24 - Avery
Avery
The soup is fucking delicious.
I savor every single bite, dragging out the silence mostly because it really is too good to rush, but also because eating delays the conversation that’s to come.
Three hours ago, I was committed to spending my evening alone while pretending I wasn’t avoiding every single person who cared about me. But now, I’m sitting across from Grayson at my kitchen island, staring down into my bowl while steam curls into the air between us.
The conversation has died out.
I know he’s waiting for me to talk. To tell him why I close myself off from everyone. But shutting down is so carved into me, I’m not sure where to start.
He thinks it’s all Damon, but it’s not. It’s my parents. And Damon. And the fact that relying too much on someone else for happiness always seems to lead to a pain that I’ve felt too many times.
So yeah, how the hell am I supposed to explain that out loud to a man whose parents are happily married and living a life he dreams of?
I can feel his eyes on me. Never for long. Just quick glances in between his bites of soup while pretending that he has all the time in the world.
He’s giving me space, but it’s really just pissing me off.
Normal people would push. They’d ask their questions and fill the silence because silence makes people uncomfortable. But Grayson seems content to wait for me to trust him, however long that takes.
It’s making this more confusing.
He’d shown up tonight, furious that I was avoiding him, only to drop it all when he realized I’m upset. There was no guilt trip or accusation. Instead, he’s acting as if my feelings matter more than his. It’s such a foreign concept that I don’t know what to make of it.
I push a noodle around my bowl. Then a carrot. Then the celery.
“You know,” I say finally, still staring down at the soup, “I liked it better when I thought you were an asshole.”
Across from me, Grayson snorts.
"I hadn’t realized you changed your opinion of me.”
I point my spoon at him. “If you were a jerk, I could just tell you to leave.”
“You already told me to leave.”
“Clearly, it didn’t take.”
His mouth twitches, and he falls silent again.
I let out a long breath before setting my spoon down. The metal clicks against the bowl.
“My parents loved Damon.”
I don’t realize what I’ve said until it’s out of my mouth.
I guess that’s where we’re starting.
“I met him about two years ago. We started dating pretty quickly after that, and once they met him, they decided he was perfect. He was the captain of an NHL team. He was polite. He was charming and managed to feign interest in any topic they brought up.”
I laugh softly, but there’s nothing funny about it.
“My mother used to introduce him to people before she introduced me. I used to think their opinion mattered. But truthfully, they wouldn’t know a single thing about a healthy relationship.”
Something flashes across Grayson’s face.
I keep talking before I lose my nerve.
“My parents hate each other and have for as long as I can remember. They divorced when I was ten, but still spend every day finding new ways to hurt each other.”
I swallow.
“They’re good at it, too. It’s become quite creative over the years. They can manipulate even the most minor things into a weapon. I mean, my dad is still calling me daily, all because my mom mindfucked him about her last trip here.”
“They put you in the middle?” He asks.
“I’m the toy they play tug of war over.”
“If my mom were angry, she’d stop speaking to my dad for weeks. And if my dad was angry, he’d disappear into work.”
I stare at the countertop, trying not to let the memories pull me under.
“They withheld affection when they were upset and used attention like currency.”
Grayson leans back in his chair. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
“That’s what I thought too. I dated around a lot, thinking maybe if I found the right person, it would be different than what I’d been raised with. And then I met Damon.”
I slide my chair out and stand up, my body too tense to stay sitting.
“He was everything I wanted.”
After a breakup, people are always pointing to obvious red flags that everyone somehow missed. But when I think about the beginning, all I remember is feeling happy.
I bragged about him to Wesley and Harper. I smiled when he texted me. That’s what makes it so humiliating.
Grayson’s jaw tightens.
I notice.
“Seriously, he wasn’t awful at first. He made me feel chosen. It felt unconditional.”
My laugh comes out bitter. “Which is embarrassing to admit now.”
I still don’t quite understand how it went from being something so perfect to something that almost destroyed me.
“There’s nothing embarrassing about wanting to be chosen, Avery.” Grayson mimics my movements, standing up from the table and collecting the dishes.
“We never once went on a date. He told me it was hard to go out in public. He was always recognized and said he wanted to protect me. It made sense in my head. But looking back, it was just a way to isolate me. He was out in public all the time with his friends and teammates.”
Damon ensured that the only part of his world I was exposed to was the perfectly curated life he wanted me to see. It was all one beautiful, vindictive lie.
“The control started with small things. Sharing my location for emergencies. Not talking to the friends who partied too much. Using his debit card for everything because he wanted to take care of me.”
Dawning flashes across Grayson’s face, and I know he’s thinking back to our grocery store encounter.
I nod slowly, a new type of understanding passing between us.
“But then those so-called helpful changes came with strings. He started showing up where I was, even if it was supposed to be girls’ night, or calling me if I wasn’t where he thought I should be.
I shopped at the wrong store. Spent too much on groceries.
Didn’t say thank you enough for his kindness. ”
The memories make my stomach twist.
“He had this way of smiling while he criticized me, so half the time, I convinced myself I was being ridiculous, thinking I didn’t understand how adult relationships worked.”
I drop my bowl into the sink.
“Then he started getting mean whenever I did something he thought was inappropriate, like wearing something revealing or going out with friends without him. He’d call me names or ignore me completely.”
Grayson goes completely still, standing in the doorway.
I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it.
“One time, I changed outfits three times before putting on something he approved of. And even then, I just thought, well, maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe this is just love.”
The words taste sour. I force a smile, rinsing the dishes so I have something to do with my hands.
“I changed my behavior to minimize the fallout. I stopped posting pictures when I went out so that I didn’t have to defend myself. I went to see him more so that he knew I liked being with him.”
I roll my eyes, unable to hide the frustration at myself for letting him control me that way. "It wasn’t until my keys started disappearing that I realized how bad it was."
“What do you mean your keys disappeared?” His voice is laced with concern.
“I’d have plans or want to leave, and suddenly my keys wouldn’t be where I knew I left them. At first, he helped me look, pretending to be as confused as I was. But then he’d just tell me I didn’t need to leave anyway.”
“Then they’d magically appear the next day. I thought I was going fucking crazy.”
My blood boils as I think about the first time it happened.
My keys showed up right in the middle of the kitchen counter the next morning as if they’d been there all along.
I remember Damon laughing and asking me if I was getting enough sleep.
And I remember trying to go to bed earlier to make sure I was.
“Eventually, after it happened enough times, I decided I’d call an Uber. He snatched my phone out of my hand and threw it against the wall.”
His eyes darken, jaw ticking while he forces the words out. “Did he hurt you?”
I realize I’ve never truly seen Grayson mad. Because the look on his face right now is new, and it’s blatant icy rage. At least now someone can hate Damon right along with me.
“Not like that.” I shake my head, all the while knowing now that he would’ve eventually if I’d stayed longer. “The next day, he left for an away game. While he was gone, I packed up my shit and left. I hadn’t seen him in person until this past weekend.”
The silence that follows is immediate.
“He was really good at making me question myself. But shattering my phone against the wall was a clear enough sign.”
Across from me, Grayson hasn’t moved.
I don’t think he’s even breathing.
“Through it all, he was still just as charming. He just made everything feel like my fault."
My voice gets quieter.
“If I was upset, I was being dramatic. If I got angry, I was irrational. If I wanted space, I was abandoning him.”
I breeze past him into the living room, needing more space, or air, or something to slow my heart rate down.
“My mom thinks I should get back together with him.”
Grayson turns, following me into the living room. “I don’t know your mom, but that sounds like a really fucking stupid idea.”
That does it. I laugh, loud and thunderous, through the living room. Grayson stares at me for a beat before chuckling too.
“Understatement of the century,” I say between breaths when I finally calm down.
“So that’s why you don’t want to let anyone in?” He says, watching me intently.
“It’s not like I believe him. I know he’s an ass. I know it wasn’t healthy. That I didn’t deserve any of it. I’ve moved on from that.”
He scrunches his eyebrows.
“Seeing him last weekend just reminded me of how awful it was to be with him. To be dependent on someone, relying on them only for them to hurt you for sport. I don’t want to do any of that again. I have no interest in being with someone seriously.”
Then, carefully, like he’s not entirely sure he wants the answer, he asks, “You said I reminded you of him before. Do you think I’m like him?”
I stop in my tracks, looking down at him to see actual pain etched across his face as he sits down.
“What?” I move to the couch, sitting next to him.
“Do you think that’s what I’d do?”
“No. I don’t think that at all.” The answer comes without thought, because for all the reasons I’m terrified of whatever this thing between us is becoming, that isn’t one of them.
“So you just don’t like me enough?” He asks.
I sigh, frustrated at my pathetic ability to explain myself.
“That’s not it either. But Grayson, you’re built for marriage and white picket fences. I don’t know that I’ll ever want any of that.”
“No one is proposing marriage here, Chaos.”
“Maybe not, but you’re the guy who remembers birthdays and anniversaries and probably knows exactly how many kids you want.”
“I do not.” He looks offended. Then his lips twitch.
“See? You totally do.”
He chuckles. “So what? You make me sound eighty.”
I grin, but there’s something sad underneath it.
I don’t see wedding dresses and wonder how they’d look on me. My future doesn’t look like family Christmas cards or kids.
He knows exactly what he wants out of life, but I don’t even know where to start.
Mostly, these days, I just imagine freedom.
“I spent my entire childhood watching people make each other miserable. Relationships always turn into something that eats away at you.”
I flinch at how selfish I sound before continuing, “I spent too long checking with someone else before making decisions about my own life. I like doing whatever I want whenever I want. I like not having to answer to somebody else.”
He leans forward, elbows landing on his knees. “So do that.”
I blink. “What?”
“Do that.”
“Grayson, that’s not how relationships work.”
“According to who?”
I open my mouth, then close it.
Grayson stands up, turning to face me.
“Chaos, go where you want. Wear whatever you want. Say whatever you want. Lord knows you already do.”
I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
Now, I’m completely confused, but his gaze holds mine with a certainty that makes my heart beat faster.
“I’m saying, do whatever you want whenever you want. Just give me a chance to be the person you come back to when you’re done.”
My breath catches, and he lowers himself in front of me so that we’re eye to eye.
He’s not asking for any version of a relationship I’ve ever seen. It's a choice. Every day. Over and over again.
“What does that even mean?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “It means let me show you.”
“Show me what?”
“How it should be.”
Part of me wants to believe him, but a bigger part of me wants to run. Probably because of the first part.
I fold my arms as my defensive instinct kicks in.
“And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”
“Go on a date with me.”
“No.” The word flies out of my mouth in pure panic.
“One date.”
“We don’t even like each other enough for that.”
“C’mon, Chaos, all this honesty and you still want to pretend you don’t like me? Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t like you.”
“You actually want to date me?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ve already slept together.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It’s more complicated than one date.”
I roll my eyes, but he continues before I can object.
“No pressure or expectations. No life-changing declarations.”
I snort, but then think about the potential fallout. “It could blow up our entire friend group.”
“We don’t have to tell anyone.” His voice softens. “It’ll be low-key, I promise.” He leans forward, hands gripping the couch outside of my thighs. “I’m not really ready to jump right into a relationship anyway. I’m supposed to be figuring out how to be alone.”
“I don’t know. It sounds like you’re proposing a relationship.”
“One date, and we’ll see what happens after. No rushing.”
Every alarm bell in my body is screaming. I’d told myself I would never try this kind of thing again. But spending time with Grayson has a way of silencing the doubt in my mind.
Warmth courses through my chest as I realize the certainty with which he’s decided he wants to do this.
I swallow, neither of us speaking for several seconds.
Then, finally, I sigh.
“Fine.”
His face immediately brightens, and I find myself smiling back. Leaning forward, he brushes his lips against mine. It’s soft and sweet, which is entirely different from the heat-fueled kisses we’ve exchanged so far.
“Next Saturday, after our away trip. It will be a perfect day for it.”
“You already have a plan?”
His grin returns; this time it’s cocky. “Chaos, dating is my specialty, and I’ve thought about a date with you since you showed up in the bar and told me we need to have sex.”
And despite my asshole ex and my parents and every reason I should know better, my heart does something stupid when he says it.
He’d teased that tonight was a hostile takeover. I’d thought he just meant my apartment, but now, I’m thinking he meant so much more.
Because now, apparently, I’m going on a date with Grayson Shaw.