Page 48 of Trust Me

It’s only Saturday. We’re supposed to have another game here tomorrow night, a doubleheader, but I’m not waiting that long to see her. Not when I have no idea why she’s so pissed at me. I need to get home and figure out what the hell happened.

Hockey used to be the most important thing to me, but now it’s a hobby and a job. I’m not sure what it means for me that I’m leaving my job early to fly home and see her, but I’m sure it’s something I’m not ready to face yet.

I text Ned a lie, telling him that there was a family emergency I needed to tend to. He quickly replies in understanding, sending me his best and to call him once I can.

We board the plane at ten and I make it back to our apartment around midnight. Pushing the front door open, Buttercup and Blossom come dashing toward me. My knees bend, giving them a quick pet, noting that Bubbles is missing.

My footsteps carry me to Jasmine’s room, but the door’s shut. I’m tempted to open it and demand that she talk to me, but I fight the urge, knowing it’ll only piss her off more. Frustrated, I go to my own room, but I leave the door open so that I can somewhat keep an eye on her.

Sleep evades me, my mind wandering and trying to figure out what happened. Around 6:00 a.m., I’m too restless to keep lying here, so I get up and shower. Then I go to the kitchen, deciding to make us breakfast for a change.

I start making oatmeal by putting the oats on the stovetop and grabbing fresh fruit from the fridge to chop. It’s quiet, the only sound being the simmering of the oats. Until I hear Jasmine’s door open.

My heart rate picks up, nervous as to what’s going to happen. A first for me.

Jasmine peeks her head around the corner, fear etched on her face until she sees that it’s me, then it changes to anger.

“Elio, what the hell are you doing here?” she breathes, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Did you think someone was in here? And you came out here with nothing in hand?” I question, jutting my chin toward her empty hands.

She ignores me, crossing her arms over her chest, her braless chest. “What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t get back until tomorrow.”

I take the oats off the stove and pour them into two bowls. “Yeah, well, I flew home early. You seemed mad at me, so I called my pilot and came home so we could talk.”

Jasmine blinks at me once, twice.

“You have a private jet? And you used it to come home to talk to me?”

“Yeah, I did. Tell me why I pissed you off,” I say to her while topping off our bowls with berries and a spoonful of peanut butter. Then I add a drizzle of maple syrup on hers.

“It’s nothing. I’m stressed with school,” she lies, taking the bowl I slide toward her. She furrows her brows at it, then begins to retreat without another word.

I’m hot on her heels, gently grabbing her free hand with mine, all too aware of how good it feels. “Don’t lie to me. Midterms are over. What’s really bugging you?”

She yanks her hand free. “Just leave me alone, please.” Her voice is small, not the fiery girl I’m used to dealing with. It has me backing up, giving her the space she’s asking for. It’s fucking infuriating, knowing for certain that she’s upset with me, but won’t tell me why.

I take my bowl from the kitchen and head to the couch, where I sit and ponder what the fuck is going on. Not only about why she’s mad at me, but why I no longer care about her being off-limits.

Why I’m about to say fuck it and take what’s mine the first chance I get.

Chapter 22

Jasmine

Shutting my door behind me, I close my eyes, willing my stomach to stop fluttering.

Damn traitor.

So what if he flew home just to talk to me? It doesn’t erase the fact that he was probably fucking some girl in the bathroom at the bar before that.

I sit on my bed, attempting to eat the oatmeal he made us, but my appetite is missing. Even if he did drizzle mine with maple syrup. If anything, it makes me feel even worse because why do that? Why be so damn thoughtful?

I wish he’d stop because the line we drew between us is starting to feel less clear than before.

My phone pings on my side table and I pick it up, seeing Adam’s name on the screen. Oh, right. I was slightly tipsy and upset last night, nearly forgetting that I got Theo’s friend’s number to try and get all of this ‘firsts’ crap out of the way.

A pang of guilt hits me, feeling bad for using him to get over the hurt I felt last night.