Page 20

nineteen

. . .

Avery

The outdoor restaurant is packed, the air thick with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic hum of the live band warming up on the patio. The string lights overhead give everything a warm, golden glow, and I can’t help but smile as our group finds a table near the edge of the dance floor.

Jake flops into his chair first. “I’m starving. I could eat this entire menu.”

“You’d better not,” Kayla chimes in, sliding into the seat across from him. “I’m not splitting the bill if you pull that.”

I settle into my seat next to Jake, smoothing the hem of my dress, just as Griffin drops into the chair directly across from me. Because of course he does. He always seems to plant himself exactly where I don’t want him.

“Cozy,” Griffin says, grinning at me.

“You wish,” I retort, but I catch Kayla shooting me a look.

“What?” I ask defensively.

Kayla shrugs, a little too innocently. “Nothing. I just love how much you two hate each other. It’s adorable.”

I open my mouth to argue, but Griffin beats me to it. “See, Kayla gets it. She knows how hard Sinclair is trying to deny her feelings for me.”

I stare at him, aghast. “How many times do I have to emphasize how delusional you are?”

“You’re blushing,” Griffin points out smugly.

Before I can snap back, Jake jumps in. “Can we focus on the food? And someone better order the queso.”

The waiter takes our orders, and the table buzzes with conversation. Kayla, sitting next to Griffin, is in her element—chatting, laughing, and making it her personal mission to stir the pot.

“So, Avery,” Kayla says slyly, leaning her elbows on the table. “I saw you two dancing together at the club.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, stabbing a tortilla chip into the salsa. “That was not my finest moment. I had one too many drinks that night.”

“Aw, it wasn’t that bad, Sinclair,” Griffin quips, popping a chip into his mouth. “If I remember correctly, you looked like you were having a great time.”

“Only because I was imagining shoving you into the fire,” I shoot back.

Kayla gasps dramatically, grinning. “Oh my god, you two really do have…” She bites her lower lip. “Not even gonna say it.”

Jake snorts into his drink. “I’ve been telling her. Marriage is the goal. But she won’t let me pass first?—”

“Can we stop with that already?” I groan, cutting him off, my cheeks heating against my will.

Griffin leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “It’s because she’s obsessed with me.”

Kayla smirks, winking at me. “Can’t say I blame her.”

I choke on my drink. “Kayla!”

“What? I’m just saying, Knox cleans up well,” Jake says, pointing at Griffin’s black V-neck. “I mean, it’s not usually my thing, but even I have to acknowledge the biceps situation.”

Griffin gives Kayla a fist bump. “Finally, someone with taste.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, sinking further into my chair.

The live band kicks off with an upbeat salsa number, the sound of trumpets and drums filling the air. Half the restaurant is already up and moving, couples twirling and spinning in the open space near the patio.

Kayla perks up instantly. “Ooh! We’re dancing. Come on, Jake.”

Jake shakes his head, already halfway through another taco. “Pass. You two go.”

“Fine,” Kayla huffs. Then she turns on me. “Avery. Let’s go.”

“I don’t dance,” I say quickly, but my heart sinks when I realize Griffin’s eyes are on me, sparkling with that infuriating challenge.

“Well, we know you’re obviously lying, Sinclair,” he says, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Let’s dance.”

“Absolutely not,” I say immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he teases. “Afraid I’ll show you up this time?”

“I haven’t had enough drinks to dance. And you don’t even know how to salsa.”

“Oh, I know enough.”

Kayla snickers beside me. “Avery, come on. You can’t let him win this.”

I shoot her a glare. “You’re not helping.”

She just grins, nudging my arm. “Live a little.”

I groan, knowing I’ve been cornered. Griffin’s already holding his hand out, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Fine,” I mutter, grabbing his hand. “But if you drop me, I swear?—”

“Relax, Sinclair,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “I’ve got you.”

I brace myself for disaster as we step onto the crowded floor, but to my shock, Griffin doesn’t trip over his own feet. In fact, he’s good. Really good. His hand settles firmly on my waist, and he moves us into the rhythm like it’s second nature.

“Okay,” I say, breathless as he spins me under his arm. “Where did this come from?”

He grins, guiding me effortlessly back to him. “You’re not the only one with moves, Sinclair. As I’ve proven multiple times now.”

I hate how close we are—how warm his hand feels on my waist, how his black V-neck fits just a little too well. My heart’s pounding, and it has nothing to do with the music.

“Don’t get cocky,” I say, forcing myself to sound unaffected. “I’m still the better dancer.”

“I’m not cocky. I just think you’re blocking yourself from something you want…for no reason at all. Well. Not no reason.” He says, his voice dropping just enough to send a tingle up my spine.

He dips me suddenly, his grip strong as he holds me there, our faces just inches apart. I gasp, my heart hammering as I meet his gaze. For a second, the noise and lights blur into nothing.

Then he pulls me back up with a grin, and the moment shatters.

“What am I blocking myself from, exactly?” I ask, hoping to God I’m not blushing.

“You really want to play dumb? Okay. Well, let’s play a little game of ‘What if.’ Let’s pretend I’m not Cassie’s brother. Let’s pretend I’m just another nobody to you. Just your roommate for the trip.”

“But you are her brother, Griffin. And that’s a line I don’t want to cross.”

Despite the fact that we already crossed it.

But somehow, I feel like a club makeup is forgivable.

Okay, two makeouts. But give it a few months, and that’s something we could laugh about years from now at my wedding. At his wedding. At Cassie’s wedding.

All separate occasions.

He presses his cheek to mine, and whispers in my ear. “You think I don’t remember you describing your ultimate ‘friends with bens’ scenario? You act like you weren’t just toying with me. I can see how you gauge my reaction. Not just to that, but to everything you do. The clothes. Avery…you’re driving me insane. And you know what I think? I think you like it. You like the attention. So, fine. Guess what? I like giving it to you. Because I have a big, fat, hate crush on you.”

I try to swallow down the nerves pooling in my stomach. The room feels warmer, the heat rolling off Griffin’s body seeping into mine. The low hum of music vibrates through the floor beneath my feet, but it’s distant, barely registering over the sound of my own heartbeat.

He pulls me out for a spin, his grip firm but effortless, and then brings me back, his mouth at my ear again. His breath is warm, carrying the faint scent of whiskey and something darker—something him. It’s intoxicating.

“You really think I haven’t had this crush on you for years?” His voice is husky, thick with something that sends a shiver down my spine. “Avery, if you don’t want me, I need you to make it very, very clear tonight. Because you’re making it harder and harder to keep the boundary that you want.”

I should say something. Push him away. Set the boundary he’s talking about.

But my fingers curl tighter around his, and he notices.

So are you, I want to say, but I keep quiet.

Griffin pulls back just enough to look at me, and his mouth curves into that slow, knowing smirk. “You’re blushing again,” he murmurs, his thumb sweeping over the back of my hand like he’s testing the feel of my skin.

I hate that he can read me so well. “You know what I think?”

I lift my chin, forcing my voice to stay even. “Tell me more. Since you seem to know everything about me. Oh wise one.”

His laugh is low, amused. “I think you think you’re a good girl, Avery. You’ve always been that way.”

My pulse stutters. “I think I’m a good girl? So I’m not actually one?”

“Oh, come on. You’re an honors student. You do everything for everyone else. Remember when Cassie got in that accident senior year and you’d sleep over with her almost every night to make sure she was okay? You’re a fucking angel and you know it. A perfectionist. Your entire reputation is built on not letting the people down who you care about. And I fucking love that about you, actually.”

The memory flickers through my mind, unbidden. That had been a long, exhausting few months. It’s been years, but hearing him remember it—saying it like he’s been keeping track of me this whole time—does something strange to my chest.

I swallow, suddenly unsteady. “What are you getting at?”

His grip tightens at my waist. “I want to do some very bad things to you, Avery. You’ve haunted my dreams for too long. I’ve got plans for you. Haven’t you ever wanted to break the rules…even just once?”

The heat behind his words sends a thrill through me, and I hate that my body reacts before my brain does. A slow burn spreads from my stomach, curling lower, and I swear he can see it all over my face.

“I…I don’t know, Griffin,” My voice barely comes out. “Yes. Maybe.”

His lips brush the shell of my ear, his voice dropping into a growl that makes my knees weak. “You better tell me your safe word now, Sinclair.”

My breath catches. I should laugh, brush him off, act like he’s just messing with me. But the way his voice has dipped into something low and dangerous tells me he’s dead serious.

I swallow. "Red Rose."

His lips barely ghost over the shell of my ear. “Good girl.” The heat in his voice pools low in my stomach. “And your ‘go word?’”

My pulse pounds. This is happening. He’s actually asking.

My lips part, and I barely manage to whisper, “Green Leaves.”

Griffin’s grip tightens just a fraction at my waist, like he’s committing it to memory, and then—just as my breath hitches—he leans in further, his mouth brushing so close to my ear I feel the ghost of his lips against my skin.

“Later,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with promise. “I’m going to lay you out on my bed, spread you open, and make you beg for me. And when I’m done, you’re going to be so wrecked, Sinclair, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

A shudder racks through me, heat rushing to my cheeks so fast I know it’s obvious. I have no defense, no witty comeback, just the sheer effort of holding myself together when my entire body is betraying me.

And then—just like that—he pulls back. His expression is maddeningly composed, his hand still resting against my waist like he didn’t just whisper the filthiest thing ever into my ear.

I exhale sharply, trying to collect myself, but before I can, he smirks and tugs me back toward the group.

The second we step into the circle, all eyes are on us.

“Uh, what the hell was that?” Kayla asks, narrowing her eyes between us.

I force a nonchalant shrug, willing my pulse to slow. “Oh, nothing.”

Griffin lets out a low chuckle beside me, taking a sip of his drink like he didn’t just destroy my ability to think straight.

“Nothing?” Kayla repeats, skeptical.

Griffin tilts his head, his eyes flashing. “Sure. Just a little friendly conversation. How were my moves?”

I glare at him, and he winks. My stomach flips.

I am so in trouble.

“So,” Jake says with a quiet, but devious, smirk. “Never have I ever?”