CHAPTER THREE #2
Out of all of us, Meredith and Kara are the quickest to get into fights. Yet, they’re also the closest pair. They bicker like sisters, and it’s probably because they’re both willing to say whatever the hell they want.
I might be straightforward, but Kara and Meredith are more cutthroat. The only time I’m like that is when my anger gets the best of me. And Eden, she’s never like that.
“So,” Eden starts, pointing her fork toward me. “What happened with Grant?”
I groan and then stab two noodles with my fork. “We rode the elevator up together, and he thought that I didn’t go to Yale.”
All three girls look confused, and Kara and Meredith both lean further across the counter, followed by a chorus of “What?”s.
“Yeah. He asked if I went to school around here, and when I told him I went to Yale—like pretty much everyone else in this building—he said he didn’t expect someone as pretty as me to go to Yale. I may have overreacted slightly.”
“Maybe he meant it as a compliment…?” Eden says, questioning herself as she says it.
“Shitty compliment,” Meredith grumbles. “But honestly, I think it was probably just worded wrong. Which tracks, considering he’s known for putting on the whole asshole-playboy act to hide the fact that he’s emotionally constipated and has mommy issues.”
I shovel another bite of pasta into my mouth, too annoyed to really speak on the situation.
“Listen,” Kara starts, pausing when she realizes her mouth is full.
Once she swallows her bite, she continues, “That man has never had to flirt a day in his life; girls fall into his lap day in and day out. From what it seems, he’s very used to getting his way.
I wouldn’t be shocked if he was just trying to get your attention but didn’t know how to go about it the right way. ”
“Very true!” Eden confirms. “ And with the way he helped you in the kitchen the other night, maybe he has a crush on you and doesn’t know how to handle it.”
“Well, if he did, he definitely doesn’t anymore.” I laugh.
“I’m sure he’s not too wounded,” Meredith tells me. “Plus, from what I know, he’s still hooking up with Savannah and has been for quite some time.”
“She’s Braxton’s sister, right?”
“ Twin sister,” she confirms.
My eyes widen. “Jesus.”
Eden lets out a small, shocked sound. “Braxton’s okay with that? Even with him knowing Grant’s reputation?”
Kara lets out a ‘ha!’ sound. “If you knew Savannah Sinclair, you would understand. She’s pretty set in her ways. I doubt Braxton’s opinion would have any effect on what she does or doesn’t do.”
“Makes sense.” Eden takes another bite.
“Anyway, back to the topic at hand.” Meredith returns from the fridge with an apple in her hand. “Did you bitch him out?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” I don’t need to think back to what I said. The conversation is already burned into the back of my mind.
The girls have always made jokes about my memory—how I’m incapable of forgetting anything. It’s true; my brain perfectly memorizes everything from word-for-word conversations to textbook information to what someone was wearing last Monday.
“Although the door did almost come off the hinges when she came back into the apartment,” Eden jokes.
“Okay, yes, I bitched him out.”
“You slammed the door in his face?” Kara gawks.
“Yeah, so if you see Grant and he has a bruise with our unit number stamped into his forehead, tell him good riddance for me,” I say sarcastically.
“That’s poetic.” Eden is beaming .
Meredith, still mid-chew with her apple, gestures lazily with it. “Honestly, if a concussion knocks some sense into him, we all win.”
“I’m not saying he wasn’t being dumb,” Kara says. “But it feels like maybe he touched a nerve that wasn’t really about him.” Leave it to the neuroscience major to read me to filth.
I raise a brow and sip my water instead of answering.
Kara doesn’t push. She gives me that knowing look—the one that says she’s already run the diagnostics and filed her findings under self-sabotage, probable trauma response .
“Well, I think I’m done with my food,” Eden says, filling the silence. She pretends to curtsy as she hops off the stool and takes her bowl over to the sink, humming to herself as she rinses it out before setting it neatly in the dishwater.
We all move in sync around the kitchen, picking up from lunch as the conversation settles. Once all the dishes are in the dishwasher and the counters have been cleaned, we make ourselves comfortable in the living room.
“It may be a sore subject at the moment, but Braxton asked if we could all go to the game this weekend and the after-party,” Meredith says cautiously.
I pull one of the throw pillows over my lap, asking, “Why would that be a sore subject?”
“Grant is also on the football team,” Meredith informs me.
“He is?” News to me.
“You didn’t know that?” Eden seems just as confused as I was.
I shake my head. Yeah, it would have been easy for me to assume that fact, given how close of friends he and Braxton are, but I never really thought about it.
“He’s like their best player. The school is paying him millions to play here,” Kara says with an incredulous laugh.
“Yeah,” Meredith says, tone dull, “like I said, Braxton wants us to come. He got us all tickets.”
Eden perks up, but before she acts on it, she looks toward me. “Do I have permission to be excited? Or would you rather me withhold it?”
“Permission granted,” I say, waving her on.
“Oh my gosh! You have to admit, that is going to be so fun!”
We all are swept up in her enthusiasm, and Meredith grabs the remote and flicks on the TV. The low hum fills the room as she flips through the channels, settling on a sports highlight reel.
The first highlight playing on the TV is from Yale’s last football game. The shot pans from Braxton throwing the ball to the receiver catching it overhead with a defender on either side of him before running in for the touchdown. It’s one hell of a play.
Then the camera shows the back of the player’s jersey, the big bold letters telling me everything I need to know.
VANDENBERG
That’s Grant . On the highlight reel.
“Oh my gosh.” I can’t help but snicker at the irony. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Kara rolls her eyes. “And you didn’t even know he was on the football team to begin with.”
Eden raises an eyebrow at me and downturns her eyes, almost like she’s trying to look more convincing than she already does.
She has a sweet, innocent look to her that everyone assumes to be accurate, even if her California upbringing makes her the first person to bring up taboo topics, like sex or politics, at the dinner table.
“Does this mean we can go?” she asks.
It’s not something I need to think about. I’m not an overthinker. Plus, I’ve already committed to the act of indifference.
Even if I did overreact, even if he didn’t mean anything by it, my brain doesn’t care. It’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
Protecting me from the same trap I’ve already fallen into once. Because indifference is a hell of a lot better than disappointment.
It’s why I nod and say, “Yes. We’re going.”