Page 21 of Built to Fall
Braxton’s teasing is relentless, but it’s nothing I’m not used to.
I lazily punch him in the arm before shoving him backward. Though, I really can’t fault him for stating the truth. “Drop it, man.”
Savannah glances between the two of us, the same confused expression painting her gorgeous face. “Okay, seriously, what’s going on?”
Letting out an audible groan, my hand comes down on the counter harder than I intended, making a loudsmacksound.
“He was trying to flirt with her in the elevator and told her she was ‘too pretty to go to Yale,’” Braxton tells her, using finger quotations.
“That’s not?—”
Savannah audibly gasps, looking at me in complete horror before smacking me in the chest. “Grant! Why would you say something like that?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I snap, trying to defend myself.
“Big man on campus doesn’t know how to flirt with girls when all they do is throw themselves at him.”
“Thanks for the input.” I give him an annoyed look.
“I can’t believe you said that!” Savannah says. “Did you at least explain to her what kind of idiot you are?”
“I tried, but she ran off.”
“Well.” She nudges me suggestively, raising an eyebrow. “She’ll be here tonight. Maybe you can clear some things up.”
Most would assume that Savannah would be offended by this conversation, given our long hookup history, but the truth is, shealwaysknows more than she should and keeps quiet when it counts.
We’ve been hooking up on and off since freshman year with no strings and no drama. Just two friends who enjoy each other’s company when it’s convenient, but neither of us are looking for anything more.
Now, it’s a lot different. Sure, there has always been a bit of attention on us because of me playing football and Savannah coming from one of the most notorious families in all of New York, but there have been eyes constantly on us since Savannah’s fashion column really blew up earlier this year. The two of us have been inNotes of New Havennearly every week since.
But Savannah has even made it clear that even though she hopes I find someone eventually, that person will not be her. She just thinks I’d be a good boyfriend—if I’d ever let myself be.
I let out a long breath. “Probably not, Sav. I think I’ve landed myself in theforever-douchebagcategory.”
“You never know.”
I’m desperate for a change in conversation, and thankfully, Savannah’s friend, Delaney, approaches at the perfect moment.
Delaney somehow makes Savannah less intimidating—mostly because she is even more intimidating herself.
Also because Savannah’s edge isn’t who she really is; it’s more of a defense mechanism. She only feels the need to be“intimidating”because she assumes a lot of girls judge her for hooking up with me, chalking it up to jealousy or resentment. Acting unapproachable to the people who don’t even attempt to get to know her is her way of making sure she doesn’t get walked all over.
In reality, Savannah is one of the nicest, most confident girls I know, and everyone who has taken the chance to talk to her would say the same thing. She doesn’t actually care how people perceive her and my relationship—even if it means letting people think the worst of her.
“Where’s Kenzie?” I ask, realizing how weird it is to see only two of them without the third.
Delaney lifts a shoulder. “Probably flirting with the DJ.”
Savannah grins. “Or convincing him to play Taylor Swift. Both are viable options.”
I nod without saying anything else, more distracted than I’m trying to let on as I glance toward the hallway, where the music is quieter, and then toward the front door.
“She’s coming,” Braxton adds, and I stop. Only for a split second, but he sees it. Of course he does.
“Who?” I keep my voice flat.
“You know who.” He smirks, proud of himself. “Meredith texted, saying she’s coming with her.”
