Page 55 of Love at Second Down

“Know what?”

I nod toward Avery, who’s now awkwardly adjusting her purse strap and pretending to study the bowling shoes behind the counter. “That Avery’s my ex.”

Liz follows my gaze like she’s just now putting it together. “Oh. Wow. That’s . . . wild,” she says with a touch too much enthusiasm.

Wild?

I narrow my gaze as something twists in my gut, looking at Liz again with new eyes. The way she’s dressed. How she’s acted since I picked her up. Like she couldn’t care less about being on this date. The complete and utter lack of effort on her part. I wonder . . .? Is it possible . . .?

Exhaling, Liz shifts on her feet, giving my hand a little squeeze. “What I mean is, I’d understand if you wanted to leave, but we’re here now, and it would be sort of awkward to go. Maybe we should stay and make the most of it?” She winces like she’s worried she’s not coming off right, and adds, “I’d really like to continue this date with you.”

It’s the first nice thing she’s said, and I’m not sure what to make of it when Travis steps into my personal space, slapping my hand and offering me knuckles. “Hey, man! We just got here,” he says beaming. “This is my date, Avery,” he says, motioning to the girl beside him, avoiding my gaze. “Avery, this is Damon and . . .” He turns to Liz who smiles widely as I wait for her reaction.

“I’m Liz,” she says, giving him a little wave before reaching out and shaking Avery’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Avery.”

“You, too.” Avery rocks back on her heels, finally turning her eyes back to mine as the prickling of suspicion fades.

Of course, Liz had nothing to do with this. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, and she certainly doesn’t strike me as a liar or a manipulator. Which means Chris fucked this up and failed to warn the girls that Avery is my ex andnotto send her on the double date.

My nostrils flare, and I fight the urge to turn around and drive all the way back to the athlete apartments just so I can beat his ass. The only thing stopping me is the girl beside me. She seemed genuine when she asked me to stay and give this a shot, and the last thing I want to do is ditch her in front of Avery and Travis.

Besides, I promised to give this whole dating thing a shot, and even though everything inside of me revolts at the idea, I owe it to myself?to the team?to try.

I force a breath through my nose, clenching my jaw as I step forward and take Liz’s hand in mine, wishing for a spark but there’s none. My smile is tight, practiced, as I allow Liz to tug me toward the counter, all while pretending I don’t still feel Avery’s eyes on my back . . . or the ache in my chest that secretly wishes we were the only two here.

Chapter 17

AVERY

Ishouldn’t be this aware of Damon?of every breath he takes, every slight shift in his expression, every time his gaze flickers my way like he’s tryingnotto look?but I am. Then again, this is the way it’s always been between us. Magnetic, like gravity pulling at all the parts of me that are still his.

He’s in the lane beside ours, arms crossed as he watches Liz line up her shot, her expression blank and posture rigid, like she’d rather be anywhere else but beside the man I want more than anything in this world.

Damon shifts his weight from one foot to the other, watching her with an intensity that feels forced, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. Maybe it’s jealousy speaking as he tosses a polite smile her way, which she neglects to return.

All things considered, Liz is doing a stellar job of icing him out, so much so, that if Damon didn’t have a legion of women chomping at the bit for a chance to date him, I might feel bad. But he has to know how wanted he is, how desirable.

Meanwhile, Travis is all energy beside me, teasing me in his deep baritone as I fumble my third gutter ball in a row. “C’mon, Avery.” He laughs, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

I offer him a playful smile that doesn’t reach my eyes, careful not to touch him back. “Once or twice. But it’s been a while,” I say, meeting Damon’s gaze as I think about how we used to play. Every Thursday night, to be exact.

Damon’s jaw ticks before he glances away again.

“I’m a little rusty,” I say with a sigh as I turn back to Travis.

“Maybe you just need a little instruction on your next turn.” Travis winks, stepping a little closer. He’s ready to wrap his arms around my waist when I feel a strong hand wrap around my wrist, pulling me back.

“You scored a ninety-five last game.” Damon gives a snort of derision. “Pretty sure she doesn’t need your help.”

Travis raises an eyebrow, his hand still hovering near my waist. “Pretty sure I’m her date, and she can decide that for herself, man.”

I freeze between them, the tension crackling like electricity, while Liz stands awkwardly by the score screen, pretending to be fascinated by the digital display.

“Um, Damon, I think it’s your turn,” I say, nodding toward the screen.

Damon holds my gaze for one heartbeat longer before releasing my wrist. The phantom warmth of his fingers lingers as he turns away, snatching his bowling ball with unnecessary force.

“Sorry about that,” Travis murmurs, his hand finding the small of my back as we return to our seats.

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