Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TY
Brushing her hair behind her ear came automatically, just like I’ve done a hundred times before with a hundred other girls.
When she sucks in a breath, it pulls me back to the here and now.
This isn’t a hundred other girls. This is Avery.
The biggest surprise I’ve ever had in my life.
Even bigger than when the Rollers sat me down to tell me they were trading me.
Avery’s not other girls. She’s a weird mix of chaotic beauty that I’d be an idiot to ever let go of.
Just like all the other idiots—the guy from tonight included—that have mistreated her.
The ones she laughs about now, but I know what they’ve done.
Over the years, each disappointing relationship created a microtear in her heart, her confidence.
Brought her to a place where she simply accepts people like Ryan and lets them treat her that way.
But tonight that changed. She let Ryan go. Seeing them together for that brief moment was excruciating. The conceited part of my heart hopes she cut him loose because of me. The thought scares me. What if I was the reason? Can I be what Avery needs? What she deserves?
But there’s no real way to know if I was even a factor in her decision.
My pulse picks up. I suppose there is one sure way.
My hand lingers beside her cheek. I’m frozen, and if the fingers gripping my bicep are any indicator, so is she.
I know what I want to do, what I’ve been dying to do for almost the entire duration she’s lived here.
And it might confirm everything I need to know.
I want to kiss Avery.
Despite her admission that she likes my glasses—correction, likes me in my glasses—it still feels like it isn’t the right move.
I’m not sure I want to be the weirdo who lured an unsuspecting woman into living with him just so he could invite her on some sad little makeshift date and make a pass at her.
At least that’s the way it would look. Even if that isn’t the case, Avery hiding out at my place is an NFL cardinal sin.
I can’t give her what she deserves. She’s a secret. Taking her out, showing her off… Those are off the table for us. Just like at trivia tonight, outside of this house, we’re nothing more than strangers in the public eye. Real relationships need more than accidental run-ins and hush-hush hangouts.
I should leave. I should go to bed.
But then Avery’s fingers coast down my arm, and I crumble under her featherlight touch. Her breath warms my skin as I search her face, and I’m not sure who leans in first. I tilt my head, hesitating as I study her features. Then her eyes close, and before I can reconsider, her lips are on mine.
Avery moved in. She wants this too.
My hand shifts from her cheek to the nape of her neck, my fingers weaving into her hair as our mouths seal together.
My heart pounds in my chest, an electric sensation working its way over the top of my skin.
Goosebumps crop up as she repositions herself, leaning in so her hands grip my shoulderblades.
It takes nothing to lift her onto my lap.
She deepens the kiss as she perches there, her arms looping around my neck.
My glasses smash into the bridge of my nose, and Avery leans back, carefully removing them before kissing each of my temples.
She lays the glasses on the cushion beside us before peppering kisses along my jawline and back to my lips again.
And then she’s letting up, my mouth chasing hers, not ready for it to be over.
When my eyes open, she’s smiling down at me from her pedestal on my knees.
She sighs happily. “Ty, I—”
My mouth finds hers again, silencing her, the desperation too much to bear. The last time I wanted something so badly was when I was waiting to hear word about being drafted into the NFL. I’ve never wanted a woman like this—never needed someone like this.
Avery makes me rethink every bad thing I’ve ever said about committed relationships. Because that’s what she makes me want to do.
Commit. I want to be the anchor she’s been missing. I want to be her home.
This kiss is shorter, but still as satisfying.
“What were you saying?” I smirk.
Her eyes flutter open. “I just. Wow. I didn’t know you. That you—”
“Had a thing for you?”
“If that’s what you want to call it, then, yeah.” She adjusts in my lap but doesn’t climb off.
“Is that okay?”
She runs her hands over her hair, finally sliding into the seat beside me and handing me my glasses. “Yeah. I mean—I don’t know. Like, what’s next? Are we just roommates who make out now?”
She’s asked exactly the thing I’d been afraid of answering. Because it’s ridiculous. Roommates who make out? That’s not a real thing. Not a real label. Not the kind of label she deserves. Before I can open my mouth, she’s already talking more sense than my brain can currently compute.
“This can’t happen. You and I can’t happen.” She rakes a hand through her wild hair. Her eyes are pleading as they meet mine. “I already made one mistake tonight. I don’t need to add another. Ty, a relationship—or just associating—with you would be the end of the only dream I’ve ever had.”
“Are you talking about dance or plants?”
Her dark brows crinkle. “Dance. Obviously.”
To me, the obvious observation is that she’s passionate about botanicals, but she seems to think otherwise.
“Dance is the only thing I’ve ever been good at.
Great at.” Her face pinches as she collects her words.
“After I dropped out of college, Mom decided that cheering for the Kings was the only way to showcase my talents, to make something of myself. And then, eventually, it evolved into this big, elusive dream.”
“So your mom decided your dream?” Now my brow furrows. “But you love plants, I thought—”
“I love them both, but sometimes love isn’t enough to build a future on. Plants won’t open doors for me, but dancing for the Kings could. It’s hard to explain. But we’re not talking about that right now.”
“Right, we’re talking about us.”
“There is no us.” She falters, hands in hair, wheels turning somewhere in that pretty head. “Unless no one finds out…”
She mutters to herself, and for a brief moment, I question her sanity.
My heart races at the thought. Could Avery and I keep this to ourselves?
What happens under my roof isn’t anyone’s business.
We live together; we could very easily do anything we want.
“I mean, I’m always up for something temporary—”
The words never quite settle, leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.
They’re selfish and sour, but they spew from my mouth like a last-ditch lifeline.
Because I know Avery and I can’t be together.
I know that she deserves more than what I’m capable of, but after a kiss like that I can’t let her go.
Even if she’s only mine for a minute, it’s better than nothing. I’ve never felt such greed before.
My words break her trance, and she flips to face me, her eyes resolute. “Temporary, right. Because you don’t do long-term.”
I want to agree. I’ve already thought about how this exact situation might play out.
In that fantasy, I’ve even considered throwing everything I thought I knew about relationships aside and giving this whole thing a chance if she’ll have me.
But that would be reckless, because regardless of how sweet Avery is, I’ve witnessed too many heartbreaks, experienced too many people leaving.
And that’s why we’re friends. A friendship is less of an investment, and it’s better that way.
But looking at her now only makes me think of a few seconds ago, when her lips were on mine and…
“Ty?” She tilts her head. “You agree, don't you? That this was a mistake?”
Ouch. A mistake? Honestly, it hurts to hear her call it that.
But what am I supposed to say? No, Avery.
This is a great idea. Falling for a girl you invited into your home because she was sleeping in her car with a cat is totally normal.
Safe. It’s a great idea. Abandoning all notions you’ve had about love for said cat lady is a great idea.
The thing is, it’s not. And she’s right. So I nod. “A mistake. Yeah.”
“This can’t happen again. Because it’s forbidden... Right?”
“Right,” I agree, though it’s a lie.
A half-hearted smile finds those still-swollen lips as she leans back into the couch.
We sit in silence for a few more moments, something simmering underneath. Despite her insistence that this can’t happen again, I wish it would. I want it to.
But if I truly care about her, I have to listen to her.
Because deep down, I know exactly what comes from getting too wrapped up in someone.
Feelings are fickle. Not everything works out just because you hope it will.
This isn’t some fictional story spilled out onto a page with an unrealistic ending.
This is real life. Those kinds of endings don’t exist. At least not in my world.
For that reason alone, Avery and I are destined to be buddies. That’s what’s best for us both.
Avery squeezes my hand pulling me out of my thoughts. “Plus, it’s been nice having you as a friend.”
Friend.
I wish I could protest, but she’s right. It’s been nice. Unexpected, but nice. I squeeze her hand back, dropping my guard for one moment more. “I never realized how much I needed a friend.”
Her eyes go gooey. Every brown fleck in her hazel gaze melty like a fresh pan of chocolate chip cookies.
She’s sweet. And I have to resist the urge to devour her.
Her molten gaze almost makes me rethink my words, but then my phone vibrates.
The pulses rattle against the hard coffee table, yanking me back to reality.
Avery and I are roommates. Friends. Nothing more.
Scooting away, I lean over and check my screen. It’s a text from Ramiel. Even without opening it, I know why he’s messaging me. I left trivia without any notice, and finally, he noticed.
And then a call rolls in before the buzzy-rings fall into unanswered silence. The name on the screen knocks the air out of me.
It’s Maggie.
“Okay, Mr. Popular,” Avery teases.
I offer her a sheepish smile as I weigh my options.
Stay here with her and make more questionable choices…
or leave. Answer the phone. Text Rami that I had to go home for whatever reason.
Call Maggie back to see if maybe she’s willing to…
Willing to what? Make amends? All roads lead to me leaving Avery here. Alone.
I hesitate, but ultimately, I do what’s best for the both of us, and bolt toward my room.
“Maggie?” I choke out as I close my bedroom door behind me. Adrenaline and a staircase-sprint have me sounding like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“Ty? You doin’ okay over there?”
“Yeah. Just ran up the stairs.”
“Why?” I can hear her munching on something at the other end of the line.
“I don’t know. I just did.”
Silence falls over the call, and I wonder if now is the time to apologize for the way I reacted when we last spoke, but I don’t get the chance.
“Dude. Mom is driving me insane. Did you know she asked me to be her maid of honor?” The way Maggie dives into the story, like we’re totally okay, is equal parts comforting and disheartening.
Despite her call, I can tell she only wants to unload on someone who knows how Mom is.
Each detail she adds to the conversation is clipped.
She isn’t asking about me, she’s only talking about herself.
It’s a complete 180 compared to what’s normal for us.
But I listen because, for the moment, it doesn’t matter what venom Maggie spit at me before or that she’s marrying a guy who has dumped her too many times to count.
All I care about right now is that my twin—the person who has known every version of me—needs me.
Wants something to do with me. And even though I can’t bring myself to tell her, I’ve missed her.
I flop onto my bed as Maggie promises to send me the bridesmaid dresses Mom picked out.
“Mom asked you to wear a turtleneck?” I snicker.
“With fur. I’m going to look like I tumbled out of a snow globe.” Maggie snort-laughs. “Why haven’t we talked her out of a Christmas wedding yet? We should have worked harder on that.”
“It’s too late now. Only a couple months left.”
She sighs, and I hear Anthony asking for her in the background. “Well, I better go.”
I pop up, scooting to the edge of the bed. “Yeah, same.”
“Bye, Ty.”
When she hangs up first, I stare at my screen until it goes dark.
Hope and disappointment churn through me.
Our short conversation barely scratched into anything real, but the point is that she called.
That’s something. Progress. Maybe it’s possible to dig ourselves out of the pit we fell into.
We have to start somewhere, even if it’s an unproductive phone call.
An uneasiness settles on me. Why didn’t I bring up any of the things we’ve been holding against each other?
Like the betrayal of her choosing Dad over me?
Maggie doesn’t see it that way, but how can she not?
She didn’t so much as make a peep about how angry we both were that day.
I could hear the tension in her tone. She isn’t over it; she’s trying to stuff it down.
Speaking from experience, bottling things up and pretending they don't exist only comes back to bite you, and sidestepping feelings can only last so long.
I sigh, grabbing my book from the bedside table, ready to escape from whatever tonight was.