now, because it’s the only time in the past month or so of knowing him that he appears serious. “Maybe. We’ll see. Benji and Freya are excited this label wants them too. Their last lead singer ditched them for a solo contract.”

“You’re going to rock it, and then when you get super famous, I can tell the world I once shared a bed with a rock star and lived with him for a little bit too.”

“Until then, I guess all you can say is you’ve shared a bed with a hockey god …”

“Nothing happened.” Not really, anyway.

“Nothing happened with us either,” Jet points out, “but that wasn’t going to stop you from saying it. Which leads me to believe something did happen between you and Ollie, and now you’re trying to cover it up.”

Get this kid a detective badge.

“Whatever,” I mutter intelligibly, which only makes him laugh. I throw the last bit of my clothes into my suitcase and zip it up. “I think I’m all set.”

Jet climbs off my bed. “Wait, I need to know. Are you into each other now?”

I hang my head. “This is like freaking high school.”

“You know, Matt and Noah started in a fake relationship.”

“I do know. The reason they’re so nice to me is because I didn’t splash that information all over the internet.”

“Just sayin’. They started the same way, and now they’re married.”

I grimace. “Ollie and I didn’t start that way. It totally started with an accidental proposition in a bathroom in a gay bar.”

Jet’s entire face lights up. “So, there is something between you two. I knew it.”

I groan, but then a knock sounds from the front door. “Thank God.”

Jet and I head downstairs together, but he’s all excitable. Seriously, if there were human equivalents of dogs, Jet would be a chocolate lab puppy with his rich brown hair and crazy energy.

When I greet Ollie, Jet’s still bouncing behind me.

“You two are so gonna get married.”

Ollie looks confused for only a second before he dismisses it as if he’s already used to Jet’s randomness.

“Goodbye, Jet,” I say. “Tell Noah and Matt when they get back tomorrow that I’ll be back in a few days.”

Jet mockingly salutes us and sends us off with a “Have fun. Shotgun best man at your wedding. I don’t care which one of you.”

“What was that all about?” Ollie asks as we descend the steps leading to the street.

An awaiting cab rests at the curb.

“Nothing,” I say as I open the back door and ask the driver to pop the trunk for my suitcase.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“He thinks because Matt and Noah started in a fake relationship that you and I will get married.”

“But we started in a bathroom.”

“That’s what I said. Then he teased me about there being something real between us, but whatever.”

Ollie steps close. Like so close I can count your teeth type close. “Would that be the worst thing in the world?”

“Probably,” I rasp.

He seems to enjoy my awkwardness. “Fair enough.”

My eyes narrow. “You’re going to make Boston hell for me, aren’t you?”

Ollie fakes offense. “Pretending to be my boyfriend wouldn’t be as bad as the fiery pits of hell. Now you’re being dramatic.”

I cock my head.

“But in all seriousness, I totally am. It’s gonna be fun.”

“I’m starting to think I should’ve asked for some sort of compensation for this favor.”

He waggles his eyebrows. “We can discuss that later.”

“Laying it on pretty thick there.”

“Sure am. I’m allowed to now because you’re my boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend.”

“Semantics. Ready?” He gestures for me to get in the car first.

I slide over, and as he settles a few inches away from me, it feels as though he’s touching me when he isn’t. I get a sense this is what it’d be like to be with him for real. He has a way of getting so close I can feel him everywhere, but he doesn’t touch. That’s too risky.

It works at driving me crazy. Phantom touching, is that a thing? I know amputees sometimes have phantom limbs, where a missing leg makes them feel an itch they’ll never be able to scratch.

Sitting next to Ollie this close without touching makes my dick think it’ll never be touched again.

It’s like the worst foreplay ever. All buildup with no release coming … pun intended.

I make myself laugh, and Ollie stares at me out the corner of his eye. I wave him off.

“You’re going to stay with your parents while you’re there?”

He hesitates. “Uh, yeah, about that …”

I purse my lips. “What?”

Ollie glances at the cabbie, and then back at me and speaks low. “Well, my parents live in Milton, about half an hour out of the city. It’s not exactly too far that they wouldn’t expect us to not see one another while you’re in town. I was kinda thinking, maybe, I’d crash in the city after game two.”

I’m going to be seeing Ollie and his family more than at his grandmother’s birthday.

“Yup. Definitely should’ve asked for compensation,” I mumble, but it’s forced. The idea of seeing Ollie more and having excuses to touch him? Yeah, I’m not complaining too hard.