Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(45)

From the corner of my eye, I see Danny’s mouth twitch downward before going back to neutral. “No big. You should probably head out before you’re late. Coach wouldn’t want you getting marked down for tardiness again. It’d suck if you didn’t get to start in the next game.”

Whatever threat lies between the lines is loud and clear to Wallace. His smirk disappears and is replaced with a scowl. “Whatever,” he grumbles, almost pushing into my shoulder as he walks toward the few guys still waiting for him.

I notice their attention turns to me and Danny, who still has his arm around me, until they shake off whatever thoughts they have and start walking away.

A few seconds later when I decide it’s safe to, I move out from Danny’s hold and offer him a weak smile. “Thanks for that. He’s…” I’m not sure what Wallace is, but my stomach twists trying to figure out the right word.

“He’s a dick,” he finishes for me. His blue eyes aren’t as bright as normal as he looks at me, and the way his brows furrow until there’s a crease between them makes me frown. “You good? He didn’t do anything, did he?”

Blowing out a breath, I shake my head and glance in the direction his teammate wandered off to. “I just get a weird vibe from him.”

He chuckles. “Most people do. He’s a player. Be careful.”

“People say that about you too,” I comment, daring to look at him. “Should I be careful around you?”

His lips twitch as mischief dances in his eyes. “I’d really rather you weren’t, Blondie. It’d be way less fun.”

Fun. Wallace’s words echo in my head, and I wonder what ‘buddies’ of mine have been telling people that I like a good time. I can guess.

“Where are you headed? I’ll walk you there.”

I point toward the Latte Lounge. “I was going to get something to drink and do some studying before my next class. I need to up my math average before my parents have a conniption when they see my current grade.”

His eyes go toward where I’m pointing before an overdramatic noise rises from his throat. “We can’t go there. That’s an epic betrayal to Bea’s I couldn’t live with.”

I gape at him. “Um…”

“Come on,” he urges, tipping his chin. “If you’re down with walking, I’ll take you to the bakery. My treat. It’s a good place to study and the food and drinks are better anyway.”

“What’s wrong with Latte Lounge? It’s right here.”

“That,” he practically spits, glowering at the popular college hangout, “is a dishonor to Bea’s. She’s worked hard to build her business and all for this joke of a place to open and steal her customers. They overcharge for everything on their menu, and their pastries are brought in from some random supplier. They’re not even homemade or bought from Bea’s! We can’t support that, Skylar.”

I find his dedication toward the local bakery oddly adorable. Then he sweetens the deal with one statement that would have me following him toward Main Street.

“Your roommate doesn’t hang out at Bea’s,” he says, grinning like he knows it’s the winning blow.

And it is.

“Lead the way,” I tell him, feigning reluctance.

When he offers me his arm, I stare at it for a solid ten seconds before he says, “Grant me the chance to properly escort a pretty girl to my favorite place. Just this once.”

My eyes flicker up to his hopeful face.

His eyes are soft.

Smile softer.

I tell myself the reason why I wrap my arm around his is because it’ll protect me from the nipping wind that blows around us.

But I’d be lying.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN





DANNY





I set down the white cloud mocha in front of the girl who asked for it along with a plate of Bea’s famous pumpkin pound cake that’s only for sale this time of year. When she glances at the frosted treat, she flicks her gaze up as I sit down with my Mind Sweeper—coffee with a double shot of espresso.

Grandma Meadow says she doesn’t know how my heart is so strong with all the caffeine I consume on a daily basis, but she doesn’t complain whenever I make sure she gets her dose of it anytime I’m back in Boston. I’ve been told enough times in the past by the batty woman not to come home unless I have something from Dunkin for her, so it’s become a habit to stop at one of the many stores Boston has before going to the house.

I take a sip of my drink. “Best pound cake you’ll ever taste,” I promise her, pushing the plate and one of the forks in her direction.

She eyes it with uncertainty.

Grabbing my bag and pulling out my anthropology notebook, I smack it down in the empty spot to my right. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said. You’ll put anything in your mouth, so give that a try.”

Her posture stiffens. “I was hoping you’d forgotten I said that.” The telltale sign of a blush makes its way to her face.

Trying my best to hide my smile, I shake my head as I glance at the notes and study guide that Ivy helped me with. “Trust me, Blondie. When you tell a guy that, there’s no way he’s forgetting. Chances are he—” I stop myself quickly, clearing my throat. “Never mind. Go on. Try a piece of the cake.”