1
Grayson
“You absolutely cannot jump off the roof, Grayson.”
I stood at the very edge of the shingles, the soles of my sneakers gripping the grit, staring down at the shimmering blue abyss of the pool below. The night air was crisp with the chill of late autumn, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating off the packed backyard. I looked down at the concrete patio, calculated the distance, and then shifted my gaze to Carter, who looked like he was about to have a full-blown aneurysm.
“Counterpoint,” I drawled, my voice barely audible over the bass thumping against the house.
The music was a physical weight—a high-octane mix of bass-heavy rap and distorted rock that made the entire frame of the fraternity house shudder. The backyard below was a sardine can of bodies, a swirling mass of students celebrating the conference championship win from earlier that night. It was a victory lap, a statement of intent, and, in my professional opinion, the perfect place to blow off steam after the pressure of the last few weeks.
“You absolutely *can* jump off the roof,” Johnny chimed in, leaning over the gutter like he was watching a sporting event. “I’ve seen you do crazier shit on a dare, man.”
I pointed a finger at him, flashing a sharp, jagged grin. “Thank you. See, Carter? Johnny gets it.”
“Don’t you dare encourage him,” Carter hissed, his hands balled into fists. “We are not losing our charter in the middle of the semester because you decided you were a fucking bird.”
Johnny shrugged, looking personally offended. “I encourage everybody. That’s my brand. It’s called being an enabler, and it’s a noble profession.”
Before I could retort, Atlas appeared through the attic hatch, holding a lukewarm beer and looking at the three of us with the kind of soul-crushing disappointment usually reserved for repeat criminals. He’d spent ninety percent of his life disappointed in us, and I was clearly the crown jewel of his frustration.
“What are you idiots doing?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“Grayson wants to jump off the roof,” Carter said, sounding like he was reciting a police report.
Atlas squeezed his eyes shut for a long, suffering moment, his jaw tight enough to crack. “No.”
I looked over at him, my expression innocent. “Maybe.”
“Grayson.”
“Atlas.”
“The answer is no.”
“The answer is *maybe*,” I countered, shifting my weight toward the drop.
Atlas took a step forward, his eyes flashing with the cold authority that usually kept the entire team in line. He looked ready to commit a felony just to get us off the shingles. The rest of the guys erupted into laughter, which was completely rude, considering I was standing on the precipice of greatness.
A collective, deafening cheer erupted from the backyard below, drawing my gaze away from the argument. The lawn was a sea of red plastic cups and moving bodies. Someone was already dancing on a table, someone else had tripped into the bushes, and the energy was perfect—volatile and wild. Exactly how the middle of the semester should feel.
Then, I saw her.
I froze, the air leaving my lungs in a sudden, sharp intake. Avery Bennett. She was standing near the edge of the patio, one hand holding a red cup, the other tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear while she laughed at something Raven said. The problem with Avery Bennett wasn’t just that she was gorgeous—though she was, with a kind of effortless, autumnal glow that made my head spin. It wasn't just that she was fun, or that she had a mouth that could rival a sailor's. The problem was that Avery Bennett walked through the world like she didn't realize she was a walking, breathing problem. And the fact that she didn't realize it made her infinitely more dangerous to be around.
“Uh oh,” Johnny murmured, tracking my gaze.
I looked away instantly, my heart rate accelerating for reasons that had nothing to do with the roof. Too late. Johnny had seen, and Johnny saw everything.
“What?” I snapped, forcing my voice to remain casual.
Johnny pointed a finger, grinning like a shark. “I saw that. You just got that look. The ‘I’m about to lose my mind’ look.”
“You saw nothing,” I said, though my voice lacked any real conviction.
“I absolutely saw that. You were staring at Bennett like you were watching a live feed of your own funeral.”
Atlas immediately turned to look, his interest piqued. I hated it when they got interested. It was like feeding blood to sharks. The idiots turned toward the pool, scanning the crowd until their eyes landed on Avery.
“Leave me alone,” I growled, though I knew it was useless.
Nobody listened. Below us, Avery threw her head back, laughing at something Raven said, the cool night air catching the auburn highlights in her hair. For some reason, my chest tightened—not with the usual adrenaline of a party, but with a sharp, localized ache. It was a problem. A serious, systemic problem. Avery wasn't supposed to be the girl I noticed. She wasn't supposed to be the magnetic center of my universe whenever I walked into a room. She definitely wasn't supposed to be the girl who had occupied entirely too many of my thoughts since the start of the term.
“Hey, Grayson,” Johnny said, leaning into my personal space with a shit-eating grin.
I sighed, staring down at my shoes. “What.”
“The season is well underway, and you’re already screwed.”
The rest of the guys burst out laughing, their cheers echoing off the house. I flipped them all off, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the patio. Just as I looked down, Avery glanced up. She didn't look at the other guys; she looked straight at me, standing on the roof, the idiot captain of the team.
Our eyes met. One second. Two. Three.
Then, she did the one thing I least expected. She rolled her eyes, turned her back on me, and started talking to Raven again. The sheer, unadulterated audacity of it made me laugh out loud. I shook my head, a grin pulling at my lips despite my best efforts to look unaffected.
The season was already in full swing, and somehow, Avery Bennett was already making my life a living hell. Again.
God help me, I thought, watching her walk away. I was definitely in trouble.
