Page 8

seven

. . .

Griffin

The hotel is quiet, the kind of quiet that only happens late at night when everyone else has finally gone to bed. I’m not tired, though, and I don’t see Avery anywhere, so I head out to the balcony, hoping the warm breeze will clear my head.

It’s peaceful out here—stars scattered across the dark sky, waves crashing softly in the distance. But as I step out, I spot a figure sitting at the far end of the balcony, curled up on one of the lounge chairs.

Avery.

Her knees are tucked to her chest, her hair falling loose around her shoulders, and there’s something about the way she’s staring out at the ocean that makes me pause.

She looks...lost. Sad. Way different than normal. Her eyes don’t have the bright glow that I’ve come to know and love going back years.

I should probably go back inside. Leave her alone.

But instead, my feet move before I can think better of it.

“Hey,” I say, leaning casually against the railing. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

She startles slightly, glancing up at me. Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying, but she quickly looks away. “What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice wary.

“Getting some air,” I reply, watching her carefully. “You?”

“Same.”

Her tone is short, clipped—a clear attempt to put up a wall between us.

“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice low.

“I’m fine,” she says automatically. But there’s a crack in her voice, just enough to betray her.

I tilt my head. “Liar.”

She glares at me, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me to leave. But instead, she sighs and looks back out at the ocean.

“I broke up with Gavin,” she says quietly.

The words hit me harder than I expect.

“Wow,” I say, unsure what else to add. “That’s...big. I mean three months is nothing to sniff at.”

She lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. It wasn’t exactly part of the plan. I really liked him. But it finally clicked tonight. He wasn’t it, and I’m not one to waste time.”

I study her for a moment, the way her shoulders are tense, like she’s holding the weight of the world.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask, surprising myself with the question. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

She hesitates, like she’s not sure how much to tell me. “Because he doesn’t see me,” she says finally. “Not really. Like, he doesn’t see me like I want to be seen. Does that make sense?”

There’s a rawness in her voice that catches me off guard, and for once, I don’t know what to say.

“Perfect sense,” I say, nodding. I know exactly what she means.

I can’t stop myself from imagining what it must feel like—to be with someone who doesn’t see all of you, who just skims the surface and calls it love. It makes me think of my high school relationship and friendships, of the way people always seem to stop at the parts of me that are easy to like. The athlete. The charming guy. The dude who can light up a party. But the rest of it? The messy, complicated stuff? No one sticks around long enough to figure it out. And honestly, I don’t know if I’ve ever let them.

“Maybe it’s easier that way,” I say finally, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “To not be fully seen, I mean. Less risk.”

Her eyes snap to mine, sharp and probing, and for a second, I regret saying anything. But then she softens, like she knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “But it’s lonelier, too.”

I nod, swallowing hard. “It is.”

There’s a moment of silence between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. I feel like we’ve just stepped into some unspoken understanding, one that doesn’t need words to make sense.

“Well,” I say after a moment, forcing a smile to lighten the mood, “he’s an idiot if he can’t see you.”

She glances at me, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “That’s your advice? Call him an idiot and move on?”

I shrug. “Pretty much. Guys like that don’t deserve you.”

Her smile fades, and she looks back at the waves, her expression pensive. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m the problem. Maybe I’m asking for too much.”

“No,” I say firmly, stepping closer. It pains me to see her down like this. And hey, I might be a selfish bastard a lot of the time. But when it comes to Avery, if she needs a pump-me-up, I’m the guy to give it to her. The conviction in my voice surprises even me. “You’re not asking for too much. I mean, are you crazy , Avery? Someone someday is going to see you. I mean really see you. And they’re going to make you happy in ways you can’t even imagine. You’re fucking amazing.”

“I’m amazing?” She lets out a breath, her gaze still fixed on the waves. “How do you know that?”

“Because I know you.” The words come out sharper than I intended, my frustration spilling over—not at her, but at the fact that she can’t see herself the way I do. “Maybe we don’t get along the greatest, but I’ve known you for years now. And yeah, you might be a special brand of crazy. But once you find that person, it’s going to be a game changer. They’ll know exactly how lucky they are to have you.”

She looks up at me then, her hazel eyes wide and searching, and for a second, it feels like the whole world has gone still. The sound of the waves fades, the distant chatter of the others dissolves, and it’s just the two of us in this strange, suspended moment.

“Thanks,” she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t tell if you really mean that, but I appreciate you saying it.”

“I do mean it,” I say, my voice quieter now, steady but gentle. “Don’t let him make you doubt yourself. You’re better than that. You deserve better than that.”

Her gaze lingers on mine, and for a fleeting moment, I think she might say something else—something I can feel pressing against the edges of whatever’s been left unspoken between us. The air between us feels charged, heavy with something I can’t name.

“What are your dreams, anyway?” I ask.

She shrugs. “So, there’s this scholarship. It’s called the Fulbright. I’ve been thinking about applying—it’s basically a program where you spend a year in a foreign country, studying something really cool. But…it’s pretty competitive.”

I raise a brow. “That sounds insane. In a good way. Where do you want to go? What do you want to study?”

She hesitates, like she’s afraid to say it out loud. Then, after a beat, she sighs and leans back, staring up at the night sky. “I want to go to Spain. Study international relations, maybe language immersion. There’s a program in Madrid that focuses on diplomacy, global policy with a side emphasis in international marketing. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

I nod, impressed. “Then why haven’t you applied?”

Her laugh is pained. The kind that’s not really a laugh at all.

I glance over, frowning. “What?”

She shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek like she’s trying to keep something in. “Gavin,” she says finally, voice quiet. “In three months of dating, he never even asked me that. He told me I wasn’t smart enough.”

My stomach twists.

She blinks up at the sky rapidly, and it takes me a second to realize she’s trying not to cry.

“Do I really have this low of a self-conception?” she asks, her voice cracking. “I always do this. I sacrifice myself for my relationship. Every. Single. Time. I put their dreams first. I try to be the perfect girlfriend. And what do I get?”

I don’t answer, because I can tell she’s not actually asking me.

She sniffles once, then laughs softly—almost bitterly. “Next time…”

She trails off, shaking her head.

“Next time what?” I ask, watching her closely.

She looks over at me, eyes still glistening, but there’s a spark of something new in them. A decision.

“No more relationships,” she says, like she’s making a declaration to herself. “If I have something in the future, I have a new ideal. Just friends with benefits. None of this trying to get married stuff. Just having fun.”

I stare at her, shocked.

There’s no way she means that. Not really.

I study her face, waiting for the punchline. But she just smirks, wiping her last tear away like she’s already moving on.

Something in my chest tightens. “That doesn’t sound like you,” I murmur.

She rolls her eyes, but it doesn’t have her usual bite. “Maybe it’s time I change.”

I open my mouth. Close it.

She’s talking about casual sex. With me. Am I hallucinating? Am I reading too much into this moment?

Does she have a crush on little old me ?

No.

Impossible.

She hates me.

Doesn’t she?

She looks away, wrapping her arms around herself like she’s trying to build a wall between us again. “I should get some sleep,” she says, her voice back to its usual guarded tone, like she’s reminding herself to stay in control. “It’s been a day.”

I nod, taking a step back even though something in me wants to stay, to press just a little more. “Goodnight, Princess,” I say, my voice lighter, masking the weight in my chest.

She rolls her eyes at the nickname but doesn’t say anything, slipping past me and disappearing into the hotel, her silhouette illuminated for a moment before the door swings shut.

I lean against the railing, staring out at the waves, the sound of the ocean filling the quiet she’s left behind.

There’s more to Avery Sinclair than I thought. Layers I never cared to look for before.

And now, she’s single.

Is it wrong that the thought sends a little tingle through me?

I want to give her all the space in the world to heal. Really, I do. She deserves that—and more. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t crossing my mind that, for the first time in a long while… she’s in play.

I’m probably imagining things.

But after I head into the room and slip under the covers, trying to fall asleep again…

That list creeps into my brain.