Page 57 of Built to Fall
The car goes quiet, and I feel something warm crawl up my spine. Not embarrassment, but something else. Something a little too close to hope.
I smile out the window, just a little.
A few minutes later, Jack pulls onto Grant’s street. The party is already buzzing.
His driveway is lined with jack-o’-lanterns, red Solo Cups are already scattered on the lawn, people are spilling out of the house, and music is thumping like it’s part of the concrete.
Here goes nothing.
We weave through the crowd, Kara leading the pack with Jack hot on her heels. Meredith sticks close to Braxton, who’s already found us in the crowd, straying from the teammates that he was standing with. Eden is practically vibrating with excitement, already scanning for someone she can flirt with.
I’m halfway to the kitchen when I feel eyes on me. It’s instinct more than anything else that makes me glance over my shoulder.
And of course, there he is.
Grant. Leaning against the banister.
He’s shirtless—because of course he is—and the soft lighting only sharpens the cut of him. I know I’m going to have this view of him memorized for the rest of my life, confirming that a photographic memory does come in handy every once in a while.
Broad shoulders. Stupid chest sculpted like a Greek statue brought to life, each muscle defined. His abs flex slightly as he shifts, drawing my eye to the V-line disappearing beneath the hang of his low black slacks.
It takes me a long moment to scan all the way up his torso and finally take into account the devil horns on his head. Grant hasn’t even made the effort to wear a real costume, yet somehow still looks like a walking temptation.
This is exactly what I was afraid of.
It’s what makes me glance back down at what I’m wearing, and before I can fully process the trap I’ve so easily fallen into, I catch both Meredith and Braxton watching me from across the room, like they’ve been waiting to see my reaction.
They know exactly what they did.
Meredith gives me a small, almost guilty smile, while Braxton raises his drink slightly in acknowledgment.
I feel my stomach twist.
“Oh mygod,” I mutter under my breath, realization hitting me all at once. “This was a setup.”
Eden materializes at my side, sipping from her cup like she’s not part of the conspiracy. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“You didn’t just want me at this party,” I say, turning toward her. “You wantedhimto see me at this party.”
She doesn’t deny it. “Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“You guys put us inmatching fucking costumes,” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “This is emotional warfare.”
Kara pops up beside us, grinning unapologetically. “Sweetie, it’s Halloween. All’s fair in love and slutty costumes.”
And I hate that I laugh. Because itiskind of funny. I’m also positive I’m going to be the front headline ofNotes of New Havenin the coming week, just from being seen with him.
It’s already been bad enough watching Grant and Savannah be put through the gossip ringer, and I want zero part of whatever fictitious love triangle they would try to spin.
Still, I tug the robe tighter around me and shoot a final glare toward Braxton—who’s now very clearly whispering something to the guy next to him while glancing back at me with a devious look.
Departing from my friends, I canfeelGrant’s eyes follow me as I head toward the kitchen and start pouring myself a drink.
When I fumble the ladle into the punch bowl, a hand appears over mine, steadying it enough to keep the splash from hitting my robe. “Careful,” he murmurs, quiet, just for me. Then he lets go.
His gaze drags down my body, then back up, lingering. Like he’s not even trying to hide it.
“Don’t say it.” I fold my arms over my chest, but the second his eyes flicker down to where my cleavage was pushed up, I let them fall back to my sides.
