Page 42 of Love at Second Down

“Fine. You’re right. Theyareunlike my other friends. Which is part of the reason I’m here. I mean, yeah, I want to win you back, but it’s more than that. I’m tired of living my life for everyone else. And I no longer want to be forced into friendships just because their family would make a good alliance with mine.”

“Tell me,” I say, ignoring everything she’s saying because it’s all talk. Empty words with nothing to back them. “Do Charlotte and Brynn know we once dated? Do they know our history and how you ended things? Or did you leave that part out?”

She blanches, and I know I have her.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m not hiding it,” she’s quick to add. “I told your friends the truth, and I’ll tell the girls, too.”

“Right,” I say through gritted teeth. “You’re Miss Righteous now, on a war path to right her wrongs,” I say with an eye roll.

“Actually, the reason I’m hereisquite selfish,” she says, surprising me. “Because the only thing I’m on a warpath for is to win you back, whether I deserve you or not.”

My gaze darts back to hers, and I can’t help but admire her honesty. I have no idea when she became so direct, but I have to admit I like this version of her?the one who knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to reach for it.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

In all honesty, I have no idea what to make of her.

“Nothing,” she says with a sigh. “I don’t want you to say anything. Proving my intentions is my job, and I realize it might take time.”

That’s the understatement of the century.

I hold my tongue as a group of girls approach the table, eyeing me as they take a glass of punch, before leaving in a fit of giggles.

“You played well.”

I turn toward Avery, my gaze raking over her face as I picture her in Chris and Jace’s apartment?a place I’ve frequented for the last two years?her eyes glued to the screen as I fought for a win on the field. The fact she witnessed my struggle irritates me. Mostly because she was the reason why I couldn’t get my head in the game.

My only solace as I turn back toward the dance floor is that I somehow managed to pull out a win. “I played like shit. No thanks to you,” I say, my tone hard as nails. “I’m just lucky I managed to pull my head out of my ass in the second half.”

“If you think your anger will scare me off, you’re wrong.”

My gaze jerks back to hers, once again impressed by her candor. The Avery I knew was far more reserved.

“What? Do you think I’m foolish enough to believe I can show up, tell you I’m sorry, and the last two and a half years will just disappear?” She snorts and shakes her head. “It’s a nice image, but it’s not realistic.” She picks up a glass of punch, toying withthe rim of it. “The truth is I deserve your anger and a whole lot more.”

“That’s probably the first thing we agree on.”

She lifts her whiskey eyes to mine, and a familiar ache blooms inside my chest. The one that reminds me just how much I used to love her. The one that says maybe a part of me still does, whether I want to or not.

I fight the urge to look away first, refusing to fold as I wait for whatever she might say next, to press the issue or make another bold declaration. But when she opens her mouth, the only thing to escape her lips is an exhale.

Her shoulders sag, and for the first time, I see it—the crack in her armor, the weight she’s been carrying etched into every line of her face.

It does something to me. Makes me want to reach out and brush my fingers along her cheekbone, cradle her face in my palm, soothe whatever inner turmoil laces through her, even while I hate myself for it.

I swallow, then hear myself say, “You’re serious about this. Me.Us.”

It’s supposed to be a question but sounds more like an accusation.

She nods, and the space between us evaporates as she steps closer, the air charged by what feels like a thousand volts of electricity. All at once, it feels like we’re the only two people in the room. Like the depth of desire I once felt for her might somehow eclipse the pain I’m still grappling with.

That’s when the first notes drift toward us from the DJ across the room. A gentle piano intro that makes her eyes widen slightly, recognition flickering across her face like lightning. The desperate crooning of Lewis Capaldi trickles toward us as the first lyrics of “Someone You Loved”—our song—eat away at what’s left of my heart.After all these years, the universe hasdecided to play some cosmic joke by queuing up the very melody that had once been our soundtrack—the same song whose lyrics proved to be prophetic for how I’d feel years later.

I freeze, my heart a hummingbird in my chest as I’m transported back to a time when everything was perfect. Whenshewas perfect, and I wanted her more than my next breath.

“Seriously?” A flush paints Avery’s cheeks as she glances toward the DJ booth. “I can’t believe this is playing right now,” she whispers.

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