Beg You to Trust Me (Lindon U #2)(8)
Once our food gets delivered, I doctor up my fried fish sandwich with the sauce it comes with on the side and use one of the fries to scoop up the rest of it from the small plastic dish.
“Do you know how many calories all that is?” my roommate asks, singling me out even though the other girls have similar dishes in front of them.
I pause with the glass Heinz bottle floating over my fries. “Um…no?”
She rolls her eyes. “A lot, especially considering you inhaled home fries for breakfast this morning and barely even touched the eggs on your plate.”
The girls remain silent, but I see the tiniest wince from Ali.
I feel the telltale sign of a blush forming as I try not letting her words get to me. Mom makes comments about my food habits too, and so does Sienna, whose been trying to get more modeling gigs in Los Angeles for the past few years. Those two and Serena are always about the newest trending diet, while I’ve always indulged in food with actual taste.
I lift a limp shoulder, knowing nothing I say will affect her like her constant jabs do me.
I don’t know what to do when we leave the diner and start heading to the curb to cross the street. Dee and Ali are talking about the coffee they want to try while Becca looks both ways to see if cars are coming.
For some reason, I follow them despite seeing the mass of large bodies still inside the bakery and the awkward silence that took over our dinner. Dee would bring up some random campus event, Ali would laugh halfheartedly, and I would stare at my food with a vanishing appetite.
I hesitate at the bakery door, only walking in because a young couple behind me is trying to get inside. It’s loud with laughter and conversation, and I notice a blue-haired girl behind the counter with a younger girl who can’t be more then fifteen or sixteen.
The bakery is quaint. It smells like French vanilla and sugar, two things that make my mouth water, and all the tables are already taken by mostly college students. Some on laptops, some with friends talking while they dig into their food and drinks. I’m glancing up at the menu written in chalk on the wall behind the counter when the girls start ordering.
When it’s my turn, I stumble through the process, feeling heat prickle the back of my neck when the girls giggle over my fumbled words. The blue-haired girl takes notice, giving a cold, narrowed look at them that my roommate doesn’t seem to appreciate. She plugs in my order to the register and tells me my total, accepting the cash I pass her, making change, and giving me a small smile when I toss the remainder of money into the tip jar.
The girls are all huddled off to the side, Becca making eyes at the group of guys while Ali giggles over something my roommate says. I could join them and figure out which guy they’re scoping out, but I don’t. I pull out my phone while I wait for my order and scroll through the group messages I’ve ignored all day.
Serenity: Sky, Mom says you’re not coming to the banquet.
Serena: Yeah, Serenity keeps bugging us about why you’re not coming. Put her out of her misery so she’ll leave us alone
Serenity: You talk to Skylar more than I do, that’s why I asked if you knew!
Sienna: That’s because you only want to talk about work, the foundation, and whatever Tony is planning for you two. Nobody wants to hear about that all the time
Serenity: I see nothing wrong with that
Serenity: So, are you coming Skylar?
Serena: She has school, pushy
Serenity: The banquet is on a weekend. She can easily book a flight and be back before Monday. I used to do it all the time
That’s as far as I get before rolling my eyes and clicking off my phone. Serenity always expects us to come to her foundation banquets that consist of snooty people with deep pockets. I don’t remember what she’s raising money for this time, but it has to do with something involving the law office that she’s a new junior partner at.
I groan louder than I mean to thinking about how much my family is going to harass me leading up to the event. The likelihood of me getting out of it is slim.
“There are rules against being in bad moods at Bea’s,” a voice that definitely doesn’t belong to any of my friends says. My eyes snap up to the tall, burly body standing in front of me, blocking what’s left of the sunlight streaming through the large storefront windows.
Long legs covered in dark denim.
Lean waist covered in a white tee.
Broad shoulders stretching the material.
A goofy grin spread on a boyish yet masculine face.
Blond hair that’s long in the front, toppling over his forehead, and shorter on the sides.
I’ve seen him before at the football house. The guy who saw me after I walked downstairs, who teased me unknowingly.
He’s smiling down at me, stunning blue eyes shining until he gets a look at my panicked expression. His lips slip into a frown and his matching blond brows pinch. “You okay?”
My fight or flight response kicks in when the anxiety starts choking me, and I don’t even think about the stuff I ordered and paid for or the girls I followed inside before my feet jerk me around the stranger and toward the door.
For a second time, the blond with a flirty smile and playful eyes sees me run away.
And, suddenly, I’m struck by a memory I didn’t remember before.
A hard body dancing behind me to a popular song. Big hands encasing my legging-clad hips, kneading, wandering upward. Soft lips on my neck that made me shiver. Words whispered into my ear that are still muted in my mind. Something hard pressing against my lower back.