Page 151 of On the Breakaway

“Anyways,” He says, glancing over to Liam. “I came to pick up lunch to go, so I’ll just go do that.”

“Sure.” Liam nods, but as soon as Grayson walks away, he adds, “Fuck, Aves, you guys really can’t stand each other, can you?”

He slaps his card onto the table to pay for the check. “I thought eventually you guys would figure it out, but it’s like fire and ice with you two.”

I sigh, part of me wondering if I should chase Grayson down, the other part knowing that neither of us is in the right headspace to say anything productive.

“Yeah,” I nod, “We’re just too different.”

I don’t want to believe that because I like being with him, but I still don’t know how this works long-term. And despite it all, as I watch him walk away, I realize the possibility of losing him feels a hell of a lot more terrifying than keeping him.

If he thought I wasn’t showing up at his house tonight to finish whatever the hell we just started, he still has a lot to learn about me.

30

Grayson

I collapse onto the couch, wishing this fucking day was over already.

The morning meeting with Coach had turned into a strategy session. The strategy session turned into media obligations. The media obligations turned into sponsor obligations. Then, somehow, I ended up standing in front of a camera for half the day answering different versions of the same five questions.

How are you feeling about the conference finals?

How important is leadership this time of year?

What makes this team special?

Do you feel pressure as captain?

What do you expect from New York?

I answered every question but couldn’t tell you a single thing I said. Every spare second in my brain wandered right back to Avery.

If I’d known my relaxing walk to get lunch in between interviews was going to turn into that, I would’ve starved. Instead, I had to spend the back half of my day replaying her words and wondering what the hell it all meant for us. It’s my fault because I’ve turned this into a relationship in my head, without even talking to her about it.

I shove my phone onto the coffee table hard, and the screen lights up.

6:58 PM.

We’d originally planned for her to come over at 7 tonight.

I lean back against the couch and stare at the ceiling.

The thing that’s really pissing me off is how hard I’m trying not to care. Nothing she said today was news to me. I know her and the way she panics when feeling cornered. I know relationships scare the hell out of her. But none of that stops it from stinging.

Because at the end of the day, she still sat across from Liam and admitted she wasn’t sure she wanted this.

Wasn’t sure she wanted me.

It’d be less confusing if she just told me to fuck off already.

At least then I’d know where I stand.

The clock on the microwave clicks over.

7:07.

I let out a short, humorless sound.