Page 16

fifteen

. . .

Griffin.

It’s well past midnight when I hear the soft creak of the balcony door. I should be asleep, but my mind’s been running laps since dinner—since she sat across from me at breakfast, really. Avery Sinclair, driving me insane without even trying.

For a moment, I think I imagined it, but then I hear the faint rustling of fabric. Avery’s silhouette shifts against the faint glow outside.

What’s she doing out there?

With a sigh, I get up, running a hand through my hair before quietly slipping out of bed. I grab a couple bottles of water and step out onto the balcony, where Avery’s curled up on a plastic chair, staring at the stars.

She glances over at me but doesn’t look surprised. “Can’t sleep again? This is turning into a regular thing out here.”

“Nah,” I say, handing her a bottle. “Thought I’d check on you. You looked like you were contemplating life’s biggest mysteries out here.”

She smiles faintly, taking the water. “Maybe I was.”

I settle into the chair next to her, resting my elbows on my knees as we both look out at the darkened courtyard below. Crickets hum in the distance, and the air is cooler now, the heat of the day finally letting up.

“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice softer than I intend.

Avery’s quiet for a long moment before she shrugs. “Yeah. I think I just like coming out here.”

“To think about Gavin?” I add, because I can’t help myself.

She shoots me a look. “No. Gavin’s old news, remember?”

“Right.” I nod, leaning back. “So what then?”

She exhales, looking down at the water bottle in her hands. “I don’t know. I think I’m just…trying to figure out what comes next. For me. Like if I’d really do the whole ‘Fulbright in Spain’ thing.”

“Did you apply?”

“I started the application. And I talked with Dr. Peterson. She said she’d be happy to write a letter of recommendation.”

I glance over, waiting, and after a moment, she continues.

“But I had this plan, you know? Graduate, get a job abroad, make something of myself. But now it’s like I don’t know where I’m going. I’m not lost exactly, but…”

“But you feel stuck,” I finish for her.

She looks at me, surprised, and I shrug. “I get it. Football’s always been my plan, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know what I’d do if it didn’t work out.”

“You’ve got the whole city of Dallas cheering for you, though,” she says softly.

“Yeah. And that’s part of the problem.” I smile wryly. “Feels like I can’t screw up without letting a million people down.”

Avery watches me for a beat, like she’s seeing something in me she didn’t expect. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “But it’s the deal, right? Take the spotlight, take the heat.”

The silence stretches again, softer this time. When Avery finally speaks, her voice is quiet. “You’re not what I expected, you know.”

I glance at her. “Oh yeah? What’d you expect?”

She grins faintly. “A cocky, hot-shot jock with no thoughts in his head except football and girls.”

“Ouch.” I put a hand over my heart in mock offense.

“You’re still cocky,” she adds quickly, smirking. “But you’re more complicated than you let on.”

I chuckle softly, shaking my head. “Don’t let that get out. I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Always let the competition underestimate you.”

She laughs quietly, and it’s the kind of laugh that settles into my chest like it belongs there. I lean back in the chair, feeling more relaxed than I have in days.

“You’re not a simpleton, Griffin. Whatever you meant by that. I really appreciated the, ahem, time you’ve set aside to hang out with me and make me laugh. I might keep up a good front—and we might have accidentally made out last night—but inside myself I’d had a lot of ups and downs on this trip. It’s not exactly easy being in a foreign country. And you’ve made it, like, fun. So, thanks. And no, we will never revisit last night’s make out.”

“Make outs . There were two.”

She gives me a dirty look.

“Hey, I’m not the one who brought it up. I’m doing my fucking best to respect your boundaries.”

“I know. I don’t mean to confuse you.”

After a lull in the conversation, we head back inside. I climb into my bed, rolling over to face the wall. Just as I’m starting to drift off, I hear Avery’s voice break the darkness.

“Griffin?”

“Yeah?” I murmur, not bothering to roll over.

There’s a pause, then, “What would you do if I said we could cuddle?”

My brain short-circuits. I roll onto my back, blinking into the dark. “What?”

“You heard me,” she says, her voice light but cautious. “We can cuddle. But no funny business. If you want.”

I pause, trying to process what’s happening. “Okay.”

“I’m serious,” she adds firmly.

“So am I.”

“Are you?”

I turn my head to look at her bed. In the faint light filtering through the curtains, I can just make out her expression—hesitant but hopeful. “Look, I know I joke a lot. But not about respecting your boundaries. And if you want to cuddle…well, you know I’m taking any scrap you’ll give me, Princesa. ”

She freezes at that, like she wasn’t expecting me to say something so sincere. “And I won’t even cup a boob. Scout’s honor.”

Her laugh is soft, almost incredulous. “Of course you’d have to follow up an actual confession of your crush with a remark like that,” she mutters with a sigh. Then, after a beat, she adds, “I do have one condition, though.”

I raise an eyebrow, even though she can’t see me in the dark. “What’s that?”

“I’m big spoon.”

I blink, then let out a laugh. “Now you’re infringing on my boundaries. No way.”

“Come on. You’ll love it,” she fires back, but her voice is quieter now, almost teasing.

I pause, debating for half a second, then say screw it.

Shoving the covers off, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand up. The room is dim, and Avery’s silhouette shifts slightly as she turns her head toward me.

“Relax,” I mutter, walking over to her bed. “You’re the one who invited me to cuddle.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually?—”

I don’t let her finish. I lift the edge of her blanket and slide in next to her, trying to ignore how good it feels to finally be close to her. The bed’s small, and I can feel the warmth of her body even though I’m keeping my movements careful.

For a second, neither of us says anything. The only sound is the rustling of fabric as I settle in. Then, very gently, I rest my hand on her waist, my fingers brushing against the soft curve of her side.

It’s a simple touch, but it knocks the wind out of me.

“Are you—” she starts, but I cut her off.

“Shh.”

“You did not just shush me,” she mutters, though there’s no bite to her voice.

I grin in the dark, the kind of stupid, uncontrollable smile I can’t seem to stop. “You’re the one who said ‘no funny business.’ I’m following orders.”

Her body shifts slightly, and I swear I feel her roll her eyes. “This is a bad idea.”

“You’re probably right,” I murmur, but I don’t move my hand.

She goes quiet after that, and for a while, I just lie there, a smile still tugging at the corners of my mouth. The bed is smaller than I expected—either that, or Avery takes up more space than she should—but I don’t mind.

I don’t know how I ended up here, wrapped up in her space, her warmth soaking into me, her soft breaths brushing against my skin. Her scent—something floral and a little sweet, like lavender and vanilla—lingers faintly in the air between us, and it’s doing things to me I don’t want to name.

I feel her shift slightly, her body settling closer, and I can’t help it: My heart stumbles like I’m standing under the stadium lights, thousands of people watching me, waiting for the snap.

And then, she sighs—a small, sleepy sound that fills the silence between us like she’s finally letting her guard down.

My grip on her waist softens instinctively, my thumb brushing the edge of her shirt where the fabric meets bare skin.

This feels nice.

Too nice.

It’s messing with my head, the way her presence is quieting the noise in my chest, replacing it with something softer. Something more dangerous.

That thought alone should terrify me. But it doesn’t.

“Mmm,” she moans softly, the sound rolling out of her like it belongs here. “I like your arms around me, Griffin.”

Her words hit me like a linebacker, straight to the chest.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Thanks.”

“Thanks…for what?”

“For just…being you. You’re fun. I probably would be in a different headspace if you weren’t here.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“Just because it’s easy for you doesn’t mean it’s not a big deal. Night, Doofus,” she says, smiling.

“Night.”

My heart kicks into a sprint, faster than it should be—racing like I’m about to step onto the field for a playoff game. I try to take a breath, to steady myself, but her words settle deeper than I want them to.

I swallow hard. This makes no sense.

Because this is Avery.

Avery Sinclair, my sister’s best friend. The girl who’s been a thorn in my side for years. The girl I’m definitely not supposed to be thinking about like this.

And yet, here I am.

Her scent is in my head, her back is tucked against my chest (I would never, ever be little spoon—okay maybe I would but only with her.) and I can feel the steady rise and fall of her breathing like it’s the only thing grounding me to this moment.