Page 19 of Trust Me

“You like to cook?” she asks, flipping the sticks, revealing a perfectly toasted side.

“Yeah, it’s a mindless task for me. Everything in my mind goes blank except for what I need to be doing with my hands. It’s soothing,” I respond, noting how natural it feels having her in my kitchen, cooking and chatting with me. It’s something I’ve never experienced before and I can’t say that I hate it.

“I’m in for the cooking schedule. When I lived with my best friend Aurora, I always cooked every meal since she loathed it. So it’s kinda nice to share cooking duties.”

I remember meeting Aurora briefly at the athletic gala last December. She was pretty and seemed nice. But that night, I couldn’t take my eyes off Jasmine. Especially when she was dancing.

It’s why I have no idea how the fuck I’ll survive living with her and not giving into my temptation to see how she would feel beneath my lips.

“How is she doing? She made it to Team USA, right?” I inquire, watching as Jasmine plates four sticks of French toast on one plate with a hearty squeeze of maple syrup on the side.

Sliding her plate across the counter, she sits on the stool across from me. “She’s great. She and her boyfriend, Cameron, have a house together, and she’s loving working with the team. But what she’s really excited about is starting her passion project.”

“What’s this passion project?”

“Oh”—she swallows a bite, holding her finger up to me—“she’s opening a facility for kids with disabilities to learn how to play sports. They’ll even have access to professional athletes and coaches.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Do they need any help with funding? I’d love to support them.”

“Uh, I think they’re good, but I can find out,” she says, tucking a black curl behind her ear.

I get the idea that she doesn’t want me to think she wants me to dish out money to her friends, but this is different. Her friend’s project sounds amazing and I’d love to help.

My stomach rumbles, wishing it were tasting the overly sweet French toast across from me. I’ll wait until she leaves to make the eggs before getting rid of them. Then I’ll buy a new pan.

“What time is your first class today?” I ask, getting up to grab a glass of water. I don’t drink coffee, but she mentioned liking maple in hers, so I make a mental note to buy a machine for her to use.

“Nine a.m. It’s Professor Tart’s business leadership class, which I need to get going to before I end up being late,” she says, standing and placing her empty plate along with the items she used to cook in the sink to rinse them off.

I debate telling her that I’m in the same class, but I think the look on her face when she sees me will be much more satisfying.

Once her dishes are clean, she places them in the dishwasher and proceeds to wipe the counter down. She’s a good listener, having cleaned up after herself like I asked, and it makes me wonder if she’d be good at listening in other situations.

“I’m going to, uh, get ready,” she mumbles while pointing in the direction of her room. She seems slightly nervous, and I’m not sure why, but I don’t like it.

I want her to be comfortable with me more than I thought I did.

I smile softly at her, hoping it’ll erase whatever is making her feel this way. “Have a good day. I’ll see you around.”

Turning her head slightly over her shoulder, her eyebrows narrow as she says, “God, I hope not.”

Her response makes my smile broaden as I shake my head.

It’s infuriating yet fascinating how she interacts with me because it’s vastly different than what I’m used to. I’m used to girls falling at my feet, being agreeable and not giving me shit.

It’s then that I tack on another item on my to-do list for the year. I’m going to get this girl to like me if it’s the last damn thing I do.

I want to see if daddy’s little girl is truly the perfect, obedient woman she pretends to be.

Chapter 8

Jasmine

It’s my last first day of school, and I’m dreading it.

It means I’m that much closer to having to live out the plan my parents have for me. I thought three years would give me enough time to gain the courage to tell them how I actually want to use my degree and live my life, but I thought very wrong.

Three years flew by and I have no idea what the hell I’ll do by the end of this year.

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