18 - Grayson
Grayson
We’re on the same fucking team, dude.” I shove Liam’s shoulder hard enough to knock him sideways on the couch as our characters sprint through another explosion on-screen.
“I was flanking,” he argues, shoving me back.
“You drove our Jeep directly into gunfire.”
“Yeah, well, you ran me over with it two minutes ago. It sounds like karma.”
On-screen, our entire squad gets wiped out in under six seconds because Liam launches a grenade that ricochets off a doorway and blows both of us to hell.
I stare at the screen in silence.
Beside me, Liam starts laughing so hard he drops his controller.
“What was the actual point of that?” I ask, letting my head fall back against the couch.
“To keep things interesting.”
Sloane snorts from somewhere behind us before vaulting over the back cushion and dropping dramatically next to me. “This game is trash anyway.”
Liam pauses mid-button mash. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Little Knox.”
“I’m serious,” she says, wrapping herself in the throw blanket. “The map design and weapon balancing sucks, and the only decent sniper rifle is impossible to get unless the lobby hits a fire sale.”
“Why do you know that?”
She shrugs. “Played with the guys across the street last semester.”
And because I am unable to stop myself from playing the protective older brother, I interrupt, “And who exactly were these guys?”
Sloane groans. “For fuck’s sake. Not you too. Wyatt already interrogates me every time a man breathes in my general direction.”
“I’m just saying maybe random college dudes aren’t–”
“I’m twenty-one,” she cuts in flatly. “I’ll do whatever I want, thank you very much.” She narrows her eyes before stealing my controller out of my hands. “And since you suck at this, I’ll take over.”
Liam doesn’t hesitate to restart the match. “Thank God. Maybe now we’ll survive longer than thirty seconds.”
“If you blow me up,” Sloane warns, “I’ll delete your entire level history.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The room settles back into comfortable chaos after that.
Normally, this is the kind of night I can shut my brain off during. But I haven’t been able to focus since Wesley got here, missing one of the people usually attached to her hip.
Avery.
It’s been three weeks since I saw her at Wyatt’s party.
At first, I figured we were both busy. We’re in season. Our schedules are insane. Between travel and games, sometimes entire weeks disappear before anybody notices.
But then she skipped the Blue Line when the rest of the soccer team showed up. Next she missed Liam’s party even though they’re usually thick as thieves. And now, tonight, Wesley and Sloane showed up just to say that Avery didn’t feel like being social.
Which might be believable if it were anyone other than Avery.
If there’s a crowded room somewhere, she’s usually already inside, causing problems.
So no, I don’t think it’s a coincidence anymore.
Avery avoiding me usually comes with insults attached to it. A middle finger. An argument. Or some type of comment to make sure I know exactly where to go and how fast to get there.
This quiet disappearance feels different.
I know why she’s doing it, at least partly.
When I’d tried to get her to open up about what she said to Harper, the panic on her face stopped me in my tracks. Her words were thick with embarrassment as if she’d been hoping I would ignore it altogether. So I did, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
Avery curled sideways in the back seat, holding her best friend together while she let herself fall apart.
About the crack in her voice when she talked about her ex.
About the way she looked at me after I used her actual name instead of Chaos, as if I’d crossed some invisible line neither of us had acknowledged before.
And this disappearing act shows that she hadn’t forgotten it either.
“Are you even listening?” Nathan tosses a pretzel at my head.
“Not remotely.” I shrug.
“Wesley asked if you wanted popcorn.”
Instead of answering, I hop off the couch and head to the kitchen, finding Wesley dumping butter into her bowl.
“How’s um, Harper, been since Wyatt’s?” It feels like the safer question, even if it’s not the one I want to ask.
Wesley pops a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Her usual self. Hopefully, she and James are working out their issues. Harper and Avery told me you gave them a ride home. That was nice of you.”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
I hate myself for what I’m about to ask.
“So, where are they tonight? You guys are usually a package deal.”
“Harper had to grade papers.”
I wait for the rest of her answer, but it doesn’t come.
Fucking hell.
I cave. “And Avery?”
Now, she looks at me, confusion flashing across her face.
I’m just as confused because I shouldn’t care.
“Why? Missing her insults?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I’m worried my head’s going to get a little too big if someone doesn’t knock me down a couple pegs.”
“I’m sure Wyatt can help you out in the meantime,” she teases.
Wesley still didn’t say why Avery wasn’t here, and now the question won’t settle. My face must give me away because she continues.
“I know you guys don’t get along, but Avery will warm up to you eventually. And when that happens, you’ll see that she’s pretty great behind the walls.”
I nod. “Sure. Yeah. I’m sure she is.”
I already know that she’s not nearly as bad as she wants me to believe. But I still can’t figure out why she puts up a front at all. Every damn time she shows me something real, she vanishes.
It’s exhausting and starting to eat away at me. I’m supposed to be using this time to learn more about myself, but instead, I keep learning more about her. And with every single thing I learn, another piece of her slides into place.
Maybe she’s used to space. Maybe I should give her space. It’s not like she owes me anything. But I can’t leave it alone. I pull out my phone, typing out a message.
Me: You alive, Chaos?
I slide it back into my pocket before I can stare at it like a loser.
I don’t expect an answer.
Wesley dumps part of her bowl into a smaller bowl for me while I pop the cap off a beer and head back to the living room.
My phone vibrates against my thigh.
Chaos: Why are you texting me?
Relief courses through me. There she is. Her attitude is intact, as if she hasn’t vanished for three weeks.
I lean into the couch cushions, a grin tugging at my mouth while Liam swears violently at the television beside me.
Me: Why are you responding?
Chaos: Maybe I’m a masochist and enjoy being annoyed.
I snort.
Nathan glances over from the kitchen island, where Wesley is wrapped in his arms. “You good?”
“Yup,” I answer absently.
He narrows his eyes, but Wesley distracts him by shoving a piece of popcorn into his mouth. His arms wrap around her tighter, while she giggles. He is officially out of the sling, but not fully ice-ready yet. Even still, he’s a lot less mopey now that the end is in sight.
My attention drops back to my phone.
Me: Am I annoying you already?
Chaos: It’s more of a constant state of existence where you’re concerned.
Me: So, you’re constantly thinking about me?
Three dots appear before disappearing, only to come back again.
Chaos: I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d act like yourself and ruin everything.
I huff out another laugh, rubbing my hand across my jaw.
Whatever this thing between Avery and me is, it’s insane how easily we slip back into it. Three weeks of silence, and within five texts, we’re already poking at each other as if nothing happened.
I look up to find Liam and Sloane screaming at each other over the game, while Wyatt throws popcorn at them from the recliner.
Nobody’s paying attention to me anymore.
Me: Why are you avoiding me?
Her response takes longer this time, and I already know she’s trying to figure out how to dodge my question before she responds.
Chaos: Don’t flatter yourself.
Me: Why didn’t you come to Blue Line or Liam’s party then?
Chaos: I had practice.
Me: Interesting. Your entire team went to both.
Chaos: Well, you know me, really into solo practice time.
That one makes me grin because it’s such an obviously bad lie that I almost respect the commitment to it. I can picture her typing it, wearing a serious expression while saying the dumbest possible thing.
Me: You’re avoiding me.
Chaos: I think you are giving yourself too much importance in my life.
Normally, this is where I’d let it go. But I’m getting tired of pretending with her. And I’m past tired of watching her panic every time something real slips out.
Me: So, you said some shit that you would’ve preferred keeping to yourself. We’ve all been there. It’s not like I told anyone.
Five minutes pass. Then, ten. I start to think that I was too honest, and she won’t respond at all. Then finally:
Chaos: You really didn’t tell anyone?
I pinch the bridge of my nose as frustration flares because I’ve never given her a reason to think I’d use her issues against her.
Me: No, I didn’t. And I would never do that. Okay?
Chaos: Okay.
I exhale, wondering if she actually believes me.
Me: Does that mean you’ll stop with the disappearing act?
Chaos: Maybe.
Me: Just maybe?
Chaos: Yeah, maybe I need you to say something embarrassing so that we’re even.
My eyebrows lift.
Me: Like emotional blackmail?
Chaos: No, like mutually assured emotional destruction.
I laugh loudly this time. Luckily, Liam and Sloane are too busy bitching at each other about the video game to notice.
Me: Is that what it’ll take for you to get over yourself?
Chaos: Yes.
Me: How deep do I have to go with this?
Chaos: Depths of hell.
Avery is the only person I know who would turn vulnerability into a hostage negotiation.
I stare at the screen because the easy answer would be some stupid confession. Something harmless and embarrassing that keeps this conversation surface-level. I’m sure that’s what she expects me to do.
Instead, I type the truth.
Me: Up until six months ago, I jumped from one long-term, meaningless relationship to another because I was trying to recreate what my parents have.
As soon as I hit send, I regret it. Sure, it’s the truth, but I’ve also never said it to anyone before. It feels too honest.
Chaos: And you finally realized it doesn’t exist?
I should’ve known she’d respond with the usual cynicism she wraps around herself like armor.
Me: No, it does. But I realized I was forcing myself into these relationships because I liked the idea of building a life with someone more than I actually liked being with them.
I fidget in my seat, nerves making me jittery now that I’ve said what I’ve been thinking for months.
Chaos: So, do you just not like to be alone?
I glance around the room at Wyatt and Nathan watching a game on the laptop, while Sloane steals popcorn from Wesley, and Liam threatens twelve-year-olds through the gaming headset.
My life has always looked like this. Loud. Crowded.
Me: Who likes to be alone?
Her response takes a while.
Chaos: Being alone is easier.
The thought of her really believing that leaves an ache in me as I picture her alone in her apartment.
Me: It might be easier, but it’s also lonelier.
Chaos: So you’re saying my choices are to be lonely or suffer?
I grin despite myself.
Me: Exactly. Now, will you stop avoiding me?
Chaos: I wasn’t avoiding you.
I shake my head, tongue running across the front of my teeth.
Me: Whatever you say.
“Take my spot.” Liam tosses his controller onto my lap, hopping off the couch. He wiggles his eyebrows. “Shelby asked if I was busy.”
“And you said yes,” Nathan says.
“No, I said ‘I’ll be right over’, so I’ve got to go.”
“Who the hell is Shelby?” Wyatt asks.
“We met at the bar a couple of weeks ago.” He shrugs as if that explains everything.
“And now she booty calls you at eleven-thirty,” Wyatt adds.
“Gross.” Sloane scrunches her face.
“As far as booty calls go, it’s pretty early time-wise. Pretty sure I messaged Piper at two a.m. last weekend.”
“Double gross,” Wesley chimes in.
“Who the hell is Piper?” Nathan asks this time.
Liam sighs, grabbing his keys off the table. “If we do this for every woman I sleep with, I’ll never actually get to go sleep with them.”
Wesley smacks Nathan’s arm when he laughs.
Liam jogs out the door as I hit play on the game.
I’m killed before pressing a single button on the controller, my mind unable to focus on this when it’s still lingering on my texts with Avery. I wait to restart the game until I check my phone.
Chaos: You’ll see me in a couple of days anyway.
And just like that, awareness slides low into my stomach.
Both the Tempest and the Blades play in New York this weekend. Nathan and Wesley compared notes and found out that we’re staying at the same hotel and both get in early enough to hang out the night before the games.
Me: I’ll see you then.
I slide my phone back into my pocket, hitting play again.
This was the second conversation in a row that we’ve had without fighting. I don’t know what to do with that.
But for the first time in weeks, I’ve stopped wondering if Avery’s avoiding me. Now, I’m just wondering what’s going to happen when she finally stops.