Page 22 of Trust Me

Chapter 7

Oliver

Clearly, there was trouble somewhere in paradise.

Dean had been talking to Tilian in class. The hushed tones made it impossible to eavesdrop, but I figured it was about our absent project buddy. After class, he’d gone and talked to some other people—a couple freshmen from the football team. I didn’t think it was casual conversation judging by the tension in all of them.

Not that I’d been watching Dean. I’d just been aware of him.

Even though I’d wanted to be nosey, it wasn’t really my business, so I chose to ignore the situation.

Then again, it had only been thirty minutes since then, and I was here an hour before we’d agreed to meet, so ignoring Dean obviously wasn’t my style. He probably wouldn’t notice the time.

While I climbed the stairs in Marshall Hall, I sent a text to Remi. I had to wonder how he kept that bar of his running with how much of his time he committed to games, dating apps, and harassing me.

Me: Busy today, but definitely tomorrow

Remi: Sounds like I need a new best friend

Me: No one else could handle your needy ass

I laughed when he sent me a string of GIFs. For a second, I considered backtracking. Dean wouldn’t need my help settling in, but devoting all of my attention to the game right after he moved in was rude.

Popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I continued to the third floor. While I walked, I hummed my favorite anime intro and smiled at a guy who passed me. I kept it on my face all the way to Dean’s room, but before I could knock, the door swung open and he came barreling out of it. He stopped just before he collided with me. I sort of regretted giving myself so much space from the door.

My eyes went from his dark hoodie to his eyes. “Oh, you’re wearing a shirt this time.”

His brow furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Last time you weren’t.”

“Uh, okay. My bad.”

“No, not bad. You ready to dip?”

He looked over his shoulder, then at me again. He wasn’t particularly hard to read. Not for me, at least. To most people, he’d seem pretty simple, but he was always weighing things. There was a little scale in his head, and he was the type who needed it to stay balanced. I wondered what sat on the side that held his baseline, the pieces that had been established throughout the years of his life and remained mostly constant.

My head cocked as I continued to study him. The guarded look in his eyes. The way his fingers played at the hem of his sweatshirt. His attempt to reevaluate his plans.

He didn’t look happy at all. I almost let it put me on edge, but I focused on his eyes, which weren’t altogether angry. Whatever he felt right now was more complicated than that.

I reached out and put a hand on his arm. “You okay?”

“Yup.”

Lie.

“You can drop your defenses,” I noted, pushing my hands into my pockets. “If you changed your mind, you can say that.”

“What?”

Stepping back, I nodded just to have something to do. “I know you’ve been uncertain about it.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not it. I just . . . got back from an errand, and you’re early.”

“Oh.” I took my hands out of my pockets and crossed my arms. “If I’m not early, I’ll end up being late.”

“Sounds like you should work on that.”