12 - Grayson #2
Mostly because she’d looked so defensive when I pointed out how dangerous it was, as if my concern felt like control to her. Asking her to care about her own safety shouldn’t feel like crossing a line.
Nathan mentioned Wesley had a game tonight. Which means the whole soccer team would probably be going out afterward.
Would Avery get that drunk again? Would she end up stumbling around with another stranger who didn’t give a shit whether she got home safe?
A wave of unease courses through me.
I pull my phone from my pocket and open her contact. I’d texted myself from her phone that night in case she wandered off or got into trouble.
Because yes, I do think she’s that ridiculous and impulsive.
Me: Are you going out tonight?
Three dots appear right away.
Chaos: Who is this?
Me: The man whose house you left your black bra at while attempting to flee.
Chaos: Hmm… I’m going to need you to narrow it down a bit more.
I stare at the message, annoyance sparking to life the way it always does with her.
“Did you get her number?” Wyatt nudges my shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Your one-night stand.”
Right. My fake one-night stand.
“Oh. No. She was gone in the morning.”
“At least you have the bra as a souvenir,” Liam says with a grin.
That fucking bra.
I shoved it into the back of my hall closet after they found it, and it took a considerable amount of self-control not to pull it back out every time I walked by it.
But that road leads absolutely nowhere good.
I refuse to be attracted to Avery. Not only does she hate me, but I have no interest in getting back into a dead-end relationship.
Myself. Hockey. That’s where my focus needs to be.
We resume walking toward the locker room while I glance back down at my phone.
Me: Real nice.
Chaos: How’d you get my number?
Me: If it’s that easy for me to take your phone and text myself, it’s a good sign you’re too drunk.
Chaos: Thanks for the tip.
I stare at the conversation, struggling to understand why I texted her in the first place. Her life is not my business. As if reading my mind, she follows up with another message.
Chaos: Why are you texting me?
Me: Are you going out tonight?
Chaos: The whole team is. Why? Planning to ruin my night… again?
Me: Depends. Do you plan on needing rescued… again?
Chaos: *Kidnapped
A grin tugs at my lips despite my attempt to smother it.
I glance up at the guys. “Are we going out tonight?”
Liam gives me an immediate suspicious look, but answers anyway. “Yeah. We’re meeting up with the soccer team after their game.”
Nathan adds, “It might be a wild night. Wesley said something about wingwomaning for Avery.”
My skin prickles. “Why?”
Nathan shrugs, opening the door to the locker room. “She didn’t say, but I’m guessing it has something to do with Damon Woods.”
I let the door slam shut behind me.
Damon Woods?
Why the hell would the captain of the New York Yeti, otherwise known as the biggest asshole I’ve ever played against, have anything to do with Avery?
Liam grimaces. “I still can’t believe she dated that asshole.”
My head snaps toward him. “Who dated that asshole?”
“Avery,” Nathan repeats, clearly confused by my reaction. “For like a year, I think. Messy breakup.”
My grip tightens around my phone.
That’s her ex?
An article was just published about him assaulting a woman, and knowing how much of an asshole he is on the ice, he probably did it.
Suddenly, I’m remembering every drunk thing she said that night. The way she mentioned owing me after I helped her. The way she hesitated about going to my place. I try not to jump to conclusions, but it’s pretty fucking difficult when I know Damon’s a piece of shit.
“Did you guys see that shit about him in the news?” I ask.
“It’s gross that they’ll let him keep playing with allegations like that floating around,” Nathan says, curling his lip in disgust.
“We’re all just cogs in their wheel,” Wyatt adds.
My mind is still stuck on Avery. With Damon.
“Avery dated him, and now, he’s being accused of hitting a girlfriend. Do you think–”
Liam cuts me off before I can finish the sentence.
“Avery? There’s no fucking way. She would’ve eaten him alive.” He scrunches his brows as if forcing the implication out of his head. “Besides, she ditched the douchebag a long time ago.”
I nod, forcing myself to act indifferent, but really I’m piecing together how the timing of that article and Avery’s drunken night alone seems a little too convenient to be coincidental.
My phone vibrates again.
Chaos: Will I see you tonight?
Will she? None of this is my business.
And yet…
Me: Seems like you might want to see me.
Chaos: Usually no, but there’s something I want to ask you.
Me: Mysterious…
Chaos: Show up tonight and find out.
Me: Why would I do that?
She’s spent months making it clear she can’t stand me. And now she wants a favor? I should absolutely stay home. I shouldn’t be asking questions about her ex or worrying if she’s okay.
But then another message appears.
Chaos: Just come tonight. You already have the bra. If you’re lucky, maybe you’ll see the other half of that matching set.
My entire body heats.
I reread the message four times, genuinely worried I’m seeing things. Because the Avery I know goes out of her way to remind me she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t bring up her panties in conversation.
But… fuck.
I’m still just a man. And now I’m picturing her in those black lace panties in the middle of my locker room like a complete masochist.
I shove my phone back into my pocket as if it burned me.
She’s either flirting with me or fucking with me, but either way, there’s zero chance that I am staying home tonight.