Page 15

fourteen

. . .

Griffin

The room is finally quiet, save for the low hum of the air conditioner. I’m stretched out on my bed, phone pressed to my ear as my sister Cassie’s voice comes through on the other end.

“So, how’s Mexico treating you?” she asks cheerfully.

“Everything’s great,” I mutter, resting my arm over my forehead. “Class is easy. Weather’s good.”

“And Avery?”

I freeze. “What about Avery?”

“She’s with you on this trip, Griffin. How’s she doing? You haven’t killed each other yet, right?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “No murder yet. We’re civil.”

“Civil? That’s shocking,” she teases. “Put her on the phone—I want to say hi.”

“Yeah, she’s not?—”

Before I can finish, the door swings open, and Avery walks in, fresh from wherever she’s been. Her hair’s a little messy from the wind outside, still in that clothing combo that has me questioning my life choices.

“Speak of the devil,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Cass wants to talk to you.” I hold out the phone.

Avery gives me a suspicious look. “Why?”

“Because she’s my sister, and apparently you’re her favorite person,” I say. “Sit here so you can both talk into the speaker.”

I pat the empty space on my bed next to me without thinking. Avery hesitates, her eyes narrowing like she’s deciding whether or not to trust me, but finally she walks over and sits down.

Too close.

Way too close.

The bed dips slightly under her weight, and I swear I can feel the warmth of her skin through her shorts where our legs brush. I keep my expression neutral, but my heart’s suddenly beating faster than it should be.

“Hey, Cass!” Avery says, leaning toward the phone.

“Avery!” Cassie sounds way too excited, as usual. “Oh my gosh, how are you? Griffin’s being tolerable, I hope? So crazy you two are rooming together.”

“Barely,” Avery quips, her shoulder bumping mine as she laughs.

I glare at her, but she just grins, clearly enjoying herself.

Cassie talks for a while—about her new fling, about my mom, about some ridiculous story involving her neighbor’s dog. Avery responds with the perfect blend of sass and sweetness, and I don’t say much, mostly because I can’t think straight. Avery’s close enough that I can smell her perfume—something soft and floral that’s doing a number on me.

Finally, Cassie wraps it up. “Alright, I’ll let you two go. Avery, keep my little brother in line for me, okay?”

“Will do,” Avery replies, and Cass hangs up.

I hit the end button and set the phone on the nightstand, fully expecting Avery to stand up and head back to her side of the room.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she leans back on her palms, letting out a soft sigh. “Your sister’s fun. I see where you get the charm.”

“So you do think I’m charming,” I smirk, trying to ignore how good she looks lounging next to me.

“Don’t get carried away, Knox,” she says, rolling her eyes.

There’s a pause—one of those rare, quiet moments where we’re not bickering or trying to one-up each other. Just…sitting.

“So,” I say, shifting to prop myself up on my elbow. “What about you? You never talk about your family.”

Avery’s smile falters a little, her gaze flicking to the window. “Not much to say, really. It’s just me, my brother, and my mom.”

I nod, waiting, and after a moment, she glances back at me.

“She worked a lot when I was growing up, so I had to figure out a lot of things on my own. That’s probably why I’m such a control freak now.” She laughs softly, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’re not a control freak,” I say, surprising myself.

She raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe a little,” I admit. “But that’s not a bad thing. You’ve got your shit together. It’s impressive.”

Avery tilts her head, studying me like I’ve said something she doesn’t quite believe. “You really think that?”

I shrug. “Yeah. I mean, look at you—you’re smart, you’re ambitious. You know what you want. Did you apply to the Fulbright in Spain yet?”

She looks down at her hands, quiet for a beat. “I didn’t apply yet. And as for knowing what I want—I thought I did. But maybe…maybe I don’t know.”

The words are soft, almost too soft to catch, but they make something twist in my chest.

“Is this about Gavin?” I ask carefully.

She snorts, shaking her head. “God, no. Gavin’s a footnote at this point.”

I grin. “Didn’t look like that when you were crying over him and all sad the other night.”

She punches me lightly in the shoulder. “I was not crying. I was…processing.”

“Right.”

We fall quiet again, but it’s not awkward. If anything, it feels nice. Comfortable, even.

“You ever think about what you want?” she asks suddenly, turning the question back on me. “Like, after football?”

The question catches me off guard, but I force a shrug. “Haven’t really thought about it. Football’s the plan, and the plan’s working so far.”

“And when it stops working?”

I look at her, and for a second, I don’t know how to answer.

When did she get so good at seeing through me?

“I don’t know,” I admit finally. “I guess I’ll figure it out when the time comes. I mean, I’d like a family. Some day. Football and a family. Does that make me…” I trail off, and my Adam’s apple bobs in my throat when I swallow.

“Make you what?”

I shrug, and clear my throat. “Like a simpleton? Sometimes I feel like I don’t have as well rounded interests as other people. I’m too one-track minded. That’s part of why I wanted to take this trip.”

Avery studies me for a long moment, and then—like a switch has flipped—she pushes herself off the bed.

“Well,” she says, brushing her hands against her shorts. “That’s enough bonding for one day. Don’t get too soft on me, Knox.”

“Soft?” I scoff, sitting up, and I can’t resist. “Trust me Avery. When I’m in your vicinity, there’s never a moment I’m soft.”

I smirk at her until she gets it, and to my surprise she’s not totally put off.

“Must you always…” she sighs loudly. “Griffin.”

I keep the grin plastered on my face, waiting for her to tell me to cut it the hell out and grow up.

To my surprise, she gets a little red-faced.

“Yes, Princesa ?”

She smiles and cocks her head, standing behind the bed with her hands on her hips. Holy fuck does she look hot.

“What are you staring at?” She comes back with, instead of answering my question. My eyes are locked on her eyes . I’m definitely not looking at her flesh poking out of that pink top.

“You.”

“Yeah and?”

“You’re so hot. I mean, you’re always hot. But I feel like you don’t always…you know.”

She raises her eyebrows, grinning. “Say it.”

“You don’t always let the dogs out. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof.”

To break the incredible awkwardness of the fact that I just complimented my sister’s best friend’s tits, I decided to break out into a full song and dance of Who Let the Dogs Out, in rhythm, throwing the song on my phone and playing it.

Because, you know, that makes sense in my ridiculous head.

I take it to the nth degree with some ridiculous thrust dancing and singing, jumping on the bed, and she’s dying laughing.

Look, I don’t want to toot my own horn, but if you were there you would have laughed, too.

It’s almost to the point that she starts to cry as I sing every verse, forcing her to sing with me for the woof / who part (I never figured out which one they were singing at that part, did you? I don’t think anyone did)

“Stop!” She giggles, pounding the mattress. “Griffin you’re going to give me an aneurism from laughing so hard.”

She collapses on the bed, on her back, and I smile looking down at her.

Just then, some message hits me, and I don’t know from where, but the thought is just in my head. From…God?

Married couple energy. You have married couple energy with her.

That sends my heart surging with anxiety.

Was that married couple energy when we made out at the club last night, and then vowed for it to be a one time thing?

I mean, I hope married couples make out like that.

Okay, call me corny. But my parents set a good example for my sister and I growing up in a loving relationship. And my dad always said that the most important thing about a relationship is that you can make her laugh .

So with Avery on the bed, in that skimpy freaking outfit, my mind is spinning.

“Hey,” she says, grinning at me. “This is fun. Griffin…you’re fun.”

I clear my throat, and I’m in full panic mode now.

Bro, get a grip. This isn’t some porno. Sure you might have read her list of top fantasies, but this is your sister’s best friend. You joke a lot but this absolutely cannot happen. Not now. Not ever. Last night was an exception. So just move on. The lady told you in plain English that this was a one time thing…even if she calls you “fun.”

“Anyways. I, uh, I’m gonna head downstairs. Catch ya later…alligator. I mean, Hasta la pasa limonada!” I yell awkwardly.

Okay, that didn’t make any sense. My Spanish is melting away in Avery Sinclair’s presence.

Before she can respond, I let the door shut, and let out a relieved sigh outside in the hall.

As I step into the hallway, letting the door click shut behind me, I suck in a deep, steadying breath.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Inside that room is Avery Sinclair—my sister’s best friend, the girl I’ve spent half my life arguing with—and I just had a full-on existential crisis over her laugh.

I shake my head, pressing my palms against my face. Bro, get a grip. You’re acting like a lovesick idiot.

Get a grip, Griffin.

Just then, I hear the telltale click-clack of heels echoing down the hallway. I glance up, and sure enough, it’s Dr. Peterson, striding toward me like she’s on a mission.

“Griffin Knox,” she says in that clipped, no-nonsense tone that instantly makes me stand up straighter. “Are you all right? You look like you just walked out of a telenovela breakup scene.”

I blink, flushed. “Oh…weird. No. Nope. Never. Me and Avery would never…you know.”

“How’s she doing, with her breakup?” Geez. Gossip really travels in this hotel.

“Ups and downs, Doctor Peterson. Ups and downs. The stuff of life.”

“Right. Well I hear from your professor that your Spanish is coming along nicely. Keep up the effort. I’m actually surprised you’ve been one of the good ones on this trip, making it to class and everything.”

I give her a tight smile, my brain spinning from her words. “Yeah, you know me. Star student. Big fan of conjugating verbs.”

Dr. Peterson raises an eyebrow like she’s not buying it. “Well, don’t let me keep you from…wherever you’re going.”

“Downstairs,” I blurt, far too loudly. “I’m going… downstairs.”

“Good for you.” She gives me a curt nod and starts walking away, but then pauses mid-step and glances back at me. “And, Griffin?”

“Yes?”

Her expression is perfectly serious, but I swear there’s the faintest flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Maybe next time, walk instead of sprinting out of your room like a man being chased. You could hurt someone.”

I choke out a laugh. “Noted. Thanks, Dr. Peterson.”