Page 162 of On the Breakaway

I bump his shoulder. “You’ll have to wait a little while longer.”

His fingers brush my hand, then his pinky hooks around mine.

My eyes glance to the group ahead of us, confirming that we’re still not drawing attention. I lean into the touch, wrapping more of my hand around his, bumping into him again when he smirks.

His fingers squeeze once before letting go. “If we weren’t keeping this secret, I could kiss you right now.”

It’s meant to be teasing, but I know him too well not to hear the honesty underneath. He might be letting me set the pace, but he’d be shouting our relationship status from the rooftops if it were his choice.

Whatever that status even is at this point.

“And then we’d have a hundred different opinions being shouted at us.”

“We could ignore them.”

“It’s not always that easy.”

He nods, shifting the topic to safer ground. “I do like having you all to myself.”

God, I like him. I really fucking like him.

But every time I think about telling everyone, my skin prickles with anxiety. There is no world where we tell our friends, and they act normally about it. And then there’s the fact that he’s playing some of the most important hockey games of his career right now.

I know they’re excuses. Shitty ones if I’m honest with myself. But, honestly, I’m just not ready.

I’ve never had a relationship go this well, and I just want to revel in it a little longer before we open it up to the scrutiny and future that is still so uncertain. We haven’t talked about what a future would even actually look like.

Panic starts crawling up my spine the way it always does when I think about us and the future in the same breath.

Are we just setting ourselves up for pain when this ends?

I can’t bring myself to see a world where anything this good lasts.

He squeezes my hand, pulling me back to the moment. When our eyes meet, the panic recedes enough that I can ignore it again.

Thank god.

The group ahead of us turns a corner, and suddenly, every single person has disappeared around the building. There’s not a single person who can see us right now. No teammates. No witnesses.

Grayson notices it too. I can tell from the way his eyes flick toward the corner, then back to me.

I don’t even think about it.

One second, we’re walking and the next, I’m grabbing the front of his sweatshirt and shoving him against the building next to us.

His eyes widen. “Avery…”

My lips are on his before he can finish, and he groans into my mouth. His hands land on my hips, yanking me closer to him as he melts into the kiss.

His tongue trails across my lips before intertwining with mine as we both get lost in it. My hand wraps around his neck.

A loud cough has both of us jolting apart, eyes darting to the corner where Wyatt sits, shaking his head like a disappointed dad.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “This is still happening?”

I grin at Grayson, ignoring the skeptical glare from Wyatt. “You wanted a kiss.”

Grayson pushes off the wall, but his thumb traces along my hip, maintaining contact.