Trust in Me

She quickly leaned forward, snatching the phone and turning off the ringer. Seemed a little strange, how stiff she was when she did it. “I think it’s rude to answer the phone when you have company.”


All we were doing was being overly critical about the movies. “I don’t mind.”

Shortcake sat back, nibbling on her thumbnail as she turned her attention to the TV. Come to think of it, I couldn’t recall a time when I saw her on her phone—not before class or around the campus. Most girls had their phones glued to their hands or the side of their face. She said she wasn’t popular in school and it was obvious she wasn’t that close to her family, but . . .

Well, something was off about it all, but I didn’t know what.

Minutes went by and she was still chewing away on her fingernail, something I hadn’t see her do before now. I reached over, wrapping my fingers around her wrist.

Her chin jerked up and her gaze landed on my hand. “What?”

“You’ve been biting your nail for the last ten minutes.” I lowered her arm to her thigh, but kept my hand around her wrist. The tips of my fingers touched. That was how small her wrist was. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” She inhaled sharply. “I’m watching the movie.”

“I don’t think you’re really seeing the movie.” Our gazes met. “What’s going on?”

She pulled her hand free, and I let go. Reluctantly. “Nothing is going on. Watch the movie.”

“Uh-huh.” I dropped the subject, knowing that pushing Shortcake got me absolutely nowhere.

She grew quiet, and I checked out the time on the digital box below the DVD player. It was well after ten, and I expected her to kick my ass out any minute now, but when I shifted on the couch, throwing my right arm along the back, the entire left side of her body ended up against mine.

I froze and I believed my heart literally stopped as I waited for her to squirm away, keeping the mandatory two feet of personal space between us.

But she didn’t.

Holy shit, she didn’t.

I glanced down at the top of her head, forcing my breathing to remain steady. Over the next half hour, every cell in my body became aware of her weight, her warmth and her deep, even breaths.

My heart skipped a beat when her head came down on the spot just below my shoulder. Was she asleep? “Avery?”

When there was no answer, I determined that she had, in fact, fallen asleep on me. There was a swelling in my chest, bigger and tighter than the knot that seemed to form whenever I was around her. And the strangest damn thing happened as I stared down at her. Parts of my body hardened at her closeness, but my insides softened like butter left out in the sun.

You’re so fucked when it comes to that girl.

Those words kept coming back to me, time and time again. Maybe I was fucked, but I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Carefully, so that I didn’t wake her, I brought my arm off the back of the couch and gently guided her down so that her head rested on my thigh.

And something not too far north enlarged. Perhaps that wasn’t the smartest idea, because it was too tempting to have her this close, but this . . . well, it felt right in a way that it had never felt with any other girl.

My chest lurched as Shortcake snuggled in, folding her hands together under her chin. I watched her for a moment, soaking up the smooth line of her jaw, the curve of her cheek and those rosy lips.

Damn, I was fucked in all the right ways.

I tried to pay attention to the movie, but I hadn’t even realized when it ended and the regular channel kicked back in. My eyes were on Avery once more. I wasn’t even sure my attention had ever left her.

I thought it was cool in the room, so I pulled the brown and green patchwork quilt over the back of the couch and draped it over her body. The bare expanse of her shoulder snagged my attention. Her shirt had slipped down her right arm and there was nothing but that little strap.

The soft glow of her skin lured me in and I was absolutely powerless to resist it. Lowering my hand, my breath caught as I touched the elegant curve of her shoulder.

Avery murmured in her sleep and wiggled a bit, but she didn’t wake up. It probably wasn’t cool to keep touching her, but I dragged my fingertips down her arm, relishing in the feel of her. Stopping at the hem of her shirt, my fingers grazed her silky skin all the way up to her cheek.

I was glad she was asleep, because the thought of her knowing how badly my hands shook would probably have been embarrassing as hell. Boy, they were trembling too, like I’d never touched a girl before.

Avery . . . hell, she completely undid me.

Tipping my head back against the couch, I closed my eyes and swallowed hard as I rested my hand on the flare of her hip. I could probably count on two fingers how many times I spent the evening with a beautiful girl curled up against me and asleep, when I was just content to be there with her. Part of my brain was telling me there was a word for this, as crazy as that word sounded and felt, so I ignored that part.