CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
LINA
“ Y ou’re kidding me.” A laugh escapes me as I jog down the front steps of our apartment complex.
Grant is waiting for me on the sidewalk, holding a bag from the campus store in one hand and a tiny YALE FOOTBALL onesie in the other. “Isn’t it the cutest fucking thing you’ve ever seen?”
“This is comedy gold.” I reach the bottom step, grab the onesie from him, and hold it up. It’s so small it barely looks real. “I can’t believe you actually bought this.”
“Go big or go home, right?” The cocky grin never leaves his face.
“You are such an idiot,” I say, but my voice is full of affection as I ball up the onesie and toss it back at him. He catches it easily, still smirking.
He falls into step beside me as we begin walking on the path that loops around our building. “So, what’s next, pretty girl?”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’ve already picked out the perfect Instagram caption.”
“Grant, please tell me you’re not actually posting anything.” I groan.
“Too late.”
I skid to a stop on the sidewalk. “What did you do?”
Grant tosses the bag over his shoulder, completely unbothered. “Relax. It’s just a story. ‘Baby Vandenberg dropping Summer 2025’ with a football emoji. Totally harmless.”
“Oh my God .” I bury my face in my hands for the second time today. “You’re going to break the internet.”
“Hey, it’s everyone else’s fault for speculating, remember? There is technically a baby Vandenberg coming this summer. We’re just playing into it!”
“Abby didn’t change her last name when she got married?”
“No. She’d be stupid to do that. Her husband took her last name.”
“Wow. What a guy.”
“Yeah, Garrett’s great.”
We continue walking down the sidewalk, and I’m not sure if there’s any plan for where we’re going, or if Grant just asked me to come with him as an excuse to show me the onesie. Once the sun begins setting over the horizon in front of us, I turn to look at him.
“Do you think I could stay with you tonight?”
It’s the first time I’ve acknowledged his offer since the morning I woke up at his house nearly a week ago, and for some reason, the idea doesn’t seem as scary anymore.
Maybe it’s now that we’re friends—with a lowercase f , but still—or maybe because we’ve found a bit more common ground pulling this prank on the public. It doesn’t matter, really. But I am holding my breath waiting for his response.
Grant’s head snaps toward me. His expression is unreadable for a beat. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth lift into a softer, less cocky smile than usual as he swings his arm around my shoulders. “Yeah. Of course you can.”
The air between us shifts—not heavy or complicated. More comfortable. I can’t stop myself from resting my head on his bicep.
“Cool,” I say, tucking my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt to hide how much they’re shaking. “Cool, cool.” It’s likely the most awkward thing I’ve said in my entire life.
He shakes his head, clearly trying not to laugh. “Can you go back to being a bitch? This is weird.”
I don’t flinch at the word—I never do when it comes from him. There’s no real bite behind it, just the familiar rhythm of our banter.
“As soon as you start being a douchey asshole again,” I remark. “But considering you agreed to let me sleep in your bed, I’d say that’s not happening anytime soon.”
“You should also consider the fact that a majority of campus now believes you are carrying my baby,” he jokes.
“Let’s go up to your apartment before I throw up on your shoes.”
“ L isten,” he says, stopping in front of my door after our short walk back. “I get it. You’re trying not to become dependent on me by sleeping in my bed. That's why I haven’t pushed it. But we know it works, and you can actually get sleep now. It doesn’t mean you owe me anything.”
I lean against the doorframe, arms crossed—not out of defiance, but because I don’t know what to do with the part of me that still resists softness when it’s offered so freely.
“Okay,” I finally agree. “ But if it ever gets too annoying for you, promise you’ll tell me.”
He doesn’t bother placating me, telling me any empty reassurance like, “That would never happen.” Instead, he nods, following me into my apartment. I pack a bag before meeting Grant back in the living room and following him down the hall toward his place.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say that your front door is unlocked!” I yell back toward him.
He’s standing behind me now. “And I’d say you’re probably right.”
Just like that, I twist the knob and open it without any resistance. “How am I supposed to feel safe sleeping here if—oh my God!” I slap my hand over my eyes when I turn back and catch a glimpse of what’s happening in the living room. “I’m blind.”
“What the fuck, guys?” Grant yells, somewhere between amused and horrified.
Eden shrieks and shoves Cam off of her like he’s radioactive, scrambling to fix her hair as she glares at us.
I have no idea how long this has been going on, or how Eden got in this position with our neighbor, but it’s not abnormal.
She’s a hopeless romantic who also loves to have sex, and she’s completely unashamed of that fact. Until she’s in an actual relationship like the one she’s dreaming of, she sticks to casual hookups.
“You weren’t supposed to be home yet!” she accuses, pointing at us.
“Maybe lock the damn door next time!” Grant fires back, but he’s laughing.
Cam grins lazily from where he’s slouched on the couch, looking completely unbothered. “What’s up, guys?”
Eden ignores him and zeroes in on me instead. “Wait.” Her eyes narrow, finger still pointed like a weapon. “You. You’re the reason everyone’s texting me about a baby!”
“Uh—”
“I totally knocked her up,” Grant says smoothly, slinging an arm around my waist way too comfortably.
I elbow him in the ribs so hard he grunts. “No, I’m not pregnant . It’s a joke.”
“She’s probably not,” Grant adds unhelpfully.
This time, I step on his foot.
Eden giggles and throws her head back. “You two are idiots.”
“My phone’s blowing up. People are betting on it in the team group chat,” Cam adds.
“Wait, seriously?” Grant looks delighted.
“Yeah, most people suspected it would be Lina.”
“Jesus Christ,” Grant mutters, annoyed. “Does nobody look at the profile of whose post I was sharing? I thought everyone would figure out the post was my sister’s! ”
Eden looks at him with a wide-mouthed look of disbelief. “You’re ridiculous! The rumor would have blown over in, like, a day if you hadn’t gone and posted “ Baby Vandenberg coming summer 2025.”
“It’s become a funny joke for us now,” I tell her, trying to explain this somehow. “It doesn’t matter if everybody believes it. They’ll realize soon enough that they’re dead wrong, and it will be embarrassing for them.” That’s the whole goal behind this.
“I can’t believe this is what it took for you guys to become friends: pretending to have a baby together.”
“Well, that and the fact that she’ll be sleeping in my bed,” Grant adds playfully, opening his bedroom door.
I glare at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
Grant only laughs, catching my hand before I can swing again.
“You love it,” he says smugly.
“Yeah, in the way you love getting a paper cut,” I deadpan, turning and stomping into his bedroom.
“Hot,” he calls after me.
“Die!” I shout without turning around.
“I’d rather not. I’m good right where I am,” he flirts shamelessly.
When I turn around, he’s staring at my ass, completely unaware of the way I start glaring at him. “You’re lucky I haven’t smothered you in your sleep yet.”
He looks up, smirking. “You’d miss me too much.”
“You vastly overestimate the effect you have.”
“And you vastly under estimate how hot you look when you’re pissed off.”
Grant whistles low like he’s proud, and I can’t stop the stupid smile pulling at my mouth as I slam his bedroom door in his face jokingly.
He opens it immediately after, but I’m already in his bathroom getting ready to go to sleep. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed directly across from the bathroom door.
“I can feel you staring at me,” I say over the sound of running water as I wash my face.
The floorboards creak when he stands and comes closer, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom in the oddly hot way that only men know how to do. I peer through the corner of my eye to see him cross his arms over his chest, the tattoos on his hand catching my eye.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.”
I flick water at him while he smiles lazily at me, reaching around me to grab his toothbrush out of the cup on the counter. We glance at each other in the mirror, toothpaste already foaming at the corners of my mouth.
“You’re in my space,” I mumble through a mouthful of mint.
He squeezes a line of toothpaste onto his brush. “You don’t seem to mind.”
I elbow him lightly, and he smiles around the toothbrush.
We brush in silence, shoulders nearly touching, his eyes flicking to mine in the mirror. I try not to smile.
Grant retreats back into his room once we’re done brushing our teeth. He continues to watch as I wash my face and quickly braid my hair. Although, I do shut the door when I have to change into my pajamas.
When I come back out of the bathroom, Grant’s in his bed waiting for me. He’s sitting against the headboard, shirtless, with one arm tucked behind his head.
I take in every detail of him in the same way I would my favorite documentary.
I let my eyes roam over the sharp line of his jaw—strong from all the gum I see him chew—and the way the comforter rests just low enough to make my brain short-circuit.
He looks infuriatingly relaxed. As if he has no idea—or every idea—of what he does to me.
He lifts the covers without saying a word, and I hate how easy it is to slip under them like I fit perfectly in the space of a plush mattress right beside him.