Page 23

twenty-two

. . .

Griffin

After our little hot tub adventure, I’m lying flat on my back, staring at the ceiling like it owes me answers. The room is quiet—too quiet—except for the faint buzz of the air conditioner and the rustling of Avery shifting in her bed a few feet away.

I close my eyes and try to will myself to sleep. It doesn’t work.

How am I supposed to sleep after tonight? After the hot tub, after her lips on mine, after the way she looked at me—like I wasn’t just some cocky kid, but someone she was actually seeing?

And now here we are, back in the room. Separate beds. The air between us so thick I can feel it.

She’s probably already asleep, I tell myself.

But then I hear her sigh softly and turn over, and I can’t help but smirk in the dark. Wide awake, too, huh, Sinclair?

I pull out my phone, scrolling aimlessly, trying to distract myself. But then I remember the photo I took of us earlier. My thumb hovers over the screen for a second before I say screw it and send it to her.

Me: Look familiar?

A moment passes. My phone buzzes.

Avery: You’re a stalker.

I grin, glancing over at her bed. She’s turned toward me now, her phone screen lighting up her face. She’s trying to look annoyed, but I can see the way her lips twitch.

Me: Don’t flatter yourself. Just reminiscing on a beautiful night.

Avery: Wow. Original. How many girls have you used that line on?

Me: Just you, Sinclair. You’re special. Do you really think I’m that much of a manwhore? I thought we talked about this. Remember when you couldn’t name a single girl I’d slept with?

Her phone screen stays lit for a moment longer as she types.

Avery: Must’ve hit your head in the hot tub. And come on, Knox. You’re literally a star athlete at a football school. You think I’m really that naive?

I chuckle, typing quickly.

Me: I might be a star but I have my sights set. And as for hitting my head, Can you blame me? You’re a menace in that dress.

There’s a long pause before her reply comes through.

Avery: Menace? So you’re saying I looked good.

I blink at my screen, the grin slipping just slightly.

Me: You looked more than good. Honestly though? I preferred you out of it.

I hit send before I can overthink it, and immediately my chest tightens because that feels too honest. Too real.

Her phone lights up again, and I wait, holding my breath like a damn teenager.

Avery: How did I know that was your favorite?

Me: You’ve got me nailed. It’s infuriating.

I hear her snort softly from her bed, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Avery: Sounds like a personal problem.

Me: It is. I’ll be taking you to court for emotional distress.

Avery: Add it to my list of charges. I’m already ruining your life, remember?

Me: Oh, you’re doing a lot more than ruining my life.

The moment I send it, I realize how that sounds. I see her screen light up again as she reads it, and my pulse kicks up a notch.

She replies quickly this time.

Avery: Careful, Griffin. You’re flirting again.

I grin.

Me: Maybe I’m being not careful on purpose.

I hear her exhale softly, and I swear it sounds shaky. I shift slightly on the bed, my phone feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds.

Avery: Dangerous game, Knox.

Me: You afraid?

Avery: Of you? Not a chance.

Me: Then why are you blushing?

There’s no response for a while. I glance over, and she’s got the phone resting on her chest like she’s thinking—or trying to decide whether to reply.

Finally, my phone buzzes again.

Avery: Fine. I’ll play. If you’re so confident, tell me something…

Me: Anything.

Avery: When was the last time you wanted something you knew you shouldn’t?

I stare at the text, my throat suddenly dry. My fingers hesitate over the keyboard, but only for a second.

Me: Right now.

Her phone lights up, and she doesn’t reply right away. I can see her eyes on the screen, though—soft, contemplative, like maybe I just surprised her.

Then she types back.

Avery: You’re such a liar.

Me: No lies, Sinclair. Not tonight. I’m not sure how much more obvious I can be. Unless I were to say I want to fuck you until sunrise.

I hear her inhale sharply, and I wonder if her heart is racing as fast as mine.

Avery: Geezus, Griffin.

I type, hesitating. Then:

Me: I meant…To kiss you again. Honestly, either would work.

Her reply comes slower this time.

Avery: You already got your kiss. Multiple kisses.

Me: Yeah, and it wasn’t enough.

I can’t believe I send it, but I do.

Her face is turned toward her phone, her expression unreadable in the dark, but I see her swallow.

Her screen lights up again.

Yeah, sure. As if I could shut my brain off right now.

I stare at the glow of my phone on my chest, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. There’s too much running through my head. The way she looked at me tonight. The way she kissed me. The way she feels so damn close but still untouchable.

Finally, I type out a message. I delete it. Then I type it again.

What the hell.

Me: If we were going to hook up…like actually be friends with fucking benefits…what would that look like?

The second I hit send, my heart starts pounding. What am I doing? This is Avery. I’m playing with fire here.

Her phone lights up, and I see her shoulders shift. She turns back toward the screen, and I catch the faint glow of her face as she stares at my message.

I don’t breathe.

Finally, the typing bubbles pop up.

Avery: You actually want to talk about this right now?

Me: You’re so confusing. Are you forgetting the part where your hand was wrapped around my dick earlier tonight?

Me: Hypothetically. Just curious. I mean I can’t sleep. Can you? I guess I have some pent up energy.

She types again. Stops. Types again.

Avery: Pent up energy, eh? I guess that’s my fault…

Me: Nothing is anybody’s ‘fault.’ But you’re Avoiding the question. Interesting.

Avery: Fine. Hypothetically? It wouldn’t happen. We’d kill each other before we got to anything remotely sexy.

Me: Hypothetically, I’m very charming. I believe I’ve been making a good case.

Avery: Hypothetically, I’m immune.

I grin, rolling onto my side as I stare at her glowing screen across the room. Immune? Yeah, right.

Me: Oh, come on. So you’re telling me you wouldn’t get all flustered if I kissed you again?

Her phone stays quiet for a long moment. My grin starts to fade.

Finally, a buzz.

Avery: If we’re playing this game… hypothetically, you’re a good kisser. That’s it. One point for Griffin.

I stare at the message, stunned into silence for a second.

Me: You admitted it. I win.

Avery: Don’t get cocky.

I’m already cocky. She knows it.

Me: Too late. Anyway, if you’re giving points for kissing, I feel like we should test for consistency.

Avery: Consistency?

Me: Yeah. Like quality control.

Avery: Is this what you say to every girl?

I hesitate, fingers hovering over the keys before I reply.

Me: No. Just you.

Her typing bubble stops. She’s quiet for longer this time, and I can almost feel her thinking on the other side of the room.

Finally:

Avery: What do you really want, Griffin? I just feel like you’re playing games with me.

I stare at the glowing letters, my chest tightening. I could play it off—make a joke, sidestep the question—but something about tonight, about her , makes me type something else entirely. She thinks I’m playing games with her? Au Contraire.

Me: Okay I’ll be more direct. A “what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico” situation. As we’ve already alluded to. We’ll get it out of our system. You. Me. Two weeks.

Avery’s screen goes dark. I see her roll onto her back, her phone resting on her stomach as she stares at the ceiling. I wait, my thumb hovering over the screen, my pulse pounding because I can’t believe I actually said that.

Finally, the screen lights up again.

Avery: I don’t even know where to start.

Me: The pros list? I can help.

Avery: Oh, please.

Me: We’re already sharing a room. Convenient.

Avery: So romantic.

Me: Less romantic, more efficient. You need a rebound anyway, after that dude who didn’t even ask shit about your dreams. You know at least know I want the best for you, A. That’s not bullshit.

Avery: You’re actually being sincere, and that’s hard for me.

Me: You say that like it’s a bad thing that I actually have a serious side.

There’s another pause. I glance over at her bed, watching the faint glow of her phone illuminate her face. I can’t see her expression, but I don’t miss the way her thumb hesitates before she types.

Avery: And what happens when this trip is over? We just zap each other with that white light from Men in Black and forget all of this ever happened?

I stare at her message longer than I should. When it’s over.

The words settle in my chest in a way I don’t like.

Me: Then we go back to normal.

Avery: Define normal.

I hesitate. Normal would mean going back to pretending I don’t think about her at the most inconvenient times. Normal would mean pretending she doesn’t drive me insane—in all the best and worst ways.

Me: The Red Roses grow back. While we’re here there’s no strings. No complications. Just fun.

She doesn’t respond right away, and for the first time tonight, I’m nervous—like maybe I’ve pushed her too far.

But then?—

Avery: And what makes you think I’d agree to that?

Me: Because you want to.

Avery: Goodnight, Griffin.

I exhale, dropping my phone onto my chest with a soft thud, but the grin tugging at my lips doesn’t fade.

I glance across the room at her shadowed form, knowing I’ve just planted a seed that neither of us can ignore.

What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico, huh?

It’s a dangerous game.

But I’ve never been good at playing it safe.