28 - Avery
Avery
I hate Chicago.
Well, okay, maybe I don’t actually hate Chicago.
Under normal circumstances, I’d probably love it, but after nine straight days of airports and stadiums, every city has started blending together. By the time I push open Wesley’s hotel room door, all I can think about is getting home.
“Please tell me someone brought snacks,” I announce as the door swings shut behind me.
Becca is stretched across one of the beds, wearing fuzzy socks and stealing handfuls of popcorn from a bowl balanced on her stomach.
She doesn’t even bother looking guilty. “Define brought.”
I point at her. “You stole those from the team room, didn’t you?”
“Somebody has to eat them.”
Haley laughs from the desk chair where she’s curled up, scrolling through her phone, while Wesley tosses me a bottle of water from across the room. I catch it and immediately collapse onto the second bed, the mattress bouncing beneath me.
“My body hurts,” I groan. “I don’t care how expensive these hotels are. The beds are always shit.”
“Last night wasn’t bad,” Haley argues.
“That doesn’t mean it was good.”
“Tomorrow it won’t matter,” Wesley says, stealing a handful of popcorn. “We finally get to go home.”
A collective sigh fills the room.
We’ve all reached the point of the trip where home has become less of a place and more of a finish line.
One that Grayson is sitting at the end of.
We drift into talking about tomorrow’s game. Chicago’s been a pain in the ass all season, and everyone has opinions about it.
Outside the window, rain taps steadily against the glass while the city glows beneath the low clouds.
Eventually, like every girls’ night we’ve ever had, the conversation drifts away from soccer entirely.
“You know,” Wesley says casually, tossing a popcorn kernel toward Becca, “I still can’t believe you slept with Liam.”
Becca catches the popcorn in her mouth. “Why?”
“Because he’s Liam.”
“I know exactly who he is.”
Haley shakes her head. “That’s not helping your case.”
Becca shrugs. “He’s hot. I’m hot. We’re both single. It seemed pretty straightforward.”
“I bet it was good,” Haley sighs.
“It was fucking great.”
Wesley snorts, turning to me. “Do you remember when you met Liam?”
I laugh, thinking about the awards ceremony last October where he’d tried to hit on me.
Wesley giggles again. “She looked right at him, said ’I don’t fuck hockey players’, and then she just walked away.”
“No, you didn’t.” Becca gasps.
“That’s iconic.” Haley grins.
The room dissolves back into laughter.
Haley moves onto the bed with Becca. “I just don’t know that I could ever do the meaningless sex thing.”
“You should try it sometime.” Becca talks around her mouthful of popcorn. “It’s great. Especially if he’s a star player on an NHL team who knows exactly what he’s doing.”
“I can actually attest to that, too,” Wesley says quietly.
“Did Wesley Miller, a woman who wouldn’t even look at a man six months ago, just tell us about her sex life?” I ask.
She tosses a pillow at my head. I catch it and immediately throw it back when she sticks her tongue out at me.
Haley glances between the three of us. “So, what you’re saying is I should have a one-night stand?”
Wesley groans. “Considering my casual fling turned into a serious relationship, I’m not the expert on that.”
I take a sip of water to hide my grin. Unfortunately, that’s the exact moment Becca points at me.
“You’re the real expert.”
I immediately choke, water going down the wrong pipe. “On what?”
“No-strings hookups.”
Haley nods immediately. “That’s true.”
“You guys make me sound like I’m allergic to relationships.”
“You are.”
I groan because I can’t even deny it. That’s what I planned to be. The irony is that I haven’t thought about no-strings hookups in a while. Not since a certain man started taking up entirely too much space in my head.
Haley grabs a fistful of popcorn. “To be fair, I don’t really see you as the settling-down type anyway.”
She’s not saying anything I haven’t said myself, but it stings coming from her. Maybe because a part of me wonders if that’s exactly how everyone sees me. Or maybe because another part of me wonders if that’s who I want to be, and if it’s too late to change it.
The conversation carries on, but despite all the teasing and laughter filling the room, my eyes slide toward my phone sitting beside me on the bed.
Still nothing.
An hour ago, Wesley made us watch the Blades’ home playoff game because of Nathan.
Atlanta had forced overtime, so it ran long. I knew that afterward there would be interviews, media, and whatever else hockey players do after games.
I know Grayson doesn’t owe me a text after a playoff game, but I keep checking my phone anyway.
Somewhere along the way, he’s become important to me, and that’s a problem because everyone in this room still thinks I’m the girl who can walk away from anything.
My head’s a fucking mess.
My phone lights up, and I almost fall out of my chair in my race to pick it up.
Pathetic.
Wesley notices immediately. “Who is that?”
Shit.
“Oh, no one.”
“You don’t smile like that for no one.”
I immediately wipe the smile away.
Becca sits upright. “Who texted you?”
“My mom.”
Three sets of eyes narrow, but I break contact, looking down at my text messages.
Grayson: Won. Barely survived the media.
Grayson: Miss you.
My heart does a violent somersault, and I respond before I can overthink it.
Me: Miss me already? Seems a little clingy.
His response appears almost instantly.
Grayson: Do you not want me to be?
Heat immediately creeps into my cheeks.
I stare at the screen. Grayson always makes it so damn easy. Every time I pull back, he gives me space, which only makes me feel worse.
“Okay, who is that really?” Wesley demands.
I lock my phone. “It’s my mom.”
They all groan.
Thankfully, Wesley decides to save me from the interrogation.
She tosses another piece of popcorn into her mouth and says, “I’ve been thinking about moving in with Nathan.”
Haley squeals. “Oh my god.”
Becca starts laughing. “You never do anything halfway, do you?”
Wesley rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
The conversation should be harmless, but my heartbeat gets loud in my ears. It’s only been a couple of months. People are wrong about each other all the time.
“A little fast, don’t you think?”
Three heads swivel toward me, and the room feels warmer as I shift uncomfortably against the pillows.
Wesley’s eyebrows rise. “Really, Avery?”
“Kind of, yeah.” The words come out sharper than I intend.
“You just said you never want to settle down. I’m supposed to trust your opinion?”
“People rush into stuff like this and wake up one day trapped.”
Across the room, Becca’s eyes widen. Haley suddenly becomes very interested in the label on her water bottle.
“That’s not going to happen.” Wesley crosses her arms.
“How do you know?”
“Because I love him.”
“People stop loving each other all the time.”
The words hang heavily between us.
Then Wesley sighs. “Stop making your relationship insecurities my problem.”
The knot in my stomach twists tighter.
But because she’s Wesley and knows every single defense mechanism I own, her expression softens, seeing right through me. Silence settles over the room, and guilt creeps in.
I drag my hand through my hair. “How do you know?”
Wesley’s forehead wrinkles. “Know what?”
“That it’s right.” I look down at my hands.
She studies me before leaning back against the headboard. “When we were talking about going home earlier, I wasn’t picturing my apartment. I pictured Nathan.”
The words hit me square in the chest. Because when we’d all been talking about going home earlier, I hadn’t pictured my apartment either.
I’d pictured Grayson.
Me perched on his kitchen counter while he cooked dinner. His arms wrapped around me while we watched a movie. The way he smiles when I tease him before he dishes it right back at me.
Fucking hell.
My stomach lurches because once I start thinking about him, I don’t stop at tomorrow or next week.
I think about roots. The future he’s always wanted. The future that I've always known isn’t in the cards for me.
“I’m going to bed.” The words come out abruptly.
I’m up and out of the chair and shutting the door behind me before they can even ask why.
My hands shake as I walk fast. Then faster, trying to outrun my own thoughts.
My pulse races as I head for the stairs instead of the elevator. I count the steps, willing myself to calm down. By the time I reach my floor, I’m anything but calm.
My phone vibrates, and Grayson’s name flashes across the screen.
“Hi,” I answer before the first ring finishes.
“Hey.” His tone softens something inside me. “Is it okay that I called?”
“Yeah.”
His voice is quiet when he says, “If I’m being too clingy, you can tell me. I know we’re not, um... together, exactly, but–”
“It’s not that.” I cut him off before he finishes.
My chest aches because the truth is the exact opposite.
“Clingy is good,” I admit, leaning my shoulder against the hallway wall as I stare out at the patterned carpet stretching toward the elevators. “This is good.”
We sit in comfortable silence with nothing but the soft hum of the hotel air conditioning and the distant ding of an elevator somewhere down the hall.
Then he chuckles. The sound is low and warm, and the tension drains from my body immediately.
“Then hi, baby.”
God, I’m in trouble.
I push away from the wall and head toward my room.
“Congratulations on the win,” I say, desperate to steer my brain toward safer territory. “That overtime goal was insane.”
“Thanks.”
I can hear the grin in his voice.
“You looked pretty happy afterward.”
“You watched?”
“I watched.”
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see it.
“Hopefully we can finish it next game. Not quite a sweep, but four-to-one isn’t bad.”
“You play them away next?”
He groans. “Unfortunately. We leave tomorrow.”
The timing couldn’t be worse.
“Right when we get back.”