Page 160 of On the Breakaway

I hide my laugh behind my hand while Liam just glances at Wyatt and shrugs as if they both are right and everyone else is wrong.

Wesley wraps her arm around Nathan. “We’re moving in together.”

Becca launches out of her chair to hug. “I’m so excited for you.”

Harper slides in next, mumbling some form of congratulations.

I catch Wesley’s eye across the table and smile widely so that she knows I’m excited for her. Her grin looks permanently etched into her face as more people chime in with questions about when and where.

The smile on her face makes me wonder what it would feel like to stop hiding. My gaze drifts across the table to Grayson. And just like that, I’m reminded that tomorrow, he leaves for New York.

And I’d be lying if I said the idea of Grayson on the same ice as Damon wasn’t making me sick to my stomach. Sure, Damon is awful, but that doesn’t mean his words can’t still ruin everything if he aims them right.

Grayson’s brows furrow when he sees my face.

Sloane has abandoned the chair next to mine and taps his shoulder. “Gray, go take my seat. I want to compare apartment pictures with Wesley.”

My head feels fuzzy as the chaos continues around me, my own anxiety bubbling inside me.

Then, the weight of Grayson’s hand settles onto my thigh as he slides into the chair next to mine. My head goes silent, nerves calming just from his touch. I can feel his eyes darting toward me, but I keep my focus on everything happening around us.

Talking to him about how nervous I am that something will happen and he’ll change his mind about me feels impossible.

The knot in my stomach tightens.

A second later, my phone lights up.

Grayson: You’re doing that thing.

I immediately look down.

Me: What thing?

Grayson: The thing where you disappear into your head while staring directly at people.

His thumb traces circles into my knee, and I focus on the rhythmic movement to keep from spiraling further. Because in the moment, right now, everything feels more perfect than I ever knew possible.

And I hate the way that my body automatically tenses at these perfect moments, wondering when it’ll all come crashing around me.

I know it’s irrational, but that doesn’t make my palms stop sweating, or my heart stop racing. I can only hope that someday I won’t associate happiness with an impending crash.

Grayson squeezes my knee, pulling me back to the moment, at just the right time.

My eyes flick over, but he’s not even glancing my way.

The smug bastard.

I send a text.

Me: You’re lucky nobody can see under this table.

His response comes instantly.

Grayson: Is that a threat?

Me: A promise.

His shoulders shake with silent laughter.