Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(66)

I know if Ma were here right now, she’d take one good look between Skylar and me and deem us kindred spirits. I think part of me acknowledged as much even when she was running from me—when she pissed me off from avoiding rather than confronting me.

We talk as our food arrives, going back and forth on books, movies, and music. I’m not a huge reader, but I can hold on my own with some of the classics thanks to the lit classes I took earlier in my Lindon years. She doesn’t know many action movies, so I promise to catch her up on the films worth watching during our movie nights, which she casually agreed to with a secretive smile on her face that I haven’t quite decoded. And when we both talk about what a queen Taylor Swift is, I think her eyes nearly pop out of her head when she challenges me to finish the lyrics of random songs by the artist and I get them right.

Every. Single. Time.

Both of our plates are almost empty when I finally nudge her foot. “What exactly did you mean about wanting a redo?”

Her eyes stay glued to the plate as she pokes around one of her fries with her fork.

“I want to help, Sky,” I tell her softly. “I just need to know what it is you want help with. If it’s about being comfortable enough drinking and dancing at parties, I’ll happily take you to some and be your own personal guard dog. Help you work your way up until you don’t feel so uneasy. You have my word. You’ll be safe. But it’s up to you, completely in your hands, so you need to tell me what your expectations are.”

Her lips part for a moment before she lowers her fork until it clanks against the ceramic plate. “It’s not so much…” She pauses, shaking her head and looking up at me. Vulnerability is plastered across her face. “That’s part of it, I guess. I want to have fun and try experiencing college life. Just not how some people do.”

“You don’t want causal hookups.”

Her cheeks start turning pink. “No.”

“Okay, so you want to try giving parties another go. Easy,” I say, leaning back with my glass of sweet tea wrapped in my fingers. “What else?”

She looks pained. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“This is in your control,” I remind her, making sure she knows exactly what that means. “I told you before that I’d do anything you wanted. Tell me when. Tell me what. I’m there. Trust me, my imagination is vast on the open possibilities here, but I won’t share those thoughts because I don’t want to scare you.”

We stare at each other for a long moment before she drops her hands into her lap. She’s uncomfortable, but in this moment I don’t care. I want her to say it—to tell me what it is she wants from me.

I need her to.

“I want…” Her voice is strained, unsure, as she stares at my relaxed position across from her. I’m surprised when her shoulders pull back and she leans forward, hesitantly brushing my hand with hers. I let her move my palm until hers is sliding into it, closing her fingers around mine.

I try to calm my heart.

Try to ignore the twitch in my pants.

Skylar studies our intertwined hands like it’s some sort of anomaly. “I want to feel normal again. I want to hold hands and dance and touch and…” The red in her cheeks encases her whole face. “I want to do other stuff too. I don’t want to think about that night. I want to think about new ones. Fun ones. Calmer ones. Maybe then my brain will stop taking me back to that night. Maybe the nightmares will stop.”

Her voice is heavy, low, and it drives me fucking crazy. I squeeze her hand until her eyes cast upward to meet mine. “Do I make you comfortable?”

She nods without hesitation.

My fingertip trails up her wrist, tracing the vein that goes up her forearm. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

There’s a brief pause before she loosens a choppy breath and shakes her head.

Instead of pushing, I let my fingers rest there on her bare skin. Her palm flattens against my forearm as we sit and stare in silence. Only the murmurs around us fill in our surroundings as we soak in each other’ company.

A few moments later, the waitress comes back and breaks the moment. “Aren’t you two the cutest,” she gushes, smiling at the blush on Skylar’s face and the easy smile on mine. To my surprise, Sky’s hand doesn’t move from where it’s resting even when the waitress collects our plates and sets our check down.

With my free hand, I grab the slip before she can and pull out my wallet. “There’s a little get together to celebrate end of midterms next weekend. A buddy of mine hosts it every year. It’s never wild or anything, so it’d be a good starter for you.”

I slap a couple of bills down over the check and slide my wallet back into my pocket.

My hand slips back into hers, a movement she watches carefully, quietly. “If this is what you want, I’m down. We’ll take it a day at a time. Be friends. Be…whatever you need. I won’t push or expect anything that you’re not willing to give. But, Skylar?”

She stares, silent and waiting.

“There’s a lot of things I’d love to give you,” I admit. “Things that would make you feel so fucking good. The second that moment comes, you won’t remember anything other than my mouth on your pussy and my hands on your body. It’d be the best thing you ever felt. I promise.”