Page 65 of Trust Me

“You’re right.”

While I thought about her statement, I tried to put it into words, but it was hard.

“At first, I was just attracted to him,” I admitted. “But . . . I don’t know. He has this way of making me feel safe.”

“Safe how?”

“Like I can go to sleep around him and trust that nothing will happen.” Rolling my lips inward, I took a breath through my nose. “It’s more than that, even. He’s seen some of my failures, and he’s jumped in to help me fix them. Not in a pitying way. Like he wants to guide me, not fix me.”

“Damn. Are you sure he’s not interested?”

I chuckled. “Nah. Not in the slightest.”

“That’s too bad. Still, if I see a shooting star, I’ll put out a wish for you.”

Putting my hand on my chest, I smiled. “You’d give me your wish?”

“Sure. You’re, like, the sweetest guy on campus, Oli.”

“Too bad we’re not compatible.”

“It happens to the best of us. We should hang out soon, though. You going to the party tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

“I’ll see you there, then.” She gave me a quick hug before she headed further down the aisle.

Thinking about the party made me nervous for some reason. I’d never been into the scene, but it didn’t bother me to be around it either. If Dean hadn’t invited me, I likely would have stayed home.

“Hey, you were off twenty minutes ago,” Marty said, stopping at the end of the aisle.

I blinked a few times, then pulled out my phone to check the time. “Damn, you’re right.”

He chuckled and jerked his head toward the front. “Get out of here. I’ll finish this.”

“You sure?”

“You did your part. It’s the weekend. Go be young and dumb. Not too dumb, though.”

With a grin, I walked past him. “Tell Rebecca I said hi.”

“She wants me to invite you over for dinner, but I keep telling her it’s unprofessional.”

“No one has to know.”

“Once you move on from here, you’ll have to come by.”

The thought of leaving this place made me feel sad, but I nodded. After dropping my apron off in my locker, I left the store, swinging my keys around my finger. The idea of going home sounded terrible, so I decided to follow through on harassing my best friend. He was always down for it.

Since it was Friday, the bar was hopping. I immediately spotted Remi behind the counter, moving at the speed of light. Dean was grabbing empty glasses from the tables, looking as focused as if he were on the field. It was crazy to think that Remi used to do this all by himself, and I was glad he'd chosen to get help. He was rapidly approaching thirty. God forbid he started finding grey hairs. I’d never hear the end of it.

“Hey, pal,” I said as I took one of the stools.

Remi met my eyes briefly, his lips quirking upward without pausing his movements. “How was work, kid?”

“Lots of beans.”

“Sounds terrible.”