Page 34 of (Un)Rivaled

“You make it sound so easy.”

Nothing about this was easy. Being this close to Devyn was making me question everything, not sure if I could hold my rapidly dwindling self-control.

“You’ve got this, Devyn,” I whispered, my voice hoarse and low. “Just let go.”

SIXTEEN

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

When I was ten, my mother took me to the Met for the first time. I remembered looking at all the paintings, stunned into silence by the talent surrounding me. It was like the rest of the world had been washed away, all that was left me and these masterpieces. I thought it was a once-in-a-lifetime feeling.

And yet, here it was again. But instead of a priceless portrait, I found it in my best friend’s expression, the smile that only shined so brightly when Gray looked at me.

“You’ve got this, Devyn,” he said as he stared down at me. “Just let go.”

He made it sound so simple, as if I could think of anything other than him. Where his hands touched me, how his fingers were digging into my skin. All I wanted was for him to move them lower, to touch me like I always dreamed he would.

Ever since I realized I was in love with Gray, there’d been a delicate line between us. I had to keep those emotions buried deep, especially when he was dating my sister. Even thoughthey had broken up, it was still a line I couldn’t cross. It was bad enough that I’d fallen in love with my sister’s boyfriend; what would she say if I told her I wanted to be with him?

I shuddered, not wanting to imagine how that conversation would go. No. If my loyalty to Calla wasn’t enough to keep my feelings in check, my friendship with Gray was. I couldn’t risk losing him, not when he was one of the few people in my life I trusted completely.

Shifting in his arms, I tried to pass the bat back to him. “I can’t do this.”

Gray placed his hands on top of mine. “Give it a couple more tries, Ace. I know you can do it.”

I rolled my eyes and muttered under my breath, “You’re going to feel like a dick when I walk out of here with a broken nose. Or when I seriously injure you. Consider yourself warned, Grayson.”

Before I could get back into position, Gray put his hands on my hips and turned me to face him. When he looked down at me, there was not an ounce of humor in his expression. He reached up, brushing my cheek with his thumb. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Ace.”

“You promise?” I asked, my heart thumping a steady pulse under his touch.

“To my last breath,” he quietly admitted. He shook his head after the words came out. “Sorry, it’s something my parents always say to each other. I don’t know why I just said that.”

“Don’t be sorry—I liked it,” I said quickly. “Sounds like the best kind of promise.”

“Always the best for you, Devyn.”

For a moment, I swore his eyes darted down to my lips. We leaned in at the same time, our faces closer than they’dever been before. My heart beat wildly in my chest, dying to know what Gray’s lips tasted like.

But before we could connect, a ball released from the machine, hitting the cage behind us. The sound made me jump, almost crushing Gray in the process. He chuckled as my breathing returned to normal, shifting me so I could see the trajectory of the machine better.

What the hell was I doing? Hadn’t I just told myself nothing could ever happen between Gray and me? And not even ten minutes later, here I was, about to kiss him like my life depended on it.

Luckily, the machine broke the moment between us, and Gray looked like he realized his mistake as well. I wasn’t who he wanted, and it was best if I remembered that. There was a reason nothing had ever happened between us, and it would only cause everyone pain if I pushed us on this path now.

I cleared my throat, trying to give him a normal smile, but it felt flat. “Maybe we should call it a night.”

“Not letting you get out of this that easily.” He pressed the bat into my trembling hands. “Come on, Ace. I know you can do this.”

I nodded, letting his faith in me steel my resolve. That was the thing about Gray: he didn’t pass out idle praise or gratitude. He was willing to push when needed but always ready to catch you if you fell.

I stepped up to the line, throwing the bat over my shoulder like I watched him do a thousand times. It seemed easy enough: watch the ball, wait for it to get close enough, then swing the bat with all your might. But when the ball launched toward me, all those lessons left my mind, and I completely missed.

I looked over at Gray, who was smirking from his position on the other side of the grate. “Don’t even say it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Devy.” He nodded toward the machine. “Incoming.”

I hissed a quick curse word as I tried to figure out my stance in time, but it was useless. My poor coordination was no match for Gray’s athletic genes, and with each missed swing, I felt my cheeks glowing hotter and hotter. If there was one thing that got under my skin every time, it was feeling like a failure. I’d already gotten enough of it at home. Every grade was dissected, each assignment checked for “room to grow.” Even my art, which started as an escape after my dad died, was losing its appeal now that my mother and stepfather had started using it as a cute little anecdote for their high society friends.

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