Page 4 of Trust Me

Chapter 2

Dean

Now that the football season was over, I had time on my hands. It was a blessing and a curse because I didn’t know what to do with it. Part of me wanted to be lazy as hell while the other stayed on my ass, chewing me out every time I relaxed.

Right now, I was high, so it was easier to silence the part of me that demanded I work harder, do more. It was never truly gone, and at a certain point, it would break through the weed and possibly give me anxiety, but that was a future me problem.

The door slammed open, making me look up from my textbook. Jay rushed in, and if it was possible, he looked more frantic than usual. He was always moving like he’d lost his asshole or something.

“You good?” I asked.

“Fine,” he replied without looking at me. He threw his comforter back, then huffed and grabbed the binder that was underneath. When he turned around, his eyes narrowed.

Inconspicuously, I nudged my dab pen so it was beneath my leg. I didn’t think it was possible for him to look more pissed off, but he did. I raised a brow, daring him to say something, but after a second, he just shook his head and left the room.

If I’d known he was going to come back, I wouldn’t have been smoking in here. I’d have to make sure I did it somewhere else now. If he went and complained to the university, it wouldn’t be good.

Not for the first time, I took a second to consider getting a different place to live. If I could find roommates, it might actually be cheaper than the dorm. The idea just sat strangely in my stomach.

How did one even go about finding a roommate? Could I qualify for a lease? I had decent credit, but I was broke as hell.

That thought brought the non-relaxed voice back into my head. Football was finished, so I should’ve been looking for a job. I should’ve had one already.

Even though the idea didn’t spark any joy, I pulled up a job-hunting app and started scrolling through. By the time I got hired and had some cash, it would be too late to get out of my dorm for the semester, but maybe I could start saving. The last thing I wanted to do was be stuck in a room with another guy for the rest of my years at Harmon. At the very least, I wanted my own room.

A job. That was the first step.

My mom would hate that I was working on top of doing school. I was twenty now, though, and this was a necessary step in my life, which she’d understand. Hopefully.

None of the job listings were great, but I didn’t expect them to be. I was a full-time college student who needed a flexible schedule and couldn’t be picky. If I had to, I would bag groceries a few nights a week. No big deal.

*****

“You’re sure you don’t have anything?” I asked again.

The owner, Marty, crossed his arms over his chest. He looked like what you’d expect from the dad in a nineties sitcom, and something about him made me feel at ease. The look on his face told me he wished he had a better answer for me.

“I’m fully staffed. Try one of the chain stores. They usually have applications open.”

I glanced around the store absently. It was a family-run place, much more inviting than one of the big names. I liked the atmosphere, and when I got myself food to keep at the dorm, I generally came here.

“I will,” I said before shaking his hand.

The truth was, I’d applied at all of those places. It was easy to do online, but everybody else did the same thing. All of them were just a name in the system. This place did in-person, on-paper applications. Most people would think it was old-school and refuse to put in the effort, but I could tell that Marty appreciated the idea of someone coming in to meet him personally. Unfortunately, it hadn’t done me any good.

The only thing I could do was wait for a call from one of the hundred places I’d applied. It didn’t help that my car was out of commission right now, so I was trying to stick close to campus.

On my way to the front, I grabbed their cheapest jug of protein powder to save myself the trip next week. It would have to go on one of my credit cards, but I’d manage. I was great at keeping myself afloat against all odds.

After I rang up the jug at self-check, I pulled out my wallet. I was about to swipe my card, but an arm appeared beside me and scanned something.

“Hey, what—” I turned, but when I saw him, I paused.

Oliver was . . . interesting, to put in gently. There was nothing wrong with the guy, and I honestly didn’t think most people saw him as odd. But I did. I wasn’t even sure what it was about him that made me feel standoffish. He was outgoing, but he wasn’t really exuberant—not in the way my friend West was. That one acted like he was going on his third line all the time, even when he was completely sober. Oliver, on the other hand, had a look on his face like he was discovering the world for the first time. He seemed excited but reserved, playful yet cautious, free and contained.

Maybe I was reading him completely wrong. We’d only talked once, at Tilian’s dorm, and even then, we’d hardly said anything to each other. I knew of him from the circles I ran in, and I’d never heard anything bad about him.

I didn’t care enough to seriously break him down, so I just chalked it up to us not having vibes that resonated with each other.