Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(39)

Raine’s psychobabble made sense, even if I didn’t want to hear it. When they did push me out the door to finish whatever the hell I walked in on, I only sulked in my room down the hall, staring at my phone and debating on what to say to the girl who I owed an apology.

Not texting her sooner than I did probably wasn’t the best thing considering how we left things. But I had no clue what to say, even after twenty minutes of staring at my blank screen.

The simple message I did send didn’t really touch on how awful I feel, but I figured I’d have something planned out to say to her when I saw her tonight. I wanted to get my head on straight after our last conversation went wrong so quick.

Yet here I am.

Leg bouncing more than usual.

Focus deterred from the lecturer.

My fists clenched on my lap as I attempt to listen to the professor drone on. The truth is, though, I don’t want to be here. Not right now. I’ll make Coach give me an excuse and lie through my ass about it later.

All I can think about is her.

I need to see Skylar.

That’s how I find myself slipping out of class despite the pause and probable glare I get from Mr. NYU at the front of the room.

The air is nippier now that it’s November, more comfortable in my opinion. I can wear a T-shirt and jeans without sweating my ass off like usual even though everyone else starts reverting to their winter wardrobe. My mind goes to the bundled-up frozen brunette that I hung out with Friday night at the bonfire. Even the guys took one look at her and smirked like it was the funniest thing they’ve seen when she showed up at our place looking like we were days away from Christmas instead of Halloween. She took off her jacket and beanie and still had on a bulky, ugly as hell sweater that she must have stolen from The Cosby Show set, but she seemed comfortable. Once the guys saw my approving look, they didn’t bother saying a word about it like I knew they wanted to.

When I arrive at Morris Dormitory a few minutes later, I don’t know what I’m going to say when I walk over to where one of the RA’s is sitting behind the counter near the entrance. Thankfully, I don’t have to say much.

“You’re DJ Bridges,” the nerdy looking guy says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Me and my suitemates watch the football games all the time.”

I shoot him an appreciative smile and lean on the edge of the counter. “Thanks, man. Means a lot. Hey, I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”

He perks up. “Sure, anything.”

“I need to find somebody that lives here.”

A smirk curves up half his lips. “A girl, huh? I’m technically not supposed to tell people where students live. But for you? Sure. What’s her name?”

“Skylar Allen.” I drum my fingers against the edge of the counter as he grabs a binder and flips through a couple pages.

“Yeah, yeah. She’s actually right here on the first floor. Walk through that hallway and she’s in suite 2. Only door on that side.”

I glance in the direction he’s gesturing to before pushing off the counter. “Thanks, dude. Hey, shoot me an email or something with your details and I’ll give you and your suitemates tickets to the next home game.”

His eyes grow huge behind those thick glasses. “Fuck yeah. I’ll definitely do that. The guys would freak.”

I wave him off and head over to the door with a big number two in the center of it. Knocking a couple times, I stand back and stuff my hands into the pockets of my jeans waiting for someone to answer.

When I hear the lock click, it’s a short, curly-haired girl standing there with a nose ring and surprised smile. She looks vaguely familiar. Can’t put my finger on it though.

“Hey. Is Sky here?”

“You want to see Skylar?”

My lips flatten over her gaping expression. “Yep. She here? She missed class, so I wanted to make sure she was okay.”

That stirs her into action. “Yeah, sorry. Come in, I’ll get her for you.”

Following her inside, I stop far enough in to close the door and study the common room. There are two other girls lounging on the cheap couches, both staring at me with interest. The leggy, tan blonde furthest away works at the diner across from Bea’s, always has a smile on her face, and used to be in an on again-off again relationship with our last quarterback before he graduated. The other chick is undoubtedly Skylar’s roommate. Red hair that looks similar to what I imagine Lucifer’s skin color is, narrowed eyes, and something weighing down her lips.

My presence is the only thing I can guess.

When the girl who answered the door knocks on the one closest to the exit and says, “Sky, you have a visitor”, I notice the eye roll that comes from Blondie’s roommate.

I’m tempted to ask her what her problem is, but don’t have time when the door cracks open and a disheveled, tired familiar face peeks out.

When Skylar sees me, her eyes widen.

“Hey,” I greet.

A pause. “Hi.”

The girl who answered the door winks at her and gives an approving, “Good going, girl,” before turning to me with a soft smile and then walking to sit next to Skylar’s roommate on the couch and watching whatever chick flick is on the television.

Tipping my chin toward her room, I ask, “Mind if we talk for a minute?”

Her hand grips the door before she lowers her shoulders, opens it wider, and steps aside so I can enter.