Page 11 of Trust Me

“No.”

I jumped a little when Oliver’s voice came from right behind me. It was kind of creepy that he’d been following me without making a sound.

Moving into the living room, I turned so that he couldn’t surprise me again. “Look, man, I don’t know what’s going on. If this is a prank you and Brooks have going—”

“A prank?” His head cocked again, making me clench my teeth.

“Well, I’m looking to rent a room, not shack up with you.”

He laughed a little, then leaned against the doorframe. “I’m not trying to shack up. The couch pulls out.”

“Oh. Well, I’m not really into that. It doesn’t seem much better than the dorm situation, honestly.”

“You’d have the room to yourself.” He pushed away from the wall and sauntered to the couch. With a very dad-like groan, he dropped onto it and spread his arms over the back. “I like to sleep out here.”

“You like to sleep in the living room? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. The window is bigger and lets in more light, the TV is out here, and it’s roomier. Plus, I get to see my babies.” He motioned toward the shelves.

“Yeah, I guess.”

He studied me for a long moment before he stretched his arm over his shoulder, making his t-shirt rise above his pelvic bone. Combined with his burgundy basketball shorts, he looked incredibly casual.

“You want the room or not?” he prompted.

Realizing he was still watching me, I stuffed my hands in my pockets again. “I don’t think this is what I’m looking for. Thanks, though.”

I headed for the door, more than ready to get the hell out of here. The whole thing was weird. He was weird. Maybe he was a nice person, but we just didn’t click, and every interaction felt like it was forced, as if we couldn’t bounce off of each other at all. Something about Oliver felt like a show that I didn’t care to understand.

“Hey, wait, man.”

His fingers wrapped around my bicep, pulling me to a stop. I immediately stepped away, but he didn’t get the hint and his grip stayed in place.

“What is it you don’t like about me?” he asked.

My brows rose slightly. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a straightforward question.”

I didn’t know how to put it into words, nor did I know if it was worth trying. He was staring, though, in that intense way he did, as if he didn’t know it was awkward. I really couldn’t get a read on this fucking guy. The look on his face spoke of pure, unrestrained curiosity.

After swiping a hand down my face, I leaned back against the front door. “I don’t dislike you.”

“You clearly don’t like me.”

“Do I need to?”

His cheek twitched, pulling to the side a little, and he cast his eyes to the floor.

Shit, maybe he did need reassuring. He didn’t look the type to seek validation, but who was I to judge a book by its cover?

“We’re just different people,” I explained as I roamed the space with my eyes. “I don’t get you, man.”

“You don’t know anything about me, so I don’t expect you to get me.”

“Okay, tell me this. Why do you think we’d be able to tolerate each other as roommates? Especially with this setup.” I gestured at the couch.

“I haven’t thought about it.”