On the Breakaway (Boston Playmakers #2)

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, but I prefer my bad decisions to be a little more efficient.

Right on cue, someone slides into the 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 onto the counter, 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– 11:40 pm.

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.

I guess that makes me a special kind of asshole.

“Not a chance in hell.” I pick up my glass with one hand while prying his fingers 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 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. 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 a sweaty and crowded nightmare.

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 is a fan favorite on the Blades, and while they both swear it’s all an act, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of 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 actually 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’d never be interested in him, we became fast friends. 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.

“That sounds like heaven for you,” I tease.

“Now that you mention it, why stop at only 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.

Honestly, most of the Blades players aren’t too bad. Neither is most of the team, really. It’s not their fault my ex-boyfriend is the devil. 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 honestly rather have them think I’m crazy than spill the details.

With every drunken night out with the Blades, though, my grudge against hockey players fades a little more.

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 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, completely unfazed.

“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. “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 it must already be massive if he’s 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 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.

Tonight, I came out determined to find a solid one-night stand. In theory, it should be the perfect night for it. As soon as I got here, though, I knew it’d be another bust. So at midnight, I’ll be safely tucked into a bathroom stall, locked away where no desperate man’s lips can find me.

“Who are you looking for?” Grayson asks, noticing me glancing around the bar for an excuse to escape.

“Probably trying to find the man she conned into buying her that drink. Maybe she’ll get a second one out of him.” Liam smirks.

I glare at them both. “Better him than the guy who tried to buy me the one before that.”

“Why’s that?” Grayson takes a pull from his beer.

“Because that guy opened with a magic trick.” I snort, remembering how awful it was.

“A magic trick?” Liam sits up, fully invested.

I nod. “With a coin.”

“What’d he do? Try to pull it out of your shirt?” The fact that Liam is one hundred percent serious with that guess says everything about how his mind works.

“Gross, no, that would be too creepy for anyone.”

Liam smiles widely. “I bet it would work for me.”

For once, Grayson and I agree, both shaking our heads in disappointment.

“He made it disappear,” I say, shrugging, because after Liam’s guess, it sounds pretty boring.

“And?” Grayson asks.

“I told him it was impressive and suggested he try the same thing with himself.”

Liam howls with laughter, while Grayson watches me carefully.

His gaze feels a lot like judgment weighing on my skin. Good. Maybe if he thinks I’m awful, he’ll leave me alone.

A girl ducks under the rail, sliding in next to Liam and wrapping an arm around him as if they go way back when really she’s only hoping for his tongue down her throat.

Liam, being Liam, smirks and lets her hang off of him.

Now. Now I need to go.

As I stand, the DJ pauses the music, announcing that there’s one minute until midnight. The crowd turns frantic, everyone trying to make it back to the person they want to ring in the New Year with.

Fuck.

There is no way I can make it to the bathroom. I look around, and everyone is paired off. Even Liam is giving the brunette next to him his full attention. Everyone has someone to celebrate with.

I look to my left.

No.

Absolutely not.

Grayson’s lips tilt up in a smirk, his eyes glinting with a curiosity that has my skin heating.

There is no way in hell that I’m kissing Grayson fucking Shaw at midnight.

I turn to leave, but his hand lands on my arm. It’s gentle, but I shrug it off anyway.

“Wait,” he starts, but the yelling crowd drowns out his words as they count down from ten.

I try to watch his lips to see what he’s saying, but all I can think while I look at them is what they’d feel like against my own.

Am I about to find out?

No. No, I am not.

When the countdown hits five, I sit back down, knowing there is nowhere for me to run to. My palms start sweating, and I rub them against my thighs, noticing for the first time how close Grayson is to me in his stupid fitted jeans, watching me with his stupid green eyes.

When the countdown hits two, I’m in full panic mode. My hand shoots out, grabbing Liam’s arm and pulling him away from the girl whose name I’m confident he still doesn’t know.

“What are you–” Liam doesn’t get another word out.

As the clock hits twelve, I press my lips to his with all the confidence I can muster.

Luckily for me, Liam doesn’t seem to mind.

He opens his mouth and kisses me back. I close my eyes, leaning into it, trying to ignore the fact that Grayson is probably shooting daggers at me, the brunette is probably plotting my death, and Liam is probably getting all sorts of ideas that will never happen.

Don’t get me wrong, the kiss is great. It’s so great that I let it linger, even after the cheering stops, but there’s no heat to it. There’s no mind-numbing, skin-tingling, life-changing fireworks. It’s just a great kiss.

Finally, I pull away, breaking the contact.

Liam’s grin is as wide as possible. “Damn, Aves, I might get all the hype around you.”

“You’re not so bad either, lover boy,” I tease.

He laughs, but it’s all playful in his eyes. I exhale a sigh of relief, realizing he felt nothing, too. At least I won’t have to figure out how to refriend-zone him.

“Soul sisters?” he holds his empty cup out toward me.

I laugh. “Soul sisters.” I pick mine up too and tap it against his.

When I turn back, I find Grayson watching me, one eyebrow quirked as if I’m a puzzle he’s still trying to figure out. I scan his face, trying to find an ounce of hurt or disappointment, finding only his controlled calm instead.

“You hate me that much, huh?” He asks.

It’s a loaded question. Acknowledging it means admitting I only kissed Liam to avoid kissing him.

Which is true, but not something I plan to say out loud.

Especially because using the words kissing and Grayson in the same sentence makes me want to kill off whatever brain cells seem to be curious about it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, standing up now that the crowd has started to disperse. I turn toward Liam. “Thanks for the kiss.”

He doesn’t hear me, already back in a very close conversation with the brunette at his other side. I silently curse him for not being the buffer he always is between Grayson and me.

Finally, I turn back toward Grayson, giving him a quick wave. “Bye, Grayson.”

“Bye, Chaos.” Grayson waves right back.

I feel his eyes on me long after I’ve walked away.