Page 101 of On the Breakaway

“I’ll be right back.”

I nod, unable to trust my voice.

What the hell did we just do?

When the bathroom door closes behind him, I stand up, almost losing my balance in the process. My things are scattered across the floor, and I grab them with shaking hands, sliding back into my dress.

This is bad.

This is so, so bad.

Not because of what happened.

Hell, I’ve been dying to have sex for months.

I knew what I wanted tonight.

Grayson.

But I didn’t expect to feel like this. Like maybe I wouldn’t mind doing it again.

We’re the definition of incompatible. Unless, apparently, we’re having sex, and then I guess we go together just fine.

Fuck. Me. What was I thinking?

All of our friends overlap. We have to see each other constantly. This no-strings one-night stand is full of fucking strings.

I make it halfway across the room before the bathroom door opens.

“Avery?”

The sound of my real name freezes me in place. It’s further proof that this screwed everything up.

Grayson steps into the room wearing his glasses, loose gym shorts, and a smile that falters when he realizes what I’m doing.

“Oh.”

God, I hate how disappointed he sounds.

“I should go,” I say.

His brow furrows. “You don’t have to.”

“Yeah. I do.”

I have to go because this night was supposed to end with an orgasm, not a genuine smile and an invitation to stay the night.

“Can you stop running away every time you feel something a little too real?”

“This isn’t real.” I motion between us. “This is a fantasy land. Put us back in Boston, and we’ll remember why we can’t stand each other. We can’t even have a conversation without pissing each other off.”

“Yes, we can.”

“Oh yeah? Like right now?”

“Avery.”

“Stop calling me that.”