6 - Avery
Avery
The walk around the block to the bar is quiet for all of three seconds before Becca, my teammate and tonight’s birthday girl, jogs across the street and pulls me into a hug. Her face lights up when she sees me, and I can’t help but match it.
“Oh,” she starts, dragging the word out as her eyes flick from my boots to my jacket and back again, “so we’re doing the whole effortlessly hot, I didn’t try but somehow will still be the hottest woman here tonight thing.”
I smile, shifting my weight as I adjust my grip on my purse. “I did try, actually, which makes it a lot less impressive.”
“Don’t undersell it,” she says, stepping closer and tugging lightly at the sleeve of my jacket like she’s inspecting it. “If I looked like that, I’d be insufferable.”
“You are insufferable,” I point out.
“Yeah, but not for that reason.”
Becca and I are pretty similar, and while we’re not the closest, we’re two of the only single women in our team friend group, so we tend to go out together when we have the time.
Which is why I was not surprised in the slightest when she wanted her birthday party at the Blue Line. It’s her favorite bar and the preferred bar for most of the hockey team. Since meeting them a couple of months ago, she’s grown close with most of the guys.
As we push through the front doors, the scent of stale beer washes over us. It’s oddly comforting.
“You look good too, birthday girl, in case you were fishing.”
“I’m always fishing,” she says easily, smoothing a hand down her dress before glancing at me in the mirror behind the bar. “So… are you here to be social or to break hearts?”
“Neither,” I say. “I’m here because it’s your birthday, and I’m a great friend.”
“Right,” she nods, making a face. “So breaking hearts, then.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not doing anything tonight.”
“That’s what you said last time,” she reminds me, crossing her arms as she leans back against the bar. “And then you spent half the night making out with that midfielder from Tennessee.”
I point at her. “First of all, he kissed me.”
“And you let him.”
“He was hot.” I shrug.
Becca’s smile turns sharp. “Exactly.”
I exhale, but there’s a grin tugging at my mouth. “Okay, but that was a one-time thing.”
“They’re always one-time things with you,” she says, tilting her head. “Do you ever think about changing that strategy?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a little?”
I shake my head. “Why would I? It works.” I get the bartender’s attention and order us two drinks.
Considering she only joined the team over the summer, she doesn’t know I was in a serious relationship not that long ago, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t need more people knowing about that mistake.
Besides, it’s irrelevant now. I’ve sworn off relationships and love. Nothing good comes from any of it.
“No plans to settle down?” She presses, taking a sip of her drink and sighing dramatically.
“Ha. Never going to happen.” I swirl my straw to mix my drink more thoroughly. “You?”
“I like having fun, but I wouldn’t mind if I met someone serious. It could be nice.”
I meet her eyes over the rim of my glass. “Sure,” I say dryly, “and hell could freeze over.”
“Really no relationships ever? No falling in love, no big dramatic moments, no running through airports?”
“Absolutely not. I don’t run for men. I barely jog.”
Becca snorts. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Boys are accessories, Bec. You pick one that looks good with your outfit for the night and take it off when you’re done.”
She stares at me for a beat, then laughs, loud and bright. “Oh my God. You cannot be serious.”
“I’m completely serious.”
“That is the worst analogy I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s accurate,” I insist. “You don’t build your whole life around an accessory.”
“One of these days you’re going to meet someone who doesn’t fit into your neat little box.”
“Then I’ll build a bigger box,” I shoot back easily.
Becca groans. “You’re impossible.”
“And you love me for it.”
“Unfortunately.”
We push our way toward the back of the bar, where they’ve roped off a section for her party. It pays to be a regular here; they know that they’re about to make bank off of us tonight, so they have no issues making sure Becca has a couple of tables set aside.
Before we get there, Becca slows and glances at me meaningfully. “No rules tonight, except one.”
“Why do you get to make rules?”
“Because it’s my birthday,” she shoots back. “Rule is, you’re nice to the boys so they don’t leave my party early.”
“I’m always nice.”
“You’re never nice.” She scrunches her nose dramatically.
“That’s an overexaggeration.” I can see her almost argue back, but I concede. “Fine. Consider it your birthday present.” I wink.
She gives me a side hug. “Thank you.”
A smile spreads across her face as if she owns the place when we reach the roped-off section. I follow behind her, rolling my shoulders and settling into something familiar.
“Accessories,” she reminds me over her shoulder.
I smirk. “We’ll see what matches.”
She disappears into the sea of arms as people pull her in for hugs. She slips into a conversation with someone I don’t recognize.
People are scattered across the space in clusters, drinks in hand, while music plays through the speakers.
Everyone seems to know someone, but as I look around, I don’t know anyone well enough to pop into a conversation.
Sure, most of the hockey team is here, but aside from Liam, I’m on small talk terms with most of them.
Girls are grouped in small circles, leaning into each other, laughing, dressed like they want to be watched, probably on purpose.
After all, this may be Becca’s birthday party, but the NHL players always draw a crowd of willing women.
Knowing Becca, she encouraged it. She’s a ‘the more the merrier’ type of person.
Wesley told me she was coming, but considering her fallout with Nathan, I’m not surprised she’s waiting until there’s a bigger crowd before showing up, and Harper already said she'd be late.
I shift on my feet, suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m standing here like an idiot.
I hate this part.
I’m not shy. I’m not even remotely quiet. I can pretty much talk to a fly on the wall if I have to, but walking into a room where everyone already fits somewhere is horrible for anyone.
I take another step forward, scanning the room.
“Hey!”
The words cut through my almost embarrassment. Before I can fully turn, I’m being pulled into a hug.
I smile into Liam’s chest. His arms wrap tight around me, squeezing once before pulling back enough to look at me.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show.” He purses his lips.
“Please,” I scoff, relaxing instantly now that I have an anchor. “You know me. I never miss a party.”
Even if I did sort of want to miss this one. I’ve been in a funk lately. Going out is starting to feel like a performance, and I’m tired of acting.
His eyes drop to the drink in my hand. “What’s this?”
“It’s my drink.” I emphasize the word ’my’ and pull it away from his grabby hands. “Why are you always trying to steal my drink?” I smack his hand away.
He shrugs. “These fruity drinks of yours really hit the spot.”
“So, order one yourself.”
“Oh, c’mon, Aves, you know I can’t order that. I have an image to maintain.”
I snort, almost spitting out the sip I just took, and he grins widely.
“I think your image could take the hit. And your ego, too.” There is almost nothing that would shake Liam’s unwavering confidence.
I glance at him sideways when his lips turn down in a frown. The guy is way too used to getting what he wants. Apparently, even I’m not as immune to his charm as I pretend to be because I hand him my glass.
“Fine.” I sigh and point at him. “But you’re buying me the next one.”
He finishes my drink, slams the cup down on the table, and nods to the bar. “Deal. Let’s go.”
We move through the crowd easily this time, Liam’s broad body creating space in front of me. He holds an arm back for me to hang onto so we don’t get separated because it’s getting crowded. Well, that, and he tends to get swarmed.
As we weave through the room, I wave at a few of the players that I know and compliment a few random women’s outfits, because girl power.
While we wait for our drinks, Liam starts rambling on about something, but I’m only half listening. Instead, my eyes drag across the room, over faces and bodies like I’m taking inventory of who’s here.
I’ve seen everyone I would expect to see, except…
There. In the corner of the room.
Grayson.
His simple t-shirt is tight around his biceps and his jeans are fitted to perfection over his thighs. I’m reminded that even though I can’t stand his good guy act, he’s obnoxiously hot. Like fucking unreal hot. Like he could burn your house down and you’d say thank you hot.
He’s leaning back against the wall, one hand wrapped loosely around a drink, head tilted slightly as he listens to something Sloane is saying. She’s moving her hands around animatedly while reciting some story that can’t possibly require that much enthusiasm.
I tune Liam out entirely, stomach knotting. I hadn’t expected Sloane to be here of all places. But here she is, clear as day, Grayson’s date.
He smiles at something she says.
Shouldn’t everyone find it a little strange that he’s dating a college girl? I mean, she’s hardly old enough to drink.
It’s weird.
“Earth to Avery.” Liam slides the drink into my hand, and I grip it tightly.
“Are they dating?” I ask, nodding toward Sloane and Grayson.
“Who?” Liam turns to look, but people walk by, blocking his view.
I come to my senses and regret asking immediately.
Forcing his attention back to me, I grab his arm before he realizes who I was asking about. “Forget I asked.” My smile is tight, but he nods.
Someone starts yelling his name from across the room, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.
“Shit,” he glances toward the rookie flagging him down. “I have to go take care of that.”