Page 210 of On the Breakaway

“...Correct.”

I turn, hooking an arm beneath her knees and another behind her back. Before she realizes what I’m doing, I lift her clean off the mattress. She lets out a surprised squeal, instinctively wrapping herself around me.

“Grayson!”

“What?”

“I wasn’t done.”

I gasp dramatically, eyes widening. “Damn, I must be doing that kidnapping thing again.”

Still carrying her, I walk into the bathroom and flick on the shower. The pipes groan before water begins cascading against the tile, steam slowly curling through the room. Avery rests her chin on my shoulder, watching the water.

“I really don’t want to deal with hockey today,” I admit.

“I really don’t want to deal with our friends either,” she echoes.

The shower continues to fill the room with warmth. I watch the steam blur our reflections in the mirror before turning toward her, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I lean my forehead against hers.

“We could hide here a little longer,” she whispers.

“For the last time,” I murmur, “before we let the rest of the world in.”

She nods once.

And for a little while longer, it’s just us.

41

Avery

I unlock Wesley’s apartment door with the spare key she’d shoved into my hand three years ago after declaring that real friends don’t knock.

The second the door swings open, I’m greeted by complete and utter chaos.

Cardboard boxes cover nearly every inch of the living room floor. Half of Wesley’s bookshelf sits stacked neatly against one wall, while the other half has somehow migrated onto the couch. Bubble wrap trails across the carpet, and packing paper spills out of an open box labeled KITCHEN in thick black marker.

“Please tell me you brought coffee,” Wesley calls from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

“I did,” I answer, carefully stepping over a box labeled Blankets - Important. “But first, why are blankets labeled as important?”

She pops her head around the corner. “Uh, because they are. Duh.”

“You’re doing this all wrong. You need to be using the blankets to help pack the fragile stuff so you use less packing paper.”

Her brow furrows. “Huh. I hadn’t thought of that.”

I smile widely. “Call the news. I thought of something Wesley Miller didn’t think of first.”

“Why are we calling the news?” Harper walks out of the bathroom into the hall.

“Because Wes is shit at packing.”

Wesley throws one of the blankets at me, narrowly missing the coffees I have balanced in my hand. “I’m not shit at packing.”

Harper chuckles. “That’s debatable.”

Wesley’s eyes narrow. “Traitor.” Then she turns to me, and before she says a word, I already know I’m under fire. “We should be calling the news because Avery’s in a relationship. That’s the real groundbreaking development.”