Page 16 of Built to Fall
The first highlight playing on the TV is from Yale’s last football game. The shot pans from Braxton throwing the ball to the receiver catching it overhead with a defender on either side of him before running in for the touchdown. It’s one hell of a play.
Then the camera shows the back of the player’s jersey, the big bold letters telling me everything I need to know.
VANDENBERG
That’sGrant. On the highlight reel.
“Oh my gosh.” I can’t help but snicker at the irony. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
Kara rolls her eyes. “And you didn’t even know he was on the football team to begin with.”
Eden raises an eyebrow at me and downturns her eyes, almost like she’s trying to look more convincing than she already does.
She has a sweet, innocent look to her that everyone assumes to be accurate, even if her California upbringing makes her the first person to bring up taboo topics, like sex or politics, at the dinner table.
“Does this mean we can go?” she asks.
It’s not something I need to think about. I’m not an overthinker. Plus, I’ve already committed to the act of indifference.
Even if I did overreact, even if he didn’t mean anything by it, my brain doesn’t care. It’s doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
Protecting me from the same trap I’ve already fallen into once. Because indifference is a hell of a lot better than disappointment.
It’s why I nod and say, “Yes. We’re going.”
CHAPTER FOUR
LINA
“Ilookhorriblein navy,” Eden groans as she exits her bedroom, throwing her hands up and letting them slam back down at her sides.
As a girl who wears a variation of nearly the same outfit every day, I don’t think I’m the best person to be helping anyone choose outfits. Especially when Eden, Meredith, Kara, and I all have such different styles.
I am more often than not wearing sweats, and in the instances I’m not, my fashion sense is highly influenced by my mother. Low-rise jeans, long sleeves with lace embellishments, and off-the-shoulder tops.
Eden is almost never seen wearing anything other than pink and red, which complement her red hair beautifully. With an array of mini-skirts and bows in her hair, she’s what I would consider Valentine’s Day personified.
Meredith is the opposite. She sticks to neutrals. Loves baggy clothing. Often has multiple layers, whether it’s a cardigan or zip-up.
And then there’s Kara.
Most people would assume because she’s a model and grew up in New York that she would dress much fancier than shedoes, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. She walks a runway like it’s nobody’s business, dressed head to toe in some of the most expensive, chic clothing I’ve ever seen. Yet, day to day, she’s usually in jeans.
“Surely you should have thought about the school’s color palette before attending,” Meredith sarcastically replies.
The football game is still hours away, and yet, as the rest of us have gone about our mornings, we’ve been interrupted every few minutes by Eden storming into the living room, each time in a new Yale-themed outfit.
“Well, none of the Ivy League’s school colors are pink, or else that would have been my obvious choice,” she retorts.
“Eden.” I exhale, pulling my bread from the toaster while Meredith slides me the tub of butter. “You look fine in navy.”
“And the football game isn’t for another five hours,” Kara adds from where she’s stretching out on the living room floor. I’m not sure if what she's doing is considered yoga, but I’ll give it to her. “Nobody is really going to be paying that much attention to your outfit for it to garnerfive hoursof your time.”
“Says you, Miss. “Supermodel,” Eden says with an edge to her tone that we don’t hear often. “Did Prada send you something to wear to the game? Or how about Chanel?”
It’s clearly teasing, and I’m far too entertained.
Kara raises a brow, unfazed. “Chanel’s waiting until next season.”
