Page 27 of The Rookie

Before I can even look around for a partner, Señora 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 universewantsus 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 thechica guapa, obviously.

We keep going, falling into a rhythm of trading sentences and insults, and by the time Señora 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 headand 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 shehadsaid 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.

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