Page 120 of Built to Fall
“I’m intoyou,” he clarifies. “But no, I am not a necrophiliac.”
“You’re into me?” My grin stays intact because a small crevice in my brain had assumed it was the forced proximity of being in this house together that drew us together.
I mean, obviously I’m attracted to him. It’s undeniable how hot he is, with his messy dark hair, sharp jawline, and stupidly perfect mouth. There’s something about him that screams trouble, but it’s so enticing that I can’t help but get closer.
But I’m still not certain whether this is just what he’s used to doing to get girls into bed with him or if he really means it.
“Is that not obvious?” His brows furrow. “Lina, I’ve been flirting with you for months.”
“I thought you were only interested in girls who wanted hookups?”Not girls like me who have been traumatized by their ex-boyfriends.
“I might not be all about commitment, but that doesn’t mean I waste my time only on what’s convenient.”
I know exactly what he’s trying to tell me. He’s not offering himself to me because he thinks it’s easy. I’m something he’s choosing.
It equally thrills and terrifies me.
My throat feels tight. “So what am I, then?”
Grant doesn’t answer right away. His eyes search mine like he’s trying to find the exact words. “‘What aren’t you?’is the real question.”
The words land softly, but they shake something loose inside me. Not a promise. Not a label. But a truth.
“Wow, you’re really into me,” I tease, poking him in the ribs.
“Come on,” he murmurs, voice still rough, wrecked from the kiss. I’m sure mine would sound similar if I could find the words to speak. “You need sleep.”
My body is still buzzing, and my heart’s still hammering against my ribs. I’m not sure how I manage to move my feet, but I do, following him up the stairs like I’m tied to him by some invisible thread.
The house is dark and quiet, every creak of the steps under our weight feeling loud, every small brush of our arms making my skin light up like it’s the first time he’s ever touched me.
Grant pushes his bedroom door open and flicks on the lamp beside the bed, bathing the room in soft, golden light. I hover in the doorway, suddenly unsure again—unsure of the rules, unsure of where we stand after what happened downstairs.
My brain’s logical default setting has suddenly flown out the window after what Grant and I just did. We’re supposed to be friends. He’s a notorious playboy. I’m still not over everything that happened to me last year.
Yet, here I am, hesitating in a way I never have before. Grant has been building a firm foundation underneath me, helping me fix my sleeping problems and stand on my own before he even tried to bridge the gap between friendship and something more.
Grant turns to look at me, reading the hesitation on my face immediately.
“I’ll stay over here,” he says, gesturing to the right side of the bed. His smirk returns, softer this time. “Scout’s honor.”
I roll my eyes, but the tension in my chest eases a little. I step inside, and he shuts the door quietly behind me, like we’re sealing off the rest of the world for the night.
Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I fiddle with the hem of my pajama shirt, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
“You good?” he asks, voice low.
“Yeah,” I whisper.
But when I look up at him, he’s already pulling his sweatshirt off, and the worn T-shirt he wears underneath comes up with it. His movements are slow and easy, like he’s trying not to spook me. Like he’s trying to prove he’s still him. Still the guy who teases me during Scrabble and calls mepretty girllike it’s a secret only he knows. One he wants me to decipher.
It doesn’t matter to me. I’m too busy staring at the ripples of muscle staring back at me, trying not to let my drool hit the floor.
I crawl under the covers, and he does the same, keeping his promise by staying by his side—but I can feel the pull between us like a magnet, impossible to ignore.
We lie there in the quiet for a while, the soft hum of the night wrapping around us. I turn onto my side, facing him.
Grant’s eyes are already open, watching me. He gives me the faintest, sleepiest smile.
