CHAPTER EIGHT #2
He stiffens beside me. It’s subtle, the way his shoulders rise slightly, the way his jaw tightens. But I notice. He doesn’t wave back, doesn’t even fake a smile, and I have a feeling it’s because he’s more embarrassed to be seen with me than he is running into his friends.
Instead, he mutters under his breath, “Fuck me,” like the universe handed him his own personal hell wrapped in lip gloss and early-morning bar-hoppers. “Kenzie, Del.” He nods in greeting.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the two of them up close, and even without walking next to Savannah, they’re eye-catching all on their own.
I notice Kenzie first. Her brown skin glows with warmth, her dark curls fall in soft waves like they know exactly where to rest, and the carefree smile on her face gives the impression that she’s easygoing.
More so than Delaney, who has her lips set in a straight line. With her high cheekbones and straight nose, her features are beautifully contrasted by the rounder edges of her face. She reminds me of Denise Richards, only if she had darker hair.
They both wave, letting Savannah take the floor.
From what I understand, Grant is friends with all of the girls and has possibly hooked up with each of them, but Savannah is the one who he seems closest to.
The one who lingers a little longer and leans a little closer. The one who probably knows how he takes his coffee and what cologne he wears.
That’s only a guess, though. I still have a feeling he’s fucked all three of them.
“Thought you were at weightlifting,” Savannah says in a way that partially sounds like a question.
“I was,” he replies casually.
Both Delaney and Kenzie’s eyes flick to me and back.
“Didn’t know you had company,” Delaney then says.
Savannah slaps her on the shoulder while Kenzie reprimands her under her breath, “ Del, don’t be rude. ”
“Lina’s not that kind of company,” he says, then turns to me. “Let’s go.”
“Alright, well, you guys have fun. We’re going to the bar for half-off happy hour.”
Five in the morning is a weird time for happy hour, but I don’t say anything about it.
Grant doesn’t seem surprised, as if it’s all too expected coming from them. “Be careful,” he says, deadly serious. Overprotective-sounding.
“We always are,” Savannah tells him. “Anyway, I need tequila ASAP, so we’re going to get going.”
“Bye, Sav,” Grant replies.
“Nice seeing you,” she tells me with a soft smile, heading in the opposite direction.
Once we’re a few steps ahead, I say, “She seems nice.”
Grant groans. “Sav? She’s a pain in the ass most of the time. All three of them are. Put them together and it’s a whole other animal.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What?”
I give him a pointed look. “It’s kind of weird to act like you don’t like the girl you’ve admitted to constantly fucking.”
“I don’t dislike her. She’s my friend.”
My face contorts automatically. “Damn. I’d hate to be your friend.”
“You’re not exactly a picnic yourself, either.”
“I never claimed to be.”
“So you’re aware that you’re kind of a bitch?” he asks with a small smile.
My brows knit together as I examine his expression. “Isn’t there some sort of rule that guys aren’t allowed to call girls that?” Even if there is, I’m still not offended by it.
“I’m not saying it in a derogatory way. In fact, I’m encouraging you to embrace it. I’ve never thought that word should have a negative connotation. If I were a chick, I’d be a mega-bitch.”
It’s a good point. In a way, it feels the same as me offhandedly calling him a dick.
He’s taken something most men would use to objectify or degrade women and put it in a more positive light.
I huff a laugh despite myself. “You’re already halfway there.”
Somehow, he looks proud. “Thanks. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
The brownstone apartment building begins to loom in front of us, brick and ivy settling into the darkness. The rent for this place is crazy high, given the fact that it’s fairly luxurious and in a college town, but if I had to pay for it again, I would. A thousand times over.
I hesitantly head toward the steps, not quite ready to go back inside—to the silence, the stale air, the weight pressing down on me like it always does when I’m alone.
I didn’t even realize we’ve been standing out here for as long as we have until the first hint of light begins to creep over the horizon. The darkness is finally starting to give way to a muted gray, and I should probably head back inside, despite knowing I will not be sleeping.
When I make it to the steps, Grant is right behind me. “You don’t have to walk me all the way?—”
“Didn’t do it for you.” He adjusts his bag. “Just needed the run. Plus, I’m going up to the apartment to drag Braxton out of bed, anyway.”
My eyes narrow. “Right.”
“Try not to get murdered next time.”
“I’ll pencil it in.”
He pauses. Just a second. Then he dips his head in goodbye before turning and walking toward the stairs while I head for the elevator.
“Goodnight, Lina,” he calls from the doorway of the stairwell.
My smile grows, despite myself. “Good morning, Grant.”