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I can get you a seat in my suite if you like? We’re playing Baltimore.

Well, shit. Football games aren’t generally my thing, but getting the chance to watch one of the few openly gay NFL players take down the Giants? How can I refuse?

But how can I accept?

Flashing my attendee badge as I step inside the building, my mind is on Shilo—like it always seems to be. Things with him have just started to feel…familiar. Easy. The last thing I want is to rock the boat by ditching him for a night out with my fake girlfriend. Even if that’s how our lives will look once we’re back home, I can’t bring myself to spend an evening without him.

And yet…what if—no. Bad idea. Terrible, even.

But still…

Me:

Make that two seats.

My little doll isn’t a sports fan, but I’ve never been to MetLife Stadium, and the thought of sharing that experience with him makes the idea even more appealing.

It’s Friday, and the convention is at its busiest. Fighting my way through the crowd toward the auditorium, I spot Liza deep in conversation, walking a few consumers through AVA’s central hub. My eyes scan the room, frowning when there’s no sign of purple hair.

“Where’s Shilo?” I ask as soon as I’m beside her.

She throws me an exasperated look. “Him and that PA of yours were chomping at the bit to try some VR thing, so I cut them loose.”

“Where at?”

With a shrug, she hands out a few brochures before wiping sweat from her brow, looking a little ragged. Guilt tugs at me for being so absent this past week.

“How are you holding up? Need any help?”

Liza flashes me an appreciative smile but shakes her head. “Oh no, I’m fine. Go check on your brother’s girlfriend’s brother. I’m sure you’re protective of him.”

Her comment makes me pause, an uncomfortable knot settling in my gut as I walk away slowly. Of course, I’m protective of him—but not for the reasons she thinks.

The urge to set her straight, to tell everyone that Shilo is mine, surges in my chest. But…I can’t. Not until May.

Shilo doesn’t answer when I call, so I follow signs pointing toward VR events. The area is packed, but it doesn’t take long to spot his unmistakable purple hair up on stage. He’s wearing a VR headset, and behind him, a giant projector displays what he’s seeing—a Japanese-style fighting game where he’s clashing swords with another opponent.

The crowd below the stage cheers wildly, and I watch in horror as my little doll slices off the other fighter’s arm in a violent spray of blood across the screen.

Christ.

“Cool, huh?”

I glance over to see Carpenter smirking as another person steps up to fight.

“Not the word I’d use.” Barbaric is more like it.

Carpenter snickers. “Shilo’s pretty good. He’s been leading for a while. Took me out with a slice to the stomach.”

With sick fascination, I watch as Shilo swings a small baton that doubles as a katana in the game, taking down five more contenders in a flurry of dismemberment. The crowd roars their approval with each brutal victory until finally, someone manages to defeat him with a particularly gory decapitation.

Everyone boos at his defeat but claps enthusiastically when he removes his headset. My chest tightens at the sight of his wide grin as he bows, basking in the attention. The nervous, fidgety boy I met months ago is gone—this Shilo is confident, radiant, and completely in his element.

Maybe CalTek should look into video game design…

“Dude, that was sick!” Carpenter rushes up to meet Shilo, the two exchanging a fist bump. “I thought for sure you were going to win the competition, man. You really know how to fight!”

“Thanks,” Shilo laughs, swiping a few sweaty strands of hair from his face. He freezes instantly when he spots me standing there.