Page 55 of Trust Me Always

I called her ten minutes ago, and her dorm is the closest to the main road. She should have been here by now.

I can only hide out in the damn bathroom for so long, and this isn’t my first trip in here. It’s my third. Ari claims that I have a baby bladder, and I do, in fact, have to take a piss again, though that’s not why I’m in here.

Damn,doI have a baby bladder? Maybe I should have that checked out.

“Oh, Brady.” A voice so sickly sweet I’ll have to go to the dentist after today calls out to me, clearly not concerned with offering me any privacy as one should when the other person is inside the damn restroom.

“Is this the line?” I hear someone else ask from outside the door and a curse leaves me.

Damn single-bathroom businesses, man.

With a deep breath, I wet my hands and grab a paper towel, force a smile on my face, and step out, drying my hands for show.

I grin at the elderly woman waiting for a turn. “It’s all yours, ma’am.”

She looks at me, her lips pursing, and steps a little farther to the side than necessary to allow me to pass.

Well, okay, then.

Must be because I’m shirtless and oiled up like a prized trophy.

Sarah, or maybe it’s Sasha, slides up right then, looping her hand through my arm—because women seem to think they can touch me whenever they want. She smiles up at me, slurping through her straw a little aggressively.

“Need my help again?”

She nods, and I push open the front door, pulling myself free so she can step out first.

“Aw, you’re such a gentleman. And yes, we do. Three more people pulled up, and two are big, tall trucks.”

My eyes go over the parking lot, and sure enough, there are two pickups sitting there, a little Nissan wedged between them.

The moment I’m off the steps of the convenience store, several girls turn toward me, some rushing over, the others just calling out and throwing up their hands.

“Brady!” The one with the bright-yellow tank top that’s tied just below her bra line beams, jogging over with what feels like very intentional movements, being she’s only about ten feet from me. “Help me with the big red one?” She sticks her lip out in a pout, and I wonder if I’d find that sexy if it were a Friday night.

A loud, familiar laugh reaches my ears, and I whip around, seeking the source.

“Oh, thank fuck,” I mutter, slipping away from the girls around me and meeting Cameron where she stands a few feet away.

She looks me over, her smile growing, so I give her a little show.

Doing my best stripper hip roll, I make the straw skirt around my waist crunch and move, and run my palms down my ribs in tune with the girly music blasting across the parking lot.

Cameron laughs harder and I join in, lifting her off the ground and spinning her before lowering her back to her feet.

Her eyes trail over the parking lot before landing back on mine. “So sorority car wash, huh?”

“Yep.”

She nods, smirking a bit. “So, like, am I playing the jealous-girlfriend role? Do I make a scene and get mad that you’re here with all these girls and I had no idea, stomp off, and force you to chase after me?”

My brows crash together, horror stricken. “You crazy? Some of these girls have had to hear the rumor that I’m someone’s boyfriend now. Do that and they’ll take it as us splitting up, and it will be worse. No, no. I need a partner in crime here, Cammie.”

She chuckles, nodding her head. “All right, so what do you want me to do? And why aren’t they in bathing suits if they’re having a car wash? Every girl knows jean shorts get baggy once they’re wet.”

I shrug. “Something about not wanting half-naked women out here to scare off store customers. Not sure they’ve realized all the girls have their shirts up to their bellies yet.”

“So how is it you’re allowed to be out here shirtless?”

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