14. Ava

14

AVA

W e all watched as Cruz stormed out of the room. He shouldn't be alone. None of us should, especially as the world crumbled around us, but at that moment, I hated him just a little bit.

Did he have to be so candid? Couldn't he have let us bask in a fake security blanket for a little longer? For the last few months, I told myself that the hand was never there. It was dark that night, and we had been drinking—I wasn't drunk—and emotions ran high in situations like that, so our minds conjured up stuff.

It all seemed so reasonable and plausible that I started believing the lie. Grayson's assurances a moment ago had begun to work. I looked into his eyes and saw the truth he wanted to believe, so I let myself feel it, too.

Cruz had seen a bag, and that was terrifying compared to what we thought we saw.

"He's right," I whispered. "We can no longer avoid this."

Before any of us could say more, all our phones pinged at the same time.

Dread spread through my veins. I felt the blood drain through my face, and my heart skipped a couple of beats. I could see my surroundings, how Micah began to have a panic attack next to me. I watched Grayson put one hand on his shoulder while he stood over him, talking. I could see his lips moving, but not the words.

My eyes moved over them, trying to understand what they were discussing. In all of this, I realized I could not breathe.

"Ava!"

My hearing came back to me, but it was distant.

"You're okay, baby. Take a deep breath."

If breathing was so easy, why would my body forget how to do it?

"That's it. Inhale. Exhale."

That went on for a few more seconds until it felt like someone had pressed unmute around me, and now I could feel every little thing.

Micah's constant tapping of his foot. Grayson's ragged breathing, and now my gasping for air.

"Are you with us?"

It was asked beside me.

How incredibly selfish was I that I let others focus on my panic while they were going through their own?

I reached out and took one of Micah's hands in my own.

"I'm okay. Are you?"

Micah squeezed my hand, giving me some of his warmth. At that moment, I felt instantly better. I wondered how I could have let us drift apart when we had always needed one another.

"Yeah," he said, even if it wasn't convincing to either of our ears.

"Who messaged us?" I asked, as I turned to look at Grayson. His eyes were locked on mine and Micah's hands.

"I haven't checked," he replied. "Maybe it's from campus."

The three of us shared a skeptical look, but we knew better. You'd think it was synchronized the way we all reached for our phones and then looked at each other so we could look together.

Unknown:

1…2…3…4

You are guilty, and I know.

Grayson's jaw was clenched.

"Where the fuck is Martinez?"

He ran out of his room before Micah and I could stop him. With no other choice, we followed him. Miller was leaving his room when Micah and I came out of Grayson's. He looked at us, and the asshole smirked.

"Ava, darling," he purred. "Are you trying to catch up on your hockey roster? In that case, sign me up next."

My face flamed, not from embarrassment but rage. If I wasn't too busy trying to stop two idiot boys from killing each other, I might have punched him.

"Shut the fuck up, Miller," Micah spat, as he rushed down the stairs with me.

"Oh, we're getting brave, Pierce."

I raised my hand and flipped him off. At least we knew Miller was none the wiser since that night. I doubt he would be acting the fool if he was in the same boat as us.

Boat—wasn't that ironic?

When we came outside, Grayson stood in front of his house lawn, as Cruz's headlights could be seen in the distance as he sped away from campus.

"He left us," Micah spoke in disbelief.

"Fuck him," Grayson told him. "We don't need him."

I said nothing, allowing Grayson to vent out his frustration. Was I annoyed that Cruz left us? Yes, I was, but I could also understand the need to want to run away.

"We had a shit day today," I told them. "Let's just take it all in, and we will regroup tomorrow."

My car was a couple of parking spaces away from the hockey house since Grayson drove all of us to the races.

"You're leaving?" Grayson turned around, his gaze penetrating me with a staggering intensity.

Being around him made me forget why I should be away from him in the first place.

"Yeah…I'm fucking tired. I want a hot bath, and then I have to meet at the sorority house early in the morning. So my internal freak-out will have to wait after we have our homecoming committee."

Micah was looking at me like I had lost the plot. Meanwhile, Grayson looked as if he was trying to fight back a grin. "Priorities," he mumbled.

Whatever.

If I didn't show up to the damn house, I was stuck paying a fine, and with all the time I had been spending with Grayson, I knew some of my "sisters" would have it out for me.

Ignoring them, I began to walk toward my car.

"Let me walk you," Micah shouted after me.

I did not halt my steps, so he had to jog to catch up to me.

"Are you really okay, Ava?"

"None of us are okay." There wasn't a point in lying. "But tomorrow is a new day, and we can get some answers then."

When we got to my car, Micah waited for me so I could get in. It was very sweet of him to do so. Without thinking, I leaned up to kiss his cheek.

"Night," I told him.

As I left the parking lot and looked in my rearview mirror, I could see Grayson was still watching me.

Growing up was testing how many times you could press the snooze button without being late. I was really debating if I should go to my sorority house meeting. It was the same shit every year. If I coached kids on the weekends, I could get the extra fifty I would need for the fine and then some.

I sat up straight and then everything else came rushing back at me. I was fucked in more ways than one. I avoided thinking about that damn text. My list of priorities included going to the house, then tracking Cruz down.

Fuck.

If word got around that I had been seen with Grayson at the races—and then back at his hockey house, I was in for a shit show at the sorority house.

I really wanted to skip, but it was better to get it over with.

Augh.

Grabbing a pair of leggings and one of my sorority T-shirts, I walked down the stairs. The smell of pancakes instantly filled the air, and I stilled.

"Dad?" I called out to him, knowing he was the only one who could be cooking.

"Hey, baby girl!" he yelled back.

When I made it to the kitchen, sure enough, he was there wearing a Barracudas apron, a spatula in one hand, and a stack of pancakes on the counter next to him.

Despite everything going on, the smile that graced my face was genuine.

"What's all of this?" I motioned to the food as I reached for a paper plate. Since Daddy and I were both busy, when either one of us cooked, we opted for the easier option.

Yay for no dishes.

"I've been busy with the shop. You've been busy with skating and getting settled into your new classes." My dad shrugged as he loaded my plate with two pancakes. "I figured we could at least try to eat together every other day."

My throat clogged.

Why was I so damn sentimental lately?

"I'd like that, Daddy."

In this moment I was reminded that despite everything, I still had him, but it killed me to know that if this went bad, he would be so disappointed in me.