Chapter 45
RAWLEY
Normally a touchdown isn’t a huge deal in a preseason game.
But I can’t help the huge deal that I make.
After I perform a quick celebration in the end zone, I scan over to Avery, who’s jumping up and down, clapping and smiling.
The sight of her cheering for me, here, in person? It brings the stakes of today to a whole other level. The question of ‘why is she here?’ burns even hotter in my mind.
I jog her way as some of my teammates slap me on the back and shout my name along the run. Finally, I’m in front of her.
So are a million cameras, but I ignore them.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” she responds, grinning.
“This is yours.” I hand her the football. “Touchdown.”
She gives a little laugh. “So I saw.”
“You look nice.” I’m unable to come up with anything more original. “You look…beautiful.”
Her rich brown eyes sparkle from the spotlights from the stadium. “Thank you. Speaking of which, are you ready for your surprise?”
I glance around, and there’s hundreds of people looking at us, plus all the cameras.
“Are you sure you want to do this here?”
“Yes, it’s not like that.” She winks at me.
And then she brings her hands to the bottom of her shirt—a plain large T-shirt that’s the blue of the Waves’ uniform—and peels it off.
To reveal a second T-shirt underneath…
The half-Surge, half-Waves shirt from the Etsy store that her sister had texted her.
Shit, she bought that? It’s pretty much as ridiculous-looking as we thought from the picture.
I start laughing; I can’t help it. I’m sure everyone around us is confused.
A whistle blows, and I turn around. I’m about to earn us a delay of game penalty.
“I need to get back,” I tell her.
“Just one more thing before you do.” She turns around one hundred and eighty degrees. “Surprise!”
It has “Avley” on the back. Our ship name.
I give her another chuckle and a big smile, with no time to do more.
Hustling back to the other side of the field, where the Waves players are watching the extra-point kick, I can’t help but wonder:
What is she up to?
At the end of the game, I hike it to the locker room. It’s been a weird second half, because I didn’t play—normal for a preseason game when you don’t want your best players to risk injury—and couldn’t stop looking at Avery, on the far side of the field from me.
She seemed a lot more focused on me than the game too, her gaze directed my way every time I found myself checking on her.
I’m still confused—but now, shit, after sixty minutes of our lingering glances, I can feel the hope I had in the first half increasing tenfold.
Don’t assume anything, Rawley.
My self-talk doesn’t keep me from powering on my phone the second I’m at my locker.
And my hope ticks up a little more when I see the text waiting for me.
AVERY: Can you talk after the game?
I type back immediately.
RAWLEY: Yes, come wait for me outside the locker area, there’s a family/VIP area.
In the meantime, I realize I better not make Grace stick around, only to disappear for a conversation with Avery.
RAWLEY: Hi Gracie, did you see that Avery is here? No need to wait after the game. I’ll call you later.
GRACE: Okay, sounds good! Woohoo touchdown
Then I tell Landon the same, in the locker room. Since he didn’t play, he doesn’t need to shower or anything. I don’t want to waste his time.
“Yeah, I’ll take off after the coaches give their speeches.” He puts his arm around me. “So Avery got the football from your first touchdown? Things back on track with her, huh?”
He mercifully doesn’t seem to expect an answer, because I don’t have a clue what’s going on at this point.
“I’ll see you at the hotel,” is my only reply. We still have a few days left of training camp.
He claps the back of my jersey and lets me get on with cleaning myself up.
Fast forward another thirty minutes, I come out of the locker room, showered and dressed in a clean pair of Waves shorts.
Beyond making myself presentable, I’ve spent the entire time trying to tamp down my expectations, to little effect.
I’m so fucking excited to see her. Outside of the stands, alone. To talk to her, for real.
And now it’s time. I take two steps out into the hall, turn the corner, and there she is waiting for me.
Her beautiful eyes twinkle as soon as she sees me, a large smile spreading across her face. The blanket of her shiny hair covering part of that goofy Avley shirt.
“Hi. Great game,” she says, and now that I’m closer, her smile looks shier than normal.
It’s awkward, because it feels like the right thing to do is hug her, but I don’t. I have no idea where this is going to go, and I don’t want to seem like I’m pushing.
“Hey.” Several people are staring at us, so I put on a big smile. “Thanks for coming, Avie baby.” I say it loud enough for everyone to pick it up. Keep up the illusion, if that is what today is about.
Avery grins more naturally and takes a step forward, covering her mouth so no one can hear her or read her lips.
“Where can we talk?”
I considered options while I was getting ready.
“Maybe the opposing side’s women’s locker room? They should have cleared out now.” The Waves, like many in the NFL, have women’s locker rooms for staff, one for each team.
“Yeah, that’s perfect,” she agrees quickly.
I lead her in that direction, and she makes as if she’s going to grab my hand, our norm in a public place. But after her fingers brush mine, she pulls her hand back.
Huh. That’s not helping my nerves.
When we get to the women’s locker room, I worry the door might be locked. But when I pull on the handle, it’s open.
Thank god, because I don’t think I can wait much longer to hear what she’s going to say.
Avery flips on the light switch, flooding the locker room with a pale yellow glow. Like the men’s version, it’s not aesthetically exciting. There’s basic white tile everywhere.
But it’s private, and that’s all that matters right now.
She stops and turns to face me when we’re only a few feet in.
“How are you feeling after the game? Sore?”
Small talk is where she’s starting, huh? I search her face for clues of the larger purpose for her visit today.
I don’t find any, but I do become acutely aware of the fact that I’m alone with her for the first time in twenty days.
Fuck, I’ve missed her.
“I’m okay. Nothing that won’t be fine in a couple of days.”
“That was my first football game in forever.” We’re still standing in the front part of the room. “You looked like a natural out there. Training camp’s been going well?”
“It’s been great, to be honest. Better than I could have hoped.”
“Oh, that’s awesome. I’ve seen some of the coverage of how you’re doing, it all seems positive.”
Okay, enough is enough. This isn’t why she’s here, to talk to me about training camp.
“Avery.”
“Yes?”
“What’s going on? Why are you here? Not that I don’t want you here, but…” My voice trails off, as I look at her expectantly.
“You’re not going to let me get away with procrastinating, are you?” She moans a little.
“About what? Put me out of my misery here.”
Her eyes widen, like she didn’t anticipate I would be stressed.
“Should I sit down?” I ask, testing the level of emotional damage I should prepare for.
“Um, no—I mean, yeah we probably should.”
Okay, she’s nervous, which is not normal. I take a seat on one of the benches, and she mirrors me, sitting within reach.
She takes a deep breath. “So Rawley—” And then stops herself, like she’s trying to figure out where to start.
My nerves make me push her again. “Avery, I don’t want to rush you, but I’ve had a couple hours to think about what you being at the game means, and I’m dying here.”
Looking apologetic, she squeezes her palms on the bench. “I’m trying. I’m not good in moments like this.”
“Moments like what?”
She links our eyes. “Saying how I feel. Telling someone I’m sorry.”
I digest that. Okay. This is sounding better? Maybe. I don’t know.
“With the Stefani situation, you didn’t do anything wrong. I know that.”
“Okay.” Good.
“But I—got defensive. Protective of myself. Scared. Lots of different things.” She drops her eyes to the bench, where she’s rubbing it with two fingers.
I’ve never seen Avery as vulnerable as this. It’s—new. I want her to feel comfortable staying in this place. “It’s all right. I figured your rule has roots. I mean, you’ve already suggested as much.”
“Yeah,” she says, a little breathless. “Yeah.”
Watching her struggle to manage her emotions recenters my focus.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to, but I’m here if you want to talk about it.”
She lifts her eyes to mine again, sincerity shining through. “It’s not that I want to talk about it, but I…I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
It would be nice to have one, but I don’t want her to feel pressured.
“You don’t owe me anything. But you can share whatever you’re comfortable with, if only so I can understand what happened.”
She puts her hand on her lap and flicks her nails against her palms twice. Like a one-two beat to get started with her story.
“My high school boyfriend Topher”—that name, I hate him already—“he was the starting point guard on the boy’s team, and everyone loved him. Including my parents. Really charming, and he always made me feel like I was the only one in the room, you know?”
“Yeah, I’ve known people like that. How long did you date?”
“It started late sophomore year, until senior year, when I found out.”
I don’t want to ask what exactly she found out.
“My cousin Wells was two years behind us, but by the time he was a sophomore, he was on the varsity team and got to see the guys in their natural habitat, or whatever. He overheard Topher saying some really shitty things about me, and about using me to get to my dad, while also bragging about sleeping with another girl.”
Now I hate Topher for real. Shit, I can’t believe she went through all that.
“I’m so sorry, Avery.” I scootch a little closer out of instinct.
“Wells came to me right away. He’s not a Boy Scout himself, he’s a total player to be honest, but he’s not a liar. He hates liars, actually, but that’s another story.”
I have no interest in going down a Wells Holding rabbit hole at the moment, so I stay quiet.
“So yeah, I had to go through the rest of senior year, not only hurt by Topher and what he said, what he did—but humiliated that the whole school knew about it. Having my parents ask a million times what happened.”
The hurt in her voice, it’s so pronounced, so unlike Avery, that I can’t just watch. I do what feels right, reaching out my left arm to extend around her. Our first real hug in weeks.
“I’m so sorry,” I repeat as she leans against me.
“It’s okay. I mean, it’s years ago now, and I don’t think about it much. But that’s probably because I’ve had this boundary to protect me.”
“Yeah, the rule.”
She sits up straighter, tilting her head up toward mine. “I know you aren’t like Topher. I know that’s not what was going on with Stefani that day. And if anything, I owe you an apology.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do. I should have listened to you, listened to what my own gut was telling me, but I knee-jerked my way right into our break up.”
“Well, I understand better now based on everything you’ve told me.”
She gives me a small smile. “I truly am sorry. You have treated me better than any guy I’ve ever been involved with. You have such a big heart, Rawley.”
I let her compliment hover in the air. “Thank you.” I turn up my lips. “In case it’s important to hear, apology accepted.”
I’m not assuming anything more is on the table, but I don’t want her to have any doubts on that front. God knows what I would’ve done under the scenario she described. Her rule makes so much more sense now.
Her smile gets bigger, though there’s still a trace of apology left in her eyes. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ve been working on some mindset changes myself the last few weeks, so I get being stuck in your thoughts.”
“What kind of changes?”
“Understanding that it’s okay if I mess up, that it’s normal, not a failure. That it’s okay when my brain works differently than some other’s. Not assuming I’m the bad guy in every situation.”
“You rarely are, from what I see.”
“Yeah, the problem is everyone can see that except me.”
With her hand closest to me, she presses against my thigh. “I’ll see it for you. And I’ll remind you of it when you need me to.”
The weight of what she just said fills the room as both of us fall silent, still.
After a moment, I feel awkward. If only because it all feels heavy, but I don’t know where this conversation is going. She might have meant that as a friend?
I say the only thing that comes to mind.
“So, do you want to tell Taylor that we’ll keep the whole fake thing going longer? I mean I’m not sure we have to for our careers at this point, but if you want…”
She squeezes my leg again.
“What if I want something different from that?”