Page 25 of Trust Me

Chapter 8

Dean

My car purred. Purred instead of performing death metal vocals. It had never sounded like this, not even when I got it. Granted, I gave the guy five hundred for it, knowing it was a piece of junk, but it had functioned well enough for a couple of years.

It smelled clean in here. I didn’t keep the thing dirty, but it was old and you could tell. The upholstery was lighter and the floors were spotless. When I ran my fingers over the dash, they came back dust-free.

Music filled the space for the first time, coming from a brand-new radio that had Bluetooth. With my playlist coming through the speakers, the drive to Oliver’s place seemed to fly by.

As soon as I shut off the engine, I looked around the interior of the car. This must have cost a fortune. I didn’t care what kind of money Brooks had. It was too much.

I didn’t know if I was angry about it or emotional. Both, maybe. I hated that he’d taken it upon himself to fix my car, leaving me no option to decline. Then, he went and acted like an asshole.

Shaking my head, I got out of the car. That situation was in my rearview now. If Tilian wanted to continue pursuing something with him, that was on him, but I was moving on. This was a brand new chapter in my life.

Oliver was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The way he watched me approach put me on edge. I knew he was studying psychology, but he didn’t have to act like it. The perceptive look in his eyes made me wonder what he saw, though.

“How was the drive?” he asked.

“Better than paying to sit in a Prius with a stranger.”

“I bet.” We started up the steps, and while we walked, he tapped his fingers on his leg. Just as he put his key in the door, he looked at me. “I know you have a car and all, but I was wondering—”

The door flew open, making him jerk backward, releasing the key that was still in the lock. His eyes were wide, and as the seconds passed, he looked completely frozen.

Shifting my gaze away from him, I studied the guy at the door. His lips quirked, and his eyes were alight with amusement. They were the same brown as his chin-length hair, which bounced as he broke into laughter. It drew my attention to the hoop on his left nostril and the one in the middle of his lip.

“God, Oli, you really got spooked.”

Snapping back to himself, Oliver shook his head and pushed past him into the house. The other guy followed, and I came in last. After closing the door, I watched them stare at each other in the living room. It was like a standoff, but I didn’t know if they were about to fight or not.

Another few seconds passed, then Oliver dropped his forehead onto his fingers. He laughed, his shoulders shaking with the movement. “I told you I’m busy, Remi.”

Remi shrugged and leaned against the wall casually. “Busy just means you need a little extra convincing to make bad decisions.”

“I still don’t know how you run a successful business.”

“I’m a damn prodigy. When I’m a millionaire, you can say you watched me come up.”

Oliver shook his head, then dropped his arm. When he looked at me, he grimaced. “Dean, this is Remi. He’s a menace, but in a lovable way. Sometimes.”

Remi’s gaze went from my face down to my toes. He must’ve noticed me before, but he hadn’t so much as looked at me until now. His expression was unreadable, like an expertly carved mask.

“Dean, huh?” He pushed away from the wall and held out his hand. “Am I interrupting a study session?”

Since I was taught to always shake a man’s hand when I met him, I set my box on the floor, then gripped Remi’s hand tightly. “Not interrupting anything.”

His eyes went to the box. His brow pinched just slightly, then he looked at the other one that Oliver had set on the counter. Finally, his gaze went to my bags.

“Hm. A really weird sleepover?” he guessed.

Oliver came up beside him, drawing Remi’s attention. I was glad to have it off of me, but I still felt like a bug under a microscope.

“He’s moving in,” Oliver said. It sounded normal coming from him, as if this were just any old Thursday evening.

“Moving in?” Remi frowned. “You didn’t tell me.”

Oliver breathed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t sure he’d follow through, actually.” He shot me an apologetic expression. “You were sort of squirrely about it.”