Page 71 of On the Breakaway

Yes, there’s more. A whole hell of a lot more. Starting with her in an actual bed, so that I can bury myself in her until she screams my name and fixes her attitude.

“No. One orgasm and no feelings, right? Being great with your hands doesn’t change the fact that I can’t stand you.” She injects her usual attitude into every word.

“Just like how coming on my tongue doesn’t mean you’re not still the most infuriating person I know,” I fire back. Heat crawls up my spine because, seriously, my head was just between her legs, and now she’s already back to being a brat.

I should sit her back up on that counter and make her come until she stops acting…

No. No, I shouldn’t do that. I shouldn’t have even done this.

She steps around me into the hallway. “Good, let’s just forget this happened.”

“That’s for the best.” I nod, forcing myself to sound indifferent. “Good luck forgetting how good that just felt.”

She glares at me, then turns on her heel and walks back into the crowded bar. I can’t bring myself to follow, so instead, I head straight out the back door to the alley.

What the hell was that?

I don’t lose control like that. I don’t get women off in bar bathrooms, especially not Avery. And now I’m supposed to forget it happened, even though I can still taste her.

It was one of the best sexual experiences of my life, and I didn’t even come. Which, aside from Avery herself, is the most irritating part of this entire fucking night.

15

Avery

The downtown restaurant is crowded with tables balancing trays of drinks and steaming plates of food. Wesley and I had managed to grab one of the tall high-top tables near the front windows.

“I’m telling you,” Wesley says, leaning back in her chair. “Coach is going to lose her mind during film tomorrow when she watches Becca refusing to track back.”

I laugh, buttering a slice of bread. “That’s because Becca thinks defense is a personal attack on her brand.”

Wesley snorts, pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear before reaching for her drink. “I just think we got lucky St. Louis collapsed after halftime because if we play like that against Kansas City next week, we’re screwed.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be well-balanced these days?” I tease.

“Well-balanced doesn’t mean I don’t still want to win.”

Our girls’ dinner could not have had better timing.

I’ve been a wreck for the past two days, my brain replaying the feeling of Grayson’s mouth on me constantly. Clearly, it had been too long since I was with a man. There’s no other reasonable explanation for why I let him grope me in a public restroom and keep my underwear for fuck’s sake.

“You okay?” Wesley’s brows pull together.

“Yeah. Totally.” It shouldn’t feel like a lie. I’d gotten exactly what I wanted the other night. A no-strings orgasm delivered by someone other than my vibrator.

Wesley’s eyes flick toward her watch. “Harper’s late.”

That immediately drags me out of my head because Harper is never late. I check my phone, frowning when I realize she’s nearly twenty minutes behind.

Wesley rests her forearms on the table. “Have you noticed how weird she’s been acting lately?”

“She’s been distracted for weeks.”

“And exhausted,” Wesley adds quietly. “Like really exhausted.”

Harper has been the emotional glue in our friendship since we met her in our senior year, when she was still a freshman. She balanced us out, making our friendship feel steadier. So when the most stable person I know starts zoning out during conversations or showing up with forced smiles, it’s impossible not to notice

“I asked her last week if she was okay,” Wesley says, tracing the condensation on her glass, “and she brushed it off completely.”