Trust in Me(44)

            Avery was such a mystery to me; a paradox of innocence and allure—a mystery I was determined to solve.





Eleven

            “Let’s go with Resident Evil,” Avery said as she stood in front of the counter, doling out the shrimp stir-fry. Her hair hung in loose waves all the way to the middle of her back. She was dressed low-key, in a pair of tight workout pants and a loose-fitting shirt that slipped over one shoulder, revealing a swath of smooth, golden skin and a thin strap.

            The girl had no idea how good she looked like that and I resisted the urge to move closer to her. When I’d walked up on her in the kitchen earlier, she had reacted strangely, stiffening and paling.

            “A girl after my own heart,” I replied, picking up two DVDs and taking them into the living room. “Zombies for the win.”

            A sudden soft glow alerted me to her presence. “What do you want to drink?” she asked.

            I glanced over my shoulder. “Do you have milk?”

            Her nose wrinkled. “You want that with Chinese food?”

            “Need my calcium.”

            She made a face and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a glass of milk and a can of soda. “That’s kind of gross, you know?” She sat, tucking her legs under her. “Weird combination.”

            “Have you ever tried it?” I sat, staring at the remote.

            “No.”

            “Then how do you know it’s gross?”

            “I’ll go with my assumption that it is.” She picked up her plate, sending me a cheeky grin.

            “Before the end of the year, I will have you trying milk and Chinese.”

            The look on her face said over her dead body, and I grinned. As Resident Evil kicked off, we dug into our dinner and spent more time discussing how women in a zombie apocalypse managed to look so attractive. As Alice faced down zombie Dobermans, I gathered up our plates and took them into the kitchen. While I was there, I grabbed another glass of milk and a can of root beer for her.

            “Thank you,” she said, smiling as I placed the soda on the coffee table.

            I sat down closer to her. “I live to service you.”

            Shortcake grinned and we continued to poke at the movie and its sequel. At one point, her cell phone went off. My gaze flicked to the screen on the iPhone and saw UNKNOWN CALLER flash.

            “Not going to answer?” I asked.

            She quickly leaned forward, snatching the phone and turning off the ringer. Seemed a little strange, how stiff she was when she did it. “I think it’s rude to answer the phone when you have company.”

            All we were doing was being overly critical about the movies. “I don’t mind.”

            Shortcake sat back, nibbling on her thumbnail as she turned her attention to the TV. Come to think of it, I couldn’t recall a time when I saw her on her phone—not before class or around the campus. Most girls had their phones glued to their hands or the side of their face. She said she wasn’t popular in school and it was obvious she wasn’t that close to her family, but . . .

            Well, something was off about it all, but I didn’t know what.

            Minutes went by and she was still chewing away on her fingernail, something I hadn’t see her do before now. I reached over, wrapping my fingers around her wrist.

            Her chin jerked up and her gaze landed on my hand. “What?”

            “You’ve been biting your nail for the last ten minutes.” I lowered her arm to her thigh, but kept my hand around her wrist. The tips of my fingers touched. That was how small her wrist was. “What’s up?”