Page 9

eight

. . .

Griffin

The next morning, the classroom hums with the kind of energy that only exists when a group of people is forced to sit through hours of learning after a night of bad decisions. Sunburns, hangovers, and exhausted grins are on full display as we shuffle into the Spanish Language Institute, everyone running on fumes and questionable life choices.

Except for Avery.

She’s at the front, of course—her notebook perfectly aligned, her pen poised like she’s about to take home the gold medal in notetaking. But something’s off. The usual fire—the sharp, stubborn spark that makes her so easy to mess with—is dimmed.

Her eyes are a little puffy. She keeps chewing on the end of her pen, staring blankly at nothing in particular.

It’s weird.

And I hate that I notice.

“Alright, everyone,” our instructor, Senora Castillo, says as she walks in, clapping her hands to get our attention. “Buenos días! Espero que estén listos para aprender.”

The class groans in unison, and she laughs. “No excuses! Let’s begin.”

We start with introductions—name, hometown, why we’re here. I half-listen as the room goes around, more focused on sneaking glances at Avery.

When it’s her turn, she stands, her voice steady but softer than usual. “Soy Avery Sinclair, de Houston, Texas. Estoy aquí para mejorar mi espanol y aprender más sobre la cultura.”

“Muy bien,” Senora Castillo says with a smile. “Gracias, Avery.”

She sits down quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

When it’s my turn, I keep it short and sweet. "Soy Griffin Knox, de Dallas, Texas. Estoy aquí porque me obligaron. Prefiero bailar toda la noche y dormir durante el día."

I’m Griffin Knox from Dallas, Texas. I’m here because they made me. I like to dance all day and sleep all night.

The class bursts into laughter, and even Senora Castillo cracks a smile. Avery doesn’t laugh, but I catch the faintest twitch of her lips.

Baby steps.

“Now,” Senora Castillo says, switching to English, “let’s practice our conversational skills. Pair up, por favor.”

Before I can even look around for a partner, Senora Castillo points to me and Avery. “Griffin, Avery, you two can work together.”

Perfect.

I make my way to the desk next to hers, dropping into the seat with a smirk. “It’s like the universe wants us to be together, Princess.”

She doesn’t look at me, flipping her notebook open instead. “Are you ever going to listen to me when I tell you not to call me that?”

“You secretly love it,” I reply, leaning back in my chair. “What’s our topic?”

“Discussing weekend plans,” she says, her voice flat.

“Easy enough. You start.”

She sighs, glancing at the example sentence in her notebook. “Este fin de semana, quiero visitar el mercado local y probar comida típica.”

“Muy bien,” I say, giving her a thumbs-up. “You want to visit the market. But you forgot to add ‘with my favorite person in the world, Griffin Knox.’”

Her eyes finally snap to mine, her expression somewhere between annoyed and amused. “You’re impossible.”

“Imposible,” I correct with a grin, using Spanish accent and pointing to the vocabulary list.

She rolls her eyes but cracks a smile.

“What about you?” she asks, nudging me to take my turn.

I lean forward, propping my elbows on the desk. “Este fin de semana, quiero pasar tiempo con una chica guapa que no puede resistirme.”

Avery raises an eyebrow. “Let me guess—you’re talking about yourself in the third person again?”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair. “You’re getting better at this, Sinclair.” I don’t bother correcting her that she’s the chica guapa , obviously.

We keep going, falling into a rhythm of trading sentences and insults, and by the time Senora Castillo calls for our attention again, Avery looks a little more like herself.

“Nice work,” I say as we pack up. “See? You survived.”

“Barely,” she mutters, but there’s a faint smile tugging at her lips.

As we head out of the classroom, one of our classmates falls into step beside me, grinning. “You two fight like a married couple, you know that?”

I glance over at Avery, expecting her to roll her eyes or fire back some sharp retort, but instead, she just shakes her head and walks ahead. No witty comeback, no playful shove—just quiet acceptance, like she doesn’t have the energy to argue it.

For some reason, that throws me more than if she had said something.

“Ready for the ruins field trip?” she asks, turning back, her voice light again.

“Oh, I’m ready to ruin…you,” I joke, wiggling my eyebrows. “Ruin your good time, I mean.”

She giggles, and it’s the kind of laugh that sneaks up on you—bright and unguarded. “You, Griffin Knox, have the ability to make me laugh like no one else. You should be proud of that.”

Wait.

Did Avery Sinclair… just offer me a compliment?

An olive branch, if you will?

Before I can think of a comeback, she reaches out and playfully pokes my stomach. Except instead of a quick jab at my ribs, her fingers land lower, pressing against my abs through my shirt.

I go still, my body reacting faster than my brain.

Her hand lingers for a split second too long—long enough for the warmth of her touch to sear through the fabric, long enough for me to wonder if it was really an accident.

Avery’s eyes flick up to mine, something unreadable passing through them before she snatches her hand back like she just touched a hot stove. “Wow,” she teases, covering the moment with an exaggerated eye roll. “It’s like poking a rock. Do you ever take a rest day?”

I force out a chuckle, shoving my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Nah, gotta stay in peak shape. Never know when I’ll have to outrun one of your ex-boyfriends.”

She laughs again, but her smile falters for just a second, and her silence feels heavier than usual.

For some reason, it sticks with me.

It’s hot as Hades out here today. The kind of heat that makes you question all your life choices, like signing up for this trip in the first place.

The Mayan ruins are impressive, I’ll give them that. Massive stone structures, intricate carvings, all that ancient history stuff. But it’s hard to focus on any of it when Avery Sinclair is marching around with that determined little furrow in her brow, scribbling furiously in her notebook like she’s about to single-handedly rewrite Archaeology for Dummies.

And she looks so damn good doing it.

Those blue denim short shorts should be illegal. Seriously. I’m very grateful for the existence of sunglasses right now because I’m having a ridiculously hard time not staring at her perfect ass. And I’m literally over here using every shred of willpower I have not to hit on Avery, and give her space, since she’s been single not even for twenty-four hours.

Even though I already was aware Gavin was a total D-bag. Cassie was not a fan. And she’ll be happy to hear that news.

I hang back, letting the rest of the group move ahead while I watch her. She’s standing by one of the carvings, fingers lightly tracing the grooves in the stone, her expression a mix of curiosity and laser-sharp focus.

It’s unfair, really—how she makes ancient rocks look less interesting by comparison.

I don’t know why I find it so entertaining to mess with her. Or maybe I do, and I just don’t want to admit it.

“You know, you could just Google this stuff,” I call out.

She spins around, her eyes narrowing when she sees me leaning casually against a stone pillar. “Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Not as fun,” I reply, pushing off the pillar and strolling toward her. “Seriously, though. Rocks? This is what does it for you?”

“They’re not just rocks,” she snaps playfully, crossing her arms. “They’re part of a civilization that lasted for centuries. They built temples, cities, entire societies—without modern technology.”

“Cool,” I say, shrugging. “Still looks like rocks to me.”

She glares at me, her lips pressed into a tight line, and I can’t help but grin.

“Whatever,” she mutters, turning back to her notebook. “Go away, Griffin.”

I let her have her peace for a while, watching as she gets completely lost in her notes. Her hair falls across her face as she writes, and she tucks it behind her ear without even thinking about it.

It’s weird how something so small can be distracting.

The group starts to move again, and I follow along, figuring she’ll catch up eventually. But after a while, I glance back and realize she hasn’t moved.

She’s still at the carving, completely absorbed, while everyone else is halfway to the next temple.

I sigh, turning back and heading toward her. “Lose something?”

She jumps, spinning around to face me. “Where’s the group?”

I nod toward the path ahead. “Already moving on. Figured I’d wait for you since you were too busy geeking out to notice.”

“I don’t need your help,” she says, brushing past me.

“Sure you don’t,” I reply, falling into step beside her anyway.

The path is uneven, the stones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. Avery’s pace is faster than usual, like she’s trying to prove something, and I can already see where this is headed.

“You really don’t know how to say thank you, do you?” I ask after a minute.

“I didn’t ask you to wait for me,” she shoots back. And I kind of love that she’s back to shooting zingers at me. It actually feels weird when she compliments me.

“True,” I say, smirking. “But you would’ve gotten lost without me.”

“I would’ve figured it out,” she mutters, her focus on the path ahead.

Uh-huh.

We reach a steep incline, and I let her take the lead, partly because I’m curious how long her stubborn streak will last.

Not long, apparently.

Her foot slips on a loose stone, and she stumbles forward, her bag swinging awkwardly at her side.

Before I can think, I grab her arm, steadying her before she can hit the ground.

“Careful,” I say, my voice softer than I intended. “It’s not exactly flat terrain.”

She jerks her arm away, her face flushed. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” I reply, stepping back to give her space.

We reach the top of the incline, where the group is waiting near a large temple. Fernando waves us over, his cheerful voice ringing out as he launches into another explanation.

“See?” she says as we join the group. “I made it.”

“With my help,” I point out, grinning.

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue, and for some reason, that feels like a win.

As Fernando talks, I glance at Avery again. She’s scribbling in her notebook, her focus back on the ruins, and I wonder if she even remembers the moment we just had.

Probably not.

But I do.

And for the first time, I wonder what it would take to actually get her to see me.