“Like I said, I promise your secret's safe with me,” he says finally.
My shoulders relax at the statement.
“But Laura?” I meet his eyes.
“I like you. Exactly as you are. And if someone can’t see how incredible you are? That’s their problem, not yours. You don’t owe them anything.”
He softensa little.
“Look for the people who notice you without being told to.”
The words hit somewhere deep, somewhere I'm not ready to examine.
“I wish I could find people interested in my singing.” I let out a breath and face the window again.
“Princess, you could be singing the alphabet, and I'd still be waiting for the next letter like it was a cliffhanger.”
I turn and pin him with the driest look I can manage. “Has anyone ever told you that you come on a little too strong?”
He grins. “Has anyone ever told you you're harder to crack than a Brazilian nut?”
I laugh it off, shaking my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Yeah, but you’re smiling, so I must be doing something right.”
He starts the truck, giving me an excuse not to respond, and we fall into another silence, but it's not uncomfortable. It never seems to be around him.
I catch him watching me again when we hit a red light. His eyes are deep, and intense, and sometimes it feels like he knows what I’m thinking.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” I demand as I shift in my seat, sending a cascade of glitter onto his upholstery. “Oh God, I'm sorry,” I say, trying to brush it off and only succeeding in spreading it around. “This dress sheds worse than my patience during group projects.”
“Leave it,” he laughs. “I like it. Now whenever I drive someone else around, they'll ask me why my truck looks like a fairy exploded in it.”
“And what will you tell them?” I ask.
He pushes his lips out, considering it. “I’ll tell them it’s from a girl I can’t stop looking at.”
“Very funny.”
“Who said I was joking?”
“You know,” I say slowly, “for someone who's been on TV and has girls throwing themselves at him all day long, you're surprisingly…”
“Charming? Handsome? Irresistible?” he supplies hopefully.
I roll my eyes, but I'm smiling. “I was going to say genuine.”
His brows furrow even though he’s still grinning. “Thanks,” he says simply. “You make it easy.”
“I makenothingeasy,” I scoff.
“That's part of your charm,” he tells me, and I can tell he means it. “If you were easy, I wouldn’t still be trying this hard.”
As we drive into my neighborhood, Scotty gestures ahead. “Wait, isn't that the football frat house?”
“Yeah. It’s my roommate, Lyss’s, grandmother’s house. She’s friends with them, but I try to stay out of the drama…even if I end up dragged into a prank or two. Aiden Matthews, the quarterback, is relentless. He’s already chased away two other roommates.”
“What did he do?”
