Page 89 of Built to Fall
“Wait, seriously?” Grant looks delighted.
“Yeah, most people suspected it would be Lina.”
“Jesus Christ,” Grant mutters, annoyed. “Doesnobodylook at the profile of whose post I was sharing? I thought everyone would figure out the post was mysister’s!”
Eden looks at him with a wide-mouthed look of disbelief. “You’re ridiculous! The rumor would have blown over in, like, a day if you hadn’t gone and posted “Baby Vandenberg coming summer 2025.”
“It’s become a funny joke for us now,” I tell her, trying to explain this somehow. “It doesn’t matter if everybody believes it. They’ll realize soon enough that they’re dead wrong, and it will be embarrassing for them.” That’s the whole goal behind this.
“I can’t believe this is what it took for you guys to become friends: pretending to have a baby together.”
“Well, that and the fact that she’ll be sleeping in my bed,” Grant adds playfully, opening his bedroom door.
I glare at him. “Shut the fuck up.”
Grant only laughs, catching my hand before I can swing again.
“You love it,” he says smugly.
“Yeah, in the way you love getting a paper cut,” I deadpan, turning and stomping into his bedroom.
“Hot,” he calls after me.
“Die!” I shout without turning around.
“I’d rather not. I’m good right where I am,” he flirts shamelessly.
When I turn around, he’s staring at my ass, completely unaware of the way I start glaring at him. “You’re lucky I haven’t smothered you in your sleep yet.”
He looks up, smirking. “You’d miss me too much.”
“You vastly overestimate the effect you have.”
“And you vastlyunderestimate how hot you look when you’re pissed off.”
Grant whistles low like he’s proud, and I can’t stop the stupid smile pulling at my mouth as I slam his bedroom door in his face jokingly.
He opens it immediately after, but I’m already in his bathroom getting ready to go to sleep. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed directly across from the bathroom door.
“I can feel you staring at me,” I say over the sound of running water as I wash my face.
The floorboards creak when he stands and comes closer, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom in the oddly hot way that only men know how to do. I peer through the corner of my eye to see him cross his arms over his chest, the tattoos on his hand catching my eye.
“I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret.”
I flick water at him while he smiles lazily at me, reaching around me to grab his toothbrush out of the cup on the counter. We glance at each other in the mirror, toothpaste already foaming at the corners of my mouth.
“You’re in my space,” I mumble through a mouthful of mint.
He squeezes a line of toothpaste onto his brush. “You don’t seem to mind.”
I elbow him lightly, and he smiles around the toothbrush.
We brush in silence, shoulders nearly touching, his eyes flicking to mine in the mirror. I try not to smile.
Grant retreats back into his room once we’re done brushing our teeth. He continues to watch as I wash my face and quickly braid my hair. Although, I do shut the door when I have to change into my pajamas.
When I come back out of the bathroom, Grant’s in his bed waiting for me. He’s sitting against the headboard, shirtless, with one arm tucked behind his head.
