Page 8 of Trust Me

Obviously, this was just simple attraction. The guy was solid muscle with a square jaw, deep brown eyes, and dark hair that I wanted to run my fingers through. I was willing to bet he was one of those dudes who growled.

I knew that I was attracted to men, but I’d never explored it. I wasn’t even sure if I was bi, necessarily. What I could positively say was that it was more than just his face and body that had me intrigued.

Dean came off as serious, but he was playful with his friends. He also had the air of someone who took care of people. That was a trait I respected, and I also wanted to understand it more.

What made someone that way? Why did he seem like he’d give the shirt off his back without hesitation? Had he been taught to be like this, or did it come naturally?

Why was he into breeding?

Why didn’t he like me?

Why didn’t he want to breed me?

That was not a question I should’ve considered.

When he sat down, I leaned closer. My impulse control was pretty lacking, to say the least.

“Hey.” I held back the urge to pump my fist in the air when my voice came out stronger than I felt.

He offered me a chin-up like the overtly masculine jock he was. “What’s up?”

“Same shit, different day.”

“How original.”

At this point, some people would probably decide to bail. It clearly wasn’t doing any good to make conversation, and he was coming off dry and detached. Either he was more boring than I’d assumed, or he really wanted nothing to do with me.

There was this thing about me, though, that often told me to keep pushing at things for some inexplicable reason. I found myself staring at the side of Dean’s face, trying to pick him apart piece by piece until I uncovered his reasons for existence and how they differed from mine.

He turned, then his brow furrowed when he saw me staring. Not sure what else to do, I smiled before I focused on my textbook. I had no idea what Professor Pritchard was going on about, but I’d figure it out.

“I want you to work with your groups for the rest of the class.”

Well, that was a load of bantha fodder. Or was it luck?

Immediately, I scooted my chair closer to Dean. Brooks and Tilian did the same, then the entire class was filled with the sounds of desks scraping along the floor. When it finally quieted, I looked at each of them as I brought my pencil to my mouth. I chewed on the end for a moment before I cleared my throat.

“Are we still into the survey idea?” I asked.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Dean replied.

My eyes widened. “You do?”

“Uh, yeah, why not?”

“As long as I can stand in the back and not talk to anyone,” Tilian said quietly.

Dean looked at him with a frown. “People might be more comfortable talking to you, though. You’re the least intimidating.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Do you want to be intimidating?”

Tilian’s nose wrinkled. “No, you and Oliver can keep that title.”

“Me?” I laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You are, though. You’re . . . huge.”