Page 97 of The Rookie

The music, the night air, him.

I’m feeling all jumbled up now.

Who is this man?

Who fucks me like a porn star, as avirgin?

Who makes me laugh like it’s the easiest thing in the world?

Who sees through me better than I see myself?

I take another sip, letting the tequila burn down my throat, trying to settle my thoughts.

Griffin just sits back, stretching his arms behind his head, watching me.

There’s no pressure. No expectation.

Just him, being stupidly, frustratingly, effortlessly Griffin.

And that’s when I make my decision.

I stand abruptly, heading back inside. “Be right back.”

He doesn’t ask where I’m going. Doesn’t stop me.

I grab my laptop from the bedside table, sit cross-legged on the bed, and pull up the Fulbright application.

A moment later, I hear footsteps.

Griffin leans against the doorway, smirking. "Damn. That was fast."

I glance up at him, a small, wobbly smile tugging at my lips.

“Yeah, well. I figured it was about time I stopped half-assing things too.”

Griffin’s smirk softens into something else. Something real.

He walks forward, sits down on the edge of the bed, eyes still locked on me.

“Good girl.”

And God help me—it shouldn’t make me shiver.

But it absolutely does.

I roll my eyes. “Fine. You motivated me. You happy?”

He moves behind me, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to my bare shoulder, his voice warm and teasing.

"I knew you couldn’t resist a challenge."

I ignore him, type out final answers to the questions I’ve been procrastinating, review them, and—without thinking too hard—hit submit.

The second it’s done, I sit back, staring at the screen like I can’t believe I actually did it.

Griffin reaches over, tilts my chin toward him, and grins.

"Now that’s something worth celebrating."

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