Page 26 of The Rookie

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…

Thatlistcreeps into my brain.

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, Señora 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 español y aprender más sobre la cultura.”

“Muy bien,” Señora 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 Señora Castillo cracks a smile. Avery doesn’t laugh, but I catch the faintest twitch of her lips.

Baby steps.

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

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