CHAPTER FIVE
GRANT
“ H ave you met Meredith and Kara’s friends?” Savannah asks as she comes up next to me, drink in hand. “Eden and Lina?”
I feel myself stiffen at the mention of Lina. Mainly because I’ve been turning myself inside out ever since the incident in the elevator on Wednesday, and I don’t know whether I should feel horrible about it or just let it go.
To be frank, that line would have worked on any other girl I’ve hooked up with.
They all would have been flattered by me thinking they’re the prettiest girl on campus, but Lina didn’t. She didn’t lean in, or give me the type of coy smile, or do any of the things I’ve gotten used to.
She just looked at me— really looked—and called me out like I was nothing more than a line in some washed-up frat boy’s playbook.
Something about her has stayed with me through it. The way her eyes flashed with that sarcastic humor. The way she didn’t let me get away with my stupid comment. There was something real about her—something captivating.
“Grant?” Savannah asks, nudging me. “Did you hear me?”
I shake the thoughts from my head. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve met them.”
“I didn’t get to talk to them much when I stopped by B’s suite, but they seemed nice. They said they were coming. Have you seen them?” Savannah tends to be a bit of a rambler. “I cannot get over how gorgeous Lina is, like, seriously. Have you seen her?”
Savannah has a way of uplifting everyone around her, despite knowing that nearly everyone is jealous of her. Normally, it would be endearing, but now I can’t help but sigh.
“Oh, he’s seen her, ” Braxton emphasizes, coming up behind us. “Haven’t you, Vandy?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh! Have you hooked up with her?” Savannah asks, her brows furrowing in confusion.
Savannah and I have a good system going, and while she wouldn’t be offended if I were to end our arrangement, she prefers to be in the know. And she knows I’m aware of this fact.
“No, but trust me, Sav, he thinks she’s pretty too.” Then he leans closer to whisper, “ Too pretty , right, Grant?”
Braxton’s teasing is relentless, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.
I lazily punch him in the arm before shoving him backward. Though, I really can’t fault him for stating the truth. “Drop it, man.”
Savannah glances between the two of us, the same confused expression painting her gorgeous face. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?”
Letting out an audible groan, my hand comes down on the counter harder than I intended, making a loud smack sound.
“He was trying to flirt with her in the elevator and told her she was ‘ too pretty to go to Yale,’ ” Braxton tells her, using finger quotations.
“That’s not?—”
Savannah audibly gasps, looking at me in complete horror before smacking me in the chest. “Grant! Why would you say something like that?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I snap, trying to defend myself.
“Big man on campus doesn’t know how to flirt with girls when all they do is throw themselves at him.”
“Thanks for the input.” I give him an annoyed look.
“I can’t believe you said that!” Savannah says. “Did you at least explain to her what kind of idiot you are?”
“I tried, but she ran off.”
“Well.” She nudges me suggestively, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be here tonight. Maybe you can clear some things up.”
Most would assume that Savannah would be offended by this conversation, given our long hookup history, but the truth is, she always knows more than she should and keeps quiet when it counts.
We’ve been hooking up on and off since freshman year with no strings and no drama. Just two friends who enjoy each other’s company when it’s convenient, but neither of us are looking for anything more.
Now, it’s a lot different. Sure, there has always been a bit of attention on us because of me playing football and Savannah coming from one of the most notorious families in all of New York, but there have been eyes constantly on us since Savannah’s fashion column really blew up earlier this year.
The two of us have been in Notes of New Haven nearly every week since.
But Savannah has even made it clear that even though she hopes I find someone eventually, that person will not be her. She just thinks I’d be a good boyfriend—if I’d ever let myself be.
I let out a long breath. “Probably not, Sav. I think I’ve landed myself in the forever-douchebag category.”
“You never know.”
I’m desperate for a change in conversation, and thankfully, Savannah’s friend, Delaney, approaches at the perfect moment.
Delaney somehow makes Savannah less intimidating—mostly because she is even more intimidating herself.
Also because Savannah’s edge isn’t who she really is; it’s more of a defense mechanism.
She only feels the need to be “intimidating” because she assumes a lot of girls judge her for hooking up with me, chalking it up to jealousy or resentment.
Acting unapproachable to the people who don’t even attempt to get to know her is her way of making sure she doesn’t get walked all over.
In reality, Savannah is one of the nicest, most confident girls I know, and everyone who has taken the chance to talk to her would say the same thing. She doesn’t actually care how people perceive her and my relationship—even if it means letting people think the worst of her.
“Where’s Kenzie?” I ask, realizing how weird it is to see only two of them without the third.
Delaney lifts a shoulder. “Probably flirting with the DJ.”
Savannah grins. “Or convincing him to play Taylor Swift. Both are viable options.”
I nod without saying anything else, more distracted than I’m trying to let on as I glance toward the hallway, where the music is quieter, and then toward the front door.
“She’s coming,” Braxton adds, and I stop. Only for a split second, but he sees it. Of course he does.
“Who?” I keep my voice flat.
“You know who.” He smirks, proud of himself. “Meredith texted, saying she’s coming with her.”
If Meredith’s texting him, it’s a tell-tale sign he will not be going to bed with the girl next to him tonight. Their relationship might be complicated and make zero sense, but I do know that much.
I glance between them, trying to act indifferent, but my fingers tighten around my cup.
“Don’t be weird,” Savannah warns, eyes flicking toward me.
“I’m not being weird,” I lie.
It’s hard not to be when all I’m thinking about is how conflicted I feel. It’s not like I want anything with Lina. I don’t want anything with anyone.
I’ve already made peace with the fact that I’m not built for relationships. Not the real kind, or the kind that lasts. I’ve seen what happens when people try to love through the cracks—they end up getting cut.
Yet, there’s this nagging voice in my brain, pulling me toward her. It’s a magnetic pull that I can’t stray away from.
Braxton looks at me funny. “Damn. You’re weird when you actually like someone.”
“I don’t—” I start but cut myself off. There’s no point. They’re already looking at me like I’m a lost cause.
I’m not sure what would constitute actually liking someone, especially considering I barely know anything about Lina, but I know the unsteadiness I feel around her isn’t something I can simply ignore.
I can’t ignore her, and that’s the bottom line. No matter how much simpler I believe it would make things.
Then Savannah leans in, voice light but knowing. “Maybe don’t lead with the Yale line this time.” Then, she turns back to Delaney.
Another moment passes, and my grip on the Solo Cup in my hand grows tighter.
“And look who it is,” Braxton whistles under his breath.
Savannah’s next to spot them, cutting off her conversation with Delaney to nudge me. “She’s here,” she says under her breath, then sips from her red cup like she didn’t just drop a bomb.
She leans in slightly, enough that I catch the faintest trace of her perfume, and gives me a look I can’t quite read. “Try not to make it obvious.”
“Noted,” I mutter, already looking past her.
Lina steps through the door like she owns the place, but not in the way girls usually do at these things, dressed like they’re hoping to catch attention. Lina doesn’t try. She doesn’t have to.
Dark jeans and a fitted long sleeve, with her hair up. And somehow, it’s enough to shut the room up.
She shouldn’t get to do this.
Walk in with that just- low-enough V-neck and subtle makeup, and manage to throw the whole room off its axis. She’s supposed to be just another girl at a party I’ll forget by morning, but she’s not. And that’s the damn problem.
I continue to stare as Cam, one of the newer linebackers, offers Lina a drink. He’s only become a friend of ours this semester because he now lives with Braxton and me, but somehow, he fits like he’s always belonged. Kind, steady, and a little too trusting for this crowd.
He and Braxton are a lot alike, whereas I’m the more sulky roommate. It’s something they never fail to remind me of.
Lina glances around, likely realizing all her friends are nowhere to be seen. Drink in hand, she sits on the edge of the steps that lead upstairs. She doesn’t look at me right away, or toss her hair, or bite her lip, or do any of the things I’m used to.
She just… exists.
Braxton slaps my shoulder. “Good luck,” he mutters, the smirk still plastered on his face. I barely hear it. I’m too distracted by the knot in my stomach—the urge to either leave or get closer.
He’s such an asshole. With his boy-next-door charm and infuriatingly optimistic personality.
I move toward her without thinking much. It’s stupid for me to even bother, but it’s too late to turn back now.
She spots me right before I reach her. Her lips twitch, like she’s fighting some kind of smile—or a grimace. I can’t really tell, but it doesn’t matter.
“Is this the part where you tell me I’m too pretty to be at a Yale party?” she chides, looking up at me with an unimpressed expression from where she sits.