Page 201 of On the Breakaway

He gestures vaguely toward me. “Look at yourself.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re prepared to sit here all night.” His face gets more closed off. “And because when it comes to relationships, you're not that different from me.”

That surprises me enough to pause.

“Really?”

Wyatt stares down the hallway. “Yes, and if I were in your shoes, I’d be long gone by now unless there was a damn good reason to be sitting here.”

I study him, noticing the distant look in his eyes and the way his jaw tightens. It doesn’t take more than that glance for me to understand that I’ve barely scratched the surface when it comes to understanding Wyatt.

His groan echoes down the hallway. “Stop looking at me.”

I do, but not because he asked.

I stop looking because the locker room doors open, taking every ounce of my attention.

Grayson steps into the hallway carrying a duffel bag over one shoulder. His head is down, and he’s halfway toward the exit before he looks up.

He freezes when he sees me.

The bruise on his jaw has darkened, and his hair is still damp from the shower. He blinks rapidly as if I’m some illusion that he’s trying to wipe away. As if he’s convinced there’s no way I’m actually here.

Wyatt takes that as his cue. “Well, I’m going to go now.”

Neither of us looks at him.

Then, on his way out the door, he mutters, “Good luck, idiots.”

Now Grayson and I are alone, standing twenty feet apart.

He might’ve just spent the past two hours convincing himself I’d left, but I’m still here.

And this time, I’m not going anywhere.

39

Avery

Can you give me a ride?” I ask, my voice shaking with nerves.

It’s not what I planned to say, but it’s all I can manage when he’s looking at me like I might disappear.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes it, shifting the bag on his shoulder and settling for a single nod. Then, he’s walking past me and out the door. Even now, after the night he’s had, he holds the door open for me and waits for me to catch up to him.

The walk to his car feels longer than it should, probably because neither of us utters a single word. Every single step Grayson takes feels careful, as though he’s expecting me to bolt the second he looks away.

I don’t blame him for it, but it stings and causes guilt to settle heavily in my stomach.

This night was supposed to be exciting. The Blades were going to win, and I was going to watch Grayson get one step closer to his dream. I still don’t know how the hell it’s turned into this.

Instead of enjoying any part of the night, we’ve both spent hours thinking the worst about our future together.

The silence stretches between us as we move through the nearly empty parking lot, tension thick enough that each breath is heavy with it.

Grayson doesn’t look at me once, not when he unlocks his car or when he opens the passenger door for me. He doesn’t look at me when he climbs inside or when he starts the engine.