AVERY: OMG thank you. This is so beautiful.
It takes him only a few minutes to respond. He’s probably at their training camp hotel for the night by now.
RAWLEY: I’m glad you got it. I ordered it with the hotel’s help during your last road trip, before…
Before the Stefani incident. Before I ended things.
AVERY: Well, thank you.
RAWLEY: Have a great All Star weekend.
After heart-reacting to that comment, I don’t know what else to say.
I have an observation for myself though.
I think I might have totally screwed up.
This is literally the nicest thing a guy has ever done for me.
And it’s from my fake boyfriend.Who I caught feelings for.Who I’m pretty sure did the same.
Who’s only been kind, caring, and funny as hell.
Who is now on the path to becoming myex–fake boyfriend because I freaked out.
Crap.
Sarah texts me a minute later, providing a distraction as a bunch of players and staff are gathering for a fun night before the official activities begin.
The only problem?
When I come back to my room, the last thing I see before I fall asleep is the bouquet on the table.
Oh, and the first thing I eye when I wake up the next day, the bouquet on the table.
Not helpful.
“Aves,” Jack says as I approach him in the hotel lobby later that next morning. It’s ten, so before any of the majorobligations for the day have started. I’m going to be in the three-point contest later, but it’s hours away.
He kisses me on the cheek and I make sure to keep space between us otherwise. The last thing I need is some crappy photo to get out that makes it seem like I’m off seeing another guy.
“Let’s find a place to get coffee,” I suggest.
He looks at me with disbelief. “You do realize how famous you are now, right?”
His words prompt me to look around, and a lot of people are staring at me. A few seem about to ask for autographs.
Which I don’t mind giving, but yeah, Jack and I are unlikely to be able to catch-up in public with all these dynamics.
“One sec, let me talk to the hotel staff.”
Ten minutes later, we’re in a small private room off the hotel restaurant, coffee and pastries before us.
“Does this work?” the manager who’s helping asks.
“It’s perfect.”
We take our seats and Jack grabs a danish.
