Page 22 of Built to Fall
If Meredith’s texting him, it’s a tell-tale sign he willnotbe going to bed with the girl next to him tonight. Their relationshipmight be complicated and make zero sense, but I do know that much.
I glance between them, trying to act indifferent, but my fingers tighten around my cup.
“Don’t be weird,” Savannah warns, eyes flicking toward me.
“I’m not being weird,” I lie.
It’s hard not to be when all I’m thinking about is how conflicted I feel. It’s not like I want anything with Lina. I don’t want anything withanyone.
I’ve already made peace with the fact that I’m not built for relationships. Not the real kind, or the kind that lasts. I’ve seen what happens when people try to love through the cracks—they end up getting cut.
Yet, there’s this nagging voice in my brain, pulling me toward her. It’s a magnetic pull that I can’t stray away from.
Braxton looks at me funny. “Damn. You’re weird when you actually like someone.”
“I don’t—” I start but cut myself off. There’s no point. They’re already looking at me like I’m a lost cause.
I’m not sure what would constituteactuallyliking someone, especially considering I barely know anything about Lina, but I know the unsteadiness I feel around her isn’t something I can simply ignore.
I can’t ignore her, and that’s the bottom line. No matter how much simpler I believe it would make things.
Then Savannah leans in, voice light but knowing. “Maybe don’t lead with the Yale line this time.” Then, she turns back to Delaney.
Another moment passes, and my grip on the Solo Cup in my hand grows tighter.
“And look who it is,” Braxton whistles under his breath.
Savannah’s next to spot them, cutting off her conversation with Delaney to nudge me. “She’s here,” she says under herbreath, then sips from her red cup like she didn’t just drop a bomb.
She leans in slightly, enough that I catch the faintest trace of her perfume, and gives me a look I can’t quite read. “Try not to make it obvious.”
“Noted,” I mutter, already looking past her.
Lina steps through the door like she owns the place, but not in the way girls usually do at these things, dressed like they’re hoping to catch attention. Lina doesn’t try. She doesn’t have to.
Dark jeans and a fitted long sleeve, with her hair up. And somehow, it’s enough to shut the room up.
She shouldn’t get to do this.
Walk in with thatjust-low-enough V-neck and subtle makeup, and manage to throw the whole room off its axis. She’s supposed to be just another girl at a party I’ll forget by morning, but she’s not. And that’s the damn problem.
I continue to stare as Cam, one of the newer linebackers, offers Lina a drink. He’s only become a friend of ours this semester because he now lives with Braxton and me, but somehow, he fits like he’s always belonged. Kind, steady, and a little too trusting for this crowd.
He and Braxton are a lot alike, whereas I’m the more sulky roommate. It’s something they never fail to remind me of.
Lina glances around, likely realizing all her friends are nowhere to be seen. Drink in hand, she sits on the edge of the steps that lead upstairs. She doesn’t look at me right away, or toss her hair, or bite her lip, or do any of the things I’m used to.
She just… exists.
Braxton slaps my shoulder. “Good luck,” he mutters, the smirk still plastered on his face. I barely hear it. I’m too distracted by the knot in my stomach—the urge to either leave or get closer.
He’s such an asshole. With his boy-next-door charm and infuriatingly optimistic personality.
I move toward her without thinking much. It’s stupid for me to even bother, but it’s too late to turn back now.
She spots me right before I reach her. Her lips twitch, like she’s fighting some kind of smile—or a grimace. I can’t really tell, but it doesn’t matter.
“Is this the part where you tell me I’mtoo prettyto be at a Yale party?” she chides, looking up at me with an unimpressed expression from where she sits.
