GRAYSON
Impulse, he had worked to stop being ruled by his impulses. West had taught him to fight strategically, not just with his heart, but with his head, too. All that training had gone out of the window with Adriana. He was about to do something impulsive.
“How would you two like to come to my fight? If you’ve never seen a MMA match, I think you might be surprised.” Grayson looks between Willow and Adriana, including them both in the invitation, but his eyes keep on darting back to Adriana’s again and again. It’s hard for him not to look at her. Once he’s captured by those green eyes with their flecks of gold, he’s in trouble.
Willow is looking at him with interest again, like she’s studying him, sizing him up; it’s unnerving. When it becomes clear that Adriana isn’t going to say anything, she pipes up. “Wow, a real cage fight. That sounds great, doesn’t it Adrie?” Willow has to physically reach out to prod her friend who seems to be frozen in position.
Adriana gives her a bemused look. “But, Will, you said yourself you hate blood. Ouch!” She rubs her forearm where Willow has pinched her. “What I mean to say is that’s really generous of you, Grayson, but I do shift work, so I don’t know if I’d be able to make it, and I’m sure you have other gir—I mean, people who you’d like to give the tickets to.”
She twists her hands, like she always used to when she was nervous. He thinks that it is incredible how many things about her are coming back to him now. She bites her bottom lip, like she’s trying to stop herself from talking. Goddamn, she’s beautiful, he thinks. But not only that, she seems to be completely oblivious to the effect that she has on men. Her short shorts make her caramel legs look like they go on for miles, and she can make a white tank top look like the sexiest thing anyone has ever worn.
He doesn’t bother to ask himself why he wants to persuade her to go to the fight, he knows that it’s because he doesn’t want this to be the last time they see each other. It can’t be. “Come on, Adrie. It’ll be fun. For old times sake?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he regrets them as he sees the way she stands up straighter, bristling. For her, old times meant Grayson leaving her hanging without a word. He’d let her believe that he cared about her, and then he’d just disappeared.
He winces, ready to feel the barrage of abuse that she was more than entitled to lay down on him, but it doesn’t come. He sees Willow shaking her head in despair out of the corner of his eye, clearly thinking what an idiot he is. Join the club, he thinks. But his attention is focused on Adriana.
Instead of reminding him of the way he’d treated her, she lifts her chin up, looking determined, classy. “Sure, why not? Thanks Grayson.” Her words are clipped, short, nothing like the lilting way that she usually spoke, a hangover from speaking Spanish at home with her dad.
He’d upset her, and he hates himself for it. “Great, that’s really great, really great.” He clamps his mouth shut to stop himself from repeating the same word over and over again.
Willow sighs audibly, as if she can’t believe how excruciating this encounter is turning out. She grabs a pen from her bag and scribbles something down on a napkin, holding it out for Grayson to take. “That’s Adrie’s number. You can text her the details of the fight.”
Adriana gives her friend a look that would have done a pretty good job of melting polar ice caps, and Willow studiously ignores her. It’s clear that Adriana isn’t happy that he now has a way of contacting her, but it doesn’t matter, he still gets a little thrill from knowing that he’s going to see her again.
“Sure, well, I’ll be in touch.” He waves at them both and then instantly regrets it, wondering if he looks as pathetic as he feels. “Enjoy your breakfast, bon appetit.” He turns on his heels and walks as quickly as he can away from the restaurant, motioning for West to follow him. Bon appetit? What the hell was that? He doesn’t think he’s ever used that phrase before, and now that he’d said it he feels like the biggest douchebag imaginable.
He growls, as he sees West’s shoulders shaking. “What the fuck was that?” The man can barely get the words out he’s laughing so much. “You looked like you were going to pull my arm off and beat me to death with it if I didn’t let go of Adriana’s hand! Real slick, kid, real slick.”
“Not now, West.” Grayson feels his face heat, wondering absently if it’s the first time he’s blushed in years. The Adriana Effect, he thinks. But West wasn’t wrong. Grayson had been jealous of his coach touching her, complimenting her, and making her smile with her whole body. It should have been him, not West. You had your chance, Gray, he reminds himself, and you blew it.
“Don’t worry about it, kid. We’re all fools when it comes to beautiful women, even you.” West gives him a look out of the corner of his eye and wraps his arm around Grayson’s shoulder. “At least now I understand where your head was this morning. A girl like that is enough to throw any man off his game.” West sounds thoughtful, but Grayson isn’t in the mood to find out what’s going on in his coach’s head; there’s too much going on in his own.
He remains silent as he picks up the pace, breaking into a run, like he’s just re-energized, powered up. The Adriana Effect, he smiles to himself. He holds tight to the napkin with Adriana’s number on it, feeling more hopeful than he has in years.