19 - Grayson
Grayson
Barrett’s doing better,” Coach Rylan says from the front of the conference room.
“He’s a good kid.”
“Not quite Nathan Wilder, though.”
I laugh. “No one is Nathan Wilder.”
Up until five minutes ago, the room was filled with my teammates sprawled across rolling chairs with film clips playing on the projector. It’d been an hour and a half of hell with Coach pausing constantly to bitch about our positioning.
“I appreciate you taking the extra ice time with the kid. It’s making a difference.” Coach shoves the lineup sheets back into his binder on the desk. “Do you think he’s ready for the first line?”
“You’re the coach.”
I always respond this way first. While I appreciate his willingness to take my thoughts into account, I never want to take it for granted. Most coaches wouldn’t even ask.
“I know who the hell I am. What do you think?”
I slide my bag over my shoulder, running a hand through my hair. “He plays fine with Rowley on the second line, but would play better with Liam on the first.”
“He looked hesitant during the walkthrough.”
“He’s trying too hard not to screw up. If you never give him a shot, that’ll just confirm his fears.”
The room falls quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. Coach Rylan’s never been overly chatty with us. He’s earned our respect with his harsh transparency. You always know where you stand with him.
Finally, he taps the binder once. “I’ll push Barrett up.”
“Good call.”
“Keep the team out of trouble tonight.”
“That depends on Liam.”
“Well, then tell Liam if I find out any of you are making shitty decisions the night before a game, you’ll all be skating suicides until you puke.”
“Point taken.”
As soon as I step into the main lobby area of the hotel, my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Wyatt: If you’re not outside in five minutes, we’re leaving without you.
I make it there in four, and am relieved to see that the paparazzi aren’t too bad tonight. Aside from Nathan across the parking lot, talking to a reporter about how he’s close to getting back on the ice, there’s no one else waiting for us.
The club is a couple of blocks away, so we walk there. The team chatter is focused on the night ahead. When we step inside, the entire place swallows us whole, music vibrating against the walls.
Liam looks entirely too pleased with himself as he scans the crowd. “See? This is why I like road trips.”
“You like road trips because women in different cities don’t know your reputation yet,” Wyatt says.
“That’s called networking.”
“That’s called a public health concern,” Nathan mutters.
Liam ignores him, waving toward the bartender while we shove through the crowd toward the back of the club. It’s so loud that conversation is impossible unless you lean directly into someone’s ear.
People are packed across the dance floor beneath the colored lights, bodies all moving to whatever party track the DJ is playing. A hostess lifts the rope for us near the back section, and we slide into the reserved booth.
Liam glances up from his phone. “Avery texted me. She said the girls should be here soon.”
My eyes flick instinctively toward my pocket before I can stop myself.
Stupid.
Still, I pull my phone out anyway.
Of course, there aren’t any messages. She wouldn’t text me something like that. She wouldn’t text me at all.
I lean back against the booth with a quiet scoff at myself while Wyatt orders the only round of beers we’re getting tonight. I sure as hell don’t want to be skating suicides if we’re sluggish in our game.
Nathan nudges my boot under the table. “You look miserable already.”
“Clubs are my worst nightmare,” I say.
“I’m just happy you’re out with us. If this were last season, you’d be back at the hotel on FaceTime with your girlfriend.”
He’s not wrong. Whenever I had a girlfriend, the last thing I wanted to do was be in a club like this without her, so on away trips I spent a lot of time in my hotel room. It’s just another reason why staying single has been good for me.
“I guess it’s good that I swore off relationships for a while then.”
Wyatt scoffs. “Single Grayson is just as boring as Relationship Grayson.”
“I’m not boring.” I smack Wyatt’s shoulder, then glance at Liam. “Tell him I’m not boring.”
His eyes flicker between us. “I’ve been trying to stop lying as much. You know?”
“Oh, fuck all of you.” I take a swig from my beer.
“Seriously, though,” Liam points at me. “Maybe if you got laid…”
“What the hell does that have to do with me being boring?”
“Who’s boring?” Her voice sounds behind me, and every thought in my head cuts off.
Avery’s eyes lock on mine while the rest of the soccer team files into our section.
Her hair falls in glamorous waves over her bare shoulders, catching gold beneath the club lights every time she moves. The black dress she’s wearing should honestly be considered criminal because it clings to every inch of her in a way that’s too fucking distracting.
My grip tightens slightly around my drink as my eyes trail her body.
Beside me, Liam lets out a low whistle. “Well, damn.”
I barely hear him because Avery catches me staring, and instead of looking embarrassed, her mouth lifts slowly into a smug little smirk.
Nathan pulls Wesley in for a kiss, folding her into his arms, then yells over the noise, “Grayson’s boring.”
Avery’s smirk deepens. “That’s not news. He’s always been boring.”
“I’m not boring,” I say again, shaking my head.
“You give off ‘nice guy with no wild side’ vibes,” Becca adds, stealing a beer from the bucket on the table.
No wild side, my ass. I had Avery spread out on a bathroom counter for me a little over a month ago while she came on my fingers. But I can’t exactly say that, so I just roll my eyes.
“Kayla has this friend, Morgan, and she’s smoking hot. Let me text her. I’m sure they’d come here tonight. Seriously, it’d be good for you to get laid.”
I’m about to tell him to fuck off, but I notice Avery’s entire body stiffen beside me.
Before I can speak, she does, “Liam, honey, if you text other girls to come meet you after I brought my entire team here to hang out, I’ll kill you.”
She smiles sweetly at him like she didn’t just threaten his life. My ego soars because, whether it’s true or not, I’ve fully convinced myself she did that to make sure I don’t hook up with another woman.
“Oh, c’mon.” Liam tosses an arm around her shoulder. “No one on your team will sleep with me.”
“That’s because they know better,” Avery pats his cheek. “You’ll survive one night.”
“Aren’t soul sisters supposed to help each other get laid?” He asks, making a pouting face.
Avery glances down at her hand like she’s checking something, then clicks her tongue. “Sorry, Liam, it’s not in the handbook. You boys will have to find other ways to have fun tonight.”
“Like by dancing with me,” Becca says, grabbing Liam’s hand.
His pout disappears instantly. “Grayson, at least come dance for fucks sake,” Liam motions to the dance floor full of women, most of whom are looking over at us.
“I’m good.” The only thing worse than being in a nightclub is dancing in one.
“See? Boring.” Wyatt mumbles before sprawling out on the couch.
“Yeah, stop being so boring, Grayson,” Avery says, already backing toward the dance floor,
Her eyes drag over me deliberately. A silent challenge.
“Don’t let Avery win,” Wesley piles on from somewhere behind me. “She already has too big of an ego.”
I should stay exactly where I am. Normally, I would. I don’t dance.
Avery glances over her shoulder one last time before disappearing into the crowd, and somehow my feet are already moving before my brain catches up.
Wyatt mumbles only loud enough for me to hear. “Like a fucking dog.”
I flip him off, eyes still trained on the dance floor while I hope like hell no one else picks up on what’s going on here the way Wyatt did.
When I step into the crowd, heat closes around me from every direction. Bodies are packed beneath flashing lights while the music pounds hard enough to rattle my ribs.
Liam and Becca are already drunk on attention in the middle of the crowd, bodies moving to the beat.
But Avery…
Holy fuck.
She’s a few feet away with her back turned to me, moving as if she belongs to the music itself. Her curls spill down her shoulders while the tiny black dress shifts higher against her thighs every time her hips roll with the beat.
I move to the beat and try not to let myself feel like a fucking idiot for coming out here, which isn’t as hard as I expect it to be with Avery only a few feet away from me. Maybe it’s the lighting or the fact that I haven’t seen her in weeks, but I can’t take my eyes off of her.
She glances over her shoulder and catches me staring. Her eyes still glint with challenge when she turns away again, hands trailing the sides of her body as she raises them above her head.
Jealousy crawls up my spine when I notice every guy in our vicinity watching her. Their focus only intensifies when the song changes and Avery’s movements become more sensual, one hand sliding into her hair.
Becca pulls Liam against her, but I barely notice because Avery spins with the beat, closing the distance between us until her dress brushes my jeans.
It could’ve been accidental, except two seconds later, she turns again, her back brushing lightly against my stomach. My entire body heats, and I step back, giving myself enough distance to pretend I have any self-control when it comes to her.
I glance away to watch Liam pull Becca to the exit, and I already know we’ll all be giving them shit for it tomorrow.
My phone buzzes a moment later.
Chaos: You keep looking at me like you want to eat me.
A laugh escapes me, and my cock twitches in my pants as it gets all sorts of ideas.
Weeks of avoiding me and then walking in here tonight toying with me is par for the course with Avery.
It’s the same dance we’ve been doing since we met.
This time, though, her hostility seems playful, her insults more teasing, and I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t making me want a repeat of our last hookup.
I don’t know when it happened.
After weeks apart, I’d hoped the attraction would be gone. It’d been a fool’s hope. Not only is the attraction still there, but it’s become impossible to ignore.
Me: Maybe that’s because I already know how good you taste.
Across the dance floor, Avery freezes mid-movement, and even beneath the flashing lights, I catch the flush spreading across her cheeks.
“You shouldn’t be on your phone all alone out here,” a woman whispers into my ear just as her hand lands on my abs, sliding across me.
She’s tall with black hair cascading down her back.
Her red top leaves little to the imagination, which I assume is the point, given the way she leans forward in front of me, pushing her breasts further into my sight line.
Normally, the way she’s moving would have me rock hard and reconsidering months of celibacy.
And I am reconsidering it. Just not with her.
After all, I swore off relationships, not sex itself. And Avery obviously has no interest in anything other than sex. I can’t help but wonder if she was right; maybe we could act on the attraction without risking feelings. Can I separate the two?
Honestly, I’m not sure if I can, but damn does she make me want to try.
For the thousandth time, I hate myself for not finishing the deal that night in the bathroom. Maybe then she’d be out of my system, and I could find the woman in front of me more appealing.
Before I can let the woman down easily, a hand locks around my wrist, tugging me into the darker section of the dance floor. The crowd thickens the farther back we go until our friends disappear completely behind moving bodies and flashing lights.
Like gravity, Avery’s eyes pull mine directly to hers, and all I find is heat and jealousy.
There’s no acknowledgement of what she just did, but I can’t stop the satisfaction from flickering across my face.
Someone slams into my shoulder, shoving me forward, and my hands catch Avery at her hips. As soon as I touch her, every rational thought in my head disappears. And by the way her breath hitches, I’m pretty sure it has the same effect on her.
Instead of pulling away, she turns, pressing against my chest. Her back arches, and her head leans back against me as we move to the beat, our bodies as close together as possible.
“What are you doing?” I ask, bending forward so she can hear me.
“Dancing.”
It might sound innocent, but nothing about the way she’s moving against me is innocent.
The bass pulses through the floor while my fingers flex harder against her hips. The material of her dress is thin beneath my hands, heat from her skin bleeding straight through it.
She turns toward me then, one hand sliding up my neck, and my restraint slips another inch. My cock strains against my pants as she slides against me, her eyes darkening.
“Wow,” she murmurs.
I close my eyes briefly. “Don’t.”
“You’re really enjoying yourself.”
I lean down until my mouth brushes the shell of her ear.
“Are you saying that if I slid my hand up this dress,” I whisper, sliding my hand down her leg until it meets skin, “I wouldn’t find you fucking drenched for me?”
“You tell me.”
Her thighs spread just slightly, causing her dress to ride up higher on her legs. The stairs to the second floor cast a shadow over us, hiding us from view. She nods, eyes hooded with lust as I slide my hand between us, planning to place a quick, teasing touch against her panties.
Instead, I find her bare and so fucking wet.
Bad idea.
Very bad fucking idea.
I groan out loud, sliding my hand right back out before I get us arrested for bending her over right here on the dance floor.
“There he is,” she murmurs.
My eyes flick around us, trying to figure out who she’s talking about.
“The wild side everyone thinks you don’t have,” she clarifies, looping an arm around my neck.
I hum, but it comes out rough. “You seem to drag it out of me.”
“That’s because even though you hate me, you really want to do dirty things to me.”
“And even though you hate me, you want me to do dirty things to you.”
I trace the curve of her waist beneath my palms, sliding my hands around her until they cup her ass, pulling her harder against me. She keeps moving to the beat, but all of her attention seems focused on the friction between our bodies.
“Too bad you only wanted to fuck once, and then never talk about it again.” I bite the inside of my cheek.
She looks up, staring at me for a beat, then raises her mouth to my ear.
“Last time, we didn’t fuck.”