CHAPTER FOUR
LINA
“ I look horrible in navy,” Eden groans as she exits her bedroom, throwing her hands up and letting them slam back down at her sides.
As a girl who wears a variation of nearly the same outfit every day, I don’t think I’m the best person to be helping anyone choose outfits. Especially when Eden, Meredith, Kara, and I all have such different styles.
I am more often than not wearing sweats, and in the instances I’m not, my fashion sense is highly influenced by my mother. Low-rise jeans, long sleeves with lace embellishments, and off-the-shoulder tops.
Eden is almost never seen wearing anything other than pink and red, which complement her red hair beautifully. With an array of mini-skirts and bows in her hair, she’s what I would consider Valentine’s Day personified.
Meredith is the opposite. She sticks to neutrals. Loves baggy clothing. Often has multiple layers, whether it’s a cardigan or zip-up.
And then there’s Kara.
Most people would assume because she’s a model and grew up in New York that she would dress much fancier than she does, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
She walks a runway like it’s nobody’s business, dressed head to toe in some of the most expensive, chic clothing I’ve ever seen.
Yet, day to day, she’s usually in jeans.
“Surely you should have thought about the school’s color palette before attending,” Meredith sarcastically replies.
The football game is still hours away, and yet, as the rest of us have gone about our mornings, we’ve been interrupted every few minutes by Eden storming into the living room, each time in a new Yale-themed outfit.
“Well, none of the Ivy League’s school colors are pink, or else that would have been my obvious choice,” she retorts.
“Eden.” I exhale, pulling my bread from the toaster while Meredith slides me the tub of butter. “You look fine in navy.”
“And the football game isn’t for another five hours,” Kara adds from where she’s stretching out on the living room floor.
I’m not sure if what she's doing is considered yoga, but I’ll give it to her.
“Nobody is really going to be paying that much attention to your outfit for it to garner five hours of your time.”
“Says you, Miss. “Supermodel,” Eden says with an edge to her tone that we don’t hear often. “Did Prada send you something to wear to the game? Or how about Chanel?”
It’s clearly teasing, and I’m far too entertained.
Kara raises a brow, unfazed. “Chanel’s waiting until next season.”
Eden groans again and flops onto the couch, her navy sweatshirt riding up slightly as she buries her face in a pillow. “I want to look good! The kind of good that would make an ex-boyfriend cry.”
“You don’t have any ex-boyfriends,” I remind her.
“Okay, well then I want the guys who I’ve hooked up with to see me from across the stands and remember me.”
“Set the bar a little higher next time, I beg of you,” Meredith deadpans.
“You guys are so unsupportive,” Eden mumbles into the heart-shaped pillow. One of the ones she clearly picked out
“You’ve changed outfits six times,” I say, setting my toast down beside my tea. “We’ve supported every single one.”
“And voted,” Kara adds, still in her half-pigeon stretch. “Democratically.”
Eden lifts her head enough to glare at us. “I liked the third one best.”
“I did too,” I say, walking over to sit beside her. “It was chill. Confident. You looked like you didn’t care at all.”
“Which means,” Kara chimes in, “you looked perfect for a football game—a place where outfits really don’t matter at all.”
“Again, you don’t really get to say outfits don’t matter when you quite literally make a living off of being a high-fashion supermodel.”
Kara doesn’t even blink. “Correction: I make a living off of other people’s care for the outfits I’m wearing. Totally different.”
Meredith snorts. “So humble of you.”
“I’m just saying,” Kara replies, “no one’s going to be looking at Eden when there are guys tackling each other in tight pants and helmets.”
I also hate that my mind immediately pictures Grant and how good he must look in his uniform—broad shoulders in pads, his jersey clinging to every muscle, with his helmet tucked under his arm.
I hate how easy it is for my brain to conjure the picture.
“Gee, thanks,” Eden mutters, but she’s smiling now.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “We still have plenty of time. You’ll figure it out.” It’s the most comfort I can provide.
“Wait.” Eden sits up, placing the throw pillow on her lap. “You know that vintage Yale sweater you wore freshman year?”
My entire body stills.
Of course I know what sweater she’s talking about.
I can still picture it folded on the chest at the foot of my mom’s bed. The way her favorite perfume still clings to the collar. I used to borrow it without asking. She let me take it to school when I left for Yale—said it deserved to be on a college campus again.
I wore it constantly the weeks following her death. Until I couldn’t anymore.
After a moment of Eden expectantly looking at me, I give her a stiff nod.
“Could I borrow that?”
“No.” I say it before I can even consider how it might hurt Eden’s feelings. A complete gut reaction.
“Oh…” Eden just stares at me, not knowing how to respond.
I don’t know what else to say either. The mention of my mom’s sweater landed in our apartment like a chopper on a helipad—too big for the space, too loud for this early in the morning.
Eden fidgets with the hem of her sleeve. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I know.” I offer her a half-smile, one that doesn’t quite reach.
She nods and looks away, like if she doesn’t meet my eyes, maybe she won’t see the truth sitting just behind them.
The last thing I want is for the girls to have to worry about constantly upsetting me. I want everything to go back to how it was before I took a year hiatus. It’s all I’ve been worried about.
Kara shifts on the floor, the sound of her yoga mat dragging across the hardwood the only thing breaking the silence. Meredith is typing something into her phone.
Anytime something heavy settles, it’s the equivalent of a pothole on a familiar road, and the four of us have an automatic instinct to swerve out of its way.
And just like that, we move on. Like we always do.
* * *
Eden finally figured out an outfit, and now that we are walking into the stadium, it’s one of the only things I can be grateful for.
If anyone were to ask what it is like to live with three of my best friends, I would say it’s like trying to share one brain with four people. The combined amount of knowledge is more useful than anything, but it’s also chaotic a good majority of the time.
Of course, it might not be as overwhelming for most, but considering I spent a year of my life living in solitude, there was no preparing myself for the disarray that is our apartment.
“Where are our seats?” Eden asks, bounding through the concourse.
She finally decided on a white, cropped t-shirt with the signature navy Y on the front that she found in Kara’s closet, a denim skirt, and white kitten heels, complete with a navy bow holding half of her hair back.
“We don’t have seats. We’re sitting in a suite,” Meredith says casually.
It has me stopping in my tracks. “What?”
Meredith points in the direction that says PRIVATE SUITE ENTRANCE .
Kara scoffs. “I seriously am going to need pointers. How do you get a man this obsessed with you?”
“And you’re not even dating him!” Eden exclaims, throwing her hands up as she spins to face Meredith.
“Enough,” Meredith snaps before turning in the opposite direction and waving for us to follow. “Come on, we’re going this way.”
She’s private about her relationship with Braxton, and right now, this is a peek behind the curtain of what it’s like for her to be with him.
“No, seriously. I need a spreadsheet or a slideshow or something,” Kara reiterates.
Meredith turns to her with a blank expression. “I think you’re perfectly content sticking to model boys.”
Kara’s calculated smirk is enough of a response in itself.
We walk through a few different corridors, where Meredith flashes her phone screen toward some employees, ensuring them we’re where we’re supposed to be.
It feels odd—coming to a game like this, where we don’t only have student section tickets. I don’t say anything about it, though. I keep following my friends until we’re at the doors of the suite, where Meredith scans a code on her phone.
“Enjoy the game.” The employee smiles brightly at us while he holds the door open.
Each of us nods in thanks, but we’re all collectively stunned into silence when we see the suite upon entering.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the field, giving us a perfect view of the players warming up. There’s sleek leather seating, a stocked fridge, and even a long counter lined with trays of food. It looks to be catered, not the typical stadium concession stand food.
Eden’s the first to speak. “Okay, this is… ridiculous.” She turns in a slow circle, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Meredith, never fazed, shrugs off her jacket and claims a seat like she’s done this a hundred times. “Perks.”
Even in moments like these, she maintains her unbothered composure.
“No kidding.” I laugh as I take a seat next to Eden.
“So… how long is this football game, exactly?” Eden asks, squinting up at the scoreboard.
The time begins ticking as the opposing team kicks off, giving us the ball.
“Haven’t you been to a football game before?”
She simply shrugs. “I never stayed the entire time.”
So, for almost the entirety of the first half, Kara and I take turns explaining the premise of football to Eden and whatever rules the two of us understand.
I like learning things and understanding rules, so for me, that’s almost all of them, but I stick to the basics for her benefit.