Page 7 of The Rookie

After a few bumps, the turbulence settles, and slowly, she lets go of my hand. I flex my fingers, trying very hardnotto dwell on how soft her skin felt against mine. Or how, despite my many,many failed attempts, I still apparently have zero immunity to her.

“Thanks,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“No problem,” I reply, though my chest tightens at the way she won’t meet my eyes.

I let her hand go, and glance at her out of the corner of my eye, taking her in. I don’t know what it is about Avery. Maybe it’s the way she’s so sure of herself, even when she’s wrong. Or the way her hazel eyes flash when she’s annoyed—like she’s daring me to push her just a little further. Or maybe it’s the fact that, for as much as she acts like she hates me, there’s something about her that makes it impossible to look away.

It’s not just that she’s beautiful—though she is. It’s the way she carries herself. Like she’s got the world figured out, even when she doesn’t.

I lean back, sliding my hands into my lap as she stares straight ahead. She’s not looking at me anymore, but I can’t stop looking at her.

Avery has no idea the level of obsessed I’ve been with her since I first laid eyes on her.

And as much as I’ve done over the years to ignore her—to simply pretend she doesn’t exist—that’s going to be a whole lot harder in a small study abroad group.

Once we’ve landed, I hand Avery her luggage. She barely spares me a glance, but the look shedoesgive me says it all.

This trip is going to be pure torture.

two

. . .

Avery

This day is testing me.

The plane ride was bad enough—turbulence, cramped seats, and Griffin Knox being, well, Griffin Knox. And now? Now I’m standing in the lobby of this quaint little hotel, staring at Dr. Peterson like she’s just told me I’m being sentenced to two weeks of torture in Dante’s seventh circle of hell.

“You’re kidding,” I say, my voice calm but edged with panic. “No. I mean, this can’t be legal?”

Dr. Peterson looks up from her clipboard, giving me that overly bright teacher smile. “I’m afraid I’m not kidding, and yes it is quite legal. We had to double up on rooms, and?—”

“Withhim?” I cut her off, jabbing a finger in Griffin’s direction. He’s leaning against the front desk, flashing a grin at one of the staff like he’s auditioning forCharming Tourist of the Year.

“Yes,” she says, completely unfazed. “Avery, look. It’s just for two weeks. There are no more roommate pairs left, and the program doesn’t do singles. I had tobegthe dean just to keep it running as it is.” She leans in, lowering her voice. “And besides? You’re the only one I trust to keep him in check.”

“Keep him in check??” I scoff. “I don’twantto keep him in check. That’s not my job. I don’t even want to breathe the same air as him. Can I sleep, like, in a tent outside or something?”

Dr. Peterson leans in, dropping her voice like she’s about to share a state secret. “You have a boyfriend, right?”

“Yes,” I reply tightly.

“Exactly. So there’ll be no funny business. And honestly, you’re the only girl I know who can handle him.”

Handle him?Handle him?

I shoot another glare in Griffin’s direction. He’s gesturing wildly now, doing some sort of dance, and flashing that grin that probably works on 90% of the population but does absolutely nothing for me.

Yes. Adance.

“This is a nightmare,” I mutter.

“You’ll be fine,” Dr. Peterson says with the kind of optimism only people not sharing a room with Griffin Knox can have. She presses the keycard into my hand and moves on to the next group.

I stalk toward the elevator, keycard clutched like a weapon. Behind me, Griffin’s voice rings out, bright and obnoxious.

“Hey, roomie! Wait up!”

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