7 - Grayson
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.
She hasn’t noticed me yet.
My eyes flick behind her automatically, looking for the guy she’d been draped all over earlier. When I realize she’s alone, my chest loosens.
I take another second to drink her in. But only one second because I know better.
Her hair’s down, red waves falling over her shoulders like they’ve got a mind of their own. A leather jacket is thrown over a top that dips just low enough to be distracting. And those black jeans…
Fucking hell.
This is a mistake.
Because when she’s not glaring at me or reminding me we’re not friends, it’s dangerously easy to forget why I don’t like her in the first place.
I run through the reasons like a checklist, forcing my brain back into place.
She’s loud.
She’s blunt.
She’s impulsive.
She’s…
The sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Well, that was fucking useless.
“Hi, Chaos.”
She freezes at the bottom of the steps as if she’s considering fleeing without acknowledging my existence.
“Your bad karma strikes again,” I add, using one leg to push up off the wall.
Her eyes narrow when she spots me fully under the dim light.
“Of course you’re out here,” she mutters.
I smirk. “Nice to see you too.”
She steps forward, the light from above the door casting her into shadows. I don’t have to see her face to know exactly how she’s looking at me, though. Her arms cross over her chest, irritation radiating off her in waves.
Whatever small truce or progress that we made in the car is long gone.
It’s for the best. We are not meant to get along, and drunk or not, the reminder of her hostility helps steer me back into safe territory.
“I needed five minutes,” she says flatly.
“So take five minutes.”
She blinks at me as if I’ve said something ridiculous.
“You’re here.”
“Yeah,” I agree easily, taking a small step toward her, putting myself in the same spotlight she’s under. “I was here first.”
That earns me a look.
“I don’t care. Go inside.”
My jaw tightens as I run my tongue across the front of my teeth. “You don’t get to kick me out of an alley that isn’t yours.”
Her head tilts. “Well, I am. So, shoo.”
She actually swats her hand at me and everything. The audacity of this woman should really be studied.
“Did you just try to shoo me?”
She exhales sharply and sets her glass on the railing. Then, she strides toward me without answering.
I don’t move. I probably should, but I don’t. As she gets closer, my nose fills with the scent of her.
She walks right past me, then turns, planting both hands flat against my back and shoving me. I barely shift, but I feel her palms against my spine and the heat of them through my shirt. There’s a lull before she pushes harder, trying to physically shove me back to the door.
“Chaos,” I say, a laugh slipping into my voice despite myself. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
She digs in, putting her full body weight into it.
“It looks like you’ve lost your mind.”
I turn just as she resets for another attempt, her hands landing on my chest this time.
That’s worse because now I don’t just feel the heat, but I see her face far too close to me. Close enough that the icy flecks in her blue eyes seem to swirl, even in the darkness of the night.
Even though we’re inches apart and it’s clear I’m going nowhere, she doesn’t stop.
My lips quirk as I look down at her. Her fingers curl into my shirt as she pushes forward. I feel every single fingertip against my body, and despite knowing better, I lean into the contact just enough to feel her nails.
She’s a stubborn little thing.
“I need a minute alone,” she says, and there’s something frantic under the irritation now.
“Then go somewhere else.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, like she didn’t expect that answer.
I’m sure she expected me to be nice and give her the space she wants.
It’s what I would normally do, but nothing about Avery makes me behave normally.
Besides, she told me to stop being nice, and I’ve had just enough beers to stand right here.
She pushes again anyway. I don’t budge.
“C’mon, Chaos,” I murmur, glancing down at where her hands are against me, noticing her thumb brushing a small circle as her fingers splay wide. “You’re giving it everything you’ve got.”
Her jaw sets. “And?”
“And it feels like a cat brushing up against me.”
I reach up, closing both of my hands lightly around her wrists. Her eyes flare, but she keeps her palms flat against me. Her skin is warm and soft under my fingertips, and my skin is buzzing at the contact.
“Don’t compare me to a cat.” She steps backward just slightly, and I go with her.
Her breath catches when I lean into her touch further, and her back presses into the same brick wall I’d been leaning against when she got out here.
For a second, neither of us moves.
“Start purring,” I add, quieter now, “and I might let you knead your claws into me.”
I shouldn’t have said that.
I know it as soon as it leaves my mouth. I’m not in the business of flirting with anyone these days, and flirting of any kind with Avery is an awful idea. But her eyes dart down to my lips, making heat curl low in my gut despite knowing better.
I’m not holding her wrists tight; she could slide right out of my grasp and head back inside easily, but she makes no move to.
“Go away, Grayson.”
“Make me.”
My rational thought must’ve never made it into the alley, because I can feel her breath against my cheek, and instead of walking away, I hold the small space between us.
She gives me a slight push again, this time something defiant flashing in her eyes, like we’re in a game of chicken and she refuses to lose.
I pull her hands off me and spread our arms wide before pinning them against the wall on either side of her head.
We’re only inches apart now, and I notice her chest rising slightly faster.
This is a colossal mistake, but I don’t back down from a challenge, and somehow, that’s exactly what this has become.
I expect her to pull away and end this game we shouldn’t even be playing. Hell, the only reason I let myself play in the first place was that I was confident she wouldn’t.
What I didn’t expect was the way her gaze would trail over my body or the way my dick would twitch at the curiosity carved into her face. And I sure as hell didn’t expect the next words out of her mouth.
“I think your girlfriend might have a problem with that.”
Then, she yanks her hands down like the contact burned, ducking under my arm and putting space between us in two quick steps before I can react. She picks up her drink from the railing and looks at me like she normally does.
Had I just imagined everything? What even was that? And what the hell does she mean, girlfriend?
There’s no way I’m that drunk.
I don’t answer right away because my mind is trying to catch up from the mental whiplash she just put me through. This is the longest I haven’t had a girlfriend in years. What is she talking about?
Then it hits me. Sloane.
My lips tilt, but I mask it quickly, not ready to explain myself. Because she didn’t ask about it like a casual question, and she didn’t say it like she didn’t care.
“Who?” I slide my hands into my jean pockets, giving them something to do.
“C’mon, Grayson, you’re a lot of things, but I didn’t think stupid was one of them.”
“Oh, you mean Sloane.”
“Yeah, I mean the college kid you’ve been following around like a puppy all night.”
I choke back a laugh. Not only have I not been following Sloane around, but the idea is disgusting. I’ve known her since she was fifteen. She might as well be my sister.
“I didn’t realize you were paying that close attention to me.”
“You know,” Avery sighs, “All you hockey players are the same. Stringing along girls for the fun of it.”
“And I’m stringing along Sloane?”
Her shoulders shift. “Who else?”
I hum softly, dragging it out to be annoying. “She’ll survive.”
That earns me a glare, her eyes harsh against my skin. “Wow. Gentleman.”
“I never said I was one.”
I can’t help myself when it comes to Avery. There’s something about getting under her skin that is just so damn entertaining. I know I should correct her. I know I should point out that I respect women and would never string someone along, but…
Her eyes narrow again.
“You just ditch her at parties?” She asks.
“I didn’t ditch her.”
“Mm.” She turns to look down the alley. “Sure.”
I cross the pavement slowly, leaning against the other side of the railing, giving her space. “You seem very invested in this.”
“I’m not invested,” she snaps quickly.
“Sounds like it.”
She turns fully, irritation flaring. “I made an observation.”
“About my nonexistent relationship?”
Her brows pull together. “Nonexistent?”
I shrug my shoulders, watching her face. “She’s not my girlfriend.”
Her expression flickers before she manages to smooth it out, like she’s trying to file that information away without making it obvious.
I bite back a smile because I’m pretty confident Avery has no idea how much of her emotion she wears right on her face.
“Even if she’s not your girlfriend. You shouldn’t bring her here and ditch her.” Avery turns toward me. “It’s a shitty thing to do.”
“Would that make you feel better?” I shift on my feet so that I can see the gleam in her eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“If I were an asshole. Would it make you feel better?” I rub my hand over my hair, pushing it out of my face as I wait for her to answer.
“You are an asshole.”
I click my tongue. “Maybe, but not the kind you want to paint me out to be.” I step forward again, letting the alcohol fuel my recklessness. “I think you’re a little too curious about what I’m doing with women.”
Which is nothing. I’m doing nothing with women. But fuck, the idea of doing something with Avery sounds a bit too enticing right now.
She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but doesn’t step away.
“I think you have this picture in your head of who I am, but we both know you’ve made it up.” I push a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “This dance is getting boring, Chaos.”
It’s anything but fucking boring.
“You’re right. You’re boring.” Her voice is quiet, but her eyes are on fire.
She isn’t saying anything I don’t already think about myself, but it cuts coming from her, just the way she intended.
“If you want to know who Sloane is to me, just ask.”
Her jaw tightens, and she steps back, breaking the tension. “I don’t know what you think I want, Grayson, but I’m not curious. I was looking out for her. I see you. I see right through the facade you put on for everyone. I know better.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing that she’ll see what she wants to see. It’s infuriating.
She’s infuriating.
Instead of giving her the satisfaction of losing my cool, I move for the door.
“Yes, go back inside to your date.” She bites.
I whirl around, suddenly too tired of playing and too tired of letting her believe I’m something less than I am. “Sloane recently moved here. She’s Wyatt’s sister and practically family. She’s finishing college out here and staying with him until she finds a place.”
Avery’s mouth actually drops open, and she slides an arm onto the railing, fingers tapping against the metal. “Oh.”
“Sorry, I’m not a scumbag like you hoped.” I pull the door open. “I’m just looking out for her.”
“I didn’t realize.” She starts to backtrack.
“You didn’t want to realize.” I snap. I’ve done nothing to deserve the way she automatically assumes the worst from me.
Before she can answer, I let the door slam behind me. She wanted her privacy. Now, she can have it.