Page 200 of Built to Fall
They single me out just like that. Honestly, that bothers me more than not having all of Grant’s attention.
When he returns to the booth, sliding into the bench across from me, the smile on my face tells me he’s still trying to make up for everything he believes he’s doing wrong.
“Stop.” I point a finger at him.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.” I narrow my eyes on him. “I know you’re a softie, but don’t paint me to be some clingy girlfriend.”
He lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Sue me for inviting my girlfriend to dinner and actually wanting to talk to her.”
The way Grant speaks to me is like I’m the chorus and he’s the verse. I’m well aware that he tries to make me the center of it all, but I’m a firm believer that the verse is usually the best part of a song.
“Really? You actually want to talk to me?” I press a hand to my cheek in jest. “I thought you were just pretending to like me.”
“I would have only ordered one burger if I was only pretending to like you.”
My face heats the slightest bit. I told him not to order an extra, but he understands me well enough to know when I’m being stubborn and prideful.
Our drinks are dropped off at the edge of the table by a server who’s clearly overwhelmed and already walking away. I snag the two glasses before they spill and pass Grant his root beer.
“I have something to give you,” he then says, digging into the back pocket of his jeans.
Right then, another guy on the team approaches our booth, slapping Grant on the shoulder and greeting him with, “Vandenberg!”
His eyes narrow in a scold. I can see it the second he looks over his shoulder to see who has a hold on him.
“Man, I’m here with my girlfriend,” he says in a tense voice. “Can’t I havefive minutesto talk to her?”
The guy—someone from the starting roster, whose name I don’t know—laughs as if he’s joking. “C’mon, bro, we’re all going to the bar after this. You in?”
Grant’s jaw ticks. He glances at me, then back at the guy. “I’ll let you know. Seriously though, give me a minute, alright?”
He scoffs, finally getting the hint and backing off, but not without muttering something about Grant beingwhippedunder his breath.
Neither of us reacts to it.
“What do you have to give me?” I ask before adding, “My birthday was last week.”
He already got me a gift. On top of the party he threw, he also got me a two-sided locket. It looked expensive. One side of the locket has a sword engraved in it, while the other looks more like a traditional heart-shaped locket. When I opened it, he told me it was inspired by the Greek goddess, Athena.
I talk of Greek mythology quite a bit, and he picked up on how I like Athena, in the same way he does everything else.
I’m not sure there’s anything less beautiful than the goddess of war and battle also being the goddess of weaving beautiful tapestries.
She embodies the duality of women, and it’s exactly what Grant likes to encourage within me.
As he put it on me, he said, “You don’t ever have to choose between the sword and the heart. You can choose both.”
He understands me like no other, and there’s no other gift that would quite suffice.
Now, in Sal’s Diner, Grant holds his hand out as if what he’s handing me is as simple as a chocolate bar.
“What is this?” I ask, taking the metal in my hand.
“You know what it is.”
“Of course I know it’s a key. But why are you giving it to me?”
