Page 4 of Trust Again

“No!” I replied quickly, lifting my gaze to meet his. “Well, not today, at least.”

“You could come to my place.”

I was about to protest, but paused: I’d never been to Spencer’s place. We had a lot of friends in common and spent a lot of time together, but never on his turf. Actually, I was a little curious as to why he’d never invited us over.

But still, now wasn’t the time. Something in me knew it wasn’t a good idea to be alone with him.

“I don’t know.”

He leaned in close. “Why not?” he asked, his eyes traveling thoughtfully over my face.

My pulse began to pick up. Damned misbehaving heart!

If I wanted to prevent the heat in my belly from rising up to my cheeks, I needed distance.

As if reading my thoughts, Spencer picked up my bag and turned.

“Hey!” I called out, throwing on my jacket. By the time I’d turned to follow him, Spencer had already descended one flight of stairs.

“Give Watson back!”

He stopped on the landing and looked up at me. “Watson? Like John Watson and Sherlock Holmes?”

Nodding, I headed down the stairs while wrapping my scarf around my neck. Spencer tilted his head and watched me descend each step.

“If you only knew how much I’d like to ask you out. Right here, right now.”

I sighed. For the past six months, he’d been asking me out on a date almost daily—and my answer was always no.

I didn’t date. I didn’t want to.

“Spare yourself the rejection. You know my answer,” I said, stopping one step above him. Now we were at eye level.

All I could see was blue. Blue eyes. So playful and yet so earnest.

“But you’re coming with me anyway, right?”

“Are you giving me a choice?”

He turned and sprang down the rest of the stairs, with Watson held hostage under his arm.

That was his answer.

Chapter 2

Spencer drove a rusty red Volvo hatchback whose color matched my hair. As he navigated traffic, he drummed on the steering wheel to the radio. We chatted about this and that. College, movies we’d seen, the upcoming dorm party we didn’t want to go to. He was so easy to talk to.

Spencer always had something to report. He was majoring in Creative Industries and had already changed his minor twice, because he couldn’t commit and was interested in everything. This semester he was focusing on Sexuality, Gender, and Queer Studies, something I’d considered as a major. In the end I’d picked English with a focus on creative writing—my favorite subject.

As we talked, my anxiety about going home with him faded. He was a good friend, and as long as he didn’t make suggestive comments, I could handle it.

His place was on the outskirts of town, but still somehow fairly close to downtown—like most of Woodshill.

Spencer pulled up to the curb and stopped the car. I stepped out and took in my surroundings. This area was even nicer than where Allie and Kaden lived. Neatly built brick houses surrounded by green lawns and manicured front gardens lined the street.

“Holy cow,” I mumbled and looked up at Spencer; he was already walking away from the car. Following close behind him, I stared at the trees and flowerbeds, where the first bulbs were beginning to poke through the earth, despite the chilly weather.

Spencer headed straight for the narrow, hedge-lined path that led to a dark green front door with frosted glass. His shoulders seemed to tense up as he slipped the key into the lock, and braced himself against the door. It popped open and he stood aside, waving me in.