Page 29 of On the Breakaway

7

Grayson

I’ve had too much to drink tonight.

It started when Avery walked in and threw herself into Liam’s arms.

He’d brushed off their kiss as a New Year’s thing, nothing more, but the way she hugged him had my brain rewriting that story before I could stop it.

I shouldn’t care.

Except, apparently I can’t help it.

Then, she started flirting with the guy in the too-tight t-shirt. It isn’t surprising. She dates. She flirts. Never for long and never committed, but I know her patterns. The same patterns that haven’t drawn my attention since she started snapping at me all the time.

I noticed tonight, though.

That’s new.

I’m fairly certain it has something to do with the way she laughed in my car. That small, unguarded sound right before she admitted why she didn’t want me buying her groceries. When she got quiet and explained how she doesn’t like feeling controlled or owing someone.

There hadn’t been an ounce of hostility in her voice. And though it was only for a couple of seconds, it was enough.

Now, it’s a problem.

Avery is volatile. Even if she weren’t, I’m steering clear of women.

All women.

I’m supposed to be figuring out how to be single by choice. Choosing myself or whatever the hell you want to call it.

But when Wyatt asked if I could pick up his sister from the Tempest camp, I said yes way too fast.

I’ve known Wyatt and Sloane for years. He’s my best friend, even if he’s an asshole most of the time. We played our rookie contracts together, split up for a while before ending up on the Blades together.

Sloane’s been around just as long. I met her when she was a freshman in high school, and somewhere along the way, she became family. They don’t have anyone else, so I’ve done what I can to fold them into my family whenever possible.

Catching up with Sloane was great, but I barely registered anything she told me because Avery was there.

She moved around the field with a certainty that oozed self-confidence. The players she was coaching looked to her even when she wasn’t paying attention, as if her presence alone was magnetic.

Hell, her presence is magnetic.

That day, my eyes were stuck on the way she moved, barking orders like she owned the place. Her hair pulled up into a high ponytail while she fired shot after shot into the net, barely breaking a sweat while the goalies scrambled to keep up.

And yeah, I noticed the shorts. Rolled twice at the waist, flaring out a little at the edges, pulling tight where they shouldn’t. Her perfect ass isn’t new either. What’s new is the fact that I couldn’t look away.

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. I’ve definitely had too much to drink tonight.

My back presses against the brick wall while I finish my beer before tossing it across the way into the dumpster. The cool air cuts through some of the fog in my head. Not enough, but it helps.

The city noises surround me, but thankfully, the alley behind the bar is quiet. I can still hear the music from inside, but it’s muffled enough that I can focus on getting my mind right.

Until the door to the bar bursts open across from me.

I look up, and there she is. The woman who has unwillingly stolen my attention all night. It’s as if my brain dragged her out here just to prove a point.

The point is that I’m weak and not immune to her magnetic pull despite her hating me at every turn.