Page 224 of Tell Me Something True

Oh. That.

“Friday morning,” she said as she stood.

She’d wanted to wait until Saturday, the actual move-in day for the dorms, but Urban didn’t want to take a chance they’d miss her move-in time, so he and Willow were taking Friday off so the three of them could go a day early. Explore Ohio State’s campus and Columbus.

Where Urban would, she was sure, try to convince her of all the fun adventures she was going to have during the next four years away from her family and everything she’d ever known.

Realizing she was, once again, much too close to Reed Walsh—who had nothing to say now that she’d answered his question, no good luck or you’re going to do great or even goodbye—she crossed to her dresser and yanked open the middle drawer.

Seriously, heart. Get a freaking grip, already. The boy was not going to miss her.

It was easy enough to pick a pair of shorts for the day since there were only two in the drawer. Most of her clothes were already packed and ready to go to Ohio. Urban had pointed out that she didn’t need to take every item of clothing she owned considering OSU was only a few hours away and she’d be home in a few months for Fall break.

But she was already worried about… well… everything… about going away to school. She did not want to stress over possibly not having enough outfit choices.

Plus, she was hoping that the more things she had with her from home, the less homesick she’d be.

After picking out a bra and shirt, she shut the drawer. She’d get dressed in her closet instead of the bathroom in case Urban came back upstairs. But when she lifted her head, she saw Reed’s scowly reflection behind her in the mirror above her dresser and froze.

“Is this his?”

Frowning, she faced him, not liking his terse, grumbly tone. “What?”

“Is this his shirt? That guy who called you at the Vet’s parking lot? The one who called you babe?”

“It’s my shirt.” Which was, technically, true.

But Patrick had sent it to her.

And for some reason, she didn’t want Reed to know that.

“Is there a number on the back?” he asked, so quietly, so intensely, her throat went dry. “A name?”

“Yes,” she said, clutching her clothes to her chest.

His expression twitched, like he was struggling to contain some emotion he didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want her to see. “Whose?”

Again, she held back, which was ridiculous. She didn’t owe Reed anything. They weren’t together. Had never been together. She was free to talk to or date or hook up with any guy, as many guys, as she wanted.

She swallowed. “Patrick’s.”

“Did you pick it to fuck with me?”

She bristled, not liking his accusation. His assumption.

Really. How dare he?

“Hardly. I picked it because it’s the only one I haven’t packed that’s big enough to fit you. I had no idea you even knew what the Drillers were or that Patrick played for them.”

He flushed, his cheeks going pink with embarrassment and guilt.

“Or maybe you didn’t know,” she said slowly, her own suspicions mounting. “Did you look Patrick up online?”

Reed’s flush deepened. But his mouth stayed firmly shut.

Not that she needed verbal confirmation, what with him looking like he was so uncomfortable, he was itching to get out of his own skin.

Locking his gaze on hers, Reed reached behind his head and tore the shirt off like it had caught fire and was threatening to burn every strand of his glorious, golden locks. Then he balled it up and held it out to her.

---