1 - Avery
Avery
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about New Year’s Eve, it’s that men lose their minds around eleven-thirty. Something about the promise of a midnight kiss convinces them they’re suddenly charming instead of desperate.
Newsflash, they’re not.
But the bar’s packed, the music’s loud, and one of my teammates just shoved a tequila shot into my hand like it’s water in the desert, so I’ve had worse starts to a night.
I down the shot, skipping the lime. I’m buzzed enough not to care that it burns while sliding down the back of my throat.
My elbow sticks to the countertop as I watch a guy get rejected for the third time in ten minutes. A different woman every single time. I admire his persistence. Though I prefer my bad decisions to be a little more efficient.
Right on cue, someone slides into the empty space next to me.
“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, flashing a smile that probably works on most people.
I glance down at my empty shot glass. “I don’t know. Can you?”
His lips quirk, a dimple flashing. Yep, this definitely works on most people.
“What’s your poison?” He nods to the array of liquor behind the bar.
“Tequila sour.” I’d really prefer another shot, but I need to slow down.
He leans into the bar, getting the bartender’s attention. After ordering my drink and a beer for himself, he turns back to me.
“Here by yourself?” He asks, shifting closer to me in a way that I’m not particularly fond of.
“Nope. My friends are over there.” I nod in their general direction, but don’t point out specifics. The last thing I need is him trying to get autographs when he realizes the friends I’m referring to play for the Boston Blades, our local NHL team.
I shift away slightly. It’s not enough to be rude, but it is enough to send a message.
A message that he ignores entirely when he leans right back into my space.
I glance at the clock. 11:40pm.
See?
Desperate.
“Is your boyfriend over there with them?” His breath is hot against my face.
Before I can answer, the bartender sets our drinks down.
I consider leaving it behind, already not liking this guy’s inability to respect my personal space. But I do really want that drink. It would take a special kind of asshole to let someone buy them a drink and bolt with it in hand.
“Do I get a midnight kiss as a thank you?” His hand lands on my waist, grip firm and confident when it shouldn’t be.
Just call me a special kind of asshole.
“Not a chance in hell.” I pick up my glass with one hand while prying his hand off me with the other. “I’m going to head back over there. Thanks for the drink.”
I hear him shout out after me, something about me being a bitch. It’s lame and predictable, so I just hold up my hand, flashing him the finger while I walk away.
Everyone likes to make mistakes on New Year’s, as if they all get wiped clean the second they wake up tomorrow.
It’s part of why I love this holiday so much.
There’s nothing quite like watching a crowd full of people embarrass themselves, then collectively agree that none of it counts in the morning.
I smile at my friend, Becca, on the dance floor. She tries to wave me over, but I shake my head. That girl hasn’t stopped dancing all night, and while I went out there for a bit, I won’t risk it this close to midnight.
Being trapped on a dance floor when that clock strikes twelve would be the worst possible way to ring in the new year. All hot and sweaty and crowded.
Instead, I slide into one of the two booths we’ve commandeered in the back. I spot Wesley at the next booth over and catch her eye, winking.
Wesley is one of my best friends and has been since we met through soccer our freshman year of college.
Now that we play on the Boston Tempest together, we’re closer than ever.
Which means she should know better than to think I believe a second of her fake relationship with Nathan.
He’s a fan favorite on the Blades, and currently, the man with his hands all over her.
They're both fooling themselves, but I’ve already done my best friend duties trying to talk sense into them tonight, so now I’m off the clock.
Come to think of it, her fake relationship has really screwed up my life. I encouraged it because Wes absolutely needed to have some fun, but if I’d known that said fun would end with me spending New Year’s crowded around a table with half of the Blade’s first line, I would’ve told her to run. Far.
Seriously, if anyone told me three months ago that I’d be not only spending time with the city's hockey team, but also kind of enjoying it, I would’ve laughed in their face. Then, I would’ve maybe fled the state.
“Hey Aves, want to trade drinks?” Liam yells over the music, shaking a stray strand of his blond hair off his forehead. He motions to his empty glass.
I huff a laugh. “Get your own.”
Liam is my favorite person on the team. I met him at an awards banquet a couple of months ago, and after making it very clear that I was not, and would never be, interested, he started growing on me. Mostly because he’s fun, but also because he’s essentially the male version of me.
At least the version of me that everyone thinks I still am.
The version I used to be.
“If I go now, I’ll be swarmed with girls at midnight.” He smirks and nods to the crowd surrounding the bar.
He’s not exaggerating. I may play professional soccer, but no one recognizes anyone from my team off the field.
The Blades, however, are another story entirely.
If Liam tried to make it to the bar now, with ten minutes before the ball drops, he’d be swarmed with women vying for a chance to change his life with their lips at midnight.
“That sounds like heaven for you,” I tease.
“Now that you mention it, why stop at just one kiss?”
I chuckle, taking another sip of my drink. “Giving all those women false hope that they might get you all to themselves.”
He wiggles his eyebrows. “And what? I’m supposed to believe you bought that drink yourself?”
I scrunch my face because he’s got a fucking point.
“You forget Aves,” he says, plucking my glass from my hand and taking a swig. “You and I, we’re the same.”
I steal my cup back and roll my eyes. “Fucking soul sisters, alright.”
“Hell yeah,” He yells, having no sense of shame over the title.
So yeah, he’s not so bad. Neither is most of the team, really. It’s not their fault my ex-boyfriend is the devil reincarnate. Or that he happens to play for the New York Yeti, the next closest NHL team to us.
To say I have a skewed opinion of hockey players would be a vast understatement. No one would blame me if they knew the whole story, but I’d rather have them think I’m crazy than spill the details.
Though the more we hang out with the Blades, the more my grudge against all hockey players fades.
That is, until Grayson Shaw slides into the booth on my other side.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, eyes bouncing between Liam and me.
The laughter dies in my throat the second I see him. I’m not exactly sure what it is about Grayson that gets under my skin. Maybe it’s the whole nice guy act, or how he seems to show up everywhere, but whatever it is, he kills my vibe every single time.
“Nothing. Now.” My tone is clipped and full of attitude.
Grayson just smiles easily.
Okay, I lied, I know exactly why he gets under my skin.
It’s because nothing gets under his. I’m fairly confident I could punch this guy in the face, and he wouldn’t blink.
I’ve tried insulting, ignoring, avoiding, and anything else I can think of to get him to realize I don’t like him.
And still, he slides up next to me in the booth like we’re pals.
“Always so quick to inflate my ego.” He shakes his head, a grin firmly in place.
“It’s a thankless job, but someone has to do it.”
“Poor thing, I know how exhausting it must be to try not to like me.”
“Oh no.” I take a sip of my drink, finishing it completely. “That part is the easiest thing in the world.”
His eyes glint, and I’m furious to find not even the slightest bit of annoyance in them. He jokes about me inflating his ego, but his ego must be massive to be this unbothered all the time.
Maybe everyone else is falling for it, but no one is actually that nice. I know that first-hand.
“Alright, you two,” Liam cuts in, motioning between us. “Go to your separate corners.”
“Better yet, separate ends of the earth.” I flash a tight-lipped smile.
“Seriously, I want to talk about them.” Liam points over to Wesley and Nathan while I fight the urge to audibly groan.
“What about them?” Grayson asks.
“How are we going to get them to admit they actually like each other?”
“Oh no.” I set my cup down hard against the table. “No. No. No. I’ve already told Nathan to quit being an idiot. Tonight, in fact. I will not be doing anything else. It’s their life to fuck up. I’m plenty busy fucking up my own.”
Both Liam and Grayson look at me like I’m crazy. Probably because I am.
They chat for another minute about the clueless couple while I plot my escape. If there’s anywhere that I don’t want to be when midnight hits, it’s sandwiched between these two. Honestly, if I were smart, I’d be at home.
But like an idiot, I thought maybe tonight would be the night I finally broke my dry spell. The one that’s lingered since the breakup.
Sure, I’ve resumed most of my pre-relationship habits. I flirt and dance, embrace an occasional steamy make-out session, and have even gone on a couple of awful dates. Despite all of that, I haven’t been able to get out of my head long enough to close the deal since everything happened.
When I mentioned to my friends that I wasn’t having any sex, I’m not even sure they believed me. Considering I’ve intentionally made sure it looks otherwise, I don’t blame them.
Tonight, I came out determined to find a solid one-night stand. In theory, it should’ve been a perfect night for it. As soon as I got here, though, I knew it’d be another bust.