Page 46 of Trust Me

Leaving him to do his own thing, I wandered over to where Dean was talking to a couple of girls. He was being professional, going over the purpose of the survey, but they were ogling him. One tucked her hair behind her ear, and the other giggled as if he’d said something funny.

“So, will you help us out?” he asked, slipping into something that was downright alluring. His smile could draw in his prey as soon as he flashed it. And here I was, wanting to offer him my neck.

“Sure,” the blonde one said. “Can you go over it with us to make sure we do it right?”

He passed them each a pamphlet and a pen. “It’s pretty straightforward. If you have any questions, though, just shout.”

She started to say something else, but I stepped up beside Dean. “I’ve gotta ask you something. Do you think question four is too confusing?”

He looked down at the pamphlet, and the girls moved over to the table. “Uh, I think it’s fine.”

“Oh, I don’t care about the question,” I said. “I know it’s on point. They just looked like they wanted to take a bite out of you.”

“Okay. And?”

“Well, they were going to keep you talking. We have dozens more surveys to collect.”

“You’re keeping me talking,” he pointed out. “You should be engaging the people too.”

“Are you upset with me?”

His mouth opened, and he blinked a few times. “Um . . . What?”

“You probably think I’m super irresponsible, forgetting to pay bills and stuff.”

“Dude, I already said it’s not a big deal. Maybe that mail on the counter would’ve reminded you, though.”

Rolling my lips, I thought about the stack he’d brought in. “Fair point.”

“Do you not have a system or anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Calendar reminders. Bill trackers.”

I shook my head. “That’d be a good idea.”

It was hard to tell if he laughed or sighed. Before I could try to get more out of him, a guy stopped at the table to read our info pamphlet. Dean joined him, striking up a conversation. Deciding I should do the same, I targeted a group of jocks I was vaguely familiar with. They might end up writing ‘Suck My Balls’ under the question ‘What actions could the university take to improve your mental health?’ but that was a risk among all college-aged guys. Probably even beyond.

Just as I was about to engage, one of them perked up with a grin. “Yo, Kennedy!”

Dean’s expression was bright as he jogged over to them. As the group spread out a little to talk to him, I stopped, trying to decide if it’d be weird to join them now. He’d probably think I was being relentless. And I probably was. People tended to think I was annoying when I attached myself to them. Except for Remi. He was the only one who understood it without me having to explain, which was good because if I explained it, people got even weirder, then ghosted me. I guess hearing about someone’s past made them uncomfortable.

And that was how I’d learned not to overshare.

“Hey, you’ve got to do this survey,” Dean said. “All of you.”

One of the guys wrinkled his nose. Matt, if I recalled correctly. Some of the women on the swim team called him Micro Masculinity Matt. Based on their stories, he deserved the name.

“What’s it for?”

“Mental health,” Dean replied.

Matt snorted, then jabbed his finger toward Linc. “Give it to him. He’s in touch with his sensitive side.”

Linc turned to him, half amused and half annoyed. “Because I’m a musician, right?”

“Totally. A master of those long instruments.”