All The Wild Ones | Wildfire Series

The Rundown

GRAYSON

"Just don't get weird, okay?"

I frowned at Nessa's back as she led the way down the hallway to Bren and Madie's apartment. The carpet beneath our feet looked at least a few decades old and a musty thickness filled the air, but the building was charming in that retro sort of way.

"I don't get weird."

Nessa snorted in response, and my frown deepened. I didn't get weird. Not to be cocky, but I was notoriously well-adjusted when it came to social interactions. My parents would say they deserve the credit, given that I was raised in an emotionally available home that took playdates with other kids very seriously.

"You and I both know you get weird around Bren," Nessa said over her shoulder. "Because of—"

"Don't," I snapped, probably a bit too sharp. Taking a deep breath, I shoved my hands into my pockets as we walked. "Don't say it.

With a raised brow, Nessa gave me a look that said, see what I mean?

"Because of our history," she finished, making me feel stupid for thinking she was going to spell it out in explicit detail. Although, she'd done it before...

"Sorry," I said. "Just trying to avoid a spike in my blood pressure. I know how worried you are about it."

Turning around, Nessa smacked me playfully on my arm.

And I didn't catch her hand.

I was always able to catch her hand. But she turned around before I could wrap my fingers around her wrist and keep her close to me. Unease settled in my stomach as Nessa knocked on apartment 212.

Madie opened the door without delay and whisked my girlfriend away. The girls stumbled into what looked like a tiny bathroom, giggling. I could hear their laughter from where I stood near the front door, and even though it made me smile, I was eager to get this night over with.

I liked Madie. Her broody boyfriend, on the other hand? Not so sure about him.

Maybe I did get a little weird around him. Just maybe.

"Hey, man," he called, tipping his head in greeting when he noticed me standing by the door. Weaving around the stacks of boxes that looked like they were in the middle of unpacking, he opened the fridge. "Want anything to drink? We don't have much, but—"

"No, I'm good."

Drinks meant that we would be here for far longer than I wanted to.

Bren nodded, closing the fridge and walking over to me with his fists in his pockets.

"Is Nessa okay?" he asked, and I gritted my teeth at the calculation in the rise of his brow. It was like he didn't think I was capable of taking care of my fucking girlfriend. Like he needed to swoop in to save her. From me.

If he thought I didn't see how he'd tried to grab her wrist when she walked out of the cafe this afternoon, he was dead wrong.

"From earlier," Bren clarified. "At The Grounds. She—"

"Nessa's okay," I cut in, more harshly than I'd meant.

Bren must have caught my vibe because his eyes widened a bit, and he took a careful step back to lean against the kitchen counter.

Clearing my throat, I tried again. "She was just...upset that I'm still planning on playing football this year. She thought I'd take a year off, given my health and shit. We talked about it, though. She's okay. I promise."