Page 160 of The Rookie

This is reckless.

And I’m doing it anyway.

My fingers move before I can stop myself.

Me: Wouldn’t you like to know?

I hit send, my pulse racing as I toss the phone back into my lap, biting back a grin.

The response is almost instant.

Griffin: Yes. That’s why I asked. Now tell me.

My breath catches, my legs crossing tightly as heat pools low in my stomach. I should stop. I should shut this down.

Instead, I lean into it.

Me: What makes you think I’d admit it, Knox?

I press send and glance up at the field, catching sight of him on the bench. His teammates are talking around him, but he’s not paying them any attention.

He’s staring up at the skybox, his phone in hand, his smirk growing wider as he reads my text.

My phone buzzes again.

Griffin: Because I know you. And I know how much you want me.

The air catches in my throat, my cheeks burning as I quickly type back:

Me: If you’re so sure, why don’t you come find out after the game?

This time, when I glance down at the field, Griffin’s head tilts, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin.

And when the announcers comment on the confidence in his expression, the way he’s clearly having the time of his life, I know I’ve just given him all the motivation he needs.

I’m so screwed.

Griffin: Well. You’re catching the early flight to Tahoe. But I’m going to make you scream my name so loud in Tahoe, once I get there, they’ll hear you back in Mexico.

The game ends in a roar of cheers, the crowd on their feet as Griffin trots off the field, helmet in hand, his jersey clinging to him from the sweat and effort.

I should be focused on the final score, the victory celebration spilling out around us, but all I can think about is his text.

"I’m going to make you scream my name so loud in Tahoe, they’ll hear you back in Mexico."

My cheeks flush again, the words replaying in my mind as I try not to squirm in my seat.

Cassie’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

“What is happening right now?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at the TV screen in front of us.

I follow her gaze. On the broadcast, Griffin is surrounded by reporters, his cocky smirk practically daring them to keep pushing.

“Griffin, you seemed extra confident tonight. Who did you text after that touchdown?” one of the reporters asks, shoving a mic in his face.

Griffin doesn’t hesitate. He leans in, his grin widening as he replies, “My lady.”

The reporter laughs, clearly fishing for more. “Oh? Just one lady? Do you have more than one?”

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