Page 87 of Hate You, Maybe
Dex isn’t Eugene or any of the men your mom’s dated. And after hetransfers to Harvest High this spring, you won’t technically be working together anymore.
My brain has a point. But I can’t talk about this with Loren yet.
“Try not to worry too much about your mom.” She tucks a wave of long red hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad you and Dexter aren’t enemies anymore. Now maybe we can?—”
A clackingwhooshcomes from the front of the theater. Someone’s hauling open one of the double doors. Loren and I both look up the aisle just as Dexter appears in the entryway. His large frame blocks out most of the light behind him. When he peers inside, his gaze lands on me. He’s still got the yellow boa draped over his shoulders.
This man. What a sport.
“I thought I might find you two in here,” he says, making his way into the theater. “Hey, Loren. Foster’s in the faculty lounge waiting for you. He mentioned something about you two going cake tasting?”
“Yay, cake!” Loren chirps. “I’ll go find him now.” She pats my knee and rises to smooth her skirt. “Good luck,” she whispers before heading out.
My heart skitters as Dex approaches, coming around the front row. But there’s no reason for me to be anxious. He isn’t an enemy. He’s a colleague. One I’ve worked with closely for three years now. Ahotcolleague with a crooked smile, sure. But I’d like to think I can trust him to keep his word. So I’m not worried he’ll go after the grant behind my back.
Much.
“What a day, huh?” I shrug, trying not to be captivated by the cowlick in his hair. The strong slope to his nose. That small scar on his left cheekbone. All the details I’ve memorized lately without even realizing it. “I think our meeting with the faculty went well, but I was so nervous. Where’sFern with her breathing and stretching exercises when you need her?”
Dex chuckles. “I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty I am not breathing with my feet right now.”
He tosses the yellow boa onto the chair next to me, and I hop up to greet him. But my vision swims, and my legs feel like noodles.
“Whoa, there.” He reaches for my elbow to steady me, and a spark of energy pulses up my arm. “Go ahead and sit,” he says. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Uh-oh.” I force a laugh, even as my insides begin to stutter. “Are you suggesting an actual adult conversation?”
“Maybe I am.”
I try to act nonchalant as we drop into side-by-side seats, but my heart is a jackhammer. Being this close to him, alone, is messing with my self-control.
“So, I just met with Wilford.” He dips his chin, hands folded in his lap, and every bit of confidence I’ve clung to flies up to the rafters. What if I was wrong to trust him? Could he be here to tell me he won the grant money after all?
“Don’t!” I blurt, in a total knee-jerk reaction. I’m just not ready to hear him let me down like that.
He startles. “Don’t what?”
“Just … stop.”
He reaches for my hand. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No. I … you … no.”
His face falls. In fact, he looks stricken. And the realization dawns on me too late that Dex has only good intentions. It’s just my gut that’s always bracing for bad news. Prepared to mistrust others. Assuming I can’t trust myself around them either. So I push everyone away first. Just in case.
Before they can reject me.
“You’ve been so great,” I admit, through my clogged esophagus. “It’s me. I have a hard time trusting people, that’sall. But that’s not about you or anything you’ve done.” My voice cracks as I make room for the vulnerability I usually bury.
“You can believe me, Sayla.” His voice is deep and throaty.
“I do.” I meet his gaze with watery eyes. “Believe you, I mean.”
“Well, that’s a relief.” He blows out a breath and drags a hand over his hair. “Because I just told Wilford to give the grant to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dex
