Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(21)

We’re a few minutes into the walk when the silence between us starts to make me itch. “I hear we’re watching some French flick this week. We have to read the subtitles.”

I hate reading subtitles. I have enough trouble paying attention to movies themselves because I’m a naturally antsy person, so adding more work to understand what the hell is going on is too much.

My walking buddy murmurs, “Yeah, that’s what’s on the syllabus.”

Formal. Withdrawn.

My eyes go down her body, covered in another pair of black leggings, and a loose shirt with—my eyes narrow. Are those cats with glasses on them? Huh. It’s kinda cute on her.

Innocent, in a way.

“You’re staring,” she points out, quickly looking forward again after our eyes meet for a couple seconds. Her Timberland boots scuff against the red rubber track, holding her focus.

I pop my lips. “You can’t decide if you like me or not, can you?”

It’s pretty obvious to me, but when her eyes widen as they bolt back to me, I can see she’s surprised at my observation. She must be one of those chicks who thinks all jocks are dumber than a box of rocks. And some of them? Yeah. I can name at least three people I’d never want to work with on any group project or trivia team. But that’s not the case with me.

Once again, her silent assumption grates at me. “Do you judge everyone you meet, or am I just one of the lucky ones?” I grumble, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my athletic shorts.

“I could say the same about you,” is her firm response. “You haven’t exactly been Mr. Sunshine toward me, so you’re hardly one to make any assumptions. I don’t judge anyone.”

My brows arch, but I remain looking everywhere but at her because I don’t trust what my face looks like. “That seems like bullshit to me since you’ve made a lot of half-assed assumptions about me since we’ve met. You don’t know me either, princess.”

There’s only a short pause. “You were rude to me the first time we talked, made me feel like crap about…things. Said stuff that embarrassed me. Did you know that?”

My eyes narrow. “When?”

“At your house!” She stops walking, her clipped voice matching the frustrated expression pinching her lips as she challenges me with a narrowed eye lock when I stop and turn toward her. “Then you did it again during class. You came up to me at the bakery and then made it seem like I was chasing you when you brought it up during film. Just because some girls may be after you, doesn’t mean we all are. You embarrassed me by making assumptions that weren’t even true. You made me feel like…” Her words fade, cheeks flushing as she lets out a frustrated breath.

Her throat bobs. “You made me feel less than. I’m so sick of people here making me feel that way when I deserve better.”

I feel like shit now more than ever. “I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. But I don’t see what the big deal is. If this is because I watched you doing the walk of—”

“Stop calling it that.” Her voice cracks, her eyes darting away quickly, but not before I see them glaze.

What the hell? “Are you crying?”

“N-No.”

Shit. Fuck. “Hey, don’t… Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I’m not always the best at wording things. I was just trying to say that we’ve all been there. It’s not a big deal. Shit, that house has seen a lot of jers—er, women that come and go the morning after. It’s a rite of passage for college kids these days.”

“Well, it’s not for me!”

I shake my head at her shriek, not understanding the issue. Some women must not want their business out there like men do. Half the time when a woman leaves one of my teammate’s rooms, they’re walking downstairs like they won a fucking Heisman and give the dirty details to anybody who will listen as soon as they can.

“Fine.” I put my hands up to show her I surrender. “I’m obviously not making this any better. If you want to know my awkward firsts, the first time I did something like that, I didn’t know the protocol. Did I stay? Leave before she woke up? Stick it out? Grab breakfast? Pay for a cab home? There’s a lot to think about with one-night stands.”

The dirty look she gives me has me clamming up. She really doesn’t want to discuss this. The scathing look practically peels the skin right off my bones.

Deciding I’m not ready to end our time together, I wait until she’s beside me before matching her steps as we continue to walk. “You from around here?” I have a talent for these things, and her sun-kissed skin gives me Cali vibes, but one can never be too sure.

Skylar lets out a small breath before answering. “No.” Another awkward pause. “I’m from California.”

I give myself a secretive smile.

Called it.

“Boston,” I tell her, even though she doesn’t ask. There’s a pep to my step as those baby blues find their way back to me. “In case the accent didn’t give it away.”

The corners of her lips start to move, but by the time I blink they’re back in their guarded state. I sigh to myself and shrug it off. You win some, you lose some.

Doesn’t mean you stop playing. “I have this crazy proposition for you.” I ignore the stiffness in her shoulders over my chipper proclamation. “I propose we be friends. I’m not saying besties, we have to work up to that. I’ll need to grow my hair out some more so you can braid it, but in the meantime, we can gossip about men, make friendship bracelets, and paint each other’s fingernails.”