CHAPTER SEVEN
LINA
I wake up to sunlight stabbing through the blinds like it has a personal vendetta against me.
My head is pounding with drums and cymbals—the whole marching band all at once—while my mouth tastes vaguely of regret and whatever filled my red Solo Cup last night.
I blink a few times, trying to piece together where I am. My ceiling. My room. Thank God.
My shoes are off. My phone’s plugged in. There’s a bottle of water on my nightstand, next to my stack of Greek mythology books. I definitely didn’t put that there. I was way too far gone to have any helpful foresight.
Grant.
It hits me all at once. His steady arm around my waist last night.
His low voice and teasing as he carried me through the house and to his car.
The way he set me in the passenger seat of his car and brushed my hair off my face, his calloused hand rough against my skin while he laughed lightly at how much of a mess I was while I tried to act like I wasn’t seeing double.
I remember bits and pieces. Mostly how drunk I was and that I was still somehow able to give him shit the entire way back to my dorm. At least there’s that.
Sitting up slowly, I take in my surroundings while slowly reorienting myself to the brutal headache that woke me up.
The National Geographic posters that Kara and Meredith jokingly hung above my dresser allow me to easily recognize the room, along with all of my textbooks scattered on top of it.
My phone buzzes with a text right as there’s a knock at my bedroom door. I don’t get a chance to check it before I hear Eden’s voice.
“Lina?” she calls from the other side of the door, way too chipper for how early it is. “We’re doing Sal’s for breakfast. You’re coming. You owe me for leaving me to deal with Kara and the boys last night.”
“Sounded like you were a bit preoccupied with a boy of your own,” I call, still not getting out of bed.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She knocks on my door again. Louder this time. “Get up! Let’s go!”
I groan, dragging myself toward the door, wearing only a tank top and shorts. I have no idea how I got into these clothes. I’m choosing not to think about it because I’d rather not know if Grant has seen me fully naked.
“You’re the worst,” I tell her dramatically as I open the door.
“You say that, but here you are. Alive. Dignity slightly dented, but alive!” Her cheeriness is beginning to grate on me. “And you’re going to breakfast with us. If you guys are going to keep calling me the mom of the apartment, then I consider reviving your hungover asses my responsibility.”
“Let me put clothes on first.”
“Hurry up!” Eden pushes past me into the room, her ponytail swaying with the kind of pep all of my energy wouldn’t be able to conjure at the moment. “We have to pick up Mer from down the hall.”
I’m confused as I pull a sweatshirt over my head and sweatpants up over my shorts. “Meredith lives here.”
Eden doesn’t even pause as she heads out into the living room, throwing me a smirk over her shoulder. “Yeah, about that…”
I follow her out of our apartment and down the hall, just in time to see her raise her hand up to Braxton’s apartment door.
Oh.
Well. That’s interesting.
Not entirely unexpected, though.
She knocks once, then pushes the door open like she’s done it a hundred times before. I follow her through the apartment toward Braxton’s bedroom, where Eden knocks once again.
It’s my first time being in their apartment, but I don’t get a chance to look around or attempt to avoid which room could be Grant’s because I’m focused on Meredith when she opens Braxton’s bedroom door.
Her blonde hair is a tangled halo around her head, and Braxton’s hoodie is swallowing her whole.
Her expression goes flat the second she sees us.
“Oh, great,” she mutters, rubbing a hand over her face. “The peanut gallery’s here.”
Eden raises her brows. “Ready for breakfast?”
Meredith glances over her shoulder like she’s debating disappearing back into the room. “You couldn’t have texted?”
“You would’ve ignored it.”
She doesn’t deny the fact. “Where’s Kara?”
“New York,” Eden replies. “She had to leave early for a shoot. I don’t think Jack was happy about it.”
“Why?”
“I heard them bickering in the kitchen this morning before she left. It was the usual spiel about if she should be riding the train by herself this early in the morning when she’s barely slept.”
It’s a fair argument, but none of us would ever tell Kara that. She’d rip any rebuttal to shreds with some too-smart comment. Kara Carr doesn’t believe in being protected, only in being right.
From behind Meredith, Braxton appears with tousled blonde hair, warm eyes, and a shirtless torso, holding out her phone and shoes like it’s routine. “Don’t forget these.”
Their fingers brush when she takes them, and for half a second, neither of them moves.
“Thanks,” she murmurs.
He smiles, gentle and familiar. “Anytime.”
It’s not tense, not awkward. Just quiet. Like there’s a whole conversation happening between them that no one else was invited to.
Eden leans in and stage-whispers, “We’re still doing Sal’s. Lina needs eggs and several IVs of coffee.”
Meredith slips out into the hallway and tugs the hoodie tighter around herself. “Let me grab chapstick.”
“Grab some dignity while you’re at it,” Eden jokes.
Meredith flips her off over her shoulder without missing a beat. “Too late. Left it on his floor last night.”
Braxton snorts and disappears back into the room, but not before shooting Meredith one last glance that makes Eden and I exchange a look.
Yeah. Interesting doesn’t even begin to cover it.
Braxton returns with a sweatshirt and rests his shoulder against the doorframe, eyes following her for a beat before flicking to me. “You good?”
His voice is kind. Surprisingly kind, considering he probably saw Grant dragging me out of the house and into his car last night.
All I do is nod, offering a small smile.
“Thanks for helping with her,” Eden tells Braxton, vaguely motioning toward where Meredith has disappeared down the hall.
Braxton waves me off, a soft smile still lingering. “She’s always welcome here.”
He closes the door without another word.
Eden turns to me as we walk. “They’re impossible.”
“What even was that?” I ask, glancing back over my shoulder.
Eden puffs her cheeks, fond and exasperated. “They broke up when they still loved each other. Now they pretend they’ve moved on, but neither one really wants to let go. It’s like watching a rom-com where nobody gets to the airport in time.”
I hum. “That sounds exhausting.”
“Yup.” She grins. “But at least we’re getting breakfast!”
* * *
When we get to Sal’s Diner, I’m immediately impressed by the sheer number of people flooding almost all of the tables and booths.
“Is this a popular place?” I whisper to Eden as we follow one of the waitresses toward a booth in the back corner.
“I wouldn’t say it’s popular , but it’s frequented by the football team. We only found out about it once Meredith started dating Braxton.”
“Wait.” My head tilts in confusion. “This entire place is full of football players?”
Meredith looks around, scanning the booths full of guys before saying, “Yup.” Right as Eden says, “Pretty much.”
Eden slides into the booth, tugging her hoodie sleeves over her hands. “And they all eat like they haven’t seen food in a decade, so if you want anything carb-based, order fast.”
Meredith takes the outside seat next to her while I sit across from the two of them. “I wouldn’t be shocked if Braxton and his friends show up.”
“Obviously!” Eden exclaims. “His eyes lit up like the Fourth of July when we mentioned where we were going.”
Meredith shrugs, opening a straw as three glasses of water are set in front of us. “Technically, this was his stomping ground first. We kind of stole it.”
I keep my eyes trained on the menu, trying not to show any reaction at the idea of Braxton and Co. showing up, because that likely means that Grant will too.
The sweatshirt I’m wearing is one from the year my high school basketball team went to states, and while it’s my favorite, it looks like it’s been through war.
There’s a good chance Grant would say something about it if he were to see me. I can’t find it in myself to care. It still crosses my mind, oddly enough.
He proved last night that he can cut someone down with a single look, sharp-tongued and shamelessly cocky. But in the same breath, there’s this tiny undercurrent of something gentler.
Like he’s wired to provoke but can’t help himself from softening around the edges at times. He didn’t have to tuck me into bed, or plug in my phone, or leave a water bottle on my nightstand. But he did.
I’m trying to listen to what my brain is trying to convince me of. He’s not sweet. He’s not easy.
But buried beneath the sarcasm and the smugness is this rare, careful intention that throws me off balance. Like he’s always half-daring me to expect more from him so he can meet me there.
And now I’m sitting here, wearing a sweatshirt with a bleach stain on the sleeve and a hole in the collar, trying to decide if I should risk ordering anything greasy when my stomach still feels like it’s doing somersaults.
I focus hard on the breakfast burrito section, hoping the universe takes pity on me. It does not.
The bell above the diner door jingles again, followed by a chorus of deep voices and the sound of someone loudly slapping another guy on the back.
“Please tell me that’s not them.” My voice is rigid.
Eden’s smile grows as footsteps come up behind us, and Meredith mock winces. “Sorry, but I think the football gods are always going to be against us.”
I’m still processing her words when a familiar voice cuts through the clatter of silverware and chatter.
Of course, Grant is walking alongside Braxton, looking like he came straight out of a Calvin Klein ad. With a little more clothing. Obviously.