Page 21

twenty

. . .

Griffin

The tension from chatting with Avery on the dance floor tonight still hangs in the air, and I’m not sure if my face is flushed from the tequila or the fact that Avery Sinclair just told me her safe word .

Before I can get my bearings, Kayla jumps in, leaning back in her chair like a queen holding court. Apparently they’re in the middle of a game of Never have I ever.

“Alright,” she says, swirling her drink and raising one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Never have I ever… not given someone the best head of their life.”

Avery chokes on her margarita. I nearly spit mine across the table.

“Jesus, Kayla,” I say, coughing as Jake howls with laughter.

“What?” Kayla shrugs innocently, but she’s grinning like she’s just dropped the best joke of the year. “I’m just saying. Can’t all of us be talented.”

“Who are you even looking at?” Avery demands, shooting Kayla a glare.

Kayla glances pointedly at me .

Oh god.

I freeze like a deer in headlights. “Don’t look at me. I’ve got no comment here.”

“Oh, come on,” Kayla teases, grinning. “You look like you’d appreciate a good skill set.”

Avery turns to me, eyebrows raised in mock interest. “Yeah, Griffin. Care to comment?”

I’m pretty sure I’m blushing again. “Pass. Hard pass. No comment whatsoever.”

“Coward,” Kayla mutters, downing the rest of her drink and slamming it on the table like she’s just won a competition.

Jake wipes tears from his eyes. “I’ll drink to that one. I knew tonight was going to be a highlight.”

The attention shifts back to me, and my brain goes completely blank under Avery’s smug, watching stare.

Think of something. Literally anything.

“Alright,” I say finally, sitting up straighter and smirking. “Never have I ever…read Pride and Prejudice. ”

There’s a beat of silence.

Avery blinks at me, deadpan. “Are you serious?”

I shrug innocently. “What? It’s a classic. I hear someone here likes it.”

Jake snorts. “Weak, man. Weak.”

Kayla groans. “That’s the most boring ‘Never Have I Ever’ I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“Yeah, well,” I fire back, smirking at Avery, “it’s not my fault you’ve all blown through your weird life choices already.”

Avery raises her glass to her lips, giving me an unimpressed look. “Are you just trying to get me drunk, Knox?”

I wink at her. “Maybe.”

“Unbelievable,” she mutters, taking a sip.

I lean back smugly in my chair, feeling victorious for all of three seconds.

Jake, of course, can’t let it go. “Wait, wait. Why Pride and Prejudice? ”

“Because,” I say, grinning, “Avery reads it like, every year. It’s her ‘comfort book.’”

Avery freezes, drink halfway to her mouth. “How do you know that?”

“You told my sister,” I remind her. “And Cassie told me. And now I’m using that knowledge to crush you at this game.”

Kayla lets out a laugh. “Oh my god. I think he’s studying you, Avery.”

Avery glares at me over the rim of her glass. “You’re ridiculous.”

I shrug, all fake innocence. “Hey, if you’re an open book, that’s not my fault.”

“Never have I ever wanted to punch someone in the face more,” she mutters.

Jake, meanwhile, is cracking up. “You guys have serious rom-com energy right now.”

Kayla nods solemnly, tapping the table with her finger. “Enemies to lovers. It’s a classic trope. I respect it.”

I shoot her a look. “Who said anything about lovers?”

“You two are this close, ” Jake says, holding up his fingers with barely an inch between them. “It’s all sexual tension and pent-up rage.”

Avery groans. “I hate all of you.”

“Denial,” Kayla sings, raising her glass like it’s a toast. “Classic sign of attraction.”

Avery sits back in her chair, fixing me with a wicked grin that instantly makes me wary.

“Alright, Knox,” she says slowly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Never have I ever…owned a Taylor Swift album.”

I freeze mid-sip.

Jake and Kayla immediately burst into laughter as I cough, spluttering tequila down my chin. “What—how—what kind of call-out is that?”

“Drink,” Avery says smugly.

“I don’t own one!”

“Liar. Cassie told me you had Fearless on repeat in high school.”

Jake nearly falls out of his chair. “Bro. Not Fearless. ”

Kayla’s wheezing at this point. “It’s always the athletes. Secret Swifties.”

I glare at Avery, but I can’t help the grin tugging at my mouth as I drink. “You’re a menace, Sinclair.”

“Thank you,” she replies sweetly.

As the game winds down, we’re all a little buzzed and way too loud for this tiny corner of the bar. Avery’s still smirking at me from across the table, and I’m still pretending her little dig didn’t hit its mark.

But, damn.

The way she looks tonight—flushed from the drinks, her chestnut hair falling around her face, that soft pink dress that definitely wasn’t meant to torment me—I can’t help but grin like an idiot every time she laughs.

Somewhere between Jake’s next round of wild confessions and Kayla trying to flag down the waiter for more chips, I realize I haven’t stopped looking at Avery all night.

She’s been laughing and sipping her drink, cheeks flushed, her chestnut hair spilling around her face like it was meant to be worn just like that. The soft blush pink of her dress hugs her body in ways I shouldn’t be noticing, but I do anyway.

“So I’m properly hammered,” Jake says, draining the last of his margarita. “Shall we head back?”

“I’ll pay the tab and get us a cab,” I volunteer, desperate for something to do with my hands besides fidget like some lovesick idiot.

Kayla perks up as she pushes back her chair. “Is the hotel pool still open?”

Avery and I shoot each other a look, our eyes locking for just a beat too long. I wonder if she’s as relieved as I am that Jake and Kayla are going to act as group chaperones tonight because if we were alone…

Well.

The thought shouldn’t make my pulse pick up like this.

Avery raises an eyebrow. “What was that look?”

“Nothing,” I reply quickly. But as I stand, I notice the way her fingers play with the hem of her dress. She’s glowing under the string lights, still as put-together as ever. It’s not fair how effortlessly gorgeous she looks.

As we trail behind Jake and Kayla, I can’t stop glancing at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s the one I’ve known for years, but somehow she’s still this puzzle I can’t figure out. All sharp edges and soft smiles, guarded but so alive tonight.

“Everything okay?” Avery asks, catching me staring.

I don’t answer at first. I just keep looking at her—the pink of her dress, the dip of her neckline, the way her hair glimmers in the soft glow of the patio lights. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.

I pause, clearing my throat. “More than okay. Que noche más linda. ”

Avery tilts her head, smirking slightly. “It’s just such a beautiful night?”

“Exactly,” I say, holding her gaze. “It’s hard not to appreciate it when you’re around.”

She narrows her eyes playfully, but I catch the way her cheeks flush just slightly. “Mmm. I love it when you speak in Spanish to me.”

Something about that catches me off guard—makes me want to say something dumb and reckless, like how I’d speak Spanish to her every day just to see her smile like that.

Instead, I pull out my phone and hold it up. “Come here.”

“What are you doing?” she asks warily.

“Taking a picture. Come on, Sinclair. You look nice tonight. I want to remember it.”

Avery rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at her lips as she steps closer. “Fine. One picture.”

I hold the phone up and lean in next to her. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I swear my heart does this weird fluttery thing I’m too proud to admit out loud.

“Smile,” I say, trying to sound casual when I’m anything but.

She tilts her face toward me, her smile soft but genuine. I snap the photo, and for a second, I forget to breathe because the screen doesn’t lie.

She’s stunning.

And me? I’m the idiot grinning like I just won the lottery.

“Let me see,” she says, leaning in to peek at the screen.

“Perfect,” I say before she can comment. I lock the phone quickly, shoving it back in my pocket like it’s some kind of secret I need to protect.

Avery smirks, like she’s onto me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” I reply, unable to stop my own grin. “But I’m right about the picture.”

She doesn’t argue, and as we keep walking, I know— that photo is going to mean more than it should. It’s going to haunt me later, when I’m back home and this trip is over.

But for now, I don’t let myself think about that.

For now, I just enjoy the fact that Avery Sinclair is still walking next to me, her dress swishing softly in the night air, like she’s a little less out of reach than usual.

And, yeah. Maybe I’ll look at that photo later tonight, too.