15 - Avery
Avery
The downtown restaurant is crowded with tables balancing trays of drinks and steaming plates of food. Wesley and I had managed to grab one of the tall high-top tables near the front windows.
“I’m telling you,” Wesley says, leaning back in her chair. “Coach is going to lose her mind during film tomorrow when she watches Becca refusing to track back.”
I laugh, buttering a slice of bread. “That’s because Becca thinks defense is a personal attack on her brand.”
Wesley snorts, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear before reaching for her drink. “I just think we got lucky St. Louis collapsed after halftime because if we play like that against Kansas City next week, we’re screwed.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be well-balanced these days?” I tease.
“Well-balanced doesn’t mean I don’t still want to win.”
Our girls’ dinner could not have had better timing.
I’ve been a wreck for the past two days, my brain replaying the feeling of Grayson’s mouth on me constantly. Clearly, it had been too long since I was with a man. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why I let him grope me in a public restroom and keep my underwear for fuck’s sake.
“You okay?” Wesley’s brows pull together.
“Yeah. Totally.” It shouldn’t feel like a lie. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted the other night. A no-strings orgasm delivered by someone other than my vibrator.
Wesley’s eyes flick toward her watch. “Harper’s late.”
That immediately drags me out of my head because Harper is never late. I check my phone, frowning when I realize she’s nearly twenty minutes behind.
Wesley rests her forearms on the table. “Have you noticed how weird she’s been acting lately?”
“She’s been distracted for weeks.”
“And exhausted,” Wesley adds quietly. “Like really exhausted.”
Harper has been the emotional glue in our friendship since we met her in our senior year, when she was still a freshman.
She balanced us out, making our friendship feel steadier.
So when the most stable person I know starts zoning out during conversations or showing up with forced smiles, it’s impossible not to notice
“I asked her last week if she was okay,” Wesley says, tracing the condensation on her glass, “and she brushed it off completely.”
“Okay, we’re talking to her tonight. She’s always there for us. We need to be there for her.”
Right as the words leave my mouth, the front door opens.
Harper steps inside, scanning the restaurant until her eyes land on us. Even from across the room, I can tell something is wrong. Harper, who normally looks polished down to the last detail in public, looks exhausted.
“Wow,” she says, slipping into the empty chair beside Wesley. “You two look judgmental already.”
“That’s because you’re late,” I say with my eyebrows raised.
Wesley studies her. “Are you okay?”
“Can we not do the interrogation thing tonight?” Harper pinches the bridge of her nose.
“That depends,” I say, never the one to beat around the bush. “Are we imagining whatever’s been going on with you lately?”
Around us, the restaurant buzzes, but Harper looks disconnected from it, staring down at the table like she’s somewhere else.
Wesley’s voice softens. “Harper.”
Her shoulders drop. “It’s just a rough patch.”
I frown. “What kind of rough patch?”
Her fingers tighten around her silverware. “Things with James have felt weird lately. But we’ve been together since we were fifteen, so it’s bound to happen sometimes.”
Wesley rolls her lips together. “That sounds frustrating.”
“I don’t know.” Harper shakes her head once. “I feel crazy half the time because I can feel something wrong between us, but he refuses to even acknowledge there’s a problem.”
My stomach twists because Harper isn’t usually emotional in front of people. Even now, she sounds controlled despite the strain underneath every word.
The server returns with more drinks and another plate of bread. Harper stares at her wine, then takes the world’s largest sip.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says firmly. “Seriously.”
Maybe it’s my relationship ineptitude, but I have never been able to understand why she changed the trajectory of her life for James.
“Do you think maybe if you did something for yourself, like soccer again, it would help?”
“No.” She shakes her head harder, glaring at me. “I’ve told you I stand by that decision.”
The wall in her expression slides back into place. I recognize it because I’ve been doing the same thing for months every time someone brings up Damon. Even last week when Wesley had tried to bring up the article about him, I’d shut her down instantly.
We all have our own shit.
Wesley shifts the energy first, like she always does when Harper and I clash. “Nathan’s so bored he’s started becoming obsessed with trying out every restaurant in town and ranking them.”
Harper and I both snort as she continues.
“Being one-handed, he can’t cook for shit. He’s got a whole spreadsheet with his grading scale. And he’s roped Grayson into giving him restaurant recommendations.”
Grayson’s name pulls my attention before I can stop it.
I think about the overloaded grocery cart in the store and the best omelet I’ve ever had.
It should be harmless information, except apparently, I can’t even think of him and eating in the same breath without my mind heading straight into the gutter.
My cheeks heat, and I’m grateful for the distraction when Harper waves to someone over my shoulder.
I twist in my seat to see who it is, then curse under my breath.
Wesley’s eyebrows lift. “What?”
Making her way toward our table through the crowd is Sloane.
Every humiliating detail from the alley flashes through my brain at once, starting with me accusing Grayson of taking advantage of her and ending with him telling me she’s practically his sister.
And now, after letting him give me the most mind-blowing orgasm of my life, I’m not sure how to look her in the eye.
Sloane stops beside the table, wearing fitted black jeans with her bleach blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.
“Well,” she says easily, “if it isn’t my future teammates.”
Wesley’s lips purse. “Future teammates?”
“This is Sloane. We met at the recruiting camp while you were at Futures,” I explain quickly.
Recognition flashes across Wesley’s face. “Wait. Sloane? The goalie?”
“That’s me.”
Wesley laughs. “Coach Bennett’s talked about you like six times already.”
Sloane lights up with smug satisfaction. “Seriously?”
“Apparently, you’re terrifying in the net.”
“That,” Sloane presses a hand to her chest, “is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Maybe we really will be future teammates.”
Harper finishes her glass of wine. “I saw you at camp. You’re amazing.”
Before my brain can stop me, the words fly out. “She’s Wyatt’s sister.”
Harper’s eyes glint with amusement because she listened to me rant about Grayson and Sloane the entire drive home from camp. I shoot her a death glare sharp enough to qualify as a weapon.
Wesley looks between us. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing.”
“Mmhm,” Harper hums. “Are you meeting someone, Sloane?”
“No. Just grabbing food to go. I don’t know enough people in the city, yet.”
“Eat with us.” Wesley motions to our last empty chair.
Sloane pauses before pulling out the empty chair. “Honestly, I’d love to. I’ve been surrounded by too much testosterone.”
“You’re living with Wyatt, right?” I ask, forcing myself to reset.
When I met Sloane at camp, I loved her, and it’s not her fault that Grayson has royally screwed with my head.
“Yeah. I really want to end up on a team in New England next year, so even though it’s my senior year, I transferred hoping to get seen by the right people.”
Wesley nods enthusiastically. “Smart. Are you living with Wyatt for good?”
Sloane throws her head back with laughter. “No. Hell no. I’m only staying with him until I find a place. I love my brother, but his hovering is already getting old.”
The conversation pauses when the waitress arrives to take our orders.
Once we’re alone again, Harper asks, “Wait, so Wyatt Knox, the man who doesn’t seem to give a shit about anything, is a hoverer?”
“Oh yeah. He kills it with the whole careless, broody personality. But I’m unfortunately the exception to that rule.”
“That’d drive me up a wall,” I say.
Sloane grins. “I’ve earned it. I’ve given Wyatt and Grayson plenty of reasons to hover over the years.”
“Grayson hovers?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Oh yeah, maybe worse than Wyatt. My brother and Grayson hit it off in their rookie year. Grayson’s family kind of took us in.”
Harper glances at me and wiggles her eyebrows. “That sounds really nice of him.”
I kick her under the table.
Sloane doesn’t notice. “Nice doesn’t even cover it. His mom still calls me sometimes just to check in.”
My food is set in front of me, so I lean back and throw out the same insult I used on him the other night. “He has one hell of a hero complex.”
Sloane smiles. “Who wouldn’t want to be saved by Grayson?”
The weight of those words presses down on me.
“Avery can’t stand the guy, actually,” Wesley says, swirling her straw through her drink, completely unaware of the inner turmoil she’s causing.
“Really?” Sloane looks surprised. “Why?”
Harper grins. “She thinks he’s too nice.”
“It’s not that,” I start, then stop, because maybe it is. “He’s always so collected. It feels performative.”
Then, as if it clears everything up, Wesley adds, “She’s got a weird ex-boyfriend thing that we don’t talk about.”
My mouth drops open. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
Wesley throws her hands up and shrugs.
Sloane just laughs. “Don’t we all have an ex-boyfriend thing we don’t talk about?”
The knot in my stomach loosens. “I like you more than them,” I tell her while flipping off Wesley across the table.
“I get the Grayson thing, though.” Sloane shrugs. “Some people are put off by the whole nice guy thing. Some people prefer impulsive and fiery instead.”
As in the type who would tell you to ditch a guy, shove you into a bathroom, then bury their face between your legs.
Except Grayson somehow manages to be both.
Before I can spiral, Wesley zeroes in on me. “Speaking of impulse, have you broken that dry spell yet?”
I choke on my drink while Harper nearly loses her mind beside me.
Sloane lights up. “Wait. There’s a dry spell?”
“Oh my God,” I mutter, dropping my head into my hands.
Wesley grins. “Answer the question.”
“First of all, yes. Obviously.”
Harper squints. “Obviously?”
“It’s not like I haven’t had opportunities. I just needed the right man for the job.”
Sloane points at me. “I need details.”
If she knew who it was, she definitely wouldn’t want them.
“No, you don’t.”
“Unfortunately, we do,” Harper says.
Wesley leans forward. “Who was he?”
“Some guy. I’m not seeing him again.” I shrug like it meant nothing.
No. It did mean nothing.
Harper tilts her head. “Why? Was it bad?”
“It wasn’t bad,” I say carefully, my mind flashing straight to Grayson’s hands on me. “Actually, it might've been the best orgasm of my life.”
That’s why it’s had me tangled in knots. Because I should be forgetting it ever happened, but instead, I’m fucking reminiscing every chance I get.
The table erupts.
“Oh my God,” Wesley says through a laugh. “You cannot say that and give us nothing else.”
“I absolutely can.”
“So, why not see him again?” She asks.
“Because I don’t want a relationship. Besides, after such a long dry spell, it would’ve been amazing no matter who touched me.”
But even saying it out loud doesn’t convince me.
Sloane leans farther across the table. “I’m obsessed with you. How do I get this level of confidence?”
“Years of poor decision-making,” Harper says.
“Experience,” I correct.
The conversation dissolves into overlapping teasing after that. But underneath it, my brain refuses to let go of the fact that while it was truly amazing for me, there is no way it was for him.
Because he didn’t even get off.
Which makes absolutely no sense, because what the hell was in it for him?
My check lands on the table, pulling me out of my head.
As we pay, Sloane says, “Wyatt’s hosting a housewarming party this weekend. Grayson and I bullied him into it.”
I raise a brow. “Wyatt Knox is hosting a party?”
“Nathan already told me we’re going,” Wesley says.
Harper hesitates. “I don’t really know Wyatt.”
“You don’t need to,” Sloane says immediately. “You know me. Please come. I need Wyatt to see I’m making friends.”
That gets a laugh out of Harper. “Okay, I’ll come.”
Sloane turns to me, already narrowing her eyes. “You’re coming too.”
“No.”
Sloane grins. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I don’t even like the hockey team.”
“Good thing the party isn’t just for them.”
I open my mouth, but there’s no real explanation I can give as to why I can’t go.
“Fine. I’ll go.”
Because avoiding Grayson forever was never really an option, and considering the way my heart is racing at the prospect of seeing him again, I’m not sure I wanted it to be.