Page 8 of The Rookie

I don’t slow down.

He catches up in two strides, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his grin annoyingly intact.

“This is going to be so much fun,” he says, falling into step beside me.

I whirl on him, stabbing a finger into his chest. “Listen, Knox. I don’t know what strings you pulled to make this happen, but just so we’re clear: I don’t like you. I don’t want to room with you. And if you so much asbreathein my direction, I’m filing a formal complaint.”

He looks down at my finger and then back up at me, his grin widening. “You sound so serious. It’s kind of adorable.”

I clench my jaw so hard my teeth ache.

When we reach the room, I fling the door open and march inside, tossing my bag onto the nearest bed without even glancing around. Behind me, Griffin strolls in like he owns the place, drops his bag on the other bed, and flops down onto it—arms behind his head, legs sprawled—like he’s just claimed a throne.

“This’ll work,” he says, stretching out with a satisfied sigh.

It’s two queen sized beds.Right next to each other.I exhale sharply, feeling like the universe is having a good laugh at my expense.

“No,” I snap, spinning to face him. “This willnotwork. We need rules.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “Okay, sure. Lay ’em on me, Princess.”

“Rule one,” I start, holding up a finger. “No talking to me unless absolutely necessary.”

His grin grows. “Define ‘necessary.’”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” I snap. “Rule two: no touching my stuff. No ‘accidentally’ borrowing anything, no messing with my side of the room—nothing.”

“Got it. Hands off the princess’s stuff.”

“Rule three,” I continue, grabbing the hotel’s notepad from the desk. I drag a jagged line down the center of the page and hold it up. “This is your side. That’s mine. Cross the line, and you’re dead.”

He laughs, sitting up on his elbows. “This is amazing. How do I get the the bathroom we share, though? It’s on your side. I’ll have to cross the line. What’s next, a chore wheel?”

“Rule four,” I say, ignoring him. “No existing near me.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Noexisting?”

“You heard me.”

He stands and walks over to the desk, leaning on it with infuriating casualness. “Okay, so just to recap: no talking, no touching, no crossing imaginary lines, and no existing. Got it. Anything else, Your Highness? Will I be giving you a nightly foot rub?”

“Yes.” I meet his gaze, my voice sharp. “Stay out of my way. Two weeks. That’s all I have to survive.”

“Sounds easy enough,” he says, smirking. “For me, anyway.”

I groan, turning away to unpack my bag. But I can feel him watching me, his eyes practically burning holes in my back.

“You know,” he says after a beat, “for someone so uptight, you’re pretty entertaining.”

“And for someone so full of himself, you’re pretty exhausting,” I fire back.

“You’re right. I guess I have more stamina than you.”

I whirl around, ready to snap back at Griffin for whatever smug comment he’s brewing, and immediately regret it.

He’s standing there, all six foot five of him, with a towel slung low on his hips. His chest is broad, his abs carved like a damn statue, and his brown hair is messily strewn like he just rolled out of a GQ spread. His skin carries a faint golden glow, like he’s been kissed by the sun itself, and those piercing green eyes? Yeah, they’re locked right on me.

He smirks, holding up a hand in mock chivalry. “May I please cross to your side? To enter the shower. Please. Muh lady.” He even bows a little, like the world’s cockiest knight.

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