CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
GRANT
O n the day of Lina’s surprise birthday party, her roommates and Savannah bar me from their apartment until dinner time.
How they ended up taking control of the party that was my idea in the first place is beyond me.
I’ve always considered myself to be a pretty good party planner, but the second the girls got ahold of the news, they were coming up with ideas and making sure I was doing certain things that needed to be done.
I realized very quickly how out of my depth I was.
Now, I’ve fallen back into my grunt work roots.
I could pretend to be annoyed by all of the errands—picking up the cake and dinner and decorations I didn’t know I needed—but the truth is, I kind of like seeing all of them care so much about her.
Around dinner time, I take the elevator up to the fourth floor, bags of sushi and a box of birthday cake in hand. Originally, I was planning on going straight to the girls’ apartment, but I realized in the car on the way here that I left the candles at my place.
I kick on the door of my apartment because I know Braxton’s home. I don’t feel like rearranging the hold I have on all this food in order to dig my keys out of my pocket.
He opens the door, rubbing his face and looking like he just woke up.
“I hate you so much right now,” I say, setting my armload of stuff down on the island countertop. “I’ve been running around all goddamn day, and you’ve been here sleeping? It’s almost six.”
“Mer was on the phone with her mom late last night and then spent the next three hours on the brink of a panic attack,” he deadpans. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“What’s her mom’s problem?”
“She’s a doctor, and her daughter has an eating disorder. You do the math. And on top of that, she’s trying to cut me out, so I’ve also been trying to avoid that.”
I look away from him, feeling the usual punch of guilt anytime Meredith has come up lately. It’s a tough situation, obviously, and I know Braxton’s been doing what he can for her, but it’s no doubt taking a toll. Especially when she’s trying to act like she no longer wants him involved.
“Oh, also.” Braxton pulls out his phone. “I got this text from a random phone number today.” He holds it out to me. “Should I be concerned?”
I take the phone from him, eyes narrowing as I read:
ANON
If you care about Lina, you should ask Grant what he’s been doing when she’s not around.
ANON
I have a secret that could ruin everything.
My stomach fucking knots as I let out an agitated sigh. Why the fuck would they be texting Braxton?
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him, handing him his phone back.
“Is this what I think it’s about?”
“I said don’t worry about it.”
He still looks at me suspiciously. “You’re taking care of it?”
I nod. He knows what it means. I’m paying them off, even though it makes me feel like a complete and utter jackass.
Busying myself with rummaging through the other bags all over the counter, I try to find the candles I originally came back here for.
“Listen.” Braxton looks like he’s debating saying something else before he adds, “I’ve only heard the rumors, and I try to stay out of it, but if this has anything to do with my sister—if it hurts her in any way—you need to get it figured out.
Because I will do worse things to you than any campus news site ever could.
She and Lina have become attached at the hip, and anything affecting their friendship would kill her. ”
“It doesn’t affect her.” At least it shouldn’t.
“I’m serious, Grant,” he says, voice low, like we’re not the only ones in the apartment. “If she finds out something ugly from someone else before she hears it from you…”
“She won’t.”
That’s when I find the candles tucked in a smaller bag by the napkins and the overpriced pack of paper straws Savannah insisted on. I hold them up like some kind of peace offering, like they’re proof I’m handling things. But even I know how hollow that is.
Braxton leans against the counter, arms crossed, staring me down. “You better be damn sure.”
I don’t respond. I shove the candles in my jacket pocket and head for the door.
Because what am I supposed to say? I already know I might not be handling this the right way, but it’s the only way I know how.
But I’m not trying to think about it right now. Lina’s birthday and her party are what matter most today.
And maybe it’s selfish or cowardly. But I’m clinging onto the one thing I want to do, and that’s making her happy. That’s my one goal tonight.
When I get to the girls’ apartment, I don’t bother knocking. I’ve gotten to the point of familiarity with the girls to where they started to get annoyed having to answer the door every time. Now, when they know I’m coming over, they leave it unlocked.
Still, I make sure to announce myself as I walk through the entryway and into the kitchen, “Hey! It’s me!”
And as I’m setting the bags down, Eden exits her bedroom, mostly naked.
“Eden!” I yell, covering my eyes and walking straight into Lina’s room.
I find her sitting on the counter of her bathroom, her feet in the sink as she does her makeup only a few inches from the mirror. Savannah’s standing behind her, curling her hair.
Braxton was right when he said the two of them have become attached at the hip. Since Lina and I started dating, I’ve seen Savannah nearly every time I’ve been over here, and if she’s not here, then I’m picking Lina up from Savannah’s sorority house.
They move like a unit now—laughing at things only they understand, sharing clothes, and finishing each other’s complaints. It works in a way that would make anyone think they’ve been friends their entire lives.
“Is it normal for your roommates to constantly walk around naked?” I ask, running both hands over my face.
“Just Eden,” she replies.
“Jesus, I’m scarred.”
Both the girls laugh—more at me than anything else.
“I think you’re just going to have to get used to it,” Savannah tells me, grabbing another section of Lina’s hair.
At the same time, Lina reaches her hand behind her, looking at me through the mirror while she cups my jaw.
“Hi,” she says softly, thumb brushing over the corner of my mouth. “You look stressed.”
“I am stressed,” I mutter. “Your roommates are terrifying. And Eden needs to invest in some pants.”
Savannah snorts. “She has pants. She just doesn’t believe in them.”
“Happy birthday, pretty girl,” I tell her, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek while making sure to avoid Savannah’s curling iron.
March 13th. The most beautiful day, because it gave me her.
She smiles brightly, a slow, sleepy kind of grin that has me wondering if she’s going to make it through her party tonight. It has me dwelling on just how happy I am to be existing in these moments with her.
I’ve spent a lot of time, not only with Lina, but with the rest of the girls too. The past couple weeks have consisted of going out to dinner, staying in to eat ice cream, and watching Sex and the City. I’ve been forced to admit Sex and the City isn’t that bad.
I’ve done everything and anything surrounded by these women, and while they scare the hell out of me sometimes, I’ve never felt more folded into something.
Collectively, they’re messy and loud and argue over random things before admitting it was never serious enough to feud over anyway. But then there are also so many different dynamics that make it hard to classify them in such a way.
They’re messy, but Savannah and Eden are always picking up after everyone. They’re loud, but Lina and Meredith are the quiet negotiators. They might argue, but they so obviously love each other enough to let it fizzle out quickly.
It’s a living, breathing art of chaos. And somehow, I’ve found myself tangled in it.
Savannah finishes curling Lina’s last strand, steps back, and exhales like she just defused a bomb.
“You’re done,” she declares.
Lina tilts her head, inspecting herself in the mirror. “I look tired.”
“You look like I’m gonna have to fistfight the next guy who blinks in your direction,” I say, leaning against the doorway.
“You think I look that good?” Her mouth twitches upward.
“I think I need to start lifting again.” Suddenly, it feels like it’s been a lot longer since I’ve been in the football training facility.
Her gaze through the mirror is gripping my dick, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.
Savannah pretends to gag as she leaves the bathroom, unplugging her curling iron and taking it with her.
Lina hops down from the counter, wincing when she lands weird on her heel.
I reach out for her on instinct, and she swats my hand away, but only half-heartedly. Her fingers linger on my wrist like she’s not ready to let go either.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods, twisting toward the mirror again to swipe on some lip gloss. “Just sore. I sat in that sink too long.”
“Are you gonna make it through the night?” I ask, a hint of teasing in my tone as I brush the rest of her hair out of her face. A piece sticks to her lips, and she blows it away. It makes me smile.
Lina bows forward, resting her forehead on my chest. My hand automatically lands on the back of her head, my fingers getting lost in her hair, trying not to mess up the curls just put into place. “I hope so.”
“Why are you so tired?” I sleep next to her, and I usually notice if she tosses and turns throughout the night.
“I’m saving my energy for my supposed-to-be-a-surprise surprise party,” she says, a knowing glint in her eyes.
“How the hell did you find out?”
“I don’t reveal my sources.” She smiles, heading out of the bathroom and into her closet.
That means Eden.
“Well, there goes that.” I take a seat on her bed, where I have the perfect view of her pulling her oversized t-shirt over her head.
Making a show of turning toward me, my girlfriend is now completely naked from the waist up. “You have a party to attend,” I remind her.
She arches an eyebrow, stepping into the closet light like she’s center stage. “And yet you’re still sitting there. Not leaving. Not covering your eyes like a gentleman.”
“I covered my eyes for Eden,” I say, leaning back on my elbows. “You’re different.”
A snort leaves her, completely unbothered, as she grabs the top she’s wearing tonight off a hanger. It’s black. Tight. Tiny. It makes me want to commit crimes.
Without warning, she climbs onto the bed, straddling me without warning. Her chest is still bare, and her bra is dangling from one hand. Her knees press into either side of my hips, her mouth inches from mine when she says, “If I let you see the outfit before the party, will you behave?”
“No.”
A sexy smirk curls her lips. “Didn’t think so.”
She kisses me—quick, teasing, warm. Just a taste.
Then she hops off like I’m nothing more than her personal furniture, grabbing her shirt and disappearing back into the closet.
I try to reach out for her, but it’s no use.
She throws her shirt over her head and begins rifling through her dresser for bottoms.
“Get dressed. Everyone’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”
I can hear the girls rustling around outside the bedroom door, and while we’re trying to keep it discreet, I’m not too worried about it now that she already knows about the party.
Right as she pulls a small denim skirt over her legs, someone from the kitchen calls, “Where’s the lighter?”
Lina laughs. “That’s for the candles on the cake, isn’t it?”
“Yep,” I say. “The one you’re not supposed to know about.”
“Right,” she mumbles, already reaching for her heels. “I’ll pretend to be surprised.”
She slips past me, and I follow, watching the way she glances over her shoulder and grins. She moves through the chaos as if she belongs in it. Like she created it.
And maybe she did.
All I know is that I’d do every single errand again if it means ending up right here—with her, on her birthday, happier than I’ve ever been in someone else’s company.