Page 6 of The Rookie

She glares at me. “Yes, seriously. Don’t make me regret this.”

I suppress a grin and hold out my hand. “By all means, Princess. First base achieved.”

She grabs my hand so fast I barely have time to react. Her grip is tight—way tighter than it needs to be—but I don’t say anything. I just let her hold on.

“This doesn’t count as first base,” she mutters under her breath.

“Oh, it absolutely does,” I say, leaning back in my seat. “If Cassie finds out, she’s never letting you live this down.”

She groans, rolling her eyes. “For the record, I still hate you.”

“Sure you do,” I reply, smirking.

Her grip loosens just slightly, and she finally looks at me. “I have a boyfriend,” she says, her voice firm.

“If he’s so serious, why hasn’t he married you yet?”

She shakes her head. “It’s been three months, Griffin. We’re just getting started. And this?” She shakes our joined hands. “This is not a thing. It will never be a thing. Ever. For a million reasons.”

“Name one. Is one of them that you’re not attracted to me?”

Her face reddens.

“Youare.”

“I amnot,” she squeaks. But I don’t believe her. “Fine. Here’s a reason. For starters, you’re you.”

“I’m me?”

“Yes andmean. I don’t date mean. I date kind.”

I chuckle, ignoring the pang of annoyance in my chest. She’s good at that—knocking me down just when I think I’m getting somewhere.

“Ouch. I’mme.That is true. Well, fine. You got me there. I’ll be nice.”

“Maybe if you just didn’t say anything,thatwould be nice.”

Staring at her I make a move like I’m zipping my mouth shut, locking it and throwing away the key. She rolls her eyes, but there’s just enough of a hint of a smile for me to believe I’m getting through to her.

Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

After all, Avery has always shut down my advances, sometimes with the force of a door slamming in my face.

Like that time at my sister’s birthday pool party when I was eighteen, and Avery wore thatabsolutely illegalpolka dot bikini. Let’s just say I’d always been into her personality, but that was the year I finally started noticingcurves. I had it all planned—timed my casual stroll to the bathroom just perfectly so I’dhappento cross paths with her on the screened-in back porch. She was grabbing a drink. I wasgrabbing destiny.

And what did I say? Smooth. Suave. A line so devastatingly charming it should’ve landed me straight into rom-com history.

"You look like you could use some sunscreen. I volunteer as tribute."

To which she replied, deadpan, without even looking up,"You look like you could use a personality transplant."

I cleared my throat.“Okay, counteroffer—what if I just take my shirt off? You know, for safety.”

She finally looked up."What if you just take yourself off this porch?"

Crushed. Humiliated. Sunburned, because I actuallydidneed sunscreen (once I took my shirt off) and was too proud to go back inside and get it.

I was burned that afternoon. In multiple ways. The sun eventually forgave me. Avery, however, did not forget my feeble attempt at flirting.

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