Page 76 of Trust Me

“Can’t skate?” she teased.

“I can’t even stand on the ice. Guess I don’t have the body to be graceful.”

“That might be an understatement.”

I watched her take me in less subtly than before. She seemed sweet, and her slight shyness was adorable. If I wanted, I could probably get her number by the end of the night.

If I wanted.

“Do you want to dance?” I asked. “It’s another thing I’m not good at, but I can make an exception.”

“Sure.” She smiled when I threaded our fingers and guided her toward the living room. I kept my focus on her, refusing to look around for anyone else.

“What the hell, Linc?” Matt shouted from the middle of the room. He was on the ground with one hand on his face, and his lip was bloody.

Linc was standing over him, his chest expanding quickly with what I assumed was anger. I wondered what could’ve set him off.

He shook his head and went directly upstairs.

“You can always count on drama at a frat party,” I laughed.

Mila hummed her agreement, then pulled me the rest of the way into the middle of the room. Her hands slid up my chest and snaked around my neck. I gripped her waist to pull her close and breathed in her scent. It was like cherries—overwhelmingly feminine. I tucked my face into her neck, hoping that if I kept breathing it in, my body would respond to it.

*****

At least an hour and a few strong drinks later, I finally spotted Oli. He was outside, lounging beside the pool. His bare feet were flat on the chair, and he kept curling and uncurling his toes. Considering he was on his phone, I figured he was bored.

That meant it wasn’t weird to go up to him.

As if he sensed me, he looked up. Immediately, a smile curled his lips. I clenched my teeth, trying to shake the way it reassured me.

Dropping into the seat beside him, I perched my elbows on my knees and looked at him. “I want to talk.”

His brows went up as he matched my position, bringing him close enough for me to catch his evergreen scent. “Then talk, big guy.”

“I’m not gay.”

His lips thinned. I was about to apologize—for what, I had no idea—but then I saw that he was trying to hide his smile. I frowned, feeling self-conscious.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” he replied simply.

“Expand on that.”

“I’m alright.”

“Oli.”

He let out a shuddering breath. It reminded me of when he’d first told me he was attracted to me. Something about the way I’d said his name at the time made him admit it, so I decided I wouldn’t say his name anymore.

“Oli.”

Fucking shit biscuits.

“Dean,” he returned softly.

“Don’t do that.”