Page 60 of Trust Me

Chapter 17

Dean

Turning over, I pulled the pillow over my head. It barely drowned out the sound from the living room, and there was no way I’d fall asleep like this. Thunder rumbled overhead, which I preferred to Oli’s loud voice. He shouted, either from winning or losing the match, then I heard him say something about loading up another one.

Not a chance. I couldn’t deal with this for God only knew how long.

Throwing off the covers, I marched toward the door in just my boxers. Oli was already looking in my direction when I threw it open. His head cocked and his lips thinned, but he turned back to the TV.

“Give me a sec,” he said into the mic. He snorted a laugh, then slipped the headset off of one ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“What’s up with me? What’s up with you?”

He set the controller on the table and shifted so he was sitting crisscross on the couch. “You’re mad.”

My brows went up for a second. “What makes you say that?”

“Sorry if I’m being loud. I can get off.”

That was what I wanted, but now that I was looking at him, I wasn’t sure how to respond. He seemed small, like a scolded child, even though I hadn’t said much of anything.

This might’ve been one of his jumping to conclusions things, and for some reason, I didn’t want to tell him that he was right.

“It’s fine,” I said.

When I spun around to go back to bed, I heard the couch creak. Already knowing he’d be there, I slowly turned. With him in front of me, I could see the caution in his eyes, like I was some wild animal he was wary to approach. It struck me hard, igniting something akin to what I’d felt yesterday when that asshole almost knocked him over.

“You look upset,” I noted.

“I’m not.”

“Then tell me what you are.”

“Just . . .” He looked toward the TV, then back to me. “I can tell you’re angry.”

“Why do you think that?”

“It’s your footsteps . . . But then you say it’s fine. It’s irritating.”

At that, I breathed a laugh. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. I thought you looked scared. Or sad.”

“You don’t like when I’m sad.”

I blinked a couple of times, my stomach twisting. “Nobody should be sad. Anyway, you can play your game.”

“I don’t really want to.”

“So, don’t.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight,” I said a little awkwardly.

He didn’t move, even as I started to close the door. It felt like shutting out a dejected puppy, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.

As I laid in bed, I stared at the ceiling. I didn’t hear him saying anything out there, so I assumed he’d shut the game off. There were small sounds, though, which I couldn’t place.

Oli always walked quietly in the apartment, like a cat prowling around. Any time I came out of my room and found him doing anything, he acted like he’d been caught. I didn’t give a shit if he existed in his home, but he seemed intent on being a ghost.