Trust in Me

head.

In middle school, I had a crush on this girl in my class. She was a lot like Shortcake—tiny, rarely spoke, nervous as one of those small dogs that shook all the time. But when she smiled, the fucking sun seemed to rise. She never gave me the time of day, but like a goober, I looked forward to seeing her every day. Turned out in high school, she liked girls and not boys, which probably explained why she had absolutely no interest in me.

Sliding my hand up the strap of my book bag, I could easily admit it would be hella disappointing if that were the case with Shortcake.

I strolled up on Avery, and she had no idea I was even there. Shoulders rolled forward, right hand toying with the bracelet on her left wrist. She was staring straight ahead, the taut expression on her face telling me that she might be physically present, but she wasn’t in this room.

Was Shortcake ever relaxed? Didn’t seem that way.

I glanced up at the front of the class, where a few people I knew were sitting. That’s where I should go. Instead, I eased my way down the row of seats. Shortcake still hadn’t registered I was there.

“Morning, sweetheart,” I said, deciding against sitting down first.

Shortcake jerked like a startled cat, twisting in the seat. Her jaw dropped as her eyes made contact with me. She said nothing as I slid into the seat next to her and settled back.

“You look a little rough this morning,” I commented.

Her lips pursed. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Glad to see you make it to class this time.” I scooted down, kicking my feet up on the seat in front of me. “Though, I kind of missed the whole running-into-each-other thing. Provided a lot of excitement.”

“I don’t miss that.” She started digging around in her bag, pulling out a pristine notebook. I couldn’t remember the last time I bought a new notebook for class. I believed in recycling them. “That was really embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t have been.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re the one who got plowed. I was doing the plowing.”

My mouth dropped open as a laugh caught in my throat, but then my brain took the word “plowing” to the gutter, and I had to spread my thighs a little to get comfortable. There were so many things I could do with that comment. They all rushed to the tip of my tongue. Some would burn the ears off of strippers, but one look at Shortcake told me that would not go over well.

Her face was as red as the cover of the notebook she was currently staring at. The chick . . . damn, she was so awkward—endearingly awkward. I wondered if she was homeschooled through high school.

While her awkwardness was damn cute and entertaining, I searched for something way off topic to say. “Raphael is doing great, by the way.”

A small grin appeared on those pretty lips. “That’s good to hear. Did he pee on your hand?”

“No, but it was a close call. Brought you something.”

“Turtle pee?”

I laughed, amused by her quickness as I pulled out the syllabus, spying the cookies I’d brought with me. “Sorry to let you down, but no. It’s a syllabus. I know. Thrilling shit right here, but figured since you didn’t come to class on Monday, you’d need one, so I got it from the professor.”

“Thank you. That was really thoughtful.”

“Well, prepare yourself. I am all kinds of thoughtful this week. I brought you something else.”

She started chewing on the edge of her pen as I pulled out the napkin. “Cookie for you. Cookie for me.”

Slowly lowering the pen, she shook her head. “You didn’t have to do that.”

I didn’t bring her a gold ring. “It’s just a cookie, sweetheart.”

Her head shook again as she stared at me. You’d think I was handing her crack or something. Sighing, I covered one of the cookies with the napkin and unceremoniously dropped the cookie on top of her notebook. “I know they say you shouldn’t take candy from strangers, but it’s a cookie and not candy and technically, I’m not a stranger.”

She stared at me.

Watching her from under my lashes, I took a bite of the other cookie and closed my eyes. I tipped my head back as the chocolate-covered walnuts danced over my taste buds. I moaned, knowing exactly what I was doing. My cookies were damn good, so the next sound I made wasn’t an overexaggeration.

“Is it really that good?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, this is the shit. I told you that last night. Be better if I had some milk.” I took another bite. “Mmm, milk.”

In the following silence, I opened one eye and fought a grin. She was watching me, lips slightly parted. “It’s the combination of walnut and chocolate. You mix that together and it’s like an explosion of sex in your mouth, but not as messy. The only thing better would be those teeny tiny Reese’s cups. When the dough is warm, you plop those suckers in. . . . Anyway, you just need to try it. Take a small bite.”

Her gaze dropped to the cookie in her lap and she let out a low breath. Picking up a cookie, she took a bite.

I couldn’t stop watching her. “Good? Right?”

She nodded.

“Well, I have a whole ton of them at home. Just saying . . .” My gaze was riveted on her. Who knew watching a girl eat a cookie could be so interesting? As she wiped her slender fingers off, I moved without thinking.

The warmth of my knee brushing hers traveled up my leg as I twisted in the seat, reached over, and took the napkin from her. “Crumb.”

“What?”

With my empty hand, I smoothed my thumb along her bottom lip. A jolt of something zinged up my arm and went straight to my cock. She stilled, her chest rising sharply and eyes widening. My hand lingered longer than it should have, but not as long as I wanted. Her lip was soft under my finger, her chin smooth against my palm. I forced myself to pull away.

There hadn’t been a damn crumb on her lip. I was a liar. But I wanted to touch her.

“Got it.” I smiled.

She looked flustered. Not upset, but unnerved. I tried to feel some level of guilt for touching her but couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what that said about me.

But then Professor Drage finally entered the front of the classroom. Drage was an odd fella. The green polyester suit was a staple. When I took this class the first time around, he used to mix up his wardrobe with an orange one. The checkered Vans and bow tie hadn’t changed in years.

I shifted in the seat, glancing over at Shortcake. The look on her face was priceless. I chuckled. “Professor Drage is a very . . . unique man.”

“I can see,” she murmured.

Professor Drage launched into a lecture. I wasn’t sure what it was about. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. Most of this stuff I already knew and hearing the shit again reminded me of my freshman year, something I didn’t like to dwell on.

One night had completely fucked up the path of my life.

Pushing that out of my head, I started sketching. Before I knew it, I’d drawn Big Foot and class was coming to an end in typical Drage fashion.

He started passing out star maps. “I know today is only Wednesday, but here is your first assignment for the weekend. Skies are supposed to be clear as a baby’s bottom on Saturday.”

“Clear as a baby’s bottom?” Avery muttered.

I chuckled.

“I want you to find the Corona Borealis in the sky—the actual, real, honest-to-goodness night sky,” Professor Drage explained. “You won’t need a telescope. Use your eyes or glasses or contacts or whatever. You can view it either Friday or Saturday night, but the weather is looking sketchy on Friday, so choose wisely.”

“Wait,” someone from up front said. “How do you use this map?”