31 - Avery
Avery
Tonight’s weird.
Partly because fifteen of us are taking up an entire patio at a restaurant downtown. But mostly because Grayson is sitting directly across from me and I’m supposed to pretend that he hasn’t spent the last three nights in my bed.
It’d be easier to do if he didn’t keep stretching his leg out under the table, brushing against me.
It’s his fault I have to be here at all. I was perfectly happy holed away at my place, but he thought his team could use some fun before the next series started, and apparently, my team is part of that package deal these days.
The Blades fly out for the first two games of the conference championship series tomorrow, and as captain, he decided going to the Blue Line was bad for optics.
Someone suggested dinner, and after calling half the restaurants in the city, we finally found one that would accommodate such a huge group.
The restaurant sits right on the harbor with string lights hanging across the patio and boats drifting through the water behind us.
There’s not a single drink in sight tonight because once Grayson made the suggestion, Captain Wesley hopped right on board, applying it to the soccer team, too. They’re both such killjoys.
“I’m just saying,” Nathan says, pointing his fork at Liam, “you could’ve warned me.”
“Warned you about what?”
“Warned me that when you said ’come in’, I’d be walking into the middle of you hooking up with some woman.”
The entire table bursts out laughing.
“We weren’t in the middle. We were done.” Liam shrugs.
“Barely, dude.” Nathan cringes. “Now, I know what your post-sex glow looks like, and I’m fucking traumatized.”
Liam chuckles. “You’ll live, Wilder.”
Under the table, Grayson brushes his foot against mine. My stomach flips at the contact. He’s been teasing me like this since we got here, so my skin is officially on fire.
I pull my foot back and kick him. He manages not to move, but his eyebrows jump as a grin spreads across his face.
Asshole.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down at it.
Grayson: Violence is not how healthy secret couples communicate.
I bite back a laugh.
Me: Stop touching me.
Almost immediately:
Grayson: Why? Is it distracting you?
I hate him.
I smile into my drink and try to tune back into the conversation around me. Food starts arriving at the table, and the chatter quiets as people start digging in.
“Two entrees?” I tease Liam when his food is set down in front of him.
“It’s called fueling,” he says between bites.
“There’s no way you’re going to eat all of that,” Wesley replies.
Nathan looks at her. “Babe, I guarantee he eats all of that.”
“Sounds like you guys are jealous that I can eat like this and still look like a god.”
I laugh into my water.
Liam points triumphantly. “See? Avery has my back.”
“Whatever you say,” I agree, rolling my eyes.
A basket of fries appears in the middle of the table.
Before I can grab one, Grayson casually slides the basket closer to my side. Then, without me having to ask, he pushes the ketchup my way, too.
Not a single person notices, but I do. The gesture is so small it’s almost ridiculous for it to settle into my chest the way it does. It’s like he knows me and thinks of me without any effort at all.
It’s not even just me that he does it for. When he refilled his water with the community table jug, he topped off Wesley’s glass because it was low and next to his.
For months, I thought he was putting on a show, but now I see just how much he likes taking care of everyone, especially when no one’s watching.
Well, almost no one.
I can’t seem to stop watching him lately.
Sloane clicks her knife to her water glass, silencing most of the table. “I have an announcement.”
Wyatt looks concerned. “Why do you sound like you’re about to tell us you’re pregnant?”
Sloane throws a napkin at him. “Oh my God.”
“You said an announcement.”
“Not every announcement is a pregnancy.”
“Most surprise announcements are.”
She rolls her eyes before letting a wide grin fill her face. “I got approved for my apartment.”
The table erupts into excitement.
“You’ve got to be so relieved.” I immediately turn to hug her.
Sloane laughs as everyone starts talking over one another.
“When do you move in?” Becca asks.
“Next month.”
“Do you need furniture?” Wesley piles on.
“Probably.”
The celebration continues as people continue peppering her with questions.
I’m thrilled for her.
She left her old life behind to pursue her dreams out here, and she’s doing the damn thing. We’ve all been there before. Getting your first place feels significant, like proof that your life is becoming real.
Wyatt glares across the table. “Does this mean you’re finally getting your damn decorative pillows out of my house?”
“They are piling up all over the place,” Grayson says between bites of fries.
“There’s only like six of them,” Sloane argues.
Wyatt snorts. “Six per room, maybe.”
“Harper’s the queen of decorative pillows,” I add, thinking about the obscene amount she has scattered throughout her house.
Harper immediately throws both hands up. “Do not drag me into this.”
“It’s true,” Wesley confirms.
“Yes,” Harper agrees. “But mine are functional decorative pillows.”
Nathan stares at her. “What does that even mean?”
Across the table, Grayson catches my eye, mouth twitching. I glance back at my plate to keep from smiling.
The conversation around the table continues, but I don’t know a single thing being said because I keep replaying the past couple of days. After our talk, things were better than I expected.
He was in this, and while I haven’t been able to give him the answer I know he probably wants, he’s willing to wait for me to figure it out. My anxiety surrounding us has dwindled almost entirely.
That night, I’d shown up ready to fight. To yell or haul up any insult to defend myself, the way it would’ve been with any other relationship I’ve ever had. Grayson had shut that down entirely. And days later, my mind was still trying to wrap around how he could be so patient with me.
Part of me worried that he’d pull away at my uncertainty, but he’s as present as always.
The sex is better, the conversations run deeper, and with Grayson manning the kitchen, the food is actually edible.
Aside from mandatory team meetings and practices, we’ve made the most of his lull in games and my bye week.
I lean in a little, reaching my hand under the table and squeezing his knee once.
His eyes glimmer with amusement when his fingers brush against mine before pulling away when Nathan coughs loudly, interrupting the conversation around us.
Nathan glances at Wesley and grins.
“Actually,” he says. “We have an announcement.”
Liam’s mouth drops. “Holy shit, are you pregnant?”
“No,” Nathan snaps. “Announcements don’t automatically mean pregnancy.”
I hide my laugh behind my hand while Liam just glances at Wyatt and shrugs as if they both are right and everyone else is wrong.
Wesley wraps her arm around Nathan. “We’re moving in together.”
Becca launches out of her chair to hug. “I’m so excited for you.”
Harper slides in next, mumbling some form of congratulations.
I catch Wesley’s eye across the table and smile widely so that she knows I’m excited for her. Her grin looks permanently etched into her face as more people chime in with questions about when and where.
The smile on her face makes me wonder what it would feel like to stop hiding. My gaze drifts across the table to Grayson. And just like that, I’m reminded that tomorrow, he leaves for New York.
And I’d be lying if I said the idea of Grayson on the same ice as Damon wasn’t making me sick to my stomach. Sure, Damon is awful, but that doesn’t mean his words can’t still ruin everything if he aims them right.
Grayson’s brows furrow when he sees my face.
Sloane has abandoned the chair next to mine and taps his shoulder. “Gray, go take my seat. I want to compare apartment pictures with Wesley.”
My head feels fuzzy as the chaos continues around me, my own anxiety bubbling inside me.
Then, the weight of Grayson’s hand settles onto my thigh as he slides into the chair next to mine. My head goes silent, nerves calming just from his touch. I can feel his eyes darting toward me, but I keep my focus on everything happening around us.
Talking to him about how nervous I am that something will happen and he’ll change his mind about me feels impossible.
The knot in my stomach tightens.
A second later, my phone lights up.
Grayson: You’re doing that thing.
I immediately look down.
Me: What thing?
Grayson: The thing where you disappear into your head while staring directly at people.
His thumb traces circles into my knee, and I focus on the rhythmic movement to keep from spiraling further. Because in the moment, right now, everything feels more perfect than I ever knew possible.
And I hate the way that my body automatically tenses at these perfect moments, wondering when it’ll all come crashing around me.
I know it’s irrational, but that doesn’t make my palms stop sweating, or my heart stop racing. I can only hope that someday I won’t associate happiness with an impending crash.
Grayson squeezes my knee, pulling me back to the moment, at just the right time.
My eyes flick over, but he’s not even glancing my way.
The smug bastard.
I send a text.
Me: You’re lucky nobody can see under this table.
His response comes instantly.
Grayson: Is that a threat?
Me: A promise.
His shoulders shake with silent laughter.
Liam notices. “What are you laughing at?”
Grayson doesn’t miss a beat. “Nathan thinks he gets closet space once Wesley moves in.”
The entire table laughs again.
How he even managed to track the table conversation is a mystery to me, but he gets away with it.
The conversation drifts toward playoff predictions after that. Some of the rookies at the end of the table start guessing how many games they’ll end up playing, but Grayson shakes his head.