Page 41 of Love at Second Down

“If you leave me alone with her,” I start, “I swear to God . . .”

“Let’s bail,” Brandon mutters to West, acting like I’m not here.

West nods in silent agreement, and they both make a sudden, awkward dash toward each other, their paths converging in a hasty attempt to escape, when they smack into each other with a dull thud, arms flailing wildly as they struggle to regain their balance. Their grunts fill the air. An arm reaches out, grabbing me for support.

Exasperated, I shove them both away from me, my patience worn thin. “You idiots,” I snap.

A string of curses echo through the room, punctuated by a loud crash. West’s foot, in its reckless fumbling, makes unfortunate contact with one of the fragile legs of the ancient folding table. It wobbles precariously before giving way, collapsing under the pressure with a sudden and ominous groan.

With the reflexes of a cat, I catch it before the contents go everywhere. Punch sloshes over the rim of the bowl, but I somehow manage to keep the table upright.

“Damon.Hi,” a familiar voice says.

I lift my gaze, noting my friends’ retreat and reminding myself to make them pay later.

“So, you’re friends with them now?” I nod toward Brynn and Charlotte, my mouth a hard line as anger fists inside my chest.

She follows my gaze before she turns back to me, her expression unreadable. “Does that bother you?” she asks.

I bark out a laugh, wondering if she’s serious, but she simply continues to stare at me, waiting for my answer. “Not at all,” I say, my voice dripping in sarcasm. “I’m absolutely thrilled that we’re attending the same school now,andthat you’ve also found a way to become part of the lives of my closest friends and teammates.”

She glances down at her hands. “Would you prefer it if I no longer spoke with them?”

I snort in derision. “Does it really matter what I want?”

“Considering I want you back?” She meets my eyes once more. “Yeah, I’d say it does.”

How can she say shit like that? And how can she possibly think I’ll believe it after everything?

I grind my teeth until my molars ache, until I’m one second away from snapping my jaw in half.

My grip tightens on the table, and Avery must notice, because her gaze shifts to where I’m white-knuckling it. She steps forward, her tone soft when she says, “Here. Let me help you.”

Crouching beneath the table next to my thighs, she fiddles with the broken metal leg while I try not to think of how close we are to touching. How all I’d have to do is reach down and run my fingers through the silk of her hair to remember how soft it is. Or how, in another life, the position we’re in would be much more compromising. We’d be naked, and instead of fixing the table leg, she’d be turned toward me, her hands and mouth?

“There.” She rises to her feet, pulling my mind from the gutter. “It’s wobbly at best, but as long as no one hits it, the table should hold.”

I grunt, and it’s impossible to ignore how close we are now—or how her sugared-almond scent curls around me, warm and distracting.

“I watched the game with Charlotte and Brynn,” she blurts out, cutting clean through the fog of thoughts clouded by how damn good she smells. “I just thought you should know. I didn’t want you finding out from anyone else.”

My eyes widen, brows rising as the familiar tide of anger pulls me back out to sea. “In Chris and Jace’s apartment?”

When she nods, I run a hand over the back of my neck, a bitter smile splitting my lips. “Why am I not surprised?” I mutter, then louder and more directly, I ask, “Is there anyone you’renotwilling to manipulate to get what you want?”

She flinches, and I hate the way it makes me feel. Like I’m the bad guy, when I know I’m not. Because no matter how much she deserves the question, part of me still wants to take it back the second it hits her.

“It’s not like that,” she says, her tone sharp.

My brow quirks. “Isn’t it?”

“Okay, I admit that I saw you talking to them at the coffee shop the other day, but I genuinely like them, and they invited me to join them to watch the game, not the other way around. And believe it or not, I debated on even going, but I haven’t made any genuine friendships on campus yet, and I can see us becoming good friends. They’re . . . different. Kind and genuine and open.”

“Unlike most of the people you usually align yourself with?” I snap.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” She’s been letting her parents control her life, including her social life, for years.

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