Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
AVERY
Larissa and I chat on the couch as we watch Josh and Ryan play each other in a video game where all they do is hide behind walls and control panels and blast each other with some kind of laser space-gun.
I try to keep the smile on my face as Larissa leans back, sipping on a homemade mocktail she swears is delicious and will make my skin glow.
The fibrous chunks clinging to the ice cubes tell me otherwise.
“I know what you’re thinking.” She lowers the drink from her lips. “How can something that tastes so good be so good for you?” That’s not exactly what was on my mind, but she carries on, her voice lowering to a whisper. “It’s the pineapple. Pineapple changes everything.”
“I’ll have to make a mental note of that.”
“Next time I might add a little vodka though. For entertainment purposes.” She nods toward Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum thumbing their little controllers to death. “I didn’t know we were getting lassoed into some sci-fi extravaganza. I’m sorry.”
If I would have known this is what our “date” would look like, I probably would have stayed back at Ty’s.
“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault. I didn’t have any other plans.” Besides sitting at home doing exactly what I’m doing right now—thinking about Ty.
I wonder what he’s doing. Probably reading something sci-fi instead of playing it. I’d rather be ignored for a good book than a video game any day. And there are a lot less swear words yelled when you’re buried in a book. Usually.
When Josh sneaks up on Ryan for the last time—and unloads his cache of laser rounds—I almost snort at Ryan’s reaction. One would think this was actually happening. He lifts a fist, and for a moment I think he might punch the TV, but instead he brings it down hard on the power button of the console.
The screen goes black, and Josh grins up at him. “Better luck next time, Ry-Dog.”
I cringe a little at the endearment.
Ry-Dog mumbles something and makes his way to the kitchen.
The suction of the fridge door echoes through the apartment before he slams it shut again and returns with a can of beer.
My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, glad to have a distraction from whatever excuse Ryan is spewing to Josh about his loss.
When I open the email, I’m excited to see a new client request. According to them, Mary referred them to me.
Bless her. I’ll swallow whatever insults she throws at me if she continues to hand me clients.
“Avery?” Ryan’s dark stare engulfs me.
“Hm?” I shove my phone back into the pocket of my shorts.
“Josh cheated, right? You saw?” he must be repeating himself.
I look from him to Josh to Larissa, who lifts her hands in surrender.
“Maybe?” I say. “I’m sorry, I was checking my email.”
Ryan barks out a laugh. “Sorry, plant girl. I didn’t realize I was interrupting business.”
The smile that constantly plagues my face brightens even more as I whip out my phone. “I just got another client, actually!”
Larissa cheers like I won the lottery and sips her chunky juice.
Ryan throws back his beer, unmoved by my news.
Josh, ever the gentleman, congratulates me as he sinks down next to Larissa. “You two ready to head out? You have practice bright and early, yeah?”
“No. The kickoff game is tomorrow night,” Larissa corrects, then turns to me. “Ashton’s been freaking out about the half-time choreography being polished enough, but it’s all for nothing. Our routine is immaculate.”
“Basically,” I say without glancing up from scrolling my inbox.
“But we still need rest,” she adds.
Josh and Larissa stand, and I follow, pushing to my feet just as Ryan plops onto the cushion next to me.
“Text me later, kay?” Ryan empties his beer down his gullet and places the can on the coffee table.
I look around and then realize he’s talking to me. “Yes. Of course. I will.”
“We have that trivia tournament soon, too,” he adds. “We lost half our team, so we need more players to qualify. You’ll be there, right?”
Nothing says romance like being invited solely so we meet a specific number qualification.
“Avery’s full of random information… She’s perfect for this.”
I smile at Larissa’s compliment. She’s not wrong. “Random is my specialty. I’ll be there.”
Ryan smiles up at me, lounging into his couch as the rest of us wave goodbye and escape out the door. It would be nice if he seemed more interested. To feel like he was pursuing me. But it’s a crapshoot in this day and age when it comes to dating.
After Josh ensures we make it safely into Larissa’s car in the apartment parking lot, we tell him goodbye and start toward Soleil Drive.
As she babbles along about her next juice recipe and tomorrow’s first NFL game of the season, all I can think about is my night.
About Ryan. About Josh. About how differently Josh treats Larissa than Ryan treats me.
Should I be disappointed at Ryan’s lack of initiative?
He’s absurdly casual. Should that be refreshing? I’m not sure how to feel about it.
Admittedly, Ryan’s not as much of a catch as Josh is.
Josh works in marketing. He has cute little glasses—I’m a sucker for a guy in glasses—he makes good money, and Ryan…
Well, he’s a bartender. Which is totally fine.
I definitely don’t judge people for their work—believe me, I’ve had my fair share of odds and ends jobs—but that’s all he wants to do.
Maybe that works for some people, but if we aren’t trying new things or working toward some type of goal, what are we doing?
I’m too restless to be appeased with the same job for years and years and years.
The thought alone shoots a hot anxiety through me that I have to squelch with the reminder that it’s his life. Not mine.
Larissa turns toward Soleil Drive. “I had no idea your plant business branched out into house-sitting.” She snorts. “Pun intended.”
A tight giggle burbles out of my mouth. “Just trying to keep a competitive edge. You can stop… here. Here is good.”
“This is like a block from where I picked you up.”
Was it? I can’t remember. I kind of zoned out earlier after I texted her to hang out. When my car took three attempts to start, and I tried to cancel the “date” because I didn’t feel safe driving it, Larissa insisted she pick me up. And I caved.
“It’s okay! I need to get my steps in,” I fib.
“I hope you’re making bank.”
“This is kind of a trial run, but they’ve been generous.”
“Are you allowed to say who you’re watching the house for? Did you sign an NDA?” She leans forward, peering over the dash. “These places are fancy.”
“No, definitely can’t say.” I reach for the door handle, popping it open. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll see you at practice.”
At first Larissa doesn’t budge, insisting she watch me get into the house. After reassuring her at least fifty times that I’ll be okay, she rolls her eyes.
“Don’t get murdered,” she says, the annoyance obvious in her voice.
“These houses have more video surveillance than The Oscars. I’ll be fine.” Walking toward whatever gated mansion I’m near, I take my time as she peels off and starts home. When I’m sure she’s gone, I do a 180 and begin my trek in Ty’s direction.
Sirens blare in the distance, drowning out the twitter of tonight’s cricket orchestra just as I come to the end of his long driveway.
I round his yard to the back of the house, pausing for a second to take in the ambiance of his back patio.
The market lights, the glassy pool, the little navy chaise lounges arranged meticulously across the concrete slab.
It’s peaceful. And something I’d never be able to afford in a million years, even if I keep my plant-sitting business on track.
My eyes travel up the side of the house, skating across the bevels of the Tuscan-style roof and landing on a certain window.
Ty’s window. A shadow eclipses the yellow light beaming down, and I swear for a moment I see a silhouette. His silhouette.
Butterflies erupt as a silly question pops into my head.
Was Ty thinking about me tonight too? My heart stutters with one final question…
Was he waiting for me? I push the notion aside and slide the spare key into the door off the garage.
Dollyboy greets me immediately, his sleepy blue eyes blinking as I refill my yellow tumbler and start upstairs.
Rifling through the walk-in closet, I bop to my eclectic playlist as it shuffles from one genre to the next, setting out everything I’ll need for the kickoff game tomorrow.
My first performance with the team.
A ball of antsy little winged things jolts my insides.
My stuff is easy to find, which helps relieve the anxiousness.
I’ll admit, it’s sad how little my stuff fills up this space.
Someday I’ll have a closet just like this one, and it’ll be full to the brim.
Someday when my business takes off, when I’m done with my dance career and no longer a Kings cheerleader.
An unexpected wave of guilt washes over me.
When I’m done with dance? I can’t believe it’s an actual thought I just had.
I mean, I guess everything has to end eventually, but considering I’ve danced for more than half my life, it’s a part of me.
I’ve dedicated the last part of a decade with my eyes set on one goal: Become a Vista City King Cheerleader.
And now I am. And this is how I show my appreciation? By already planning the ending of it?!
The scariest part about it ending is what am I without it? I’ve danced for so long, it’s an identifier. Every time I visit my hometown, everyone from that tiny place asks if I’m still dancing. I’m Avery the dancer to them.
Freckled nose. Dance shoes. Unmedicated ADHD. Avery.
And for a long time, I was okay with that. I loved being the girl that danced, but now, I’m not sure what I love.
There’s a knock on my door, and I pop my head out of the closet. I already know it’s Ty before I invite him in, because who else would it be?
“Come in!” I yell over the doowop music pouring from my speaker. I wait a minute, and when nothing happens, I try again. “Hey, I said come on in!”
I shove my game day attire under my arm and exit the closet.
Picking up my phone, I start to text Ty.
I open our chat, and my stomach sinks. That’s when I see it.
The response I’d typed out but somehow never sent.
Then I moved along, went on my so-called date, and completely forgot.
“Soon” is all it says. I quickly delete, my face burning hot from nerves or embarrassment or both.
Me
Tonight
Did you just knock on my door?
A few seconds tick by, and three dots appear.
Ty
Tonight what? And yeah, just needed your opinion
Me
Were you waiting for me to get home?
Ty
Maybe.
His admission makes a fleet of forbidden little butterflies take flight, emboldening me.
Me
Dance lessons tonight? I need something to take the edge off. Got some jitters for my first performance
Ty
You’re gonna dance to take the edge off because you’re nervous… to dance?
Me
It’s either that or repotting all the plants & I have no soil. And I didn’t say I was nervous.
Ty
Come to my room
I squeal. Audibly. And I’m grateful to be alone with my door closed.
Bolting to my feet, I stare at myself in the dresser mirror.
I lift an arm, sniff, check the other side, then cup my hand in front of my face and huff out a few times to see how stanky my mouth is.
The good news is, it isn’t. From what I can tell.
Sucking in a deep breath, I remind myself that being nervous to see Ty is a silly little dumb thing to do.
I was just in his room earlier. Sure, maybe he didn’t exactly want me in there then, but now he does. And it’s no big deal.
I start down the hall, singing the slowest Lena Lux song I can think of to help me keep my cool, which is almost nonexistent.
Whatever the opposite of cool is—steaming, burning, engulfed in flames—that’s what’s happening inside me right now.
Facing Ty’s door, I knock one, two, three times, and wait.
Seconds later, he’s pulling it open, staring at me in a suit and glasses like he’s some kind of Clark Kent.
If I may speak candidly, I’ve always been more of a Clark girl myself.
Glasses are my kryptonite. I don’t give my knees the opportunity to wobble.
Instead, I prop myself in his door frame.
The wood bites into my elbow and grounds me in the moment before I have a chance to float away.
Sucking in a deep breath, I examine Ty from head to toe. I give myself this liberty because he steps back and extends his arms from side to side like he’s on display. Clearly, this is what he wants. I can take a hint. “You look—”
“Dumb?”
My brow creases. “No, you look… great! Gotta love a blue power suit.”
“Coach wants us to dress up for game day. So.” He shrugs.
“I like it. Is that all you wanted my opinion on?” I linger in the door frame, dropping my elbow from its position and standing up straighter.
“Yeah, I just wanted to make a good impression with everyone tomorrow.”
My heart melts a little. It’s so cute that he cares. “It feels like it’s the first day of school or somethin’, doesn’t it? I always used to get so nervous for those. I never knew what to wear, or if I’d be over-dressed or too under-dressed. At least tomorrow I’m being told exactly what to wear.”
“True.” Ty pushes his hands into his pockets, and we stare at each other for a lingering moment. Then he’s dropping his gaze to his chest and loosening his tie before pulling it over his head.
I clear my throat as the adrenaline of what I’m about to ask builds. “Is that what you’re dancing in?”
Ty smirks, turning away from me as he tugs off his jacket. His collared shirt clings to his biceps in a way that makes me want to wrap both hands around them and squeeze like some mindless little fangirl. Which I’m not. Obviously.
When he doesn’t answer, I do what I do best. I fill the silence. “You can dance in your suit if you’re comfortable with it, but I’d suggest at least a pair of gym shorts. Or sweatpants. And a shirt. Obviously.”
He arches a brow. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”
I nod as coolly as I can and back out of the door, practically skipping all the way to my bedroom.