Trust Me (Becoming Us #5)

Chapter 1

Oliver

The need to belong was intrinsic to humans. It awoke as soon as we were born, and until the day we died, we would search for acceptance. Kinship. Family.

Since it was ingrained in every one of us, it should’ve been simple.

It wasn’t.

Our formative years shaped us, helped decide the outcome of our entire lives. If our needs weren’t met as children, all sorts of things could go wrong. The question was: Could we make up for all of the things we were denied, or were we doomed to be mere products of our circumstances?

Hopefully, the first one. Realistically, probably a mixture of both. Nature, nurture, and all that jazz.

Maybe that was why I studied psychology.

Maybe it was why I watched people the way I did, not necessarily with the desire to understand them, but with the desire to be them.

Maybe it explained how being an adult was really damn hard for me, and all the basic functions that seemed to come easily to other people felt like alien algorithms to me.

Hell, maybe it was why I’d been staring at Dean freaking Kennedy for the past few minutes while our classmates engaged in a not-so-subtle flirt battle.

We’d been in Tilian’s dorm for a while now, working on a project for sociology. Everything was great, then Brooks went and asked us all what our kinks were. As an icebreaker, I guess. It was the usual—choking from Tilian, choking from Brooks, marking from me. And Dean said . . . breeding.

What the actual hell? No, ‘what the actual hell?’ was directed at me because why did my stomach fall through my goddamn asshole? And why was I unable to take my eyes off of him now?

He was attractive, sure—ashy brown hair cut short, deep brown eyes, a soft bronze to his skin, a jaw so square it was basically a right angle, and the perfect body for his position as linebacker—but I didn’t know him well enough to really be intrigued.

Now that my interest had been piqued, I couldn’t shake the mounting curiosity about what else was in that head of his.

If I was lucky, there was just a cymbal-banging monkey in there, clap-clap-clapping away.

“We should go,” I whispered, painting on an easygoing smile when Dean looked over at me. “I don’t want to stay for the show.”

“Relax,” Brooks said. It was incredibly casual, although I could see the way he flexed his fingers.

The dude was an absolute mystery to most and nearly impossible to read, but I thought I had him pegged pretty well. A classic case of obsessive control over his life, high expectations, and intense, self-inflicted loneliness.

“We’re not gonna fuck,” he went on. “I’m on a strict strangers-only diet for an indeterminate amount of time.”

“Why?” Tilian asked. Immediately, he bit his lip as he dropped his gaze to the comforter. It made his hair fall into his face a little, and Brooks’ dark eyes intensified.

They were gonna bone, for sure.

Brooks’ curly hair was in a bun, but he reached up to touch it briefly, as if on instinct. “Why not?”

Tilian rolled his eyes. “What a shit response.”

“Okay, you lovely little thing. Strangers don’t catch feelings.”

“What’s wrong with feelings?” I decided to throw out there, just to nudge things along. Call me matchmaker or meddler; both were probably accurate.

“There have been a lot of questions aimed at me. I think I’m gonna need a lawyer present before we proceed.”

I smirked at the deflection. “Sounds like something you’d say if you were guilty.”

“What would I even be guilty of?”

“Being afraid of commitment, obviously.”

Brooks scoffed. “Uninterested is vastly different from afraid.”

I wanted to laugh, but I was acutely aware of Dean next to me, so I leaned over to him and positioned my lips close to his ear. He tensed, which was kind of entertaining. Getting any sort of reaction out of him felt satisfying now that he’d caught my attention.

That made it my turn to catch his.

“Let’s make a bet about how long it takes them to kiss. Loser buys dinner.”

Dean didn’t say anything. It was a joke, which he clearly didn’t find funny. I wondered if he disliked me for some reason. I didn’t really know why, but sometimes people just didn’t click, I guess.

Pulling back, I watched as Brooks and Tilian laid on the bed. They were smoking, and when Dean took the dab pen they offered, I assumed we weren’t going to be doing any more brainstorming, so I got to my feet.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

I froze, feeling like I’d been caught. It was the bass in his voice—not necessarily commanding, but to anyone who used to listen for the sound of footsteps and could recognize who they belonged to, it was enough to turn a man to stone.

Reminding myself that he was just Dean, I smiled. “Going home. Unless there’s more to do right now.”

He glanced at the others, but they were still talking softly. After a second, he held the pen toward me. “Want a hit?”

“Nah, I don’t smoke. Thanks, though.”

“Alright. See you in class next week.”

“For sure. See ya, Brooks, Tilian.”

Tilian’s blond head popped up. Characteristically, he blushed a little, then smiled. “See ya.”

He was so awkward, yet Brooks was incredibly forward. They would just be so damn right together.

Without another word, I left the room. Once the door clicked behind me, I pulled out my phone and read a text.

Remi: Dating = I’d rather die

Me: That makes no sense, bro

Remi: It sucks. Not a fun time. I’m too old for this shit

Me: You’re twenty-seven

Remi: Exactly. Cheer me up. I’ll be at your place in ten

With a sigh that was also kind of a laugh, I twirled my keys around my finger.

Needy bastard.

*****

“I have an idea,” I said around the piece of sushi I’d shoved in my mouth. “Stop being so picky.”

Remi turned to face me on the couch with a look of pure exasperation. “Stop being so picky, huh? You’ve never dated men, so you have no idea what’s out there.”

“Nah, but I’ve been around men and I am a man. It sounds like a nightmare. Women aren’t much better, though.”

“Aren’t they supposed to be?”

I laughed. “I don’t think they’re supposed to be anything in particular. I don’t really date, so I probably can’t speak from either side.”

With a huff, he set his tray on the coffee table and leaned back.

As I studied him, I noticed that he looked more tired than the last time I’d seen him.

His hair was down, and it fell just slightly past his jaw.

Even though it looked clean, he usually styled it so it wouldn’t get in his face.

Maybe he’d taken it down after the date.

I might have believed it if his eyes didn’t look somewhat dull.

And there were dark circles beneath them.

Hmm.

“How’s the bar?” I asked.

“Really good.”

“Riveting stuff, my guy. Next, you’ll tell me you went to the moon and it was pretty okay. Like, what about the color? It looks grey, but I don’t believe it’s that simple. Did you fall into a crater? Were there mysterious eyes watching you?”

“My god,” he groaned, but he followed it up with a chuckle. “Didn’t you know it’s made of cheese?”

I smacked myself on the forehead, which almost made my sushi tray fall off my lap. “Duh! Can’t believe I forgot. Did you taste it? Take a big ol’ bite?”

“Yup. It tasted like feet.”

“Best kind of cheese,” I said before popping the last piece into my mouth.

“Well, for your information, the bar is really good. It’s not in the red anymore, so I’ve saved it from the hell the last owner put it through.”

“That’s what’s up.”

“I might look into hiring someone part-time soon.”

“I feel like that’s the true mark of success. Before you know it, you’ll have a chain.” Tapping the back of my hand against his chest, I grinned. “And your own line of booze. What’s the catch phrase?”

“A drink for you, a drink for me. Pay what’s due, or I’ll break your knee.”

With a laugh, I shook my head. “Just don’t put your face on it. That’s weird.”

“My face could sell booze.” He flipped his hair and painted on his sauciest smile.

“But I’d lose all respect for you, Rem. And we all know that’s the most important thing in the world.”

He snorted before he turned away from me. After kicking his feet out, he leaned back so that his head was in my lap. I looked down at him, trying not to notice the tiredness on his face again.

“Thanks for always being here,” he said.

I cocked my head. “You were there first.”

With a smile, he shifted his gaze to the ceiling. “Why are you still sleeping in the living room, anyway?”

“The pullout is comfortable.”

“Pulling out is boring.”

I shoved him off of my lap, which just made him laugh.

“Seriously, though,” he went on. “You have a whole bedroom. What are you using it for?”

“Guests.” When he continued to stare at me, I shrugged. “I like it out here. Somehow, it feels less lonely, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

I grabbed his shirt and tugged him down again, letting him lie on me while we watched the show. In this moment, the unease that plagued me settled a bit. When I was with Remi, I almost felt like I belonged somewhere.