4. Ava

4

AVA

M isery is one lonely bitch. It doesn't take a step forward unless someone is holding her hand. Whether it be anxiety or depression, but she never gets lonely. It was one thing to be miserable by myself, but knowing two other people were in the same boat, and we were all drowning—well, it made me feel better.

Was it morbid? Perhaps, but there was comfort in misery. To know that I was in a fucked-up state and that two other people understood the same fear I did. They could taste the same despair that often coated my lips. Macabre as it might be, finding comfort in desolate times was akin to peace.

The last time I went to a hockey game was during my sophomore year, and now here I was again because I was desperate to give my misery some company.

I sighed as I put my hair up in a high pony. It was my go-to hairstyle when I was going to battle. Well, for practice, since skating was a war all on its own. I didn't know what an unexpected turn of events tonight would bring, but I knew I couldn't afford to sit back and pretend like everything in the past few months hadn't been a horrible nightmare.

My relationship with Micah had been strained, but his support the other day caused a warmness to spread over me. Even if I didn't want to, I had the same insane feelings toward Grayson. I went from overlooking them to them being all I could see in the previous few days.

Micah had quickly fallen into our friendship again. It was as if the last few months had never been there. If anything, his company felt different—not stronger per se, but more intense. I could feel his gaze on me when I practiced in the morning, as if he were waiting for whoever was messing with us to claw their way out of the ice and hurt me.

As for Grayson, that was a different story. It was as if the messages had eviscerated the wall I had put between us. It was still there on my part, but he no longer cared for it. It had taken a week to undo months of work I had put into the space I had created for him. Just like Micah, I could feel him, too, whenever I was on the ice. He arrived earlier to practice when he didn't have to be, and I was not going to fool myself into thinking it wasn't because of me. I was glad that the girls in my sorority had not noticed—especially Ivy, our president.

There was no denying that Grayson was one of the hottest guys in school. He was one of those guys that had a growth spurt in their senior year of high school. When he came to college, he already had the upperclassman girls gagging for it. He knew he could have any girl and took advantage of the fact.

Everything was fine during my first year. No one noticed me. I mean, I knew I wasn't ugly, but with there being older girls, I was just a dime in a dozen. Besides, in my freshman year, I had been so busy with skating and rushing that I had no time for boys.

It was my sophomore year that I began to regret my choices—especially my choice in sisterhood. Sorority sisterhood was a load of bullshit. Livy and I rushed together, if you could even call it that. Her sister Ivy was the president at the time. She was already a legacy, and her sister was in power. She was practically royalty. Livy and I weren't best friends, but we were friendly. That was until one of our mixers, when the great Grayson Cross noticed me.

There was no denying that I had been flattered by his attention. Who wouldn't feel butterflies under his intense gaze? The fact that his accent had never gone away made him all that much irresistible.

If I weren't so wrapped up in my sport, I would have seen the apparent signs that entertaining Grayson's compliments violated some girl code. Livy had her eyes set on Grayson, and thus, I became a persona non grata at the sorority. Some of the girls knew it was wrong to vilify me for having the attention of a guy, but nepotism didn't let them speak out for me.

So yeah, my hate toward Grayson was one-sided, and a part of me held resentment because, in my eyes, he ruined the good thing I had going on with my sorority. My mom had left a few years ago, and as an only child, I craved that connection, but one night took it all away.

My iciness toward Grayson had not gone unnoticed in the past year. It kept him at bay, and Livy remained happy. Now, all of that was changing. Grayson was a bit protective of the situation we had found ourselves in. This was good, mainly because that protectiveness seemed to be extended toward Micah, and I found that to be sweet. I know they weren't friends, and all three of us would rather be anywhere else if we could, but the fact was we were stuck in this together.

All I could think of was that there were worse people to be stuck with.

With one look in the mirror, I caught myself sighing. If I could return to that night, I would make it all disappear. No amount of spending time with Grayson or Micah was worth the emotional damage.

I had made it at this school, minding my business and ignoring the hockey games. Now, here I was with a press pass to get a front-row seat.

My life really was unfair.

The air in the arena was electric. You could feel the energy change as soon as you entered the building. The people at Blackwell Lake really loved their sport—especially hockey. Micah felt my presence as soon as I stood next to him. He looked up slowly, as if he was taking me in before our eyes locked. His eyes pierced me for a second. It was startling to get used to his penetrating gaze once more. He was wearing a Blackwell Lake University hoodie and a pair of fitted jeans. His hair looked a little on the messier side. If I had to guess, it was probably a bit of anxiety about everything happening, and he was taking it out on his hair.

Still, it looked good—he looked good. While Grayson and I took our frustrations out on the ice, it looked like Micah got his out at the gym.

"You came," he stated.

I could feel my lips tip in an involuntary smile. He knew me too well, and I let myself find comfort in that fact.

"And leave you all alone for this thrilling game?"

Micah smiled at me—one of his genuine smiles, not the fake ones he handed out when his father was around.

"Your enthusiasm is noted," he said as he patted the empty spot beside him.

I didn't overthink what it would entail being in on this mess with Micah. His absence in my life had hurt, and although right now it still felt like old times in a way, there was a distance between us that wouldn't go away unless we addressed it.

"How's Grayson doing?" I found myself asking.

"Excited for the game." Micah shrugged. "Dad has been working him hard. He says this is the best team he's had in a while, and they have a chance at something great if they keep strong all season."

"That's a lot of games you'd be attending." I raised a mocking brow at him.

Micah didn't say anything else. He just used his elbow to tap my arm. Just then, the air changed, and the announcers began their introductions.

I stood up along with everyone else, seemingly transfixed as the players came out. Micah was ready with his camera when the team came out. My eyes, much like everyone else's, went to Grayson. I could see why there were so many female fans in the stands. The way he filled out that jersey was most definitely a motive, but the way he moved around the ice was like a cobra ready to strike.

All the things you could say about Grayson, his dedication to the game was one of them. It was like he became someone else once he was in the rink. It took a lot of dedication to go pro, and Grayson Cross was highly motivated. Watching him like this, how he glided across the ice, and how he led his team made me realize I knew so little about him.

Grayson and I weren't so different; at the end of the day, we both found peace when our blades hit the ice.

"It's intense, isn't it?" Micah leaned close and whispered in my ear. I felt his breath hot on my nape, and I instantly shivered.

Before I could say anything, I jumped when a puck hit the tempered glass before us. My heart started to beat faster, and I felt Micah's hand grasp my arm to try and steady me.

I focused on the game when I noticed a blur making its way faster toward us. The player stopped briefly, and my eyes clashed with Grayson's. His eyes were on me, and he let out a wolfish smile and winked.

Something coiled in my belly, and I gave him a small smile before I could delve too deeply into whatever feelings were coursing through me—it was better if I didn't look too closely.

The game went on, and that coil I felt turned into dread.

There was no denying that all the things I tried to push down were for naught, because they were screaming at me to let them out. Now, I wondered if being with the guys was the first good decision I had made in a while or the worst.

We would have to wait and see.