“Because you have trust issues.”
“Yes.”
“But not with the people you grew up with?”
“Not most days.”
There’s a light on in the kitchen area, streaming in through the open door and illuminating the twisted quilt and sheets, the utilitarian nightstand with a single lamp which is currently dark.
It’s not bright in here, but it’s not cave-dark either.
And knowing that Davis doesn’t trust people—that weirdly makes me trust him more.
Like he gets it.
He’ll continue to get it.
He’s not secretive because he wants to hurt people. He’s secretive because he doesn’t want people to hurt him.
This isn’t a scary dark room.
It’s a still night and he’s here, and no matter what I don’t know about him, no matter how much I’ve fucked with my own instincts to the point that I don’t trust them anymore, I trust Davis.
I don’t think he’s stalking me.
I think he really is protecting me.
Or trying to in whatever capacity he can.
“Did you ever have a crush on any of them? The people in your neighborhood?” I ask.
He shifts on the bed, his eyes dropping away from my face for the first time since he came in here.
“One more thing I don’t get to know, hmm?”
Velvety brown eyes collide with mine. “Ellie. I had a crush on Ellie early in high school.”
Is he freaking serious right now?
What am I, a magnet for Ellie’s leftovers?
He lifts a shoulder. “Weren’t many girls in the neighborhood. Cash’s sister didn’t hang with us as much. Wyatt picked on Ellie, and I thought I could defend her.”
“Do you still?—”
“No. She’s not my type.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“Also grew out of it when I realized the world was bigger than our neighborhood.”
“I fell in love with Nigel in middle school.”
You know that feeling when you realize someone’s paying closer attention?
That’s me right now.
Davis hasn’t moved, but again, I feel like he’s watching me far closer than he was a moment ago.
