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sixteen

. . .

Avery

The first thing I notice when I wake up is warmth. The second is…Griffin.

Somehow, during the night, we’ve managed to tangle ourselves together under my blanket. His arm is heavy and solid where it rests around my waist, and his chest—warm, broad, ridiculously unfair —is pressed against my back.

I don’t move right away. I can’t. My body is caught somewhere between comfortable and a little too comfortable.

I’m not even a cuddler. I don’t like people in my space. But this? This feels exquisite.

I bite my lip, staring at the wall as I try to ignore the slow hammering of my heart. This is just Griffin. He’s annoying and cocky and always has to have the last word. The fact that he’s warm and smells like cedar and something faintly clean—like soap—should not be doing things to me.

I shift slightly, trying to wiggle out of his hold between his sleepy breaths, but it’s like his arm tightens instinctively.

And then I freeze.

Because I feel it.

My eyes widen as my heart stutters in my chest. Wait. Wait wait wait. Is that?—?

Oh my god.

It takes me a full three seconds to process what’s pressing—subtly but unmistakably—between my thighs.

Oh my god. Griffin is hard.

A fresh wave of heat explodes in my cheeks, spreading all the way down my neck as panic floods me. I should move. I need to move. But my body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.

Because instead of freaking out properly, I feel myself flush deeper, my skin heating everywhere.

Do not like this. Do not like this.

Except I kind of do.

I groan internally, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to talk some sense into myself. This is just biology. Bodies do this. It’s normal. It has nothing to do with me.

Nothing at all.

Except now I can’t stop thinking about it, and my heart is hammering in my chest like a jackhammer.

And then, of course, Griffin shifts behind me, making a sleepy sound in his throat as he starts to wake up.

Panic mode: activated.

I hold perfectly still, like I’ve been frozen in time, and silently pray that he won’t realize what’s happening.

No such luck.

Griffin stiffens—literally and figuratively—and then his arm loosens around me.

There’s a long, awkward pause.

“Avery.” His voice is rough with sleep, low and gravelly, like he hasn’t fully woken up yet.

I swallow hard, cheeks still on fire. “Morning.”

His hand drops from my waist, and I hear him groan quietly, like he’s trying to process what’s happening. “Okay, so…um.”

I sit up abruptly, yanking the blanket with me as I spin around to face him. Big mistake. His hair is tousled from sleep, his shirtless chest is on full display, and there’s an expression of sleepy confusion on his face that’s almost… cute.

“What the hell is that? ” I blurt before I can stop myself.

Griffin groans again, getting onto his back, and rubbing a hand over his face. “Avery, don’t.”

“Don’t what? You—you—” I point accusingly at the lower half of his body under the blanket where a tent is pitched.

“I know, okay?” He shoots me an exasperated look, his face flushing. “It’s not like I planned it. It happens a lot in the mornings.”

I gape at him, still clutching the blanket like it’s my only shield. “So you’re just—what? A human lumberjack in your sleep?”

He lets out a sharp bark of laughter, finally sitting up and raking a hand through his hair. “Newsflash, Sinclair: I’m a guy sleeping next to a hot girl. Maybe if your pheromones weren’t such a match for mine, we wouldn’t have this issue.”

“Oh! Now you’re blaming me and my pheromones? You’re serious?”

“Are you saying you don’t think our pheromones are a match? After that incredible make out session in the club? Sorry, sessions. ”

“Well, maybe you should sleep on your bed next time,” I snap, still flustered beyond belief.

He raises an eyebrow, his cocky smirk making an appearance as he leans back against the headboard. “You’re the one who invited me to cuddle. Are you saying you didn’t enjoy it?”

I open my mouth, ready to deny everything, but nothing comes out. I hate him. I hate that he knows me well enough to catch me off guard like this.

His smirk widens. “That’s what I thought.”

“Yeah I enjoyed cuddling. But I’m not enjoying waking up with this…big…” I wave my hand the general vicinity of his manhood and realize I’m doing nothing to help the situation.. Okay, digging yourself a hole here, Sinclair. You just accidentally gave Griffin an ego boost that.

“Did you just call me big?”

“ Can you just…can you not.” I mutter, finally standing up and escaping to my suitcase for a change of clothes. My face still feels like it’s on fire, and I need to get out of here before I completely combust.

“Hey, I’m not the one grinding on people in my sleep,” Griffin calls after me, his tone teasing. “Bubble Butt.”

I whirl around, glaring. “ Excuse me?”

“You heard.”

“Did you just call me bubble butt?”

He grins, wide and unrepentant. “Just saying. If you wanted to cuddle a little closer, all you had to do was ask. Also I have a big butt, too. That’s not a dig. It’s actually a high compliment. I’ve always been a big fan of your bubble butt. The biggest, actually.”

“Arrrgh.” I plant my palm in my face, then grab my clothes and march toward the bathroom. But not before I catch Griffin’s soft, self-satisfied chuckle behind me. I should not have asked him to cuddle last night. What was I thinking ?

“Hey, Avery?” he calls.

“What?”

“Admit it.” I can practically hear the grin in his voice. “I’m a great cuddler.”

I slam the bathroom door shut, my cheeks burning again.

“Cuddling was a bad idea. Not doing that again.”

As I turn the water on for the shower, I’m definitely not thinking about how warm and solid his body felt next to mine.

Not at all.

Well I know one thing. I am never crossing that line again.