Offside love

~ CHAPTER SEVEN ~

Avery woke with a crick in her neck, her spine protesting the position she’d collapsed into on the guest bed. Her clothes still smelled faintly of cologne and whiskey , her hair sticking out in every possible direction. For a moment she didn’t recognize the room too sleek, too glassy, city lights bleeding through tall windows.

Then it clicked. Zayne’s penthouse.

She groaned softly, swinging her legs off the bed and padding barefoot toward the hallway. Samantha must’ve crashed in one of the other rooms. They hadn’t planned to stay here. No one had. They’d been pulled into Zayne’s orbit like moths into a flame after that ugly scene at the mall.

The faint murmur of voices tugged her toward the kitchen. She hesitated at the doorway. Samantha sat at the island, head in her hands, her mascara smudged in raccoon patterns. Zayne leaned lazily against the counter opposite her, in slides and a pair of socks , grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips like they’d been tailored by sin itself. His shirt was gone, his body golden in the morning light, every line and angle unfairly perfect.

Avery cursed silently, squared her shoulders, and stepped inside.

“Well,” Samantha said, brightening instantly, “the dead rises. Morning, sunshine.”

“You look worse than me,” Avery replied, reaching for a mug from the open shelf.

“Don’t start. I’m a delicate flower in need of caffeine.” Samantha sniffed dramatically before turning to Zayne. “Do you have almond milk or are you one of those men who only stocks beer and protein powder?”

Avery: “Don’t bother asking. His fridge probably has one lonely Gatorade and a 3 year old jar of pickles .

Samantha whistled low, shooting Avery a look. “Meal of a champion .”

Avery tried not to roll her eyes as she poured coffee. She could feel Zayne watching her, the weight of it dragging over her skin like a slow hand.

“Sleep well?” he asked, voice deliberately casual, though his mouth curved in the corner.

Her pulse kicked. She knew what he was really asking. Knew what picture he was drawing up in his head: her pressed against his wall last night, lips parted, his body crushing hers until Samantha’s drunken stumble through the door had cut it short.

She sipped her coffee. “Like a rock.”

“Funny,” he murmured, pushing away from the counter, crossing to the fridge. “I figured you’d be restless. Considering.”

“Considering what?” she said, sharp.

He smirked, pulling out a bottle of water and cracking it open. “You almost begging me to f**k you into the drywall. Ring any bells?”

Samantha nearly spit out her coffee. “Excuse me—what?” Her head whipped toward Avery, eyes wide, greedy for the tea.

Avery choked on air. “That’s not—” She set her mug down hard, shooting Zayne a death glare. “That is not what happened.”

“Pretty sure that’s exactly what happened,” Zayne drawled, leaning back against the counter again, sipping from his water like he’d just dropped a casual weather report. His gaze slid to Avery’s mouth and lingered.

Samantha blinked, her cup halfway to her mouth. For a second Avery thought she was about to launch into one of her interrogations, to gleefully pry until Avery melted into the marble floor. But instead, Samantha’s brows shot up, and she gave a low whistle.

“Well,” she said finally, sipping her coffee with exaggerated calm. “That explains the tension in the room.”

Avery exhaled silently. Small mercy.

Zayne didn’t look away, his smirk still sitting there like a challenge he wasn’t done issuing. Avery met it head-on, refusing to give him the satisfaction of flinching.

Samantha stretched, setting her cup down. “Anyway, as delightful as your… luxurious fridge is, we should probably go before I forget how to walk.” She slid off the stool, tugging Avery’s arm with her.

“Good idea,” Avery said quickly, already gathering her things from the counter.

Zayne didn’t move to stop them. He just leaned there, arms crossed now, watching them with an unreadable expression. As Avery followed Samantha out, she felt his gaze like heat down her spine. She didn’t look back.

The elevator doors closed, and silence filled the mirrored box as it descended. Samantha glanced at her reflection, then at Avery, then bit back a grin. She didn’t say a word. Not yet.

By the time they reached Avery’s apartment, Samantha finally burst.

“Okay. Start talking.”

Avery tossed her bag onto the couch and kicked off her shoes. “No.”

“Yes!” Samantha flopped dramatically beside her. “Do you think I didn’t see that look between you two? Do you think I’m blind? You almost—”

“Almost doesn’t count,” Avery cut in, heading for the kitchen.

Samantha sat up like a cat who smelled blood. “But something happened. You’re standing there like your skin is two seconds from catching fire. Spill.”

Avery sighed, pulling out two cans of soda. She tossed one to Samantha, who caught it against her chest with a grin.

“Fine,” Avery said, sliding onto the couch again. “Nothing happened. But he—” she hesitated, heat crawling up her neck, “—he tried. And I… didn’t exactly stop him right away.”

Samantha’s jaw dropped. Then she squealed, kicking her feet like a teenager. “I knew it! Oh my God, Avery. You were about to climb Mount Zayne and then what? You bailed?”

“Sam.” Avery pressed the cold can against her cheek, groaning.

Samantha leaned closer, eyes wide, practically vibrating. “Was it good, though? Like, good good? Or just—‘I shouldn’t but damn’ good?”

Avery gave her a flat look. But her silence was answer enough.

Samantha clutched her chest like she’d won the lottery. “This is the best day of my life. Forget my career, forget my degree, forget my parents’ approval—this is it.”

Avery shoved her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m ridiculous, you’re glowing. Don’t you dare try to deny it.” Samantha cracked her soda open, satisfied. “God, you’ve been working like a nun for months. About time you had a little action.”

Avery buried her face in a pillow. “I hate you.”

“No, you love me. Now, when’s round two?”

Avery groaned louder.