Page 4 of The Rookie

Griffin

One and a half years earlier:

Spring Break

The plane smells like peanuts and bad decisions. Or maybe that’s just me, because I’m heading to Mexico, baby.

Finally. My first spring break. I’ve always been the guy stuck grinding—training, practicing, eating grilled chicken and broccoli while everyone else was shotgunning beers on the beach like an MTV Spring break video. But not this year.

Thanks to my redshirt status this year, I convinced my coach that two weeks in Mexico for a Spanish immersion program wasessential for my cultural and personal development.As a bonus? I get half a Spanish credit.

So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Anyway, I’m shoving my duffel into the overhead bin, grinning like an idiot, when I hear a voice that wipes the grin right off my face.

“Oh. Not you. This is impossible.”

I turn, and there she is.

Avery Sinclair. My sister’s best friend and my personal arch-nemesis since I was around thirteen or so. Hazel eyes glaring, light brown hair twisted into that perfect bun, and a look that says she’d rather throw herself out of this plane than deal with me.

“Avery,” I say, leaning against the seatback with a slight smirk, hiding my sadistic joy at this encounter. “Fancy seeing you here.”

She sighs, already exasperated. “No.”

“No?”

“There’s no way I’m sitting anywhere in your general vicinity for five hours.”

“You think I’m thrilled about this?” I gesture at her boarding pass.“What are you, 22A?”

She looks at her ticket, then glares at me. “Of course it is.”

“I’m 22B.”

The coincidence is high, but not impossible. My older sister Cassie took this same trip last year and raved about it. Guess she talked us both into signing up, not realizing her two favorite people would end up trapped together.

“Relax,” I say, stepping aside so she can get to the window seat. “This’ll be fun.”

“For who?” she mutters, shoving her carry-on into place.

“For both of us,” I reply, grinning as I slide into my seat beside her. “You know you missed me.”

She shoots me a look that could curdle milk. “I haven’t missed you a day in my life.”

I laugh, leaning back and stretching out my legs. “Come on, Princess. Don’t be like that. What brings you to Mexico, anyway?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, pulling out a book.

God, I’ve always known how to get under her skin. Avery and I have never gotten along. Ever. She thinks I’m cocky; I thinkshe’s uptight. We’ve been clashing since the day Cassie brought her home from school to study for a math test. It’s been like this for years: she rolls her eyes at me, I push her buttons. We both act like the other person is unbearable.

But if I’m being honest? Avery Sinclair is utterly fascinating to me.

In fact, she’s a bit of an obsession of mine. It’s mostly in her eyes. The window to the soul. They’re big and hazel and have this wide open way of looking at the world.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I say after a beat.

She flips a page without looking up. “What question?”

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