Page 21 of Not Fooling Anyone

I could get used to this face.

“So… it’s good? I ask, still unsure of her reception.

She sighs. “You make it impossible to stay mad at you.”

That hollowness in my chest from earlier fades, lightness replacing it. Thank God.

I take the last swig from the water bottle I bought at the gas station and toss it in a nearby trash can, then tug at the top loop of her backpack, encouraging her to take it off. “I’ll carry that for you.”

“There’s no one we know around. You don’t have to.”

“I want to. Method acting, remember?”

“Knock yourself out, then.” She shrugs it off, focusing on devouring her ice cream, and we walk in comfortable silence toward the nearby student parking lot where my SUV is.

“This is nice,” she comments as I open the passenger door for her. “It’s okay if I eat in here?”

“You think I’d buy that for you and make you throw it away before you get in?”

She rolls her eyes. “Okay, jeez.”

I cross around to the driver’s side and get in, wincing as I spot her glancing in the backseat.

She makes eye contact with me, raising her brows. “I take it back. This is a pigsty. What’d you do? Take all the junk in the front seat and toss it back there real quick before I got in?”

That’s exactly what I’d done. “Don’t worry about it,” I tell her.

“You must single-handedly keep every fast food place in a five-mile radius in business.” She reaches back, fisting a handful of food wrappers.

“All right, enough of that. Eat your ice cream.”

She shakes her head and faces forward, buckling her seat belt as she scoops another mound of mint chocolate chip into her mouth.

I glance over, nearly three quarters of the pint gone. “I didn’t think you’d actually eat all of it. We’re about to have pizza.” I check behind me and reverse out of the space, heading toward Chapman Hall.

“I skipped lunch,” she mumbles between bites.

She hadn’t had dinner before we’d gone to the diner either. She’s not one of those girls who skips meals to diet, is she? She looks great the way she is.

Well, if she was dieting, she wouldn’t have inhaled a pint of ice cream so quickly. Or eaten that greasy diner food.

So if it’s not that, is she just forgetful? No, her stomach had rumbled that night and she’d still refused to order anything. She said she was short on money…

Shit. Is she really that broke? No wonder the thousand dollars from the study is so important to her.

Okay, new mission—feed Lexie. Not that I’m swimming in cash myself, but I can definitely afford to get a few extra things for her. Scott’s always willing to give me more hours at the hardware store.

If I’ve learned anything from the past few days, it’s to keep my mouth shut about this newfound knowledge, assuming I’ve even come to the right conclusion. No need to put her on the defensive. It’ll only make her more resistant to accepting anything I offer.

When she drops her spoon in the empty carton, I take it from her, affixing the lid and tossing it in the backseat. It’s trashed back there anyway.

“Feel better?”

“Yes,” she says, patting her stomach happily. “I haven’t had that much ice cream in… God, I don’t think ever.”

“Really? I could eat three of those things easy.”

She looks over at me. “Where does it all go? How do you eat like such crap and still look like that?” She points to the backseat as evidence of my poor eating habits, and she’s got a fair point.

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