The Friend Zone (Game On, #2)(54)

I get there early, securing a table in the back corner. Normally not a huge coffee drinker, I’m on my second cup by the time she arrives at eight p.m. on the dot.

The first sight of her steals my breath. It’s that instantaneous—I look at Ivy, and I cannot breathe properly. Those dark eyes, that kissable rosebud mouth, those cheeks that I want to cup as I taste her.

God, I’ve slid my fingers over her sweet, slick clit, all plump and sensitive to my touch. I’ve made her come with my hand. Heat shivers over my skin at the memory. The tips of my fingers throb, and my heartbeat is in my throat as she approaches, her gaze not meeting mine but focused somewhere around my shoulder. It hurts that she won’t truly look at me. It hurts that she’s so unsure. I’ve done this to her.

Dressed in black jeans and a gray turtleneck sweater, she also looks as though she’s trying to hide all the skin she can. Fucking hell.

It had hurt more than expected when she’d torn away from me and locked herself in the bathroom. Hope and happiness had crumbled within me. Now there’s nothing but a hollow cavern in my chest. I need to fix things with Ivy.

On shaking legs, I rise to greet her, fumbling the move when I reach out to… What? Kiss her cheek, give her a hug? I don’t know. I just want to touch her and reassure her that everything will be okay. It doesn’t matter because the moment I lean in, she’s ducking into her seat with a quick “Hey.”

She makes a pretense of being worried about spilling her coffee, setting it down with undue care as I sit across from her. But her continued focus on the table sends a punch of dull pain through my center.

“You’re not going to look at me now?” I ask in a low voice.

At that, her head snaps up, her dark eyes wide and pained. “No. I mean, of course. Sorry. I’m just…” She trails off with a bite to her lower lip.

“I know.” Resting my arms on the table, I lean in. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, Grayson,” a guy at my elbow butts in. I hadn’t even notice him approaching. But he’s grinning down at me as his friend hovers at his side. The bright red university sweaters they’re wearing are my first tipoff as to why they’re here. The guy slaps my shoulder like he knows me. “Great season, man. You guys are gonna crush it in the playoffs.”

“Go Dogs!” the other guy yells. And I fight back a wince.

More than anything, I want to tell these two to f*ck off. Can’t they see I’m talking about something important? But I don’t. Fans are fans and they have my gratitude. I give them a nod. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I try to make it clear that I’m in the middle of something, but one of them wants me to autograph his baseball cap. Quickly I sign it and turn my attention back to Ivy.

Thankfully they amble away.

Ivy watches them go before acknowledging me.

“No, don’t apologize,” she pleads glancing up at me and then back to her cup. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that. It was totally immature.”

My hand covers hers, and she flinches. But I don’t let go because I need to touch her. My voice is as soft and comforting as I can make it. “It’s okay, Mac.”

Her shoulders lift on a breath and then she sits back in her chair, sliding her hand from mine as she goes. Her lashes conceal her eyes as she slowly turns her cup in her hands. For lack of anything better to do, I clutch my cup as well. The heat of the coffee seeps through the cardboard and warms my icy fingers.

I don’t know what to say or how to start the conversation.

I open my mouth to try.

“Hey.” A girl is now standing next to me. “You’re Gray Grayson.”

She’s looking at me like I’m a latte she’d like to drink down. Irritation spikes. This is why I didn’t want to meet Mac in public. Not when football fever has hit an all-time high on the campus. I’m about to give this chick the brush off when Mac slaps her free hand on the table.

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake, Gray,” she says to me in exasperation. “Irritable bowel syndrome is treatable. There’s no need to fear. It’s the rampant gas that you really should worry about, because, dude, it’s bad.”

Her words hang in the air, and I gape at her, shock and horror tingling through my skin. The girl pretty much does the same before her face goes beet red and she backs away from me.

“I…uh…I’ll leave you to your conversation,” she gets out.

I don’t answer. I can only stare at Mac. Part of me wants to strangle her. I can just imagine how fast this little nugget of gossip will spread. I can hear my nickname now, Gaseous Gray. “So…social annihilation is on the menu today, huh?”

Flushing, she shrugs. “Got rid of her, didn’t it?”

The little shit. I bark out a laugh. Whatever has happened between us, she’s still my best friend. The one person I want to be with most in the world. And I adore her. I’m so gone on her, I don’t know my left from my right anymore. She’s my center line. All thoughts run through Ivy Mackenzie.

I reach out for her, ready to tell her just that. Tell her that I want everything with her. That she is my everything.

But she speaks first, her words coming out fast and tight. “Things got out of hand. It happens. We’ve been in each other’s pockets, seeing each other all the time. And if we just stepped back and took a break from that, not hang out so much…” She spreads her hands as if to say, problem solved, no big deal.