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"Tell her." He winks. "Tell her they're from your fella.”

I laugh. “She does like romance.” I pause. “The staff might be following things on social media…I should probably tell DD something. I just really hate lying to her.”

My volume dips at that. Is it a lie? Cameron lives in my house. We snuggle on my couch. We apparently masturbate together. Are we fake?

“You should tell your sister whatever you think is best for her. Don’t worry about anyone but her.” He puts the last item in the bag and zips it shut. "I'll be back late, probably."

"Okay."

He lifts the duffel, and I follow him downstairs. Puck watches from the stairs as Cameron sets the bag by the door and slips on his jacket. He checks his phone, keys, and wallet — the pat-down of a man who has never forgotten a thing.

He turns to me at the door and my pulse climbs.

"Okay," he says. "I'll text you when we land."

"Okay." He lingers. Or I imagine he does. He's standing in my doorway, his bag over his shoulder, the hall light catching the line of his jaw. I want to say something. Something honest. I open my mouth. "Cameron, I —"

He waits. Patient. His eyes steady on mine.

"— travel safe." I swallow. "Play well."

A glimmer crosses his face. Like he heard the thing I didn't say behind the thing I did.

"I'll try," he says. He leans in and kisses my forehead — light, brief, his lips warm against my skin —then he's out the door and down the steps. I watch him walk to his car because I apparently cannot stop watching this man leave.

Puck jumps down and rubs against my ankles.

"I know," I tell him. "I almost said it."

Deen is at the kitchen table when I arrive, working on a jigsaw puzzle. She doesn't look up. "Briar. Hey, cutie.”

“Takes one to know one.” I kiss her cheek. “I brought you something." I set the packs of face gems on the table beside the puzzle.

She looks at them. Picks one up. Turns it over. "These are sparkly."

"They're face gems. Fans wear them to games." I sit across from her. "I thought you might want to wear them to an Uprising game."

Deen opens the pack and peels out a gold dot, examining it. “Thank you!”

I pause. “My friend actually bought these for you. He’s visiting me for a bit because his house flooded.”

She looks up. “A friend that’s a boy? Like a boyfriend?”

"He's —" I stop. "Yeah."

Deen places the gold dot carefully on her cheekbone, pressing it into place. She flashes me a delighted smile. “Your boyfriend bought me sparkles, and he doesn't even know me."

"He's thoughtful."

“That’s nice.” She peels off a silver dot and places it beside the first, forming a small constellation on her face. “Do you love him?”

I laugh. “It’s very new.”

“Well, he’s a keeper.” She says this matter-of-factly, returning to her puzzle. “Wendy says you always keep a man who buys gifts.”

“That’s pretty good advice,” I admit quietly.

Deen nods, fitting a piece into place. “Do I get to meet him?”