Page 63 of The Rookie

“Well, we know you’reobviouslylying, Sinclair,” he says, pushing his chair back and standing up. “Let’s dance.”

“Absolutely not,” I say immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he teases. “Afraid I’ll show you up this time?”

“I haven’t had enough drinks to dance. And you don’t even know how to salsa.”

“Oh, I know enough.”

Kayla snickers beside me. “Avery, come on. You can’t let him win this.”

I shoot her a glare. “You’re not helping.”

She just grins, nudging my arm. “Live a little.”

I groan, knowing I’ve been cornered. Griffin’s already holding his hand out, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Fine,” I mutter, grabbing his hand. “But if you drop me, I swear?—”

“Relax, Sinclair,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “I’ve got you.”

I brace myself for disaster as we step onto the crowded floor, but to my shock, Griffindoesn’ttrip over his own feet. In fact, he’s good. Really good. His hand settles firmly on my waist, and he moves us into the rhythm like it’s second nature.

“Okay,” I say, breathless as he spins me under his arm. “Where didthiscome from?”

He grins, guiding me effortlessly back to him. “You’re not the only one with moves, Sinclair. As I’ve proven multiple times now.”

I hate how close we are—how warm his hand feels on my waist, how his black V-neck fits just a littletoo well.My heart’s pounding, and it has nothing to do with the music.

“Don’t get cocky,” I say, forcing myself to sound unaffected. “I’m still the better dancer.”

“I’m not cocky. I just think you’re blocking yourself from something you want…for no reason at all. Well. Notnoreason.” He says, his voice dropping just enough to send a tingle up my spine.

He dips me suddenly, his grip strong as he holds me there, our faces just inches apart. I gasp, my heart hammering as I meet his gaze. For a second, the noise and lights blur into nothing.

Then he pulls me back up with a grin, and the moment shatters.

“What am I blocking myself from, exactly?” I ask, hoping to God I’m not blushing.

“You really want to play dumb? Okay. Well, let’s play a little game of ‘What if.’ Let’s pretend I’m not Cassie’s brother. Let’s pretend I’m just another nobody to you. Just your roommate for the trip.”

“But youareher brother, Griffin. And that’s a line I don’t want to cross.”

Despite the fact that we already crossed it.

But somehow, I feel like a club makeup is forgivable.

Okay, two makeouts. But give it a few months, and that’s something we could laugh about years from now at my wedding. At his wedding. At Cassie’s wedding.

All separate occasions.

He presses his cheek to mine, and whispers in my ear. “You think I don’t remember you describing your ultimate ‘friends with bens’ scenario? You act like you weren’t just toying with me. I can see how you gauge my reaction. Not just to that, but to everything you do. The clothes. Avery…you’re driving me insane. And you know what I think? I think you like it. You like the attention. So, fine. Guess what? I like giving it to you. Because I have a big, fat, hate crush on you.”

I try to swallow down the nerves pooling in my stomach. The room feels warmer, the heat rolling off Griffin’s body seeping into mine. The low hum of music vibrates through the floor beneath my feet, but it’s distant, barely registering over the sound of my own heartbeat.

He pulls me out for a spin, his grip firm but effortless, and then brings me back, his mouth at my ear again. His breath is warm, carrying the faint scent of whiskey and something darker—something him. It’s intoxicating.

“You really think I haven’t had this crush on you for years?” His voice is husky, thick with something that sends a shiver down my spine. “Avery, if you don’t want me, I need you to make it very, very clear tonight. Because you’re making it harder and harder to keep the boundary that you want.”

I should say something. Push him away. Set the boundary he’s talking about.