Page 3 of The Rookie

I’ve done my best to forget that Avery even existed, and that strategy was working perfectly until this phone call.

“She’s amazing,” Cassie says firmly. “And she’s perfect for this job. Why are you being such a stick in the mud?”

“Cass—”

“I’m not done,” she interrupts. “She’s smart, she’s hardworking, and she knows social media like the back of her hand. And considering you’re living in a penthouse by yourself, maybe you should offer to let her crash with you until she finds her own place.”

I bite my lower lip. She missed a few of my favorite qualities about Avery—including her eyes, smile, laugh, penchant forplanning, and last but definitely not least how hot she looks naked on her back, but I’m not about to correct my sister.

“No. I’m sure she’ll find a good gig somewhere.”

Somewhere far, far away from me.

“Why not? Why can’t you just help out a friend,Griffin? Like I thought this would be an easy conversation.”

I sigh, staring out at the skyline. “Because I don’t want to deal with her.”

Cassie groans. “Oh, come on, Griffin. She’s not that bad.”

“She is when she’s around me,” I mutter, grasping for any excuse. I’ve carved out my own life here, and there is no way I am letting my season get derailed.

“She literally would be amazing at that job, and you know it. So just call her. You’re a superstar. You have sway.”

I clear my throat. “I’m just a rookie, Cass.”

“You’re way more thanjusta rookie. You’re a highly touted first round draft pick. Who—knock on wood—is delivering!”

I shake my head, already regretting this conversation. “Fine. I’llthinkabout it.”

“Good. I’ll tell her you’ll call. And that you’ve recommended her for that marketing position.”

“Don’t—Cassie!”

She hangs up before I can argue, and I stare at my phone, feeling my night take a sharp turn.

Avery Sinclair. My sister’s best friend. The girl I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since that damn trip to Mexico.

I head back inside, the warmth and noise of the party hitting me like a wall.

“How’s Big Sis?” Peyton asks, a knowing grin on his face.

“Fantastic,” I reply, sliding into my seat.

One of the other players, TJ, joins the conversation. “You tell her I say hi?”

I shake my head. “Not in the mood, Peyton.”

“You alright?” Brielle asks, tilting her head, her perfect curls catching the low light.

I wave down a server. “Another tequila,” I say, brushing her question aside.

The hot Texas breeze sweeps through the open door behind me, and suddenly—maybe it’s the smell of tequila and lime—but I’m brought back to the time about a year and a half ago where Avery Sinclair and I…became more than friends.

Waymore.

one

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