Page 99 of The Rookie

The loud knock echoes through the room, shattering the moment like a crack of thunder.

Griffin groans dramatically, throwing himself back onto the pillows. “You have got to be kidding me. Who the hell is that?”

The knock comes again, harder this time, followed by a voice that makes my stomach twist.

“Avery? Are you in there?”

My blood runs cold. Griffin stiffens beside me, his playful expression hardening into something sharper, more dangerous. “Who the fuck is that?” he asks, his voice low.

“It’s… Gavin,” I whisper, barely able to say the name.

His brows draw together. “Gavin? As in your boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I snap, shoving myself upright and clutching the sheet to my chest. My heart is racing, panic and disbelief warring inside me. “What the hell is he doing here? I told him we were done. And he… came all the way to Mexico?”

Griffin’s lips curl into a slow, dangerous smirk. “Guess he didn’t get the memo.”

“That’s just creepy. Like…who does that? We dated for threemonths.”

The knock sounds again, louder this time, and I’m up, pacing in frantic circles. “I don’t want to see him,” I whisper.

Griffin watches me, the tension simmering in his body offset by the maddeningly cocky grin spreading across his face. “Relax, Sinclair. I’ll handle it.”

“Handle it? No, absolutely not!” I hiss, spinning to face him. “You are not answering that door. Just let him go. He could be a psycho.”

“Why not?” he asks, still lounging in bed like he hasn’t got a care in the world.

“Because you’re naked, Griffin!” I snap, waving my arms in exasperation.

He glances down at himself, then shrugs. “I’ve got a towel on.”

“Griffin, I’m serious!” My voice rises in pitch as I clutch the sheet tighter. “This is not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” he counters, standing and stretching leisurely, completely unfazed. “I mean, the guy flies all the way down here to win you back, and the first thing he sees is me.”

“Naked.”

“No.” His grin sharpens. “In a towel.”

“Griffin, don’t you dare—” But before I can stop him, he strides toward the door, all six feet plus of him, gloriously naked and entirely unapologetic.

He yanks the door open, and I want to die right there on the spot.

Gavin’s jaw clenches so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. His eyes dart between me—wrapped in nothing but a sheet—and Griffin, standing there in a damn towel, dripping wet, completely at ease.

His nostrils flare. “What the hell is going on here?”

Griffin leans against the doorframe, stretching his arms overhead in a way that’s completely unnecessary and definitely for show.

"You must be Gavin," he says, his tone dripping with mock politeness. "Welcome to the party."

I groan internally, gripping the sheet tighter around myself.

"Griffin." My voice is a warning.

But he just grins, unbothered as ever, and turns back to Gavin like I never spoke. "So, tell me, man. You flew all the way here—big romantic gesture, gotta respect it. What’s your play?”

Gavin’s face twists, his jaw ticking harder, like he’s forcing himself to hold back. “That’s none of your business.”

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