Page 55 of The Rookie

Not at all.

Well I know one thing. I am never crossing that lineagain.

seventeen

. . .

Griffin

Spanish class is not going wellfor me today.

I’m supposed to be conjugating verbs and writing sentences about what I did yesterday, but it’simpossibleto concentrate when Avery Sinclair keeps stretching her arms over her head like that.

It’s not on purpose—I know that—but every time she shifts, twisting into her chair or brushing her hair back, I find myself looking.Waytoo much.

“Knox,” Dr. Peterson says, peering over her glasses. “Care to tell us what you’re working on?”

I snap my eyes back to my notebook, where I’ve written the same line four times:Yo jugo fútbol.

I clear my throat. “Football. I played football.”

“Good to know,” she deadpans. “But maybe tryjugué.Past tense.”

Avery stifles a laugh from the seat next to me, and I elbow her under the desk. “Shut up,” I mutter.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispers back, her voice sweet. “It’s just hard to watch the great Griffin Knox struggle. You’re usually soperfect.”

“Careful, Sinclair,” I whisper, smirking. “You’ll bruise my ego.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the way her lips twitch—she’s fighting a smile.

When class finally ends, I’m gathering up my stuff when Avery leans toward me. “You know, you should come to the yoga class this afternoon.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Yoga?”

“Yeah. It’ll help with your balance and flexibility. Youclearlyneed it.”

“Flexibility? I’m a Division One tight end, Sinclair. I bench press 350 pounds. I don’t need yoga.”

Avery grins, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Sure. You keep telling yourself that. But it’s a great workout, and I’d pay good money to see you try adownward dog.”

“Oh, so youdowant to see me in yoga pants,” I shoot back.

Her eyes narrow playfully. “Absolutely not.”

“But I get to seeyouin yoga pants?” I ask, my smirk widening. “Sold.”

She rolls her eyes, but I catch the little grin as she walks out ahead of me, and for a second, I wonder if I’m imagining things.

I should’ve listened to Avery when she warned me. But when do I ever listen?

Now, standing in the middle of the yoga studio in a tank top and athletic shorts, I’m starting to regret all my life choices.

The instructor, Luna, floats into the room like she’s walking on air, her linen pants billowing around her ankles. “Welcome, beautiful souls,” she says softly. “Today, we will journey into peace and unity.”

“Peace and unity,” Jake mutters under his breath. “Bro, you’re screwed.”

I grin. “Oh come on.”

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