“Why don’t you play soccer?” she asked.
And that was a subject I didn’t want to touch, but she was asking questions and there was no way I could shoot her down. “It’s a long . . . complicated story, but it’s not something I can do right now.”
She was by the table, hovering near the chair. “What about later?”
“Later . . . later might work.” And that was true. If I kept in shape, kept up with the game, who knew? It just wasn’t something I allowed myself to think about a lot. “So you flying back to Texas for fall break or Thanksgiving?”
She snorted. “Probably not.”
“Got other plans?”
Avery shrugged and then started asking me about soccer. Hours had passed and I was sure she was as knowledgeable about soccer as she ever would be. It was near noon when I stood. I didn’t really want to leave, but I had sucked up all her morning.
Flipping the skillet in one hand and carrying the bread in the other, I stopped in front of her door. “So, Avery . . .”
She leaned against the couch. “So, Cam . . .”
“Whatcha you doing Tuesday night?”
“I don’t know.” Wariness settled in her brow. “Why?”
“How about you go out with me?”
“Cam,” she sighed.
“That’s not a no.”
“No.”
“Well, that’s a no,” I admitted.
“Yes, it is.” She moved away from the couch, grabbing the door. “Thanks for the eggs.”
I backed away, undaunted. “How about Wednesday night?”
“Good-bye, Cam.”
Shortcake closed the door, but not before I saw her smile, and I knew it wouldn’t be too much longer before she said yes.
Eight
Apparently I had seriously misjudged how long “much longer” really was.
Days had turned into weeks as summer finally slipped into the past and the leaves on all the oaks turned gold and red. The skies had started to grow darker each day a minute earlier, and the clouds that rolled in and the wind that came off the Potomac warned that winter was right around the corner.
I asked Avery out at least twice a week. Each time, she said no and each time, I became even more determined. At some point in the middle of astronomy, as she hastily took notes, and I sketched the Winchesters’ Chevy Impala, I recognized that the whole challenge aspect of this chase was no longer really in the equation.
Glancing over at her as she watched Drage float from one side of the raised platform to the other in his acid-wash jeans, a fond smile split my lips.
The more time I spent around Avery, the more I wanted to be around her, and all we ever did was talk. Hanging out with a chick, just chilling without any physical fun, was uncharted territory for me. While I’d be down for more, lots more, I was content just being with her. And that was so new to me.
Each Sunday I showed up at her apartment with eggs and a different type of baked goods, learning pretty quickly that anything chocolate was a win with her. The second time I went over, she was as happy to see me as she had been the first time, but she quickly dropped the act. And it was an act, because the way her brown eyes warmed when she saw me told me what she wasn’t willing to say vocally.
She was always wary, every single time we were together, but after a little while, she would begin to relax and that was when the real Avery poked her head out.