Chapter 35
thirty-five
. . .
Griffin
The hotel lobby is bustling, but the second Cassie walks in, all wide smiles and energy, she’s impossible to miss.
Avery stands next to me, her arms crossed, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else right now.
Cassie spots us immediately, her face lighting up as she waves. "There you two are!"
Avery forces a smile, stepping forward. "Hey, Cass!"
They hug, and I keep my distance, leaning back on the wall, hands in my pockets.
Cassie pulls back, glancing between the two of us. "So… you guys are still alive. Shocking."
I smirk. "It was tough, but we managed."
Avery shoots me a look, her lips twitching like she’s fighting a laugh.
Cassie waves off the tension. "Well, I booked a room—last minute deal, can you believe it? Anyway, Avery, if you want, you can crash with me for the last night."
Avery hesitates for half a second, her gaze flicking toward me.
I don’t say a word.
Because what am I supposed to say?
No, stay with me? Don’t leave me alone in that empty room where everything smells like you, feels like you?
Well, I guess we really did leave everything behind in that old room…
Avery finally nods, her voice a little too casual. "Sure. That sounds great."
Cassie blinks. “I still don’t understand how you two were rooming together.”
Avery laughs, awkward. "Yeah, long story. Program cuts I guess.”
Cassie raises an eyebrow. "How did you not kill each other?"
"It was a close call," I say, deadpan. "But we managed."
Cassie shakes her head, laughing. "I don’t know how you do it, Avery."
Neither do I.
Back in the room, Avery’s stuff is scattered everywhere—clothes draped over chairs, shoes in random corners, her journal still sitting on the nightstand.
We start packing in silence, the air between us thick and heavy, like neither of us wants to address the obvious.
That this is it.
I grab her journal, running my thumb along the edge of it, flipping through the pages absentmindedly.
I stop on one of the entries—the one I’d read earlier this week. The one about her fantasies.
The real Avery.
Not the version she shows the world.
The version who dreams big, who wants everything, who lets herself believe—at least on paper—that she can have it all.
I close the journal and hand it to her, my fingers brushing hers.
She freezes, her eyes flicking up to mine.
"You should keep writing," I say softly.
She swallows, her voice quiet. "You think so?"
"I know so." I step back, clearing my throat, forcing a smirk. "Who else am I gonna borrow inspiration from?"
Her lips twitch, her eyes flicking down to the journal, then back to me. "Thanks, Knox."
And that’s it.
But it doesn’t feel like enough.
Not when I know this is the last time I’ll see her like this—unguarded, unfiltered, mine.
When we finish moving her stuff to Cassie’s room, Avery leans against the doorframe, watching as Cassie digs through her bag.
"So," Cassie says, her voice muffled. "What’s the plan for tonight? Drinks? Dancing? Something fun?"
She glances at both of us, oblivious to the tension.
Avery forces a smile. "Sure, Cass. That sounds great."
I nod, my jaw tight. "Whatever you want."
Cassie grins. "Perfect! Let’s meet in the lobby in an hour. I “just need to freshen up after that flight.”
Avery looks at me, her expression carefully blank, but her eyes give her away.
I see the same thing I’m feeling.
Regret.
Desperation.
That aching, impossible thing that’s been building between us all week.
But I just nod, forcing a grin.
"See you then, Sinclair."
And I walk away, and sit on top of the bed, in my big, empty room.
Damn.
The rooftop bar at Cantina Roja is straight out of a postcard.
The open-air terrace is strung with soft, golden lights, and the faint sound of a Spanish guitar floats from the corner where a musician strums lazily.
The view? Unreal.
From here, you can see the ocean stretching out endlessly, the sky fading into deep hues of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.
It’s beautiful.
And I can’t focus on a damn thing.
Not when Avery’s sitting across from me, looking like she owns the damn sunset in her strappy black dress, her hair loose around her shoulders.
Cassie’s to my right, chattering away, waving her mojito like she’s about to give a toast.
And me?
I’m nursing my drink, pretending the tequila isn’t making the knot in my chest even worse.
"So," Cassie says, propping her chin on her hand. "Tell me everything. How was the trip?"
Avery and I glance at each other—a quick, fleeting look—and then immediately look away.
"Fine," I say shortly, taking a long sip of my mojito.
Avery clears her throat. "Good. It was…good."
Cassie squints, glancing between us. "You guys are being weird. Did you kill each other or something? Like what am I missing?”
"Nope," Avery says quickly. "Still alive. Barely. But alive.”
"Shame," I mutter, earning a sharp look from her.
Cassie sighs, shaking her head. "I just wish you two could get along sometimes."
I smirk, leaning back in my chair. "Not gonna happen."
Avery mutters under her breath. "Trust me, I know."
Cassie throws up her hands. "God, you two are exhausting."
Cassie takes a long sip of her mojito, changing the subject. "Anyway, Avery, what’s the plan tomorrow? You’re flying out early, right?"
I freeze, my hand tightening around my glass.
Avery nods, her voice even. "Yeah. Flying straight to DC in the morning."
Cassie’s eyes widen. "Wait—why DC?"
Avery hesitates for half a second. "For the Fulbright interview."
Cassie’s jaw drops. "What? No way! The Spain one?"
Avery nods, smiling softly. "Yeah. Got to the first round of interviews.”
Cassie claps her hands, practically bouncing in her seat. "Oh my God, that’s amazing! I knew you’d do it!"
Avery shrugs, looking almost shy. "Thanks. I’m excited."
Excited.
She says it like she’s not about to leave.
Like she’s not about to go live her dream while I…
Well.
I take another long sip of my drink, swallowing hard.
Cassie leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Okay, but you have to tell me—what made you decide to finally apply? You’ve been talking about this for years, and I didn’t think you were going to."
Avery glances at me.
It’s brief. Barely anything.
But it’s enough.
She clears her throat, looking back at Cassie.
"I just decided to follow my dreams," she says simply. "If you have a dream, it’s there for a reason. So…why not go after it?"
The words hit me like a fucking freight train.
Because she’s right.
And it’s going to take her far away from me.
Cassie sighs, shaking her head. "Damn. You’re inspiring me right now, Aves."
Avery just smiles, her fingers playing with the edge of her glass.
I watch her.
Quiet.
Trying not to let it show how much those words messed me up
I drain the last of my mojito, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary.
"Be right back," I say, standing abruptly.
Cassie blinks. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just hitting the bathroom."
I step away before either of them can say anything else, heading for the far end of the terrace, trying to breathe past the tightness in my chest.
Because it’s hitting me now.
Hard.
She’s leaving.
And no matter how much I want to stop her?—
I can’t.
The hallway outside the bathroom is quiet, the noise from the rooftop bar muffled, though I can still hear the faint strumming of the guitarist in the background.
I lean back against the wall, my hands shoved into my pockets, my mind racing with everything I don’t want to think about.
Then—I hear her footsteps.
I glance up as Avery rounds the corner, her face unreadable, her arms crossed loosely in front of her.
"What’re you doing over here?" she asks, her voice light but curious.
"Waiting for the bathroom," I reply, shrugging.
She tilts her head, watching me for a beat too long. Then—she steps closer.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks softly.
I hesitate.
And then, because why the hell not—I tell her the truth.
"Safe words."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "What about them?"
I smirk, my voice dropping. "I know yours."
She blinks, surprised, but then she laughs softly, shaking her head. "You know," she says after a moment, her voice quieter, almost thoughtful. “This might sound corny. I’ve never felt as safe as I do with you. Did.”
My chest tightens. Did.
We’re a past tense thing now.
"I just wish…" She hesitates, biting her lip. "I guess I wish we had more time."
"I don’t think we’d ever have enough time," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
She lets out a breathy laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Stop being all mushy. We both knew what this was temporary.”
"Yeah, I know," I say, forcing a smirk. "I’m just kidding. You know I’m happy for you."
She studies me for a long moment, her gaze softer now. "It’s been a hell of a trip."
I nod, my jaw tightening. "Sure has. But I bet Spain will be fun, too."
She shrugs, almost nervously. "I haven’t even secured the position yet. I don’t want to count my chickens before they’re hatched."
I shake my head, stepping closer, my voice firm. "And that’s the difference between you and me, Sinclair."
Her eyes narrow slightly, curious. "What’s that, exactly?"
"When I want something, I see it as mine. And nothing will stand in my way."
Her breath catches, just barely.
I lower my voice, keeping my gaze locked on hers. "And for you? I know you’ll get the position. They’d be stupid not to take you."
She swallows, her lips parting slightly, her voice almost a whisper. "You really believe that?”
"Yes. And you better, too. Because you’re fucking awesome."
She smiles then—a real, genuine smile—and it hits me right in the chest.
"It was fun," she says softly.
"Yeah," I murmur. "It was." It. Whatever it was. I still haven’t quite figured that out.
She leans in, her breath brushing against my ear, her voice a low, teasing whisper.
"And just so you know…I’m still green leaves with you…if we meet again some day. If I go red roses, I’ll let you know."
The words hit me like a truck, but before I can even process them—before I can ask her what the hell she means by that?—
"Everything okay, you two?" Cassie’s voice cuts through the moment, and we both turn to see her walking toward us, her brows furrowed in confusion.
Avery straightens instantly, her face going blank. "Yeah. Everything’s fine."
"Just waiting for the bathroom," I add, forcing a grin.
Cassie points toward the door. "Looks like it’s open now."
I nod, clearing my throat. "Right. Heading in. Now."
As I step away, I glance back at Avery one more time.
She’s watching me, her expression unreadable, her lips still curved in that knowing little smirk—the one that’s been haunting me all week, the one that dares me to say the things I’m too much of a coward to say out loud.
Her eyes catch mine for just a moment, and I feel something shift in my chest.
Something dangerous.
Something I’ve been trying to ignore.
But as I step into the bathroom and let the door close behind me, the truth settles in, heavy and inescapable.
I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting her.
Not tomorrow when she leaves for DC.
Not next month when she’s halfway across the world.
Not ever.
When I get back to the table, the energy is brighter, lighter—at least for them. Cassie is grinning, waving down the server, and Avery is laughing softly at something she said.
I slide into my seat, trying to ignore the way my chest tightens when Avery glances at me, her eyes catching mine for just a second too long.
"Perfect timing, little brother," Cassie says, holding up three shot glasses as the server sets down a bottle of top-shelf tequila. "We’re doing a toast."
I raise an eyebrow, leaning back in my chair. "A toast to what?"
Cassie rolls her eyes. "To Avery’s future, obviously. You know, because she’s amazing and going to crush her Fulbright interview."
Avery groans, covering her face. "Cass, stop."
"What? It’s true." Cassie shoves a shot glass toward me, her eyes sparkling. "Right, Griffin?"
I glance at Avery, watching as she fiddles with the edge of her napkin, her cheeks faintly pink.
"Right," I say quietly, picking up the glass. "To Avery."
Avery’s head snaps up, her eyes meeting mine, something unspoken passing between us.
Cassie lifts her glass, oblivious to the tension. "To Avery’s future!"
We clink glasses, the sound sharp against the buzz of the rooftop bar.
Avery throws back her shot like a pro, her throat working as she swallows, and I can’t help but stare.
I follow suit, the tequila burning its way down, warm and sharp.
Avery exhales, setting her glass down with a soft clink. "Thanks, guys."
"Don’t thank us yet," Cassie says, grinning. "We’re just getting started. Right, Griffin?"
I smirk, leaning back in my chair, the heat from the tequila mingling with the heat of her gaze still lingering on mine.
"Oh, we’re just getting started," I murmur, my eyes never leaving Avery’s.
When I get back to my room, buzzed as hell, the emptiness hits me like a punch to the gut.
The bed is untouched, the air is still, and for the first time all week, there’s no trace of Avery.
No quiet hum of her voice, no scent of her perfume, no stolen glances or soft touches or teasing smirks.
Just silence.
I drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the fan spinning lazily above me.
And I can’t sleep.
No matter how much I try to shut it all off—her laugh, her smile, the way she made me feel like I could be more than just the cocky asshole everyone expects me to be—it’s all I can think about.
Talented as I am at football, and as cocky as I can be, I know one thing for damn sure:
I might not be the smartest fucking guy in the world, but I know what I want out of this life.
And that is Avery fucking Sinclair.
Even if I have to play the long game.
Even if it means waiting.
Even if it means watching her live her dreams from afar, cheering her on from the sidelines.
Because she’s worth it.
Every frustrating, infuriating, impossible second of her.
And as I close my eyes, finally giving into the weight of it all, I make a silent promise to myself:
This isn’t the end.
Not for me.
Not for her.
Not for us.
And I might be insane. I might be delusional.
But I’d rather be both of those things then picture a life without her.