Page 17 of Trust Me

Chapter 6

Dean

Rick groaned as he struggled to rack the bar. I let him sweat for just a second before I helped. When he flopped his arms to the sides, I chuckled.

“Weak,” I said.

His eyes narrowed. “I’m not competing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll stick with Linc from now on.”

Linc snorted mid-bicep curl. “I’m officially out of the game.”

“Football, yeah, but there’s no end to friendly competition.”

“Friendly? You’re the king of unhealthy competition.”

“Nah, that’s Densmore.”

He laughed, which surprised me. Usually, he was all scowls and changed the subject when his over-ambitious rival was mentioned. If there were ever two people completely opposed to each other, it was them.

“Anyone know how Densmore’s ribs are doing since the game?” Rick asked, sitting up.

I took his place on the bench. “Don’t know. He hasn’t been around much, but he seemed fine at their apartment.”

Linc was staring at his phone with a blank expression. When he noticed me watching, he tossed it onto a bench and went back to his curls. “West has Kai to take care of him.”

“Got anyone to take care of you?”

He lifted one brow. “What’s that mean?”

I shrugged. “You look a little lost lately.”

“I’m good. Just shifting my focus these days.”

“The team’s gonna miss you,” Rick said.

“I’ll be around.”

“Better be. We’ll drag you out if you disappear for too long.”

I racked the bar and chuckled. “Good luck finding his secret apartment. He doesn’t trust any of us with it.”

“For good reason,” Linc said with a smirk. “I need peace and quiet.”

“Yeah, yeah. You and your piano against the world.”

“Exactly. Dean gets it.”

“Maybe Linc will finally let you take his spot at the frat house,” Rick noted, winking at me.

I considered it while he did his set. Would it be better than Oliver’s offer? I was pinching pennies in the dorm, barely able to keep myself fed. Generally, that amounted to black coffee that tasted like burial ash, ramen, and a severe deficiency in beneficial vitamins and nutrients. The rent at the apartment would be more manageable, but the guys at the frat might be more . . . tolerable.

While I spiraled into the realm of what-ifs, I didn’t realize that someone else had come up to our group. I blinked a few times, trying to figure out if Tilian was actually in the land of the living right now—in the gym that was currently occupied by most of the football team.

He looked out of place here. Tilian was cool, if not a little strange. I wasn’t sure what ate at him every day, and I wasn’t the type to push for information. Anxiety was a good bet. A general distaste for society felt on brand.

“What’s up?” I asked.