Page 60 of Trust Me Always

“Imagine, I can lie back, rest my eyes, and just listen.” I see the moment she decides this is the best idea ever, her eyes lighting up at the thought alone, and oddly enough, a sliver of eagerness races down my own spine. “Okay, yes. Let’s do that. Fuck this library. It’s distracting anyway. Ari is in class during this time, so my dorm is perfect.”

“Your ass will fall asleep,” I tease. “There’s a reason I made you come out of your dorm to study in the first place.”

“Pleeease,” she begs, pouty lip and all.

I want to lean forward and bite at it…but that would be weird, so instead I flick her pretty mouth, my own twitching. “All right.” I nod, and she starts to get excited, but then she sees it, the mischief in my gaze.

Her eyes narrow just as I say, “On one condition.”

Cameron

“Cammie,” he singsongs, his long strides easily keeping up with my own.

I don’t get so much as a single pace ahead of him. No, the man stays on me the whole-ass time, and he doesn’t give up.

“We already established you’re a closet freak,” he says, laughing and dodging my hand when I reach out to smack him. “And while I’m shocked by this latest development, I’m not surprised.”

“No?” I raise a brow.

“Nah.” He grins, and it’s the infamous Brady Lancaster grin. Intentionally slow, hooked high on one side, showing just a hint of white teeth and maybe making the dimple on his left cheek pop. It’s full-on playboy, screamingbaby, come get me.

I glare, and he chuckles tauntingly.

“Fine! Just tell me when you got ’em done, and I’ll leave you alone,” he suggests.

“Liar.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you alone…for today.”

I almost snort, spinning in my sandals and giving him my back. “Bye, Brady!”

“See you later, Favorite Girlfriend!”

I can’t help but laugh, tucking my hands into my hoodie as I make my way to my Free Art class, my first ever elective.

When I first registered for the semester, I assumed this class would be my easiest. Unfortunately for me, it’s quite the opposite. It’s hard as shit, and apparently, I suck at all things art.

So far, we’ve only played around with several different types of artistic expression, searching for our “niche,” as Professor Lorraine called it.

I officially suck at drawing, photography, digital design,andpainting. To be fair, we did swap to something new each class, so it’s not like there was time to learn a whole lot, but I guess that’s the point. Dabble in them all and find that sweet spot.

I may very well fail this class if I can’t find something I’m half-decent at, but by the looks of it, it’s going to be a close call. I’m sitting at a solid D at the moment, having been unable to complete a single assignment from start to finish. But hey, at least I’ve got the 10 percent of my grade coming from attendance and participation points going for me.

Ugh.

Slipping into class, I smile at my station partner, slowly making my way over.

“Hey.” Lilly beams, her pink hair in two adorable, spiky pigtails.

“Hey.” I stuff my bag in the cubby drawers under our station and tie my apron over myself before looking over the supplies stacked on the table.

There’s some weird gray powder, a little plastic tray, and some makeup-brush-looking things with sharply cut points.

“What are we doing, making dust angels or something?”

She laughs. “My guess is sculpting.” She pokes the gray, dusty-looking stuff. “This looks like the making for some sort of clay.”

Sure enough, when the professor closes the door, officially locking anyone who isn’t yet in their seats out for the day, she confirms Lilly’s guess.

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