Page 55 of Trust Me

He grunted. “Fine, Broku. I’ll take you out.” Raising and lowering his brows, he smirked at me. “I’ll treat you to a fat, juicy burger. You can’t say no to that.”

I shook my head once. “There’s food here, man.”

“But it all has to be cooked.”

“Yeah, that’s how food works. You should try to start saving money, you know.”

“Damn, are you going to take full control of my finances?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I clearly knew a hell of a lot more about being smart with money. That, or I just had more self-control with it. But Oliver was a grown ass man.

Looking over at him, I watched his eyes sparkle as he stared at an ad for some anime-looking figures. Sure, he was grown, but there was a childlike excitement in him.

No, it wasn’t even excitement, per se. Maybe it was more like desire. A need. Something deep inside that drove him to make up for lost time, to search for all the feelings he was denied at one point in his life.

“You’re staring at me,” Oli said without looking up.

Hanging my arms over my knees, I watched the way his grip tightened on the letter. I didn’t really care that he knew I was studying him. It was the best way to learn how to read someone.

Suddenly, he dropped the letter and turned to face me. I didn’t budge, even as his eyes traced the entirety of my body.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“When I was twelve, everyone at school was getting the new gaming system.”

“Which one?”

I ignored the question. “There were some old people in our neighborhood who gave me a few bucks to help them clean their houses and keep them company. It took me a few months to get it, but when I did, well . . . It didn’t satisfy me. After a week, I ended up returning it.”

“This sounds like a sad story.”

“No, not really. I left the cash in my mom’s purse, and when she found it, she cried and called it a miracle because she’d caught a bug the week before and her check was short. That money kept us from losing the house. And that did satisfy me.”

“So, honor in sacrifice or something like that.”

“Simpler than that. It was when I truly learned the value of every little thing in my life.” With a frown, I looked at the letter in his hand. “You don’t know how to survive.”

“I know how to survive better than most.”

“Sure, if we’re talking pure survival mode. What I’m talking about is building a life. Planning a future. Setting goals for the next year, five years, ten years.”

“I have goals,” he countered. His lips had turned down slightly, though the look in his eyes didn’t appear sad. More confused than anything.

“Name them.”

With a sigh, he matched my position and held up his fingers to count them off. “Get into college: accomplished. Live on my own: accomplished. Graduate and get a dope job: in progress. Fall in love: we can call that a five-year plan, though that’s being generous. I’d prefer to do it sooner.”

“Ten years?”

“Have a kid. Foster as many as I can. Adopt them, even.”

“They’re good goals. But they aren’t enough.”

His eyes narrowed. “How are they not enough?”

“You have the end goal, not the actual plan. You need steps. Then, you have to follow them. You don’t have a single dollar in your savings account.”

“Do you?”