16. Reid
SIXTEEN
REID
Avery
Morning, sunshine.
*Attachment: 1 video*
Getting warmed up for when I beat you.
Me
You should delete my number.
This won’t end well for you.
Avery
I can always message you on Instagram. Or TikTok. Or YouTube.
Me
Stalking me, Sinclair?
Fuck, I like knowing your last name. It makes taunting you even more fun.
Oh, shit. You said you were a beauty queen. I’m going to look up videos of you in your dresses.
Avery
Go ahead. I’m not ashamed of that part of my life, and it was an honor to serve as Miss Florida.
Just so you know, Duncan, I’m planning on winning this bet.
Which means I have to play the long game. I’m going to annoy you until you give up.
Me
You found out my last name, I see. Did you finally look me up?
Avery
Yeah, and I should’ve done it years ago.
Congrats on the Robotics win in tenth grade, by the way.
I’ll be back at lunchtime with another rendition of the Thunderhawks tune. Tell me, do you prefer the original or the remix?
Me
You’re insufferable. Don’t you have a speech to give?
Avery
You didn’t think I was insufferable the other night when you were on top of me.
Me
Just like you didn’t hate me when I was making you come.
Funny how that works.
I manage to avoid seeing Avery the second day of the conference.
It takes careful planning, eating lunch in my room and sitting in on a conversation about ticket sales software instead of marketing tips and tricks, but I get through the afternoon without running into her.
I don’t know how the hell I missed the signs of her identity. They were all there, right in front of me and bright as fucking day.
The night at the bar when she said a work thing came up.
When she shut down after her date started talking shit about women and sports.
Casually asking about my friends who are athletes without showing any interest in getting to know them.
I’m a goddamn idiot.
It explains why Dallas and Maven acted so weird when I mentioned her name after the wedding. They knew the whole time and didn’t tell me.
I’m going to kill them.
I shove my phone in my pocket and grab my room key, ready to head to the hotel bar. Six hours of panel discussions, reluctant socializing, a mandatory flag football tournament tomorrow, and a fuck ton of confusing thoughts swirling in my head has me needing a drink.
When I make it downstairs and see the bar empty from any conference goers who might want to chat my ear off, I sigh in relief.
I slide onto a stool at the end of the counter and reach for the drink menu. Before I can even take a look at the specials, a blonde bartender is in front of me, showing off her cleavage, and getting close enough to make me uncomfortable.
“Hi,” she says, and I barely look up. “Can I get you something?”
“A whiskey neat, please,” I say.
“Rough day?”
“Just a day.”
“You don’t strike me as a hard liquor kind of guy.”
“Guess I’m a man of surprises,” I draw out.
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Alcohol would be nice.”
She laughs like I’m the funniest guy in the world and heads for the well of liquor bottles. “I have to take care of another couple then I’ll be back.”
I pull off my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t tell if I want to sleep for ten hours or take ten shots. A combination of both would be nice, but with six videos to edit and post and a week to go until our first preseason game, there’s not enough time.
This drink will have to do.
A laugh comes from across the bar, and I startle at the sound.
I thought I was in here alone, but when I shove my glasses back on and scan the room, I don’t like what I find.
Avery .
Sitting on a barstool, talking to some guy.
Some guy who has a suit with shiny cufflinks and slicked-back hair.
There’s something about him I immediately don’t like. It’s the arrogance, maybe, in the way he talks with his hands and leans into her space. He’s dominating the conversation while she’s sitting there stone-faced with a stiff spine.
I guess that laugh was fake.
I watch them and try to decipher their body language. Her shoulders are angled away from him. His hand is on the counter and keeps inching closer her. I must watch them for too fucking long, because she turns her chin to the right. Her gaze meets mine, and her mouth pops open in surprise.
I narrow my eyes and pretend to scratch my nose, subtly flipping her off in the process. I expect her to throw some sass back, that same attitude she had when we were texting earlier, but she doesn’t.
She blinks then looks away, and I feel like a goddamn creep for intruding on a personal moment.
“Whiskey neat,” the bartender announces, grinning when she sets the drink in front of me. “Anything else I can get you, sweetie?”
“I’m all set.”
“My name is Dana if that changes.”
I lift the glass and take a long sip. It’s rich going down, smooth with a hint of spice, and I savor the taste of a drink I hardly ever order.
Tonight seemed like a good night to enjoy it, though, and I’m going to blame Avery goddamn Sinclair.
My phone buzzes, and I’m surprised to see a message from her on the screen.
I turn it face down and stare at the back of the case.
I should ignore it.
I don’t have any reason to answer.
We’re not friends. She’s clearly here with someone else, but there’s a pressure on my chest nonetheless, heavy and resolute that won’t ease up as I wonder what she has to say.
Hell .
I grab my phone.
Avery
Stealing my drink order?
Me
Someone has to.
Is that a light beer you’re drinking? Disgusting.
Avery
You say disgusting, I say delicious.
Nice video you posted today, by the way. Too bad it only got 10,000 likes.
Me
Better than the TikTok you posted last night. The one that only got, what? Four thousand views?
Avery
I’m flattered you keep such close tabs on me.
Me
Like how you’re obviously not enjoying yourself over there? Do I need to intervene?
She types out a response, but instead of sending it, she sets her phone down. She picks up her glass of shitty beer, turns her attention back to the guy still talking her ear off, and ignores me.
I’m not jealous.
That’s never been a personality trait of mine, but something that feels a lot like anger courses through me when he touches her arm and leans in close to whisper in her ear.
I finish my drink like it’s a splash of water.
“Want another?” Dana asks.
I mull it over.
It would be smart to walk away.
It would be smart to go back to my room and mind my fucking business like I’ve been doing for years, but Avery looks miserable. My throat is tight, and try as I might to get my ass out of my seat, I can’t move.
Maybe I want to be the hero instead of the sidekick for once.
Maybe I want to be the guy who swoops in and saves the day when everything is turning to shit.
Maybe I’m torn up that the woman I had such a good connection with is also the woman who makes me want to pull my hair out.
Maybe I am jealous that she’s giving her time to someone who’s clearly not worthy of it.
Maybe, despite agreeing to a bet and wanting to beat her in this game we’ve found ourselves in, I still want her to give her attention to me .
This is too fucking confusing.
“Sure.” I shrug. “I’ll have another.”
I ignore the smile that gets tossed my way and glance at the television. I don’t know how long the two of them sit there talking like they’re best fucking friends, but it’s long enough for me to sip three whiskeys and a glass of water.
The alcohol goes down easier each round. My head starts to pound. A dull ache spreads across my forehead, and I can’t look at my phone without my vision swimming. It buzzes in my hand, and another text from Avery pops up.
Avery
I didn’t know you were a lightweight.
Me
Now who’s keeping tabs on who?
Avery
Hard not to when you’re sitting there staring at the television and looking like a lost dog.
Me
Going to put me on a leash?
Avery
Depends on if you’ve been bad.
I blush furiously and gulp the rest of my drink down before I answer.
Me
Didn’t want to leave you alone with that prick.
Avery
I thought you hated me.
Me
Hating you and being a nice guy when you clearly look uncomfortable are not mutually exclusive.
Avery
Can we pause our feud again? I want to leave, but he won’t stop talking.
I’m off the stool before I read the end of her message. I throw down a couple twenties and round the corner of the bar, stopping in my tracks when I see his hand on her leg.
I clear my throat. Relief floods Avery’s face when our eyes lock, and she mouths thank you .
“Sorry to interrupt.” I lean my elbow on the bar. “Can I borrow Avery for a second?”
“She’s a little busy, man,” the guy says. “You can talk to her tomorrow like all her other fans.”
“That wasn’t meant to be a question, man .” I grab his shoulder and pivot his upper body so he’s looking at me. “I’m going to borrow her for a second. A lot of seconds. If she feels like coming back, she will. If not, I’ll make sure she gets to her room safe and sound.”
“You her boyfriend or something?”
“Or something.” My eyes land back on Avery. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Avery shrugs her purse up her shoulder and jumps off her stool. “Nice to see you, Peter. Have fun tomorrow.”
The guy looks her up and down, a wolfish glint to his eyes. “You too, Ave. You look good.”
Ave .
These two have a history, and I’m not sure I want to know what it is.
She flips her hair over her shoulder as she passes me, and I get a whiff of her perfume. I ignore the glare the douchebag of the century is tossing my way and follow her to a quiet alcove that leads to a patio.
Avery pushes the door open and walks outside. I join her and lean against the railing, unsure of what the hell to say.
Silence hangs between us.
I scuff my shoe on the ground and stare at the patch of weeds trying to grow in the cracks of the concrete.
“Thank you,” she finally says.
“No problem.”
She rests her elbows on the railing, mimicking my pose. “That’s my ex.”
“He’s downright delightful,” I say.
“He normally sends his assistant to these things, and when he found me this morning at breakfast, I dropped my plate of cantaloupe.” Avery rolls her lips together and shakes her head. “Anyway. You didn’t have to do that, and I appreciate you stepping in.”
“Is this the one who was mean to you?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She lifts her chin to the sky. “I was so excited about how well my job was going. I was proud of all the things I created, and he hated my success. It was a hard break up.”
I glance at her, and I hate how pretty she looks in the burnt orange of sunset. “Did you report him?”
“Position of power, remember?” Her smile is weak, and I’ve never wanted to fight someone like I want to fight him. “It’s why I jumped at the chance to head to Baltimore. It meant a clean slate and not getting involved with anyone in the organization. I could make a name for myself without being known as the woman Peter dumped—even if most people knew it was because I was becoming too successful.”
“Peter.” I scoff. “He looks like a Peter.”
“Do you have something against Peters?”
“My high school bully was named Peter. They like to make people feel small so they can seem big. That asshole in there was doing the same thing.”
“I’m sorry.” Her face softens. “That’s cruel.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t stick my head in a toilet.”
“No. I’m only going to stand outside your office with a boombox and play the Thunderhawks song on repeat for hours.”
“I feel bad for you if that’s the best you got. I wear noise-canceling headphones when I’m in the arena. You can play that damn song all you want; I’m never going to hear it, and you’re just going to look very, very stupid.”
“Guess I’ll have to come up with a better idea.” Avery taps my foot with hers. “Thanks for pausing the feud for a few minutes. We can resume our hatred for each other tomorrow.”
“I plan to show you how much I dislike you during the flag football tournament. Hope you packed your sneakers, Sinclair. I’m going to mop the field with you,” I say.
Her smile curls around the edges. I hate that I feel it in the center of my chest. “I might have been a ballerina, but my senior year in high school, I played on the flag football team too. I was MVP.”
“That’s going to make leveling you to the grass even more fun. I haven’t played a day of flag football in my life,” I say.
Avery laughs. “Oh, this is going to be fun. If my team wins, you better believe I’m going to post the video of your downfall and share it on social media so everyone can see. I’ll tag you so you can repost it, if you want.”
“Like I won’t hack into your computer and delete the files.”
She seems to pause at that, and says, “Can you really do that?”
“Guess you’ll find out,” I say.
“Maybe you’ll find some new material to use while you’re sorting through everything.” She fixes the sleeve of her blazer and checks her watch. “I need to run. I’m meeting some women for dinner, and I don’t want to be late.”
“Do you want me to walk you there?”
“And why would you do that?”
“You said we’re going back to our disdain for each other tomorrow. You didn’t say anything about the rest of the night.”
She bites her bottom lip and hesitates. “I think I’m good. Thank you, though.”
“No problem. Have fun.”
“What are you doing the rest of the night?”
I shrug. “Hanging out in my room and reading. These are the last few days of solitude I’ll have before the season starts, and I want to make the most of them.”
“This time next week, we’ll be one sleep away from the preseason.”
“And we both know how fast the year goes from there.”
“Mhm.” Avery pushes off the railing. “Bring your A game tomorrow for the flag football tournament, Duncan. You’re going to need it.”
She disappears inside, and I spend way too long staring at the sky.
It’s better than the alternative, I guess, which would be to stare at her.
Our history of bickering and arguing tells me I can’t have her.
So why the fuck do I want her even more than I did three nights ago?