CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
GRANT
T he roaring of the crowd in the Yale football stadium is near deafening as we exit the field after one of the best games we’ve had all season. My pads dig into my shoulders as I jog toward the tunnel, the cheers chasing us all the way down.
Adrenaline is still heavy in my bloodstream as I make it out of the locker room and into the corridor outside, where all my friends are waiting. The hallway hums with voices and laughter, crowded with friends, family, and flashes of blue and white jerseys.
Savannah’s laughing about something Delaney said, tossing her long hair over her shoulder in that effortless way that usually gets her anything she wants. She’s practically glowing under the dim lights, the tiny rhinestones on her jeans catching every time she moves.
Kenzie is standing next to them, bouncing on the balls of her feet, looking back and forth between her phone and the locker room door.
Cam and Braxton head toward the three of them, their helmets swinging from their fingers. Yet, I’m stuck glancing around the room, looking for a person I’m not expecting to see.
Lina.
For the past couple of months, that girl has found a way to fill space in my mind that I didn’t realize I had to spare, and it’s only gotten more consuming since Martha’s Vineyard.
The way she sat across from me in the living room of the beach house and admitted she’d never come before made my entire body burn with resentment toward whatever dickhead she had been dating.
And only a few nights later, she was letting me give her an earth-shattering orgasm while she melted into my lap.
And it wasn’t just that. It was the way she lit up when we went to Martha’s Vineyard, like something inside her had finally breathed again after holding its breath for too long. It’s almost as if for the first few months I knew her, she was a shell of the person she usually was.
That damn island felt like it was glowing because of her, and I hadn’t even realized how rare her smile was until I saw it there, wide and effortless.
It made the whole world feel like it was standing still, like it wasn’t her holding her breath anymore—it was me, waiting for her to crack a joke or laugh or, God forbid, shoot that smile my way just one more time.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since.
“Grant!” Savannah calls, stepping in front of me with a bright smile, blocking my view of the rest of the room I had been scanning.
“Hey,” I say, my voice quieter than I intended.
“Good game, superstar,” she teases, bumping her shoulder into mine.
“Yeah, yeah,” I say, grinning without really feeling it.
Kenzie and Delaney also come over, leaving me completely surrounded. The girls include me in a conversation of their own, but they don’t care whether or not I’m paying attention.
And the truth is, I’m not. The whole time they’re talking, I’m half-listening, half-scanning the crowd.
“That was so much fun!” Kenzie says, pulling my attention back toward them.
“All of B’s throws were dead on,” Savannah adds, sounding impressed.
“Where did he go?”
Delaney points over her shoulder toward the hall. “He went to find Meredith.”
I nod, offering a half-hearted smile. All I can think about is that if Braxton finds Meredith, Lina probably isn’t far.
I know she’s here. She told me this morning when we woke up in my bed and I asked, “You’re coming to the game, aren’t you?”
She even said, “See you there,” before kissing me lightly on the cheek and leaving my apartment to go back to hers.
For a moment I think I’m going crazy when I feel the ghost of lips on my cheek again, but I quickly realize it’s Savannah who leans in and presses a quick, friendly kiss to my cheek. “That touchdown you had was amazing, Grant.”
It’s something she’s done a thousand times—harmless, stupid, something I barely even register. Until I see Lina
She’s standing a few feet away, just inside the hallway.
And she saw.
Lina freezes, like a deer caught in headlights. Her whole body goes rigid, hands tightening at her sides. She looks like she wasn’t prepared to be seen, like she wishes she could disappear.
And then—before I can even get her name past my lips—she whirls around and darts into the nearest bathroom.
“Shit , ” I curse, trying to back away from the girls quickly so I can follow her. But Savannah stops me when she turns and catches a small glimpse of brown hair fleeing the room before the door shuts with a dull thud.
I hadn't even realized Eden and Kara were standing with her until I saw Eden reach out for her. “Lina,” she calls, her voice distant.
It looks as though her two friends are gearing up to follow after her until Savannah speaks up.
“I’ll talk to her,” she says, calm as can be.
I stare after the bathroom door Lina disappeared into, my gut twisting.
“I should explain?—”
“Grant,” Savannah interrupts, giving me a knowing look, “trust me. It’ll be better coming from me right now.”
I don’t like it.
I hate it.
But Eden and Kara both seem to agree, and I figure it must be one of those moments where only girls know what each other truly needs.
So, reluctantly, I nod, my hands curling into fists at my sides, helpless as I watch Savannah slip away toward the bathroom door.
I stand there, useless, replaying the look on Lina’s face over and over again, wishing like hell it were me going after her instead.
L INA
My brain feels claustrophobic when I push through the door of the stadium bathroom, pounding like it’s desperately trying to break free from the confines of my skull.
The door swings shut behind me. I’m shocked to find it completely empty while the noise from outside bounces off the tiled walls.
I stumble to the sinks, gripping the cold porcelain as I try to catch my breath.
The lights shining above me are expensive chandeliers, but they might as well be the worst quality in the world with the way my brain conjures them to be buzzing loudly.
Too bright. Too harsh. They’re making everything around me feel sharp and unsteady.
Stupid. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the image away—the one currently burning itself into the back of my mind. Grant smiling. Savannah’s lips brushing his cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe it is.
The floor feels like it’s tilting under me. I don’t even know why I’m reacting like this. It’s not like we’re anything. It’s not like he owes me anything.
And yet, the sting of it is unbearable.
Over the past few months, we’ve become friends. We talked. I told him the truth about all the ways my ex-boyfriend destroyed my view of sex, and he made me believe he wanted to understand it all. He helped me work through it.
I came to his game today. Carrying a messy, hopeful feeling like a secret folded in my pocket.
But then I saw her kiss him.
And suddenly, it felt like I’d been living in a false reality the whole time.
Of course she gets to touch him like that and not fall apart.
No matter how hard I try, there will always be someone else. Someone prettier. Someone easier. Someone he’d never have to work so hard to un-break.
People say jealousy is ugly, but this feels worse than that. It feels like abandonment I haven’t even earned yet.
The bathroom door creaks open again, and panic flashes through me. For a second, I think it’s Grant—that he came after me—and I’m not sure whether I want to see him or not.
But it’s Savannah.
Of course, it’s Savannah.
She steps inside. Confident and composed. The faintest trace of concern pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her platinum blonde hair gleams under the glow of the chandelier lights, and her boots click lightly against the tile as she walks toward me.
I stiffen, gripping the edge of the sink tighter.
“Lina,” she says gently, stopping a few feet away.
I don’t answer. I’m not sure I could if I tried. My throat feels like it’s been sewn shut.
For a second, we stand there, the distant echo of the crowd outside filling the silence.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair before speaking again. “Look, I get it. I saw your face out there.”
I stare down at the sink, willing myself to disappear. To melt into the tile. To be anywhere but here.
When Savannah’s outfit catches my attention in the reflection—and because I’m desperate for anything to make her believe I’m fine—I force a smile and say, “I like your pants.”
They’re jeans, covered with rhinestones, glittering under the light like they’re mocking me for thinking I could ever compete with someone like her.
Savannah’s mouth tips up at the corner. “Thanks,” she says, like she knows exactly what I’m doing but is too kind to call me out on it.
The silence stretches thin between us again, and I wonder if she’s going to leave—if I’m going to fall apart properly without an audience—but she stays.
“I wanted to say…” She takes a cautious step closer. “That kiss on the cheek? It meant nothing. Seriously. It’s just… habit, that’s all. We’ve all known each other forever. It’s stupid and harmless, and I swear, he wasn’t thinking about me. Not even close.”
Her voice is a steady ramble, in a way that guts me even more.
“He was looking for you, Lina,” she says softly. “The entire time. You’re the only person he wanted to see.”
I press my lips together so hard they hurt, but it doesn’t stop the burning behind my eyes.
Savannah hesitates, like she’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, she offers a small smile—one that’s strangely gentle—and backs toward the door.
“You should talk to him,” she says. “Don’t let the lies in your head be louder than the truth standing right in front of you.” Then she backs away, readying to leave.
“Wait,” I call before she leaves the bathroom.
She turns. I notice for the thousandth time how perfect she is. How much of the obvious choice she is.
“Do you think he’s playing me?” My voice cracks the tiniest bit. I can’t help it.