Page 12

AVERY

T he snow has long since stopped falling by the time I cross the icy walkway toward the dining hall for a late breakfast Sunday morning.

It seems every person I pass is talking about the big game, though I’m not surprised; there are reminders everywhere, a palpable excitement thrumming in the classroom, the hallways, and even the streets.

Everyone’s sporting their blue and orange, and the Griffins’ colors are splashed over nearly every available surface, banners wishing the team good luck, and flyers advertising watch parties at fraternities, local bars, and clubs, even the auditorium.

In just a few hours, the Peach Bowl will start, and Damon will fight for his chance to play in the championship game while millions of football fans across the nation watch.

I have no idea where his headspace is at today; I can only hope it’s better than mine because all I’ve done is think about our disastrous talk on Friday night.

If Ann Arbor loses today, I’ll hold myself personally responsible, and I have no doubt that after having spoken with Damon, he’ll hold me accountable, too.

After I saw him at Java the Hutt, he made it clear he was avoiding me.

I hadn’t seen him during the rest of the week, which meant he either transferred classes or skipped.

It was a sure sign I needed to back off and go at his pace.

But when his friends cornered me and told me about how he’d been distracted on the field all week, I thought I was doing the right thing by forcing him to talk to me.

Turns out I was wrong. Our little “chat” if you could even call it that, couldn’t have gone worse.

Add it to my long list of failures. Not that ruminating over him and how badly I messed up is anything new.

I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s become a way of life.

Regret is possessive like that; once established, it demands total attention.

Still, it’s nothing I’m not used to. This gnawing ache in my chest I can’t shake is a familiar foe.

Friday night, I finally had my shot, a chance to make him listen, and when he asked me why I broke his heart, I choked.

I gave him the worst possible answer, one that would garner me zero sympathy. I said I couldn’t tell him yet.

I shake my head at the memory?his angry scoff, the way he looked at me with hatred in his eyes?and it’s not lost on me that the one thing that might earn his forgiveness is the thing I can’t tell him.

At least not yet. Telling him the truth now while he’s still angry and bitter is risky.

I’m not the only person to consider here.

This secret I’ve been holding?the truth?can hurt my mother and my sister Katie, when they’re every bit as innocent as I am.

I have to remind myself a lot more is at stake than my own happiness.

I’m still lost in thought a little later in the day, when I finally reach Chris and Jace’s apartment.

A bakery bag from Java the Hutt is clutched in my hand and a wave of déjà vu settles over me.

Less than forty-eight hours ago, I stood in this exact spot, only for a very different purpose, and I can’t help but wonder how pissed Damon would be if he knew I was back.

I raise my fist to knock before I lower it again, unsure of whether I should even be here in light of everything that’s happened.

Maybe I should turn around and head back to the dorms. The girls might have asked me to watch the game with them today, but Damon already thinks the worst of me.

If I hang out at his teammates’ apartment, socializing with his friends’ girlfriends, I’ll only add fuel to the fire.

The last thing I want is for him to think I’m meddling and using them to wiggle my way back into his life.

My stomach sinks at the thought. If I stay, am I giving him one more reason to hate me?

Torn between doing the right thing and the chance to make friends, I exhale a deep breath and stare longingly at the door.

The truth is, I’m lonely, and these girls seem nice. They’re the first women who have gone out of their way to invite me to socialize since I stepped foot on campus. The fact that they have a connection to Damon means nothing.

Okay, maybe it doesn’t mean nothing. To be fair, it was the reason I struck up a conversation with them the other day at Java the Hutt in the first place, but it has nothing to do with my reasoning for wanting to hang out with them now.

I genuinely like them. They seem nice and open and honest in a way I’m not used to, and something tells me I can trust them.

They’re not the kind of superficial, surface-level girls I’m always wary of.

Clenching my hands into fists, my resolve to stay strengthens. It’s not like this is his apartment. They invited me to watch the game with them.

Besides, he’ll never find out, as long as I’m gone when he gets back. He’ll be none the wiser, and even if he were, I’m not sure his feelings toward me can get much worse.

I lift my hand to knock, uncertainty swirling inside of me when the door swings wide open, and I girl I don’t recognize with auburn hair and bright green eyes stands in the open doorway.

“Hi! I assume you’re Avery?” She waits until I nod, then smiles and extends a hand. “Samantha. Come on in. Brynn and Charlotte are inside,” she says with a nod of the head as she waves for me to follow.

I take a deep breath and step inside, the warmth of the apartment a stark contrast to the chill outside.

The scent of pizza fills the air, and my gaze darts around, taking in the space.

It’s cozy, with a large sectional facing a massive TV already showing some pregame coverage.

I try not to stare as they show a clip of Damon from a previous game.

Charlotte spots me first, and jumps up from her spot on the couch. “Avery! You made it!” Her enthusiasm is almost jarring compared to the reception I received from Damon two days ago.

Brynn appears from what I assume is the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel, when her eyes drop to the bakery bag I’m clutching like a lifeline.

“Is that from Java the Hutt?” she asks, her eyes lighting up. “Please tell me there are those chocolate croissants inside.”

I feel my shoulders relax slightly. This will be okay. I’ll be okay. “Actually, yeah.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear, suddenly self-conscious. “I wasn’t sure what everyone liked, so I got an assortment. I hope that’s okay?”

“Okay? It’s perfect,” Charlotte says, crossing the room to take the bag from my hand. “Come to mama.”

“You really didn’t have to bring anything, though,” Brynn says with a frown. “ We invited you .”

I shrug. “I know, but it was no bother, and I really didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

More like, it’s been ingrained in me since I was a child to bring the hostess a little something. Old habits die hard, I guess.

“Well, I for one, am grateful,” Charlotte says with a wide smile. “I tried to get Brynn to bake for me, but apparently, she only does that for the guys now.”

Brynn throws her hands up. “She asked me, like, ten minutes ago.”

“We’re women, and our men are playing in their biggest game so far this year, and you didn’t think we’d need chocolate for this?” Charlotte gapes at her like it should be obvious.

“She has a point,” a fourth girl I don’t recognize says. She has soft brown hair with a purple streak down the front and bright blue eyes, and when she catches me staring, she raises a hand in a little wave. “I’m Liz, by the way.”

“Hi, Liz.” I chuckle as Charlotte unveils the pastries and sets them on the kitchen counter with the rest of the food, but not before sampling half of one first.

“Are you dating a football player, too?” I ask Liz, cocking my head as I admire the purple in her hair.

I’ve always wanted to do something a little more unconventional with mine.

I had a hairdresser once who told me rose gold would suit my complexion, but I knew my mother would throw a fit, so I’ve always left it as is.

Liz scoffs. “Ha! I wish. Apparently, I’m perpetually single.”

Brynn saunters toward her and nudges her in the ribs as she sinks down beside her. “Not true at all. She just hasn’t met the right guy yet.”

Liz grimaces. “It is true that I have a bad habit of going after all the wrong guys.”

I offer her a warm smile, then turn my attention to Samantha. “What about you? Are you dating anyone?”

“Yes, but no jocks for me.” She pulls a face, then quickly adds, “No offense, ladies.”

“Eh, I get it.” Charlotte flaps a hand at her as she returns to the living room. “I couldn’t stand Chris before we got together.”

“But then his charm wore her down,” Brynn chimes in.

“It totally did.” Charlotte sighs. “He was like the golden retriever to my black cat, and I totally caved.”

“Now she’s gone all soft.” Samantha laughs.

Charlotte chucks a throw pillow at her, but then sighs and says, “She’s not wrong.”

I stare at the four of them, a little in awe and a lot jealous.

I never had close girlfriends like this?ones I shared secrets and inside jokes with.

I was always forced to socialize with the children of my parents’ friends, and those friendships were never genuine and always superficial.

None of them were interested in me, the person.

They were only interested in the connections my family name brought to the table.

Damon wasn’t wrong when he suggested that he was the only real thing I have had in my life.