Page 220 of On the Breakaway

“Deal,” Sloane agrees. “Wyatt owes me for years of emotional damage. There’s no way he says no.”

Before I can answer, the rest of the team walks through the door.

They’re loud enough to be heard over the music, all talking over one another with the confidence of people who don’t actually care if anyone else hears what they’re saying. Liam is gesturing so aggressively I’m surprised he hasn’t hit Nathan in the face yet. Wyatt looks thoroughly exhausted by whatever nonsense is happening beside him, and somewhere in the middle of it all, my eyes find Grayson.

Or maybe his eyes find mine first. He has this ridiculous ability to walk into a room full of hundreds of people and look directly at me within seconds, like he’s operating with some internal compass permanently set to my location. Five months ago, it drove me insane, but now I catch myself waiting for it.

Hoping for it.

When Wesley and Sloane spot their targets, they disappear into the crowd without another word. Meanwhile, Harper doesn’t even pretend to participate.

I lift my empty glass toward Grayson, giving it a little shake before holding up a second empty cup and pouting as dramatically as possible. His mouth twitches, and he gives me one tiny nod. Then he changes directions, weaving toward the bar before Wesley and Sloane have even managed to intercept anyone.

“Unbelievable,” Harper mutters.

“What?”

She stares at me as if she’s never seen me before. “There’s absolutely no way that just worked.”

“What?”

“You literally rattled an empty glass at him.”

I shrug. “I know.”

“You didn’t even say anything.”

“I didn’t have to.”

“And you’re expecting him to know exactly what that meant?”

I glance toward the bar where Grayson is already talking to the bartender and grin. “I mean… yeah.”

“James would’ve never…” she trails off, brushing her palms against her thighs. “Grayson’s good for you.”

I do her the courtesy of ignoring her first comment. “He’s good, period.”

My lips twitch when I catch sight of him again, this time with a platter of drinks in hand.

Wesley reenters our reserved area, hanging on Nathan’s arm and whispering something in his ear.

He looks at us. “I was going to say hi, but apparently I should be rushing to get drinks for the table?”

“Don’t bother.” Harper leans back into the couch.

“Um, why?” Wesley asks as Grayson reaches us with the drinks.

Harper points, half annoyed and half smiling. “Avery already won.”

Wesley spins around, and Sloane glares when she reaches us.

“There’s no fucking way.” Sloane’s face drops.

“You didn’t even use words,” Wesley argues.

I stand, taking the drinks from Grayson and setting them on the table before leaning into him, kissing him on the cheek.

“What are they talking about?” He asks, brows knitted.