(Off-Campus, 3)

Heknowshowtoscore,onandofftheice
AllieHayesisincrisismode.Withgraduationlooming,shestilldoesn’thavethefirstclueaboutwhatshe’sgoingtodoaftercollege.Tomakemattersworse,she’snursingabrokenheartthankstotheendofherlongtimerelationship.Wildreboundsexisdefinitelynotthesolutiontoherproblems,butgorgeoushockeystarDeanDiLaurentisisimpossibletoresist.Justonce,though,becauseevenifherfutureisuncertain,itsureasheckwon’tincludethekingofone-nightstands.
It’lltakemorethanflashymovestowinherover
Deanalwaysgetswhathewants.Girls,grades,girls,recognition,girls…he’saladiesman,allright,andhe’syettomeetawomanwho’simmunetohischarms.UntilAllie.Foronenight,thefeistyblonderockedhisentireworld—andnowshewantstobefriends?Nope.It’snotoveruntilhesaysit’sover.Deanisinfull-onpursuit,butwhenlife-rockingchangesstrike,hestartstowonderifmaybeit’stimetostopfocusingonscoring…andshootforlove.TheScore
AnOff-CampusNovel
ElleKennedyTableofContents
AbouttheBook
TitlePage
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
OtherTitlesbyElleKennedy
Author’sNote
AbouttheAuthor
Copyright1
Allie
Canwetalk?
Plz??
WTF,Allie.Aftereverythingwe’vebeenthru,Ideservemorethenthat.
Udidn’tmeanitwhenusaidweweredone,right?
WillyouplzfuckinANSWERme?
Uknowwhat?fuckthis.Uwannakeepignoringme?fine.wtevr.
TherearesixtextmessageswaitingformewhenIcheckmyphoneonthewayoutofthecampusfitnesscenteronFridaynight.They’reallfromSean,myas-of-last-nightex.Andalthoughtheemotionalprogressionfrompleadingtopissedoffdoesn’tgounnoticed,Ifindmyselffixatingonhisgrammaticalerror.
Ideservemorethenthat.
Then,notthan.AndIdoubtautocorrectistoblamebecauseSeanisn’texactlythebrightestcrayoninthebox.
Okay,that’snotentirelytrue.He’swhip-smartaboutsomethings.Likebaseball—seriously,theguycanpullstatsoutofhisass,evenonesdatingbacktothesixties.Butbooksmartsarenothisforte.Stellarboyfrienddoesn’tquitemakehislistofstrengthseither,atleastnotinrecentdays.
Ineverwantedtobeoneofthosegirlswhobreaksupandmakesupwiththesameguyoverandoveragain.IreallythoughtIwasstrongerthanthat,butSeanMcCallhashadaholdonmesincefreshmanyearatBriarUniversity.Hesuckedmeinwithhispreppygoodlooksandlittle-boygrin.Thatgorgeousgrin,allcrookedanddimpledandfullofpromises.
Iglanceatmyphoneagain,mywarinessclimbingliketheivyonthebuildingbehindme.Argh.Whatdoeshewanttotalkabout?Wesaideverythingweneededtosaylastnight.WhenItoldhimIwasdonebeforeIstormedoutofhisfrathouse,I’dmeantit.
Iamdone.Thisisourfourthbreakupinthreeyears.Ican’tkeepdoingthistomyself,thistwistedcycleofjoyandheartache,especiallywhenthepersonI’msupposedtobebuildingafuturewithisdeterminedtoholdmeback.
Evenso,myhearthurts.It’shardtoletgoofsomeonewho’sbeensuchabigpartofyourlifeforsolong.It’sevenharderwhenthatpersonrefusestoletyougo.
Sighing,Ihurrydownthestepstowardthecobblestonepaththatwindsthroughcampus.UsuallyItakethetimetoadmirethescenery—thegorgeousoldbuildings,thewrought-ironbenchesandmassiveshadetrees—buttonightIjustwanttosprintbacktomydorm,pullthecoversovermyhead,andshutouttheworld.Luckily,IcantotallydothatbecausemyroommateHannahisawaythisweekend,whichmeansshewon’tbearoundtolecturemeabouttheemotionalperilsofwallowinginmymisery.
Shehadn’tdonemuchlecturinglastnight,though.Nope,whatshedidwasstepuptotheplateandknockthebest-friend-everroleoutofthepark.ThemomentI’dwalkedthroughthedoorafterleavingSean,Hannahhadbeenwaitinginourcommonroomwithacartonoficecream,aboxofKleenex,andtwobottlesofredwine,andshe’dproceededtostayuphalfthenightpassingmetissuesandlisteningtomebabbleincoherently.
Breakupssuck.Ifeellikesuchafailure.No,Ifeellikeaquitter.Thelastpieceofadvicemymomgavemebeforeshediedwastonevergiveuponlove.Actually,she’ddrilledthatintomelongbeforeshe’devergottensick.Idon’tknowallthedetails,butitwasnosecretaroundmyhousethatmyparents’marriagehadbeenontherocksmorethanonceduringtheireighteenyearstogether.Andthey’dpoweredthroughit.They’dworkedatit.
EverytimeIthinkaboutwalkingoutonSeanyesterday,mystomachgrowsqueasy.MaybeIshouldhavefoughtharderforus.Imean,Iknowhelovesme—
Ifhelovedyou,hewouldn’thavegivenyouanultimatum,agruffvoiceassuresme.Youdidtherightthing.
MythroattightensasIrecognizethevoiceinmyhead.Itbelongstomyfather,whohappenstobemybiggestchampion.Inhiseyes,Icandonowrong.
It’stoobadSeanisn’tabletoseemethroughthatlens.
MyphonebuzzeswhenI’mfiveminutesfromBristolHouse,whereIshareatwo-bedroomsuitewithHannah.
Shit.AnothertextfromSean.
Anddoubleshitbecauseitsays:
I’msosorryforswearingatu,bb.Ididn’tmeanit.I’mjustupset.Umeantheworldtome.Ihopeuknowthat.
Asecondtextpopsup:Comingoverafterclass.We’lltalk.
Ihaltinmytracks,ajoltofpanicspiralingthroughme.I’mnotafraidofSean,atleastnotinthephysicalsense.Iknowhewouldneverlayahandonmeorflyintoamanicrage.ButI’mafraidofhisabilitytosweet-talkme.He’ssogoodatit.Allhehastodoiscallmebabyandflashthatadorablesmile,andI’magoner.
Anger,dread,andannoyancewarformyattentionasIrereadhismessages.He’sbluffing.Hewouldn’tcomeoveruninvited,wouldhe?
Fuckityfuck
Withshakyfingers,IpullupHannah’snumber.Tworingslaterandmybestfriend’sreassuringvoiceechoesontheline.“Hey,what’sup?Youokay?”
Icanhearsoftchatterinthebackground.Afemalevoice—it’sGraceIvers,Logan’sgirlfriend.ThatmeansthatHannahandherboyfriendGarretthavealreadyleftfortheirweekendinBoston.Sheinvitedmetogowiththem,butIturnedherdownbecauseIhadn’twantedtobethefifthwheel.Twomadly-in-lovecouplesandme?Nothankyou.
NowIwishI’dacceptedtheinvitation,becauseI’llbeallalonethisweekendandSeanwantstotalk
“Sean’scomingovertonight,”Iblurtout.
Hannahgasps.“What?No!Whywouldyouagreeto—”
“Ididn’tagreetoanything!Hedidn’tevenaskifitwascool.Hejustmessagedsayinghe’scomingby.”
“Whatthehell?”ShesoundsasdispleasedasIfeel.
“Iknow,right?”Mypanicspillsover.“Ican’tseehim,Han.I’mstilltoorawaboutthisbreakup.Ifhecomesover,Imightenduptakinghimback.”
“Allie—”
“DoyouthinkifIturnoffallthelightsandlockthedoor,he’llassumeI’mnothomeandleave?”
“KnowingSean?He’llwaitoutsidethedoorallnight.”Hannahcurses.“Youknowwhat?Ishouldn’thaveagreedtogotothisBruinsgame.Ishouldbehomewithyou.Holdon,I’mtellingGarretttoturnthecararound—”
“Noway,”Iinterrupt.“Youarenotcancellingyourtripforme.Thisisyourlastchancetodosomethingfun.”
Hannah’sboyfriendisthecaptainoftheBriarhockeyteam,whichmeanshispracticeandgameschedulewillbejam-packednowthattheseasonhasstarted.WhichmeansHannahwon’tgettoseehimasmuch.Irefusetobetheonewhoruinsarareweekendoffreedomforthem.
“Ijustwantadvice.”Iswallowhard.“Soplease,tellmewhattodo.ShouldIaskTracyifIcancrashinherroom?”
“No,youdon’twanttobeinBristolifSean’swanderingthehalls.MaybeMegan—no,wait,hernewboyfriendisintownthisweekend.They’llprobablywanttobealone.”Hannahsoundsthoughtful.“WhataboutStella?”
“SheandJustinjustmovedintogetherlastweek.They’renotgoingtowantalast-minutehouseguest.”
“Holdonasec.”There’sanotherlongpause.IhearGarrett’smuffledvoice,butIcan’tmakeoutwhathe’ssaying.ThenHannahisback.“Garrettsaysyoucanstayathisplacethisweekend.DeanandTuckwillbothbethere,soifSeanfiguresoutwhereyouwentanddropsby,they’llkickhimtothecurb.”Themurmurofvoicesfillsthebackgroundagain.“YoucansleepinGarrett’sroom,”sheadds.
Indecisionflashesthroughme.Imean,thisisridiculous.Ican’tbelieveI’mconsideringlettingSeandrivemeoutofmyowndorm.Butmymindisfloodedwithimagesofhimpoundingonmydoor.Orworse,pullingaSayAnythingandstandingoutsidemywindowwithaboombox.Ugh,whatifheplaysthePeterGabrielsong?Ihatethatsong.
“Areyousureit’sokay?”Iask.
“Yup.Totallyfine.Logan’stextingDeanandTuckerrightnowtoletthemknow.Youcanheadoveranytime.”
Relieftricklesthroughme,alongwithapangofguilt.“Putmeonspeakerphone?IwanttotalktoGarrett.”
“Sure.Onesec.”
Amomentlater,GarrettGraham’sdeepvoicecomesontheline.“Cleansheetsareinthelinencloset,andyoumightwanttobringyourownpillow.Wellsythinksminearetoosoft.”
“Theyaretoosoft,”Hannahprotests.“It’slikesleepingonasoggymarshmallow.”
“It’slikesleepingonafluffycloud,”Garrettcorrects.“Trustme,Allie,mypillowsrock.Butyoushouldstillbringyourown,justincase.”
Ilaugh.“Thanksfortheheadsup.Butareyousureit’scool?Idon’twanttoimpose.”
“S’allgood,sweetheart.JustbatthosebigblueeyesatTuckandhe’llcookyouupanicedinner.Oh,andLogan’sorderingDeannottohitonyou,soyoudon’thavetoworryabouthimpervingyouout.”
Yeah,right.DeanHeyward-DiLaurentisisthebiggestflirtontheplanet.EverytimeIseehimhe’stryingtogetinmypants.AndIcan’tevenfeelspecialaboutit,becausehetriestogetineveryone’spants.
I’mnotworried,though.IknowhowtohandleDean,andTuckerwillserveasagoodbufferbetweenmeandhishorndogroommate.
“Ireallyappreciatethis,”ItellGarrett.“Seriously.Ioweyouone.”
“Naah.”
Hannahspeaksup.“Textmewhenyougetthere,’kay?AndthenturnoffyourphonesoSeancan’tharassyou.”
DidImentionhowmuchIlovemybestie?
Ihangupfeelingimmenselybetter.Maybeit’ssmarttogetoutofthedormsfortheweekend.Icanviewitasanicelittleretreat,afewdaystoclearmyheadandregroup.AndaslongasTuckerandDeanarearound,Iwon’tbetemptedtocallSean.Weneedacleanbreakthistime.Nocontactwhatsoever,atleastforafewweeks.Ormonths.Oryears.
Truthfully,Idon’tknowifI’llsurvivethisbreakup.I’velovedthisguyforyears.AndSeandoeshavehissweetmoments.LikeallthetimesheshowedupatmydoorwithsoupwhenIwassick.Andwhenhe—
Backslidealert!
Alarmbellswailinmyhead,alertingmetomystupidity.Nope.Notlettingmyselfbackslide.Itdoesn’tmatterthathewascapableofbeingsweet—becausehewasalsocapableofnotbeingsweet,aslastnightproves.
Isquaremyshouldersandwalkfaster,determinedtosticktothegameplan.SeanandIareover.Ican’tseehimortexthimordoanythingthatplacesmyselfinhispathrightnow.
DayOneofmySean-freeexistencehasofficiallycommenced.
*
Dean
It’sFridaynightandI’msprawledonmylivingroomcouch,sippingabeerwhiletwoblondes—twoveryhot,verynakedblondes—suckeachother’stonguesinfrontofme.Mylifeisawesome.
“Bestnightever,”Idrawl.MygazeisgluedtothetrajectoryofKelly’shandsastheyglidetowardMichelle’sperkytits.Kellysqueezes,andIgroan.“Wouldbeevenbetterifyouladiesbroughtthepartyoverhere.”
Theybreakapartbreathlessly,laughingastheyglancemyway.“Giveusareasonto,”Kellyteases.
Iarchabrow,thenreachdowntogripmyrock-harddick.Igiveitaslowpump.“Thisain’treasonenough?”
Michelleisthefirsttosashaytowardme,hertitsjigglingandassswayingassheclimbsintomylapandpresseshermouthtomine.Asecondlater,Kellyisnestledatmyside,herwarm,softlipslatchingontomyneck.Je-sus.I’msohardithurts,butthesetwogoddessesaredeterminedtomakemebegforit.Theytorturemewithkisses.Long,druggingkissesandwet,wickedtongues,strategiclicksandgentlebitesdesignedtodrivemewild.
I’dliketosaythatthisdirtylittlethreesomeofoursisanewexperienceforme,orthatthemanwhorelabelmyhockeyteammateshaveslappedmewithhasbeenanexaggeration.Butit’snot,andthelabelisspot-on.Iliketofuck.Ifuckalot.Sosueme.
IgruntwhenKelly’sfingerscirclemyshaft.“Christ.HowdidIgetsolucky?”
“Youhaven’tgottenluckyyet,”Michellesays,tossingherlonghairoverhershoulder.“Youdon’tcomeuntilwedo,remember?”
She’sright—I’dmadeapromise,andIintendtokeepit.Contrarytowhatmyassholefriendsbelieveaboutme,sexisallaboutthewomanforme.Orinthiscase,thewomen.Twobeautiful,eagerwomenwhoarenotonlyintome,buteachother.
Hey,heaven?DeanDiLaurentishere.Thanksforlettingmevisit
“Well.IguessIshouldgetstartedthen,”Iannounce,andthenIlowerherontothecushionandbringmymouthtoherbreasts.
Icaptureanippleandsuckhard,andherhipsbuckoffthecouchasshemoans.Ashadowcrossesthecornerofmyeye.KellybendsoverbesidemeandlicksMichelle’sothernipple.OhsweetJesus.Igroanloudenoughtowakethedead.
Kellypeeksuptosmileatme.“Figuredyoucouldusesomehelp.”ThenshekissesherwaydownMichelle’sflatstomachtowardthejunctureofherfriend’sthighs.
Forgetheaven.Thisisnirvana.
IfollowthepathKellyhastaken,mylipstravelingovertannedskinandsweetcurvesuntilIreachtheplacethatmakesmymouthwater.Kelly’salreadylickingit.Holyhell.I’mnotsureIcancontrolmyselflongenoughtogetthembothoff.I’mtooclosetotheedgealready.
Ignoringthethrobbingdownbelow,Imoistenmybottomlip,inchmymouthtowardMichelle’spussy,and…thegoddamndoorbellrings.
Fuckinghell.Icranemynecktowardtheentertainmentcenter.ThedigitalclockontheBlu-Rayplayerreadseight-thirty.ItrytorememberifItoldanyoftheguystheycouldcomeovertonight,butIhaven’tspokentoanyonebutmyroommatestoday,andthey’reallAWOL.GarrettandLoganleftforBostonanhouragowiththeirgirls,andTucker’stakingsomechicktothemoviestonight.
“Holdthatthought.”IlickMichelle’sthighinateasingstroke,thenrisefromthecouchandsearchformyboxers.
Oncemycockistuckedaway,Ihurrydownthehalltoanswerthedoor.WhenIseewho’sstandingonthestoop,Inarrowmyeyes.
“Badtiming,babydoll,”ItellHannah’sbestfriend.“Yourgirl’salreadygone.ComebackonSunday.”Imovetoclosethedoor.Yup,I’marudeSOB.
Unfortunately,theblondeonthedoorstepwedgesoneblacksnowbootbetweenthedooranditsframe.“Don’tbeanass,Dean.YouknowI’mspendingtheweekend.”
Myeyebrowssoarup.“Um,what?”Itakeacloserlookather,andthat’swhenInoticetheoverstuffedbackpackhangingoffhershoulder.Andthepinkcarry-onsuitcasebyherfeet.
AllieHayesheavesahugesigh.“Logantextedyouallaboutit.Nowletmein.I’mcold.”
Itiltmyhead.ThenInotsogentlykickherfootoutoftheway.“Waithere.I’llberightback.”
“Areyoukiddingme—”
Thedoorclosesonheroutragedexclamation.
Battlingannoyance,Idartbacktothelivingroom,whereMichelleandKellydon’tevennoticemyreappearance—they’retoobusymakingout.Ittakesalmostaminutetofindmyphone,andwhenIfinallygrabitoffthefloor,IdiscoverthatHannah’sfriendwasn’tmessingwithme.
Therearefiveunreadmessagesonthescreen,whichiswhathappenswhenyou’rethemeatinahotgirlsandwich.Threesomestrumpcheckingyourphone.That’sano-brainer.
Logan:Hey,bro,Wellsy’sfriendAllieiscrashingatourplacethisweekend.
Logan:Keepyourdickinyourpants.GandIaren’tinthemoodtobeatusenselessifutrysomething.Wellsymightbeinthemoodforviolence,tho.So:dick=pants=don’tbotherourguest.
Hannah:Allie’sstayingwithuguystilSunday.She’sinavulnerableplacerightnow.Don’ttakeadvantageofherorelseI’llbeunhappy.Andudon’twanttomakemeunhappy,dou?
Isnicker.Hannah,diplomaticasalways.Iquicklyscanthelasttwomessages.
Garrett:Allie’sgonnacrashinmyroom.
Garrett:Yourdickcanstayinyourroom.
Jeez,whatiseverybody’sfascinationwithmydick?
Andcouldtheirtimingbeanyworse?Myruefulgazeshiftsbacktothecouch.Kelly’sfingersareexactlywhereIwishminewererightnow.
Iclearmythroatandbothgirlsglanceover.Michelle’sexpressionishazyfromtheextraspecialattentionherfriendisgivingher.
“Ireallyhatetodothis,butyouladiesneedtogo,”Itellthem.
Twopairsofeyeswiden.“Excuseme?”Kellyblurtsout.
“I’vegotanunexpectedhouseguestwaitingoutside,”Igrumble.“WhichmeansthishousejustbecameaPG-zone.”
Michellesnickers.“Sincewhendoyoucareifanyoneseesyoufucking?”
True.UsuallyIdon’tgiveadamnifthere’sanyonearound.MosttimesIpreferit.ButIcan’texposemydebaucherytoHannah’sfriend.OrtoHannahandGrace,forthatmatter.Theboys,whocares.Theyknowthedrill.ButIknowGarrettandLoganwouldn’tbecoolwithmecorruptingtheirgirlfriends.Themomenttheyenteredcommitted-relationshipterritory,myformerwingmenturnedintoprudes.It’ssad,really.
“Thisguestisadelicateflower,”Isaydryly.“She’dprobablyfaintifshesawthethreeofustogether.”
“Iwouldnot.”Allie’sannoyedvoicecomesfromthedoorway.
I’mequallyannoyed.Chickjustwalksintothehouselikesheownsit?Nuh-uh.
Iscowlather.“Itoldyoutowaitoutside.”
“AndItoldyouIwascold,”sheshootsback.Andsheseemstohavenoissuewiththefactthattherearetwonakedgirlstenfeetaway.
MyguestsstudyAllieasifshe’sasplotchofbacteriaundertheirmicroscopes.Thentheywrinkletheirnosesanddismissherfromtheirsightsasifshe’s,well,nothingbutasplotchofbacteriaundertheirmicroscopes.ChickstendtogetcompetitivewhenI’maround,butobviouslytheseonesdon’tviewAllieascompetition.
NotsureIblamethem.She’swearingapuffyblackjacket,bootsandmittens,andherblondhairisstickingoutthebottomofaredknithat.It’sthefirstweekofNovember—there’snosnowontheground,barelyachillintheair,andnothingtowarrantbundlingup.Unlessyou’reacrazyperson.WhichI’mstartingtosuspectAllieHayesmightbe,becausethegirlbrazenlywaltzesintothelivingroomandflopsdowninthearmchairoppositethecouch.
Assheunzipshercoat,shesparesaglanceatmyguests,thenturnsbacktome.“Whydon’tyoumovethislittlepartyupstairs?I’llstaydownhereandwatchamovieorsomething.”
“OryoucangotoGarrett’sroomandwatchamovieupthere,”Isaypointedly.Buttruthfully,itdoesn’tmatter.She’salreadykilledthemood,andIdon’tfeelcomfortablefoolingaroundwithtwochickswhenit’sjustmeandHannah’sbestfriendinthehouse.
Sighing,Iturntothegirls.“Raincheck?”
Neitherofthemputsupmuchofafight.ApparentlyMissAlliedidn’tjustkillthemood,shescorchedthefuckin’earthandcovereditwithsalttopreventhorninessfromevergrowingback.
Alliebarelypaysattentiontothegirlsgettingdressed.She’stoobusyremovingathousandlayersofwinterclothinganddrapingthemoverthesideofthearmchair.Whenshe’sdone,shelookssubstantiallytinierinblackleggingsandanoversizedstripedtop,andshewastesnotimemakingherselfcomfortableonthebigplushchair.
IwalkKellyandMichelletothedoor,whereeachonepracticallychewsmyfaceoffbeforetellingmethey’reholdingmetothatraincheck.Bythetimethey’regone,mylipsareswollenandmycockishardagain.
Ireturntothelivingroomwithafrownthatrefusestoquit.“Didyouenjoythat?”Idemand.
“Enjoywhat?”
“Cockblockingme.”
Allielaughs.“Isthereanyreasonyoucouldn’thavetakenBlondeandBlonderupstairs?Youdidn’thavetokickthemoutonmyaccount.”
“YoureallythinkIcouldscrewaroundknowingyou’resittingdownstairs?”
Thatgetsmeanotherlaugh.“Youscrewaroundinpublic.Allthetime.WhydoyoucareifI’minthehouse?”Shelooksthoughtful.“Unlessgoinguptoyourroomistheissue.Hannahsaidyoualwaysfoolaroundinthelivingroom.What’sthedealwiththat?Doyouhavebedbugsorsomething?”
Igritmyteeth.“No.”
“Thenwhydon’tyouwanttodoyournakedstuffupthere?”
“Because—”Ihalt,thescowlreturningtomyface.“It’snoneofyourbusiness.Whyareyouhere,anyway?DidBristolHousecatchfire?”
“I’minhiding.”ShesaysitasifI’msupposedtounderstandthat.Thensheglancesaroundthelivingroom.“Where’sTucker?Garrettsaidhe’dbehere.”
“He’sout.”
Shesticksoutherbottomlip.“Well,thatsucks.Hetotallywould’vewatchedamoviewithme.ButIguessyou’llhavetodo.”
“Youcockblockmeandnowyouexpectustohangout?”
“Trustme,you’rethelastpersonIwanttohangoutwith,butI’mincrisismoderightnowandyou’retheonlyonehere.Youhavetokeepmecompany,Dean.OtherwiseI’lldosomethingreallystupidandmywholelifewillberuined.”
IseemtorememberHannahtellingmeAllieisadramamajor.Yeah.Soundsaboutright.
“Please?”
Herpleadingexpressiondoesn’tletup.AndI’vealwaysbeenasuckerforbigblueeyes.Especiallywhentheybelongtocuteblondeswithgreatracks.
“Youwin,”Irelent.“I’llkeepyoucompany,okay?”
Shelightsup.“Whatmovieshouldwewatch?”
Agroanlodgesinmythroat.MyFridaynightwentfromhotthreesomesextobabysittingmybestfriend’sgirlfriend’sbestfriend.
Oh,andI’mstillrock-hardthankstoKellyandMichelle’sgoodbyekisses.
Fuckingwonderful.2
Allie
Myself-controlrestsinthehandsofDeanHeyward-DiLaurentis,amanknownforzeroself-control.Ergo,I’mintrouble.Bigfuckingtrouble.
Iwon’tdoit,though.Iwon’tcallSean.Doesn’tmatterthattwentyminutesagohesentmeapictureofthetwoofusfromourMexicotriplastyear.He’dusedoneofthoseframingappstodrawabigredheartaroundourfaces.
Ithadbeenareallygoodtrip…
Ipushthememoryasideandgrabtheremotecontroloffthecoffeetable.“DoyouhaveNetflixlinkedtoyourTV?”IglancebackatDean,whostilllooksaggravatedbymypresence.
AndeitherI’mimaginingitorhehasanerection.ButI’mniceenoughnottoteasehimaboutit,becauseinhisdefense,hewasfivesecondsawayfromhavingsexwithtwogirlsbeforeIshowedup.
Mygazetravelsoverhisbarechest.Icannottellalie—hischestisabsolutelyspectacular.Theguy’sripped.Tallandlean,withperfectlysculptedmuscles.Andhe’srockingsomescruff—sexyblondbristlesthatshadowhisperfectlychiseledjaw.Itreallyisashame.Someonethisdoucheyshouldn’tbeallowedtolookthisgood.
“Yeah.Goaheadandpicksomethingtowatch,”heanswers.“I’mjustpoppingupstairstojerkitandthenI’lljoinyou.”
“Okay,IthinkI’minthemoodfor—wait,what?”
Buthe’salreadygone,leavingmegapingattheemptydoorway.He’spoppingupstairstodowhat?Hewasjoking,right?
Despitemybetterjudgment,Ipictureit.Deanupinhisroom.Onehandwrappedaroundhisdick,theotherhand…cuppinghisballs?Clutchingthesheets?Ormaybehe’sstandingupandgrippingthesideofhisdesk,hisfeaturesdrawnashebiteshisbottomlip…
AndwhyamItryingtosolvethemysteryofhowthisguymasturbates?
Shakingmyselfoutofit,IclicktheremoteuntilIfindNetflix,thenstartbrowsingthelatestmovietitles.
Lessthanfiveminuteslater,Deansauntersbackintotheroom.Thankfullyheputonsomepants.Exceptheditchedhisboxersintheprocess,whichIknowbecausehissweatpantsareridingsolowonhishipsIcanalmostsee…placesIhavenointerestinseeing.
Hischestisstillbare,andthere’saslightflushtohischeeks.
“Didyouseriouslyjerkoffjustnow?”Idemand.
Henodsasifit’snobiggie.“What,youthinkIcansitthroughawholemoviewithblueballs?”
Igawkathim.“Soyoucan’thavesexwithanyonewhileI’minthehouse,butyoucangoupstairsanddothat?”
Awolfishgrinstretcheshismouth.“Icould’vedoneitdownhere,butthenyouwould’vebeentootemptedtotakeoverforme.Iwastryingtobenice.”
It’shardnottorollmyeyes.SoIdon’tbotherfightingtheurge.“Trustme,Iwouldhavekeptmyhandstomyself.”
“Withmycockrightthereintheopen?Noway.Youwouldn’tbeabletohelpyourself.”Hearchesabrow.“Ihaveagreatcock.”
“Uh-huh.I’msureyoudo.”
“Youdon’tbelieveme?Icanshowyouapicture.”Hereachesforthephoneonthecoffeetable.Thenhestopsandgrabsthewaistbandofhissweatpantsinstead.“Actually,Icanshowyoutherealthingifyouwant.”
“Idon’twant.Intheslightest.”IgesturetotheTV.“Ipickedthatone.Haveyouseenit?”
Deangrimacesatthemovieposteronthescreen.“Forchrissake,that’swhatyouchose?There’relikethreenewhorrormovieswecouldwatch.OrJasonStatham’sentirefilmography.”
“Nohorrormovies,”Isayfirmly.“Idon’tliketobescared.”
“Fine.Solet’sdoanactionmovie.”
“Idon’tlikeviolence.”
Hischeekshollowinfrustration.“Babydoll,Iamnotwatchingamovieabout—”Hesquintsatthescreen“‘awoman’slife-changingjourneyafterbeingdiagnosedwithaterminalillness.’Nofuckingway.”
“It’ssupposedtobereallygood,”Iprotest.“ItwonanOscar!”
“YouknowwhatelsewonanOscar?SilenceoftheLambs.JawsTheExorcist.”Hesoundssmug.“Andthey’reallhorrormovies.”
“Wecanargueaboutthisallnight,butI’mnotwatchinganythingwithbloodorsharksorexplosions.Dealwithit.”
Dean’steetharevisiblyclenched.Thenhisjawrelaxesandhereleasesaheavybreath.“Fine.IfIhavetosufferthroughthiscrapmovie,I’msmokingajointfirst.”
“Whatevergetsyouthroughit,sweetie.”
Hewalkstowardthedoorway,grumblingsomethingunderhisbreath.
“Wait,”Icallafterhim.Iquicklyfishmyphoneoutofmyjacketpocket.“Canyoutakethiswithyou?ImightgiveintotextingtemptationifI’mleftalonewithit.”
Hegivesmeaweirdlook.“Whoyoutryingnottotext?”
“Myex.Webrokeuplastnightandhewon’tstopmessagingme.”
There’sapause.“Youknowwhat?You’recomingwithme.”
IbarelyhavetimetoblinkbeforeDeancrossestheroomandtugsmeoffthechair.Whenmyfeetconnectwiththehardwoodfloor,Ilosemybalanceandstumblerightintohismassivechest,mynosebumpingonedefinedpec.
Iquicklysteadymyself,armedwithaglare.“Iwascomfy,youass.”
Heignoresme,half-leading,half-draggingmetothekitchen.Sincehedidn’tevenletmegrabmyjacket,Istartshiveringthesecondwestepthroughthebackdoor.
Dean’sbarechestgleamsunderthepatiolight.Hedoesn’tseembotheredbythecold,buthisnipplespuckerslightlyinthechillynightair.
“Ugh.Youevenhaveperfectnipples,”Igripe.
Hislipstwitch.“Doyouwannatouch’em?”
“Ew.Never.I’mjustcommentingthatthey’refrickin’perfect.Like,totallyproportionedtoyourchest.”
Hepeersdownathispecsandconsidersforamoment.“Yeah.Iamperfect.Ineedtoremindmyselfofthatmoreoften.”
Isnort.“Right.Becauseyou’renotalreadyconceitedenough.”
“I’mconfident,”hecorrects.
“Conceited.”
“Confident.”Hepopsopenthesmalltinboxhegrabbedfromthekitchen,andIscowlwhenheextractsaneatlyrolledjointandaZippo.
“WhyamIouthere?”Igrumble.“Idon’twanttosmokeweed.”
“Sureyoudo.”Helightsupandtakesadeepdrag,thenspeaksthroughtheescapingcloudofsmoke.“You’reactingalljitteryandweird.Trustme,youneedthis.”
“Thisispeerpressure,youknow.”
Heholdsoutthejoint,oneeyebrowraised.“Comeon,baby,”hecoaxesinasingsongvoice.“Justonetoke.Allthecoolkidsaredoingit.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Fuckoff.”
“Suityourself.”Heexhalesagain,andthescentofmarijuanasurroundsme.
Ican’trememberthelasttimeIgothigh.Idon’tdoitoften,buthonestly?Ifanynightmeritssomeweed-inducedserenity,it’sthisone.
“Oh,fine.Giveittome.”IstickoutmyhandbeforeIcansecond-guessmyself.
Deanisbeamingashepassesitover.“That’smygirl.Butdon’ttellWellsy.She’llkickmyassifshethinksI’mcorruptingherbestfriend.”
Iwrapmylipsaroundthejointanddrawthesmokeintomylungs,tryingnottolaughatthegenuineapprehensiononDean’sface.He’sprobablyrighttobeafraidofHannah.Girl’sgotasharptongueandsheisn’tafraidtouseit.That’swhyIloveher.
Wespendthenextcoupleminutespassingthejointbackandforthinsilencelikeacoupleofhooligansloiteringbehindagasstation.Thisisthefirsttimewe’vespentanytimealonetogether,anditfeelsweirdhangingoutinthebackyardwithashirtlessDeanDiLaurentis.IfI’mbeinghonest,I’veneverknownwhattomakeoftheguy.He’scocky,flirtatious…
Superficial
Ifeellikeanassforthinkingit,butIcan’tdenythat’swhatcomestomindwheneverIseeDean.Hannahtoldmehe’sfilthyrich,andittotallyshows.Notinthepompous,watch-me-roll-around-in-my-money-vaultsense,butinthewayhestrutsaroundliketheworldishisoyster.Ihaveafeelinghe’sneverexperiencedasecondofhardshipinhislife.Lookingathim,youjustknowthisguygetswhateverhewants,wheneverhewantsit.
Huh.Andapparentlymarijuanamakesmebothphilosophicalandjudgmental.
“Soyougotdumped?”hefinallyasks,watchingmetakeanotherhit.
Iblowsmokerightinhisface.“Ididnotgetdumped.I’mtheonewhoendedit.”
“Thesameguyyou’vebeenwithforever?Thefratguy?Stan?”
“Sean.Andyeah,we’vebeendatingonandoffsincefreshmanyear.”
“Jesus.That’swaytoolongtobescrewingthesameperson.Wasthesexreallyboring?”
“Whyiseverythingwithyoualwaysaboutsex?”Ipassthejointback.“AndFYI—thesexwasfine.”
“Fine?”Hesnickers.“Wow,whataringingendorsement.”
I’malreadyfeelingtheeffectsoftheweed,myheadlightandmybodyrelaxed,whichisprobablytheonlyreasonIkeeptalking.Normally,Iwouldn’tdreamofconfidinginthisguy.
“Iguessitwasn’tthebestbytheend,”Iadmit.“Butmaybethat’sbecausewe’veprettymuchbeenfightingsincethesummer.”
“Butthisisn’tthefirstbreakup,right?Why’dyoukeepgoingbacktohim?”
“BecauseIlovehim.”Icorrectmyself,“Lovedhim.”God,Idon’tevenknowanymore.“Thefirstcoupletimeswebrokeup,itwasn’tbecauseeitherofusdidanythingwrong.Ithoughtweweregettingtooserious,toofast.Itwasfreshmanyear,anditseemedlikeweshouldbesowingourwildoatsandallthatcrap.”
“Sowingoatsisfun,”heagreessolemnly.“OnetimeIsowedthisreallyhotoatwhopouredmaplesyrupallovermydickandthenlickeditoff.”
“Ew.”Irollmyeyes.“Andactually,theoatsowingsucked.Iwentoutwithafewguysandtheywerealltotalsleazebags.ItmademerealizehowgoodIhaditwithSean.”
Deanblowsanothercloudofsmoke.“Okay.Butthenyouguysbrokeupagain.”
“Yeah.”Thememoryevokesarushofaggravation.“Thattimeitwasbecausehegotinsanelycontrolling.Oneofhisfratbrothershitonmeataparty,andSeandecidedthatnobodywaseverallowedtolookatmeagain.Hestartedtellingmehowtodress,textingallthetimeaskingwhereIwasandwhoIwaswith.Itwassuffocating.”
It’sDean’sturntorollhiseyes.“Saysthechickwhogotbacktogetherwithhimafterward.”
“Hepromiseditwouldbedifferent.Anditwas.Hestoppedbeingclingy,andhewassogoodtomeafterthat.”
Deanseemsunconvinced,butIdon’tcare.Idon’tregrettakingSeanback.Aftertwoandahalfyearswiththeguy,Iknewwehadsomethingworthfightingfor
“Whichbringsustobreakupnumberfour.”Deanslantshisheadcuriously.“Whathappened?”
Discomfortsqueezesmychest.“Itoldyou.Wewerefightingalot.”
“Aboutwhat?”
ThewordsspilloutbeforeIcanstopthem.Damnit.Didhelacethisweedwithtruthserumorsomething?“Mostlyaboutgraduationandwhatwe’regoingtodoaftercollege.MyplanwasalwaystomovetoLAandfocusonmyactingcareer.”
OrNewYork…ButIdon’tmentionthattoDean.Istillhaven’tmadeanydecisions,andDeanisthelastpersonIwanttodiscussdeep,life-changingcareermoveswith.Theguy’saboutasdeepasapuddle.
“Seanwasokaywithitwhenwefirststarteddating,butthissummerhesuddenlydecidedhedoesn’twantmetogointoacting.Actually,hedoesn’twantmetoworkatall.”Ifrown.“Hegotitintohisheadthathe’sgoingtoworkathisdad’sinsurancefirminVermontandI’mgoingtobethehappyhomemakerwhohasdinnerwaitingforhimwhenhegetshome.”
Deanshrugs.“Nothingwrongwithbeingahomemaker.”
“Ofcoursenot,butIdon’twanttobeahomemaker,”Isayinfrustration.“I’vespentalmostfouryearsworkingmyassofftoearnthisdramadegree.Iwanttouseit.Iwanttobeanactress,andIcan’tbewithsomeonewhodoesn’tsupportme.He—”Istop,bitingmylip.
“Hewhat?”
“Nothing.Forgetit.”Isnatchthejointfromhishandandinhaledeeply.Toodeeply,becauseIstartcoughinglikecrazyontheexhale.Myeyeswaterforamoment,andwhenmyvisionclears,Ifindseriousgreeneyeswatchingmecarefully.
“Whatdidhedo?”Deandemandsinalowvoice.“Andhowbadofabeat-downdoeshedeserve?MeandGarrettcanhandleourowninafight,butifyouwantsomebone-crushing,wecanunleashLoganonhim.”
“Nobodyiscrushinganybody’sbones,dumbass.Seandidn’tdoanythingterrible,andIdon’tneedyoutobeathimup.TheonlythingIwantyoutodoistakethisstupidphone.”IshovemycellphoneinDean’shand.“Keepitawayfrommethisweekend,okay?Onlygiveitbackifmydadcalls.OrHannahandStella.AndMegand—youknowwhat?I’llcheckitafewtimesadayunderyoursupervision.ThatwayyoucanslapmeifItrytotextSean.”
Deanlooksintrigued.“SoI’m…what,yourrelationshipsponsor?I’mtheonewhomakessureyoudon’tfalloffthewagon?”
“Yep.Congratulations,youfinallygettodosomethingworthwhilewithyourtime,”Isaysarcastically.
Hetipshishead.“WhatdoIgetinreturn?”
“Thesatisfactionofknowingyou’rehelpingsomeoneotherthanyourself?”
“Naah.HowaboutaBJ?I’lldoitforaBJ.”
Igivehimthefinger.“Youwish.”
“Fine,anHJ.”
“Don’tbeadick.Please.IhavenowillpowerwhenitcomestoSean.”
Asifoncue,thephonebuzzesinDean’shand,andmyfirstinstinctistotrytograbit.Heswiftlytakesastepback,thenglancesatthescreen.“It’sSean.”Hismouthquiversinamusement.“Hemissesthetasteofyourlips.”
Myheartdoesapainfulflip.“Anotherrule—you’renotallowedtotellmewhathesays.”
“You’regivingmealotofresponsibilityhere,babydoll.Idon’tlikeresponsibility.”
Shocker.“Youcanhandlethis,babydoll.Ihavefaithinyou.”
Deantakesonefinaldragofthejoint,thensnuffsitoutintheashtrayandheadsfortheglassslidingdoor.God,eventhewayhewalksisarrogant.Andhelooksgooddoingit.Mygazeunwittinglyrestsonhistautassandthewayhissweatpantsclingtoit.Yep,I’mcheckingouthisass.Imean,it’saspectacularass,andI’mawoman—howcouldInot?
“You’regoingaboutthisthewrongway,youknow.Thebestwaytogetoversomeoneistohookupwithsomeoneelse.ASAP.”
Hiswordsjoltmeoutofmybutt-ogling.“I’mnotreadytobewithanyoneelseyet.”
“Sureyouare.Seriously,justfindyourselfarebound.”Deanwhipsuphisarm.“Ivolunteerastribute.”
Alaughfliesout.“Dreamon.”
Butinthebackofmymind,I’mconsideringthesuggestion.Areboundisn’taterribleidea,actually.It’slikefallingoffahorse—peoplealwaysadviseyoutoimmediatelygetbackon,right?Maybethat’swhatIshoulddo,hoprightbackinthesaddle.Ifanything,it’llbeagooddistractionfromtheacheinmyheart.
Idefinitelywon’tbedoingitwithDean,though.Nope,I’dratherfindasaddlethathasn’talreadybeenriddenbyeverygirlatBriar.
“We’llputapininit,”hedecides.
“Ifbythatyoumeanstickingapininthisstupidideaballoonanddeflatingit,thensure,let’sputapininit.”
Deanstopsatthedoorandturns,hisgreeneyesdoingaseductivesweepfrommyheaddowntomytoes.“Actually,themoreIthinkaboutit,themoreIliketheideaofreboundingyou.”Hisgazelingersonmychest.“Iliketheideaalot.”
Istifleagroan.“Garrettpromisedthatyouwouldn’thitonmethisweekend.”
“Gknowsbetterthantomakepromisesonmybehalf,”Deananswerswithagrin.Thenhebeckonsme.“Soarewewatchingthismovieorwhat?”
Ifollowhiminside.Mymindfeelsfoggyfromtheweed,butinagoodway,andwhenDeanstopsinthehalltohikeupthesweatpantsthatareabouttofalloffhistrimhips,forsomereasonIstartgigglingasifit’sthefunniestthingI’veeverseen.
Myhumorfadeswhenwesettleonthecouch,becauseDeanflopsdowndirectlybesideme,slingsonemusculararmaroundmyshoulders,andtugsmeclose.Asifit’stotallynormal.
Ifrownathim.“Whyisyourarmaroundme?”
Hisexpressionisallinnocence.“ThisishowIwatchmovies.”
“Really?SoyouputyourarmaroundGarrettwhenyouwatchmovieswithhim?”
“Absolutely.Andifhe’snicetome,sometimesIslidemyhanddownhispants.”Dean’sotherhandskimsdowntothewaistbandofmyleggings.“Benicetome,andIpromiseI’llbeevennicerinreturn.”
“Ha.Nothappening.”Ishovehishandaway,butnotbeforeasparkofheatignitesbetweenmylegs.Hisbarechestisglorious,andit’stauntingme,beggingmyfingerstostrokeallthoseropedmuscles.Andhesmellsreallygood.Liketheocean.No,likecoconut.I’mfeelingwaytooloopytopinpointthescent,butnotloopyenoughthatIdon’tregisterhowmypussyisstilltinglinglikecrazy.
Oh,forcryingoutloud.MysexlifemusthavereallygonetotheshitterifI’mgettingalltinglyinthepresenceofDeanDiLaurentis.
“Whatelsedowehavetodo?”hecounters.
IpointtotheTV.“Watchamovie.”
“I’dratherbewatchingyou.”Hewaggleshiseyebrows.“Youknow,whenyou’reshoutingmynamewhileImakeyoucome.”
Thistimetherearen’tanytingles.Justalotoflaughterthatpoursoutofmymouthinuncontrollablewaves.
“Jesus.You’rereallybadforaman’sego.”Helooksinsulted.
Isuckinagulpofairbetweengiggles.Yep,I’mhighandrelaxedandinpossessionofnofilterswhatsoever,whichmeansIcanmakefunofDeanallIwantandblametheweedlater.“I’msorry,butyou’retoofuckingmuchsometimes.”Ican’tstoplaughing.“Dogirlsreallyfallfortheselines?”
Hemakesanunflatteringnoiseunderhisbreath.“Putonthedamnmoviealready.”
“Gladly.”Iclicktheremoteandshiftallthewaytotheothersideofthecouch,leavingthreefeetofdistancebetweenus.
ToDean’scredit,hedoesn’tsayawordfornearlythirtyminutes.Hisgazestaysfocusedonthescreen,butfromthecornerofmyeye,Idon’tmissallthefidgetinghe’sdoing.Tappinghislongfingersonhisthighs.Rakingahandthroughhishair.Heavingasighaswewatchthemaincharacterprepareanomeletinrealtime.
Whenshesitsatthecounterandstartseatingtheomelet—inrealtime—Deaneruptslikeadormantvolcano.
“Thismovieblows!”Hegroans.Loudly.“There.Isaidit.Thisgoddamnmoviegoddamnblows.”
“Ithinkit’sgood.”I’mlying.Enduringthisfilmistheequivalentofwatchingpaintdry.Noteventhepotwejustsmokedcanmakethisexperienceeventheslightestbitenjoyable,butIdon’twanttoadmitthatI’dmadethewrongchoice.Youcan’tgiveaguylikeDeanthewin.Ever.He’lllorditovermeuntiltheendoftime.
“There’snowayyoulikethismovie,”hechallenges.
“Ido,”Iinsist.
Hestaresmedownforseveralseconds,butmyactingskillscomeinhandy,allowingmetoconveypureinnocence.
“Well,Idon’t.Thisisawholenewlevelofbrutal.”
Iofferahelpfulsuggestion.“Whydon’tyougoupstairsandjerkoffagain?”
Shit.Wrongthingtosay.Hisgreeneyesinstantlytakeonaseductiveglint.
Withalazygrin,heleanstowardmeanddrawls,“Howaboutyoudoitforme?”
Thisguyisincorrigible.“Arewebacktothis?Doyouevertakenoforananswer?”
“I’mnotfamiliarwiththatword.Nobody’seversaidittomebefore.”Hemovescloseragain,restinghispalmonthecushionbetweenusandgivingthefabricaslowstroke.“Comeon,let’smakethispartymoreinteresting.We’rehomealone…we’rebothgood-looking…”
Isnicker.
“It’llbefun.Sexisalwaysfun.”
“Pass.”
“Okay,nosex.Howaboutjustoral?”
Ipretendtothinkitover.“AmIgivingorreceiving?”
“Receiving.Andthengiving.Becausethat’showitgoes.”Hesmilesbroadly.“Youknow,thecircleoflifeandallthat.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.Saywhatyouwantaboutthisguy,butatleasthe’sentertaining.“Pass,”Isayagain.
“Wannamakeout?”heaskshopefully.
“Nope.”
“I’mareallygoodkisser…”Heleavesthathangingasiftoenticeme.
“Ha.Thatjustmeansyou’renot.Everytimeaguysayshe’sagoodkisser,hesucks.”
“Yeah?Yougotanyempiricalevidencetobackthatup?”
“Ofcourse.”Ireallydon’t.AndDeanknowsthewordempirical?Wow,maybethereismorethanairinsidethatprettyheadofhis.
Helooksreadytoarguewithme,butwe’reinterruptedbyaloudburstofmusicfromhisphone.IscowlwhenIrecognizethetune.
Men.Theycan’ttakeonesecondtoputthetoiletseatdown,buttheyhavethetimetoprogramtheESPNthemesongastheirringtone?
Dean’sexpressionbrightenswhenheseeswho’scalling.Heanswerswithoutdelay.“Maxwell!What’sshaking?”Helistens,thenshootsmeahopefullook.“Wannagotoaparty?”
Ishakemyhead.
ThepersonontheotherendofthelineisforcedtoendureDean’soverlydramaticsigh.“Sorry,man.Ican’t.I’mbabysitting—”
Ismackhimonthearm.
“—andshedoesn’twanttogo,”hefinishesasheglaresatme.Hepausesagain.“No,she’sfullygrown.”
What?
“I’mbabysittinganadult,dude.G’sgirlfriend’sfriend.”DeanramblesonasifI’mnotevenintheroom.“We’rewatchingthismovieaboutaladywithcanceranditsucks…wellyeah,cancersucksingeneral.Imean,allmysympathiesforpeoplewhohaveit,butthismovieisgod-awful.Yeah…no,game’sonTuesday…truth…yeah,definitely.WecanhitupMalone’s.Later,bro.”
Hehangsupandturnstoscowlatme.“Icouldbeatapartyrightnow.”
“Nobody’sforcingyoutohangoutwithme,”Ipointout.
“I’mtryingtobenicetoyou,onaccountofyourpoorbrokenheartandall.Butisthereanygratitudeonyourpart?Nope.Youwon’tevenkissme.”
Ileaninandpathimontheshoulder.“Aw,honey-pie.I’msureanygirlinyourphone’scontactlistwouldbehappytocomeoverandstickhertongueinyourmouth.I,ontheotherhand,havestandards.”
“What,I’mnotgoodenoughforyou?”Heliftshiseyebrows.“I’llhaveyouknow,yourfriendWellsylovedkissingme.”
Isnort.“Oh,youmeanthatpeckshegaveyousoGarrettwouldn’tknowhowmuchshelikedkissinghim?Yeah,Iknowallaboutit,sweetie.Thatwasadesperationkiss.”ThoughitstillbogglesmymindthatHannahactuallykissedthisguy.Deanissonothertype.
Thenagain,IneverthoughthockeysuperstarGarrettGrahamwashertypeeither,andlookatthemnow.Soulmates.
“Thatwasn’tadesperationkiss,”Deanargues.
“Uh-huh.Keeptellingyourselfthat.”
Helooksatthescreen.Themaincharacterispreparingfoodagain.Dinner,thistime,andtherearefartoomanyunnecessaryclose-upsofthepotatoesshe’speeling.Sheeatsalotinthismovie.
“God,justkillmealready.”Heleansbackandrunsbothhishandsthroughhishairuntilit’stousledtoshit.“Ican’twatchanothersecondofthis.”
Meneither,butImadethisbedandnowI’mforcedtolieinit.
“Youknowwhat?”heannounces.“Forgettheweed.Onlyonethingisgonnamakethispiece-of-shitmovietolerable.”
“Yeah,what’sthat?”
Ratherthananswer,hehopsoffthecouchanddisappearsintothekitchen.Wary,Ilistentothesoundsofcupboardsopeningandclosing,glassesclinkingtogether,andthenhe’sback,holdingabottleinonehandandtwoshotglassesintheother.
Deanflashesagrinandsays,“Tequila.”3
Allie
Someoneispoundingmyheadwithamallet.Likeoneofthosecomicallyhugemalletsyouseecartooncharacterswhackingeachotherwith.It’shorrible.It’sloud.
OhGod.I’msohung-over.
Eventhebarelyaudiblegroanthatescapesmylipsisenoughtobringashockofagonytomytemples.Andtheactofshiftinginbedevokesawaveofnauseathattightensmythroatandmakesmyeyeswater.Ibreathethroughit.Inhale.Exhale.IjustneedtocontrolthequeasinesslongenoughtomakeittothebathroomsoIdon’thurlalloverGarrettGraham’scleansheets—
I’mnotinGarrett’sbed.
TherealizationhitsmeatthesametimeIregisterthesoundofbreathing.Nottheshallow,I-drank-too-much-tequilabreathsthatareleavingmythroat,butthesoft,evenbreathingoftheguybesideme.
ThistimewhenIgroan,itcomesfromdeepinmysoul.
ThememoriescomecrashingbackinvividTechnicolor.Theterriblemovie.Thetequilashots.The…rest.
IsleptwithDeanlastnight.
Twice.
MyheartbeatsfasterasIstareupattheceiling.I’minDean’sroom.There’sanemptycondomwrapperontheendtable.And…yep,I’mnaked.
Maybeitwasabaddream,avoiceinmyheadtriestoassureme.
Idrawanotherdeepbreathandfindthecouragetoturnmyhead.WhatIencounterseizesmylungsagain.
AverynakedDeanisstretchedoutonhisstomach.Hisbareasstauntsme,notjustwithitssheerperfection,butbecauseoftheredscratchesonhistightbuttcheeks.
Mynailshadleftthosescratches.Iliftaweakhandandnoticethefingernailonmyindexfingerisbroken.IbrokeanailwhileclawingatDean’sass.Thatmusthavehappeneddownstairs—Irememberhimbeingontopthefirsttimeonthecouch.Thepurplishhickeyonhisleftshoulderhadhappeneduphere,duringoursecondroundwhenIwasontop.
“Iwanttoseethismysteriousbedroomofyours.Iwanttobethefirstonetochristenit.”
Myownwordsbuzzaroundinmyalready-muddledbrain.Asitturnedout,I’mnotthefirstgirlhe’sbroughtuptohisroom.He’dtoldmesohimself.Andthatwasn’tallhe’drevealed.Yep,IamnowinpossessionofthenuggetofknowledgeHannahhasbeentryingtogetherhandsonformorethanayear—whyDeanpreferstoscreweverywherebuthisbedroom.
Unfortunately,theknowledgedoesn’tendthere.IknowwhatDeanlookslikenaked.Iknowhowitfeelstohavehimthrustinginsideme.Iknowthesoundshemakeswhenhe’scoming.
Iknowtoomuch.
Myheadpoundsharder.
Fuck.
Fuckityfuckfuckfuck
WhatthehellhaveIdone?I’veneverhadcasualsexbefore.Mysexrosterfeaturesatotalofthreeguys—twoinhighschool,oneincollege,andallofthemweremyseriousboyfriends.
MygazestraysbacktoDean’slong,muscularbody.WhydidIletthishappen?Icanhandlemyliquorjustfine.Iwasn’tblackoutdrunklastnight.Iwasn’tslurringorstumblingoractinglikeanidiot.IknewexactlywhatIwasdoingwhenImadethefirstmoveandkissedDean.
Imadethefirstmove.
Whatisthematterwithme?
Okay.Okay.Nottheendoftheworld.Imassagemyscreamingtempleswiththepadsofmyfingersandforcemyselftoignorethesleepingmanbesideme.It’sfine.Itwasjustaone-nightstand.Nobodydied.Imightregretit—desperately—butregretsareforsissies,asmydadlikestosay.Learnfromyourmistakesandmoveon.
That’swhatIneedtodo.Moveon.No,justmove.Asin,sneakoutofthisbed,takealongshower,andpretendthatlastnightneverhappened.
Armedwithaplan,Igingerlyslideoutfromunderthesheetthat’shaphazardlythrownovermylowerbody.ThemattresssqueaksandIfreeze,mypanickygazedartingtowardDean.
He’sstilldeadtotheworld.
Okay.Itakeanotherbreathandeasemylegsoverthesideofthebed.Whenmyfeethitthefloor,Deanstirs.Hereleasesahalf-moan,half-breath.ThenherollsoverandohmyGod,Icanseehisdick.
HeatfloodsmycheeksasIstareathispackage.Evenflaccid,it’simpressive.Hewasright—hedoeshaveagreatcock.
Andunlessmymemoryisfailingme,IbelieveIvocallypraisedthegloryofthatcockmany,manytimeslastnight.
MyfacegrowshotterasIremembereverythingI’dsaidtohim.EverythingI’ddonetohim.
Asilentgroanrisesinmythroat.Allright,enoughreminiscing.Ineedtogetthehelloutofthisbedroom.No,firstIneedtofindmyphone.
IscantheroomuntilIspotDean’ssweatpants.He’dslippedthemonafterourromponthecouch,andI’mprettysuremyphoneisinhispocket.
Myownclothesarenowheretobefound—lastIsawthem,theywereinapileonthelivingroomfloor.Whichonlybringsmorepanic,becausethatmeansTuckermusthaveseenthemwhenhegothomelastnight.Shit.Andhehadtohaveheardus,becauseGodknowsIwasn’tusingmyindoorvoicewhenDean’stonguewasbetweenmy—
Nope,notthinkingaboutit
Ifisharoundinhispocketsformyphone.Yes.It’shere.ThankGod.
Itypeinmypasscode.GuiltslamsintomefromalldirectionswhenIseetheunreadmessagesfromSean.
God.IfheonlyknewwhatI’dbeendoingwhenhewassendingmealltheseheartfelttextmessages.NotthatIowehimanyexplanations.We’rebrokenup.We’regoingtostaybrokenup.ButIstillfeelawfulknowingIsleptwithsomeoneelsewhileSeanwasathome,desperatelytryingtowinmeback.
Notjustanyguy,either.IsleptwithDean.Dean,theguywhowasabouttohaveathreesomebeforeIshowedup.Dean,theguywhofucksanyonewithapulse.Dean,theguywho—
“Handitover,babydoll.”
Hisvoicestartlesasqueakoutofme.Myheadswivelstowardthebed,whereDeanisslidingupintoasittingposition,runningonehandthroughhissleep-messyhair.Hedoesn’tlookorsoundgroggyatall.Hisgreeneyesarealert,andhisnakedbodyis…transforming.
Ifeelmyselfblushingatthesightofhisquicklyhardeningdick,soIdropmygazetomybarefeet.“Wouldyoupleasecoveryourselfup?”
“That’snotwhatyousaidlastnight…”
Hismockingtonegrates.“Wearenotdiscussinglastnight.Ever.”
Helooksevenmoreamused.“Oh,relax.Itwasjustsex.”Hemakesnomovetopullthesheetoverhislowerbody.Instead,hestretchesbotharmshighoverhishead,drawingmyattentiontohisflexingmuscles.Andhiswrists.Hehasredmarksaroundhiswrists…
BecauseItiedhimtothebedlastnight.
SweetmotherofMoses.
Whenhecatcheswheremygazehasgone,thecornersofhismouthquirkup.“Granted,itwasalotkinkierthanIthoughtitwouldbe,”hecontinueswithawink.“ButIain’tcomplaining.”
Killme.Justkillme.
Asanotherrushofhumiliationcrashesoverme,IgrabthenearestitemofclothingIcanfind—ablackV-neckT-shirt—andthrowitovermyhead.Afamiliarsmellcloudsmysenses.Somethingspicyandmasculine.It’sthesamescentIbreathedinlastnightwhenmylipsweretravelingoverDean’sbarechest.WhenmyfacewasburiedinhisneckasIsuckedonhisskinlikeitwascandy.Andyep,there’sanotherhickeyonhisthroat.Ireallywenttotownonthisguy.
“Wearenottalkingaboutit,”Isaythroughclenchedteeth.“Ithappened,itwasfine,anditwillneverbementionedagain.”
“Itwasfine?”Smirking,Deandragsahanddownhischest,hislongfingersrestingrightabovetheheadofhisthickerection.“Itwasmorethanfineandyouknowit.”
“Wouldyouplease,pleasegetdressed?”Ibeg.
“Can’t.You’rewearingmyshirt.”Hearchesabrow.“Whydon’tyoutakeitoffandtossitthisway?”
Fatchance.Thisguyisneverlayingeyesonmynakedbodyagain.
SinceIrefusetogiveuptheshirt,Idothenextbestthingandturnmybacktohimtogothroughmyphone.IignoreSean’stextsandskiptotheonesfrommyfriends.OnefromHannahcheckinghowmynightwas,andonefromMeganaskingmetobrunch.
IquicklytextMegbackwitharesoundingYESandaskhertopickmeupfromGarrett’s.Justasthegraybubblethatindicatesshe’stypingaresponseappears,thephoneissnatchedfrommyhand.
“Hey!”I’mstartledtofindDeanbehindme.Jeez.Theguymoveslikeaninja.
“I’minchargeofthis,remember?”He’smockingmeagain,keepingthephoneoutofmyreach.“Asyoursponsor,Imustadviseyoutoignore—”heglancesatthescreen“theseninetextmessagesfromyourex.Nogoodwillcomeoutofreadingthem.”
He’srightaboutthat.Butafterwhathappenedbetweenuslastnight,there’snowayDeanisgoingtobemyrelationshipsponsor.
“It’sfine,”Imumble.“Idon’tneedyourhelp.”
Heechoeshisearliertaunt.“Notwhatyousaidlastnight.Yourphonestayswithmethisweekend,Allie-Cat.Noarguments.”
Allie-Cat?OhhelpmeRhonda.He’sgivenmeapetname.
“I’mmeetingafriend,”Isaytightly.“SoIneedmyphone,okay?Besides,yoursponsordutiesareofficiallydone.I’mgoingbacktothedormsafterbrunch.”
Hefrowns.“No,you’restayingtheweekend.”
“Notanymore.”
Iattempttograbmyphonefromhim.Hemovesitasideagain.“Isthisbecausewefuckedlastnight?”
Mycheeksarescorching.“Whatpartofnevermentionitagaindidn’tyouunderstand?”
“Thisisbullshit.Youcan’tleavejustbecauseyouandIgotwastedandscrewedaroundacoupletimes.You’retotallyoverreacting.”
Itakeadeepbreath.“Canwepleasenottalkaboutit?”
“Babe,doyouthinkIenjoytalkingaboutthisstuff?I’dratherrollaroundinbrokenglassthandealwiththiswholemorningaftershit.Ifyouwereanyothergirl,I’dsayforgetit,butyou’reWellsy’sbestfriend,sothatmeanswe’vegottatalkaboutit.”Hecursessuddenly.“Ohshit.Wellsyisgoingtokillme.”
Ohshitisright.I’lldefinitelybeonthereceivingendofasternlecturefromHannahifshefindsoutIsleptwithDean.Maybeinafewdays,oraweek—oradecade—I’llbeabletotellherwhathappenedlastnight,butrightnow,Iwanttoforgetallaboutit.WhichmeanskeepingmybestfriendinthedarkforaslongasIcan.
“She’snotgoingtokillyou,becausewe’renotgoingtotellher,”Isayfirmly.“Seriously,thishastostaybetweenus.”
“Agreed.”
“Andyou’renotallowedtobringitupeveragain.AsfarasI’mconcerned,itdidn’thappen.”
Hegivesmeacockygrin.“Don’tkidyourself,babydoll.Youwon’tbeabletostopthinkingaboutmenowthatyou’vehadatasteofthis.”Topunctuatethat,hegripshissemi-harddickandgivesitaslowstroke.
Ajoltofheatspiralsdowntomycore.
Argh.StupidDeanandhisstupidawesomedick.
“I’vealreadyforgottenallaboutit,”Ilie.Butinmyhead,morememoriescropup,makingmewanttoscreaminfrustration.
“Ilikeyoulikethis…”
“Ha.Soyouadmitit—youdolikeme,”hedrawls.
Ismileathisimmobilizedwrists.“IsaidIlikeyoulikethis.”Mymouthslowlydescendsonhiserectcock.“Completelyatmymercy…”
Sweetlord.Mycheeksareonfireagain.Seanwasn’talwaysonboardwithmyadventurousnaturewhenitcametosex.Iwastheonewhohadtocoaxandpleadwithhimtotrywhateverkinkynewideasparkedmyinterest.
Deanhadn’tevenbattedaneyeatoursexualexploits.
“Doyouneedmetoremindyouhowgooditwas?”Hetiltshisheadmockingly,hishandstillonhisdick.
“No,Ineedyoutobeafuckinggrown-up,”Iburstout.I’mlosingpatiencewithhim,andI’mtooangrywithmyselftocontrolmytemper.“I’mhung-overandI’mreallyembarrassedandyou’remakingitworsebythrowinglastnightinmyface,okay?”
Hisexpressionfalters.“Shit.”Heclearshisthroatandletsgoofhisdick,thenhastilypicksuphissweatpants.“I’msorry.Ididn’tmeantomakeyouuncomfortable.”Heyanksthepantson.“Andyouhavenoreasontofeelembarrassed.We’rebothadults.Wehadfunandmadeeachothercomeabunchoftimes.Nobiggie,okay?Butifyoureallydon’twantmetobringitupagain,Iwon’t.”
Idrawashakybreath.“Thankyou.”
Deanstudiesmyface.“Arewecool?”
Imanageanod.Myheadisstillthrobbing,butit’snotthehangoverthat’smakingmefeelweakandwobblyrightnow.It’sthefactthatIdidsomethingsooutofcharacterforme.It’sthehorribleknowledgethatIsleptwithsomeoneelseameaslytwenty-fourhoursafterIbrokeupwithSean.That’snotme,damnit.
“Areyousure?”hepresses.
Iforcemyselftospeak.“We’recool,Dean.”MyphonebuzzesandIseeatextfromMegsayingshe’sfiveminutesaway.“Ineedtogetdressed.Meganwillbeheresoon.”Ibitemylipwhensomethingoccurstome.“Crap.Myclothesaredownstairs.Tucker…”
AsItrailoff,Deanwandersovertothewindowandpeeksbehindthecurtains.“He’snothere—Logan’struckisgone.Guesshedidn’tcomehomelastnight.”
Reliefhitsme,butalsoaburstofannoyance.BecausewherewasTuckeryesterdaywhenIneededhim?Ifhe’dbeenhome,Iprobablywouldn’thaveendedupinbedwithDean.Ormaybeinstead,Iwould’veendedupinbedwithTucker,whohappenstobethehottestgingerI’veevermet.He’salsofarquieterthanhisroommatesanddoesn’ttalkabouthimselfmuch,butfromwhatIcanglean,he’ssmart,well-spoken,anddefinitelyeasyontheeyes.
Inhindsight,Tuckwouldhavebeenafantasticreboundcandidate.
“I’mgoingtorundownandgetmyclothes,”Imutterawkwardly.
Hecallsoutafterme.“WhatareyougoingtotellWellsyaboutbailingmid-weekend?Youknowshe’llaskquestions.”
Damnit.He’sright.“I’lltellherIdecidedtoputonmybiggirlpantsanddealwithmybreakupathome.”
I’mhalfwaytothedoorwhenhisvoicestopsmeagain.“Allie.”
“Yeah?”Iturnaround.
Hisgreeneyesflickerunhappily.“Areyousureyou’reokay?”
Nope,I’mnotsureatall.“I’mfine,”Ilie,thenduckoutofthebedroom.
Asfaraswalksofshamego,thisoneisn’tsobadbecauseatleastthere’snobodyaroundtowitnessit.4
Dean
I’vealwaysbeenpopular.Doesn’tmatterhowfarbackIgoinmymemorybank,Ialwaysseemyselfsurroundedbyfriends.Andgirls.Lotsandlotsofgirls.ThegigglingonesingradeschoolwhoslippedmeDoyoulikeme???noteswhentheteacherwasfacingtheblackboard.Theonesinhighschoolwho’dfightformyattentionandlineuptomakeoutwithmeonthelacrossefieldafterhours.
Andcollege,don’tgetmestartedoncollege.IthoughtIknewthemeaningofchickmagnetbeforeIcametoBriar,butthesepastthreeyearshaveexceededevenmyownexpectationsaboutmydesirability.TheolderIget,themoretheladiesdigme.
Soyeah,I’mnotsurprisedthatAlliethrewherselfatmelastnight.ItwasaninevitabilitythemomentsheinformedmeIhave“perfectnipples.”
Butthesheerdisgustonherfacethismorningwhenwewokeupinbedtogether?That’sanewone.
“Fuckin’Corsenwouldn’tbeabletostopapuckifitwasmovingtwomilesanhourinastraightpathtowardhim.”
Myteammate’sgrumbledcomplaintdrawsmefrommythoughtsandmakesmestifleagroan.MyboyHunterdoesn’tseemtounderstandbaretiquette.Youdon’tgotobarstogripeandmoanaboutahockeygame.Yougotobarstoscore.Period.
Butthekid’sonlyeighteen.He’llwiseuponeday.
“Dude,thegamewastwodaysago,”Itellthefreshman.“Getoverit.”
IscanthebarforTucker,butmyroommatehasn’tshownupyet.It’smostlythehockeycrowdthatfillsupthebartonight.Severalofmyteammates,tonsoffans,andaparadeofscantilycladpuckbunnies.Morethanafewappreciativefemalegazesflitinourdirection,butHunterdoesn’tseemtonoticeasingleone.
Hisfeaturesaretight,andhe’sbarelytouchedhisdrink.“Thisisyourfault,youknow.”Accusationringsinhistone.“Ididn’tevenwanttoplaythisyear,butyoujusthadtotalkmeintoit.Icouldhaveendedmycareerasthestarforwardonthenumberonerankedprepschoolteaminthecountry.AndnowI’mthenobodyleftwingonateamthat’sgoingdowntheshitter.”
Isipmybeer.“Anyoneevertellyouyou’reasoreloser?”
“Ohfuckoff.Likeyouenjoylosing.”
“OfcourseIdon’t.ButIalsoknowthatwinningisn’teverything.Oh,andbytheway?Glasshouses,throwingstones,etceteraetcetera.”
“Whatthehellisthatsupposedtomean?”
“ItmeansthatinsteadofblamingCorsenforlettinginthreegoals,youshouldbeconcentratingonthefactthatyoudidn’tscoreasingleone.Thisain’tprepschool,Superstar.CollegeD-menaren’taseasytodekeout.”
Harsh,buttrue.AndHunterDavenportneedstohearit.CoachhasbeengoingeasyonHunterinpractice,becauseotherthanGarrett,he’stheonlyforwardontherosterwho’scapableofgreatness.ButunlikeGarrett,Hunterhasonemajorweakness:overconfidence.Thekidthinkshe’sthenextSidneyCrosby.
“You’resayingI’mnotgoodenoughtoplayatthislevel?”Ratherthananger,Hunter’sexpressionconveysdistress,whichonlyhighlightshismajorstrength:he’salwaysstrivingtogetbetter.
“I’msayingyouneedwork.Youmadesomeamateurmistakestheothernight.LikewhenFitzywasintroubleafterthatpowerplay?Youwenttobailhimout—that’snotyourjob,bro.Youdon’tskateintoanotherwinger’scorner.You’vegottatrustyourcentertohelptheotherguyout.”
Huntertakesahastysipofbeer.
“Andyousuckatreadingplayssometimes.WhenEastwood’sD-manmadethatsweetpassthatledtoabreakaway?Youshould’veanticipatedwhohewasgoingtopassto,butyoutotallymisreadhim.”
“Iwaswatchingthepuckthewholetime,”heprotests.
“Forgetthepuck.Watchtheplayer,dude.Payattentiontowhohe’slookingat,wherehisteammatesaremoving.Readwhohe’stargetingandtheninterceptthatpass.”
Huntergoesquiet.Whenhespeaksagain,hesoundsgrudginglyimpressed.“Youknowalotaboutthisstuff,huh?”
Ishrug.IknowIhaveareputationfornotbeingasseriousabouthockeyasmyteammates,andmaybethere’ssometruthtothat,butthatdoesn’tmeanIdon’tunderstandthemechanicsandnuancesofthegame.
HockeyhasbeenapartofmylifeforaslongasIcanremember.Igrewupplayingit.Lacrossetoo,butthatwasmostlyawaytopasstimeinthespringuntilhockeystartedupagain.BothmydadandolderbrotherplayedhockeyatHarvard.Icould’vetoo,butIchoseBriarinstead.I’malwaysfollowingintheirfootsteps,andIguessIjustwantedtobedifferentorsomeshit.
Don’tgetmewrong,Idon’tplayhockeyonlybecausetheydid.Ilovethegame.Itjustdoesn’tgivemethesamethrillthatGarrettandLoganseemtoexperienceeverytimethey’reontheice.
Truthfully,Ihavemorefunduringpractice.Ienjoythedrillsandthescrimmages,theopportunitytogetbetterandhelpmyteammatesgetbetter.I’mnotinterestedingoingproafterIgraduate,whichpleasesmyfamilytonoend,becauseHeyward-DiLaurentisesdon’tbecomeprofessionalathletes.Theybecomelawyers.NextfallI’llbeattendingHarvardLawlikeeveryothermemberofmyfamily.I’mcoolwiththat,andIhavenodoubtI’llbegoodatit.TheDiLaurentischarmIinheritedfrommydadprettymuchguaranteesI’llbewinningoverjudgesleftandright.
“WhatelseamIdoingwrong?”Huntersoundsmorecuriousthanpissed.
Igrinathim.“Tellyouwhat,howaboutsomeone-on-onesessionsthisweek?I’llseeifCoachwillsignoffonextraicetime.”
“Seriously?Iwouldreallyappreciatethat,actually.Thanks—”
Iinterrupthim.“Butonlyifyouagreetoquittalkingabouthockeyfortherestofthenight.”Igesturetothepackedbar.“Lookaround.It’sahotgirlbanquetinhere.Picktheoneyoulikeandfeast,idiot.”
Hunterlaughs,buthisdarkeyesgleamashetakesintheview.SeveralchicksrespondtohisattentionwithDTFsmiles,butratherthanwavethemover,heglancesatme—orrather,atmyneck—andsnorts.“Actually,maybeyoushouldintroducemetothewildcatyouhookedupwithlastnight.Ms.Hickeyseemslikefun.”
Istiffen.NowayamIlettingthiskidanywherenearAllie.Hemightbeyoung,buthe’swellonhiswaytobecominganevenbiggerplayerthanIam.
Thenagain,maybeit’sHunterIshouldbeworryingabout.Afterlastnight’sperformance,AllieHayesprovedthatshe’sfullycapableofleavinghermarkonaman.Jesus.Thatgirlcanfuck
Damn,andnowmydickissemi-hard.It’sbeendoingthatallday,chubbingouteverytimeIthinkaboutAllie.Itwasthehottesthook-upI’vehadinalongwhile.Hell,mywristsarestillsorefrombeingtiedtothebed,butit’sthekindofsorethatjustmakesmewanttodoitagain.
Tappingthesameassmorethanonceisn’tusuallymystyle,butrightnowmydickisachingtoburyitselfinAllie’snaughtypussyagain.
“Sorry,Superstar.Nothappening,”Itellhim.“Findyourownwildcat.”
“Fine.”Grinning,hegivestheroomanotherscan.“Ohyeah.IthinkIknowwhoI’mgoinghomewithtonight.”
Ifollowhisgazetothelongwoodencounter,whereatallbrunettehasherbackturnedtousassheleansforwardtoorderadrink.She’sinashortblackskirtandhighheels,withlongbrownhairfallingdownherbackinwaves.Themalebartenderisdamnneardrooling,hishungryeyespeeringdownhershirt,whichtellsmeshemusthaveagreatrack.AllIcanseeisherass,though,andit’sprettyfantastic.
NormallyI’dbealloverthebrunette,butI’mnotinthemoodtoscoretonight.MymindkeepsdriftingbacktoAllie.AndAllie’spussy.Andhertits.Man,hertitswereincredible.Aperfecthandful,withpalepinknipplesthatwentharderthanicicleswhenIsuckedonthem.
Isighanddosomestrategicrearranginginmycrotchalregion.I’vegottaquitthinkingaboutlastnight,forchrissake.GodknowsAllieisdoingherbesttoforgetit.
“Whatdoyouthink?”Hunterasksme.
Ishiftmygazeawayfromthebrunette.“Shemightbealittleoutofyourleague.”
“I’mahockeyplayer.Nobody’soutofmyleague.”
“Truth.”Ichuckle.ThatwasthefirstthingItaughtHunterwhenItookhimundermywingatthestartoftheseason.Butevenso,thebrunettehasthesexiestbodyI’veeverseen.Awomanlikethatcanhaveanyoneinthisbar,andI’mnotsurefreshmanHuntermakesthecut,evenifheiswearingaBriarhockeyjacket.
Acrosstheroom,thechickwe’readmiringsuddenlyturnsaround.Justlikethat,myappreciationfizzlesintodisgust.“Ohhellno.Stayawayfromthatone,kid.She’stoxic.”
“Shedoesn’tlooktoxictome,”Hunterdrawls.
Na?vebastard.Luckily,Iknowbetter.SabrinaJamesisundeniablygorgeous,butI’dpourhotwaxonmyballsbeforeIhookedupwithher.Well,beforeIhookedupwithheragain
Yup.Beenthere,donethat,gottheT-shirt.
Someonejostlesmefrombehind,andIturntofindTuckerapproaching.Hisblack-and-silverjacketissoakingwet,andsoishishair.
“Je-sus.It’scomingdownhardoutthere.”Hedoesafull-bodyshakelikeadogwho’sjustscamperedoutofalake.
“HeyFido,godryoffsomewhereelse,”Iorderascolddropletssplashmyfaceandhitmeintheeye.
Hunterdoesn’tevennoticethatTuckerisdrippingwateralloverourshoes.He’stoobusyoglingSabrina.
Tuckfollowsthefreshman’sgaze.“Nice,”heremarks,thenturnstogrinatme.“Itakeityoualreadycalleddibs?”
Iblanch.“Notachance.That’sSabrina,bro.Shealreadybustsmyballsinclassonadailybasis.Idon’tneedherbustingthemoutsideofschool.”
SabrinaandIarebothPoliScimajorsonthepre-lawpath,sowesharewaytoomanyclassesformypeaceofmind.WebothappliedtoHarvardLawtoo,whichI’mnotparticularlyhappyabout.Thethoughtofspendingtwomoreyearssittinginthesamelecturehallsashermakessuicidesoundprettyappealing.
“Wait,that’sSabrina?”Tuckersaysinsurprise.“Iseeheraroundcampusallthetime,butIdidn’trealizeshe’stheoneyou’realwaysbitchingabout.”
“Oneandthesame.”
Hissoutherndrawlrearsup.“Damnshame.Shesureisfinetolookat.”
“What’sthedealwithyoutwo?”Hunterpipesup.“Sheyourex?”
Irecoilagain.“Fuckno.”
“SoIwon’tbebreakingthebrocodeifImakeamove?”
“Youwanttomakeamove?Gonuts.ButI’mwarningyou,thatbitchwilleatyoualive.”
Sabrina’sheadturnssharplytowardus.Sheprobablyhassomekindofinternalradarthatgoesoffeverytimesomeonecallsherabitch.Ibetitgoesoffalot.
Asourgazeslock,shesmirksatme,thenflipsuphermiddlefingerbeforeturningtotalktoherfriend.
Huntergroans.“Well,theregoesthat.Shewon’tgivemethetimeofdaynowthatshesawmewithyou.What’dyoudotoher,anyway?”
“Absolutelynothing,”Isaydarkly.
“Bullshit.Achickdoesn’tmurderaguywithhereyeslikethatunlesshescrewedupbad.Didyouhookupwithher?”
Tuckersnorts.“Whatdoyouthink,kid?Imean,lookather.”
“Lookscanbedeceiving,”Imutter.
Myroommatecockshisheadinchallenge.“Soyoudidn’tsleepwithher?”
Asighslidesout.“No,Idid.Butitwasalongtimeago.I’mprettysurehook-upshaveexpirationdates.Likeafterthreeyearshavegoneby,itdoesn’tcountanymore.”
Theguyslaugh.“Letmeguess,”Tuckersays.“Youdidn’tcallherafterward.”
“No,”Iadmit.“Butinmydefense,it’shardtocallachickwhenone,shedoesn’tgiveyouhernumber,andtwo,whenyoudon’trememberithappened.”
Hunter’sjawfallsopen.“Howcouldyounotrememberthat?”He’sdamnnearsalivatingashechecksoutSabrinaagain.
“Wewerebothwasted.Trustme,shedidn’tremembermucheither.”
“Sothat’swhyshehatesyou?”Hunterpresses.
Iwaveahand.“Naah.Thebeefstartedoversomethingelse.WhichI’mnotgoingtofuckingtalkaboutrightnow,becauseJesusChrist,it’sSaturdaynightandweshouldbepartying.”
Tuckerchuckles.“I’mgonnagrababeer.Youguysneedarefill?”
“I’mgood,”Huntersays.
AsTuckheadsforthecounter,Ipulloutmyphoneandcheckthetime.It’snine-thirty.IscrollthroughmycontactswhileHunterstartstalkinghockeytomeagain.IthinkIstillhaveAllie’snumberfromwhenshewasplanningHannah’sbirthdaythisspring.She’dsentaboutahundredmasstextsoutliningeverymundanedetailoftheparty.
Yup,it’sstillinmyphone.IsavedhercontactinfoasWellsy’sBlondeFriend.IshouldprobablychangethattoBondageGirl
Itypeaquickmessage.
Me:Umakeitbacktothedormok?
It’sadumbquestion,becausesheleftourplacethismorning,soofcourseshemadeitback.Still,I’msurprisedwhensheanswersrightaway.
Her:Yep.Herenow.
Me:Shittyweather2nite.Prollygoodurstayingin.
Shedoesn’trespondtothat.Istareatthescreeninfrustration,thenwonderwhyIcare.I’mthekingofcasualhook-ups.IrarelyeverwantarepeatperformanceafterI’vesleptwithagirl,andifthere’sonegirlIshouldn’tsleepwithagain,it’sAllie.
NottoomanythingsinthisworldmakeitonmyScaredShitlesslist,butGarrett’sgirlfriendissolidlypositionedinthetopthree.Wellsywon’tbehappyifshefindsoutIsleptwithherbestfriend,andifWellsy’snothappy,Garrett’snothappy,whichmeansI’llhavetodealwithGtskingatmealldisappointed-like.Loganwillfollowhislead,andthenGracewilljumpontheDean-is-an-assbandwagon,andthenextthingIknow,I’llbetakingshitfromalldirections.That’sreasonenoughnottogothere,butmysexed-upbodyisbeingastubbornasshole.
Iwantheragain.
Onemoretimewouldn’thurt,right?Shit,ormaybetwice?I’mnotentirelysurehowmanytimesitwilltaketogetheroutofmysystem.AllIknowisthateverytimeIthinkabouther,mydickgetsimpossiblyhard.
Besideme,Hunterhastransferredhisattentiontoagroupofgirlsatanearbytable,andIcan’thelpbutbeproudwhenonemeaslynodfromhimcausesthetriotosaunterovertous.Myboy’sgotgame.
“Whichoneofyouisgoingtobuyusaround?”oneofthemteases.She’stallandblondandrockingaminidressthatstopsmid-thigh.
AsHunteropenshismouthtorespond,allthelightsinthebarflickerominously.
IfrownandglanceoveratTucker,who’sjustrejoinedthegroup.“IsittheApocalypseoutthereorsomething?”
“It’scomingdownprettyhard,”headmits.
Thelightsstopflickering.Itakethatasmycuetobail,becauseifwe’redealingwithapotentialpoweroutage,I’dratherbehomewhenithappensinsteadofontheroad.Besides,forallmytalkaboutpartying,I’mreallynotfeelingthebartonight.
“Hey,I’mheadingout.”Iclapahandovermyroommate’sshoulder.“Seeyoubackathome.”Idon’tmissthedisappointedpoutsonthegirls’faces,butI’mconfidentthey’llforgetallaboutmeonceHunterandTuckturnupthecharm.
IexitthebaraminutelaterandrealizeTuckwasn’tkidding.Inthetensecondsittakesmetogettomycar,I’msoakedtothebone,drippingwaterallovertheBeemer’sleatherinterior.Theboltsoflightningstreakingacrosstheskyaresobrighttheymaketheactofflickingonmyheadlightsalmostredundant.Icouldprobablyjustletthoseblindingwhiteflasheslightthewayhome.
Ifishoutmyphoneagain.
Me:Weather’sworsethanIthought.Keepaflashlightnearuincasepowergoesout
Oh,forchrissake.IsoundlikeI’mwritingashittysurvivalguide.WhyamIeventextingher?
Allierespondswith,Thxforthetip,thenfollowsitupwith,Srsly,stopworryingaboutme.I’mreadingonthecouch.Underablanket.Snugasabuginamug.
Me:Inarug.
Her:??
Me:SnugasabuginaRUG.That’showusayit.
There’sfivewholesecondsofradiosilence,andthenmyphoneringsinmyhand.I’mgrinningasIanswerthecall.
“Whywouldthebugbeinarug?”shedemands.
Isnort.“Whywoulditbeinamug?”
“Becausethat’sacozyplaceforittobe!Ifit’sinarug,someonemightsteponit.”
“Ifit’sinamug,someonemightdrinkit.”
“ArewewritingabadDr.Seussbookrightnow?”
Laughterbubblesinmythroat.“Surefuckingsoundslikeit.”
“Well,eitherway,Ithinkmyphrasingisbetter.”
I’mmomentarilydistractedbytherainhammeringagainstthewindshield.It’sfallinghardernow,andasecondlater,allthelightsintheparkinglotgoout
Icursesoftlyasdarknesssurroundsmycar.“Shit.Malone’sjustlostpower,”ItellAllie.“Makesureyoustayinside,okay?Anddon’tgowanderingaroundthehallsofBristolHouseifthepowergoesout.”
“What,youthinkaserialkillerisgoingtosneakintothedormandhuntmedown?”She’squietforabeat.“Evenifthathappened,I’dprobablybeabletotakehim.”
Isnicker.“Uh-huh.Sure.”
“Hey,I’mfierce,”sheinsists.“MydadandItookpartinareallyintensivefather-daughterself-defenseprogramwhenIwasfourteen.”
“Father-daughterself-defense?Isthatevenathing?”
“No,butwemadeitone.HetraveledalotwhenIwasgrowingup,sowheneverhewashomehewouldcomeupwithcreativewaysforustobond.Butsincehe’sMr.Machoman,wewereonlyallowedtodoboythings.Likefishingorridingdirtbikesorlearninghowtobeateachotherup.Anyway,I’mhangingupnow.Iwanttofinishreadingthisplay.”Shepauses.“Drivesafe.”
“Wait,”Iblurtoutbeforeshecanendthecall.
“Whatisit?”
Istareattherainthat’sslidingdownthewindshield.Wonderingwhatthehelliswrongwithme.
ThenIlickmysuddenlydrylipsandsay,“Iwanttofuckyouagain.”
Icanhearherbreathhitchovertheextension.
Mybodytightensinanticipation.Ithinkaboutthesweetcurveofherassfillingmypalms.ThewayhernipplespuckeredwhenIflickedmytongueoverthem.Thetightgripofherpussysqueezingmycock.
Asilentgroanshuddersthroughmychest.Fuckme.I’mlustinghardforthischick.AndnowI’mholdingmybreath,waitingforhertoanswer.
Afteralongpause,herannoyedvoicesays,“Goodbye,Dean.”
Igrowlinfrustrationwhenthelinegoesdead.5
Allie
MyheartispoundingasIhanguponDean.Ihadn’texpectedhimtosaythat.Atall.
“Iwanttofuckyouagain.”
Well,ofcoursehedoes.I’mamazinginbed.
Butthere’snowayI’msleepingwiththeguyagain,notafterIspenttheentiredayfeelinglikeHesterfrickingPrynne.Only,theself-judgmentI’vebeenhittingmyselfwithisfarmorescathingthananythingthatpoorwomanevergotfromthosePuritans.
God,I’mnotcutoutforcasualsex.Ifeel…defiled.Exceptthat’sridiculous,becauseifanyonewasdefiledlastnight,itwasDean.NotonlydidIseducehim,butItiedhimupandrodehimlikehewasmyownpersonalamusementparkride.
I’msuchaslut.
You’renotaslut
Okay,maybeI’mnot.MaybeI’mjustatwenty-twoyearoldwomanwhohadsomeno-stringsfunforonceinherlife.
Theonlyproblemis—Ilikethestrings.Sexandrelationshipsgohandinhandforme.I’mallaboutthesnugglingandinsidejokesandtalkinglateintothenight.I’macard-carryingmemberofTeamBoyfriend,andafterlastnight,IcanhonestlysaythatTeamOne-Night-Standsucksballs.Thesexwasincredible,buttheshameitleftmewithisn’tworththeorgasms.
Sighing,ItossmyphoneonthecouchcushionandpickupthescriptI’dbeenreadingbeforeDeaninterrupted.Thestudent-writtenplaywillbemyfinalperformanceatBriar.I’moneoftwofemaleleads,andeventhoughthematerialisatadmelodramaticformytastes,I’mlookingforwardtorehearsals.EversincemytheaterdebutinBostonthissummer,I’vebeenitchingtoperforminfrontofaliveaudienceagain.
WhichisjustanothercontributingfactortothestressI’vebeenunder.I’matacrossroadsinmycareer,andIhavenoideawhichpathtotake,damnit.
WhenIstartedcollege,Iaskedmyagenttoconcentrateononlyfindingsummerprojectsforme.Itwouldhavebeentootemptingtodropoutofschoolifajuicyrolecamealong,andIwantedmydegree.NowthatI’mgraduating,allbetsareoff.PilotseasonkicksoffaroundJanuary,andIrahasalreadysentmedozensofscriptsforsitcomsandGlee-styledramedies,alongwithseveralromanticcomedyscreenplaysthatnormallyI’dbesalivatingover.
IalwaysthoughtIwasdestinedforcomedicroles.IcaughttheactingbugwhenIwasstillinmiddleschool,andallthebitpartsI’velandedovertheyearshavebeenlightandfluffy,highlightingmycomedictimingandgirl-next-doorpersona.Idreamedaboutbeingaromcomqueen.ThenextSandraBullockorKateHudsonorEmmaStone.
Untilthissummer,whenacastingcallwentoutforasuperserious,superdepressingplaydirectedbyBrettCavanaugh,anOscar-winningdirectorandafrickinglegend.SomehowmyagentmadeitpossibleformetoreadforCavanaugh,andtomytotalastonishmentIactuallygotthepart—theheroin-addictedyoungersisteroftheleadactress.Theshowonlyhadatwo-monthrun,butitwasahugesuccess.Sincethen,I’vereceivedatonofofferstoreadformoredramaticroles,bothonstageandfortelevision.
AndsomeonetoldmeCavanaughisdevelopinganotherprojectforthestage,off-offBroadwaythistime…
Shit.WhyamIsotemptedtoveeroffthecourseIsetformyself?Consideringdramaticrolesisonething,buttheater?
Hollywoodmeansmoremoney.Morerecognition.OscarsandGoldenGlobesandRodeoDriveshoppingsprees.
Istareatthestackofscriptsonthecoffeetable.IfIgethiredforoneofthesepilotsIrasentoverandtheshowgetspickedup?OrifIsnagaroleinoneofthesefilms?Icouldactuallybreakoutinthebusiness.SowhyamIfantasizingaboutstageacting?
I’mstilllostinthoughtwhenmyphonerings.Icheckthescreen,andforasecondIthinkit’sDeancalling,untilIdoadoubletakeandrealizeit’sanS,notaD.Huh.Myex-boyfriendandmyone-night-standliterallyhavethesamenamewithoneletterreplaced.Iwonderifthatmeanssomething…
Sean’scallingyou,youidiot
Yeah,that’sprobablythemorepressingissueatthemoment.
Mychestfillswithanxiety.Ishouldn’tpickup.Ireally,reallyshouldn’tpickup.
Ipickup.
“Areyouokay?”arethefirstwordsIhear.
SeansoundssofranticthatI’mquicktoreassurehim.“I’mfine.Whywouldn’tIbe?”
“Icamebyafterclassyesterdayandyouweren’thome.AndItextedyouallnight.”
“Iknow.”Igulp.“Ispentthenightatafriend’s.I…”Anothergulp.“ItoldyouIdidn’twanttoseeyou.”
“Iwashopingyou’dchangeyourmind.”There’snomistakingthesheertormentinhisvoice.“Fuck,baby.Imissyou.Iknowit’sonlybeenacoupledays,butImissyousomuch.”
Myheartcracksintwo.
“Imessedup,okay?Iseethatnow.Ishouldn’thavegivenyouanultimatum,andIdefinitelyshouldn’thavesaidyouractingcareerisn’tgoinganywhere.Iwasupsetandlashingoutatyou,andyoudidn’tdeservethat.WhenIcametoyouropeningnightinBostonthissummer,Iwasblownaway.Seriously.You’resotalented,baby.I’manassforsayingallthatshittoyou.Ididn’tmeanit.”
He’spracticallypleadingwithmenow,andanotherpieceofmyheartsplintersoff.“Sean—”
“You’rethemostimportantpersoninmylife,”heinterrupts,hisvoicethickwithemotion.“Youmeantheworldtome,andIwanttofuckingstranglemyselffordrivingyouaway.Please,baby,givemeanotherchance.”
“Sean—”
“IknowIcanfixthis.Justgivemeachanceto—”
“Sean.”
Hestops.“Babe?”hesaysuncertainly.
Mythroatgoesimpossiblytight,almostlikeit’stryingtopreventmefromsayingmynextwords.Buttheguiltiseatingmealive.Ican’tjustsithereandlistentohimbeg,notwhenI’mfeelingthisway.Iswallowagainandforcemyvocalcordstocooperate.
“Isleptwithsomeonelastnight.”
Deafeningsilencegreetsmyears.Itseemstodragonforever,andwitheachsecondthatticksby,mystomachchurnsharder.
“Didyouhearme?”Iwhisper.
There’sachokednoise.“Yeah…Iheardyou.”
Webothfallsilent.Painandguiltcontinuetostabmyinsides.IinvoluntarilyflashbacktothedayImetSean.Itwasduringfreshmanorientation,andIrememberthinkinghewasthecutestboyI’deverseenwithhisfloppybrownhairthathe’ssincecropped,twinklinghazeleyes,andthecutestbuttontheplanet.BeingtheoutspokenweirdothatIam,Icommentedonthecutenessofsaidbutt,andhischeekshadturnedredderthanhisRedSoxT-shirt.
Wehaddinnerinoneofthemealhallsthatnight.
Aweekafterthat,wewereacouple.
Andnow,threeyearslater,we’rebrokenup,andI’vejustconfessedtohavingsexwithsomeoneelse.Wherethehellhadwegonewrong?
“Who?”
Thestrangledquestionstartlesme.“W-what?”
“Whowasit?”Seansaysflatly.
Discomforttightensmychest.“Itdoesn’tmatterwhoitwas.Iwon’tbeseeinghimagain.Itwas…”Itakeabreath.“Itwasastupidmistake.ButIthoughtyoushouldknow.”
Hedoesn’tanswer.
“Sean?”
Araggedbreathechoesthroughtheline.“Thanksfortellingme,”hemutters.
Thenhehangsup.
IttakesawhilebeforeImovethephoneawayfrommyear.MyhandshakesuncontrollablyasIrakeitthroughmyhair.
God.Thatwas…brutal.ApartofmewonderswhyIeventoldhim.It’snotlikeIcheatedonhim.Ididn’thavetotellhim.Infact,IcouldhavesparedhimthepainhemustbefeelingrightnowifI’dsimplykeptmymouthshut.ButI’vealwaysbeenhonestwithSean,andsomestupid,guiltypartofmeinsistedhedeservedtoknow.
Ananguishedgroanfliesoutofmymouth.Myhearthurtsagain.Theguiltisevenworsenow,atight,crushingknotinmystomach.
Ratherthanpickupmyscript,IgrabmyiPodinsteadandshoveinmyearbuds.ThenIyanktheblanketuptomyneckandputMileyCyrus’s“WreckingBall”onrepeatbecauseitprettymuchsumsuphowIfeelrightnow.
Wrecked.
*
Dean
“Awww,lookathim,G,he’ssopreciouswhenhe’ssleeping.”
“Likeanangel.”
“Areallysluttyangel.”
“Wait—doangelsevengetlaid?Andifso,areheavenorgasmsamilliontimesbetterthanearthorgasms?Ibetyes.”
“Uh-doy.Wheredoyouthinkrainbowscomefrom?Wheneveryouseearainbow,thatmeansanangeljustcame.”
“Ah.Makessense.Sortoflikehowwheneverabellrings,anangelgetsitswings.”
“Exactlylikethat.”
Icrankoneeyeopenanddirectittowardthedoorway.“Icanhearyou,youknow.”
MyannoyedvoiceputsanendtothemostbizarreconversationI’veeverheard.“Ohgood,you’reup,”Logansays.
“OfcourseI’mup,”Igrumble,rubbingmyeyes.“HowamIsupposedtosleepwhenyoutwofucktardsarestandingatthefootofmybedtalkingaboutangelsblowingtheirloads?”
Garrettsnickers.“LikeI’mthefirstonetoeverwonderaboutthat.”
“Trustme,youare.When’dyouguysgetback?”
Loganpropsonemassiveshoulderagainstmydoorframe.“Aboutanhourago.Gracieneededtobebackearlybecauseshehasashowtoproducetonight.”
Inod.Logan’sgirlfriendworksasaproduceratthecampusradiostation.Whichremindsme…“Youplanningoncallinginandprofessingyourloveagain?”Iaskmockingly.
Hesighs.“You’renevergonnaletmeforgetthat,areyou?”
“Nope.”ThoughIwishsomeonehadrecordedthatradiosegmentsoIcouldpullsomequotesfromitandtorturehimwiththem.AfterscrewingupandnearlylosingGracelastweekend,Loganhadwonherbackbycallingtheadviceshowsheproducesandsayingthesappiestshitimaginable.Iworryabouthimsometimes.
Itossthecoversasideandslideoutofbedbuck-assnaked.Myroommatescontinuetolurkinthedoorway.
Ifindapairofcleanboxersandtugthemon.“IsweartoGod,ifyoutellmeyou’vebeenwatchingmesleepforthelasthourlikeabunchofcreepers,I’mcallingthecops.”
“Coachcalled,”Garretttellsme.“Hesaidhe’sbeentryingyourphoneallmorningbutyouweren’tpickingup.Hewantsyouatthearenainanhour.”
“Why?”Iaskwarily.
Garrettshrugs.“FuckifIknow.Maybehefoundoutyougotwastedthisweekend—Iassumeyougotwasted,right?—andwantstoreamyouout.”
“Howwouldheevenknow?It’snotlikehe’sgotpeopletailingus.”
“Dude,CoachislikethatspymasterfromGameofThrones.Hissourcesareendless.”
Shit.HopefullyI’mnotinstoreforoneofCoachJensen’slong-windedlecturesaboutkeepingmynoseclean.We’renotallowedtodrinkordabbleindrugsduringtheseason,butthatdoesn’tstopanyofusfromgettingplasteredorsmokingtheoccasionaljoint.Still,I’veneverfailedapisstestortarnishedtheteam’sgoodnamewithmypartying,soI’mnotsurewhyCoachisconstantlyonmycaseaboutit.
“Hannahstillhere?”IaskGarrettasIhuntdownsomepants.
“Naah,shewenthome.She’shavingagirldaywithAllie.”
I’mgladmybackisturned,becausethemomenthesaysAllie’sname,mydickactuallygoeshalf-mast.Wonderful.I’mturnedonbythesoundofhernamenow?
“Youdidn’tdoanythingstupidwhenshewashere,didyou?”Garrett’stoneislinedwithsuspicion.
Ifuckedhertwice.So…yes?
IbitemytongueandthrowonaT-shirt,followedbyanavy-blueBriarhoodie.“Iwasaperfectgentleman.”
Logansnorts.“Well,that’safirst.”
“Fuckyouverymuch.Ihappentobeskilledintheartofgentlemanry.”
“That’snotanart.Oraword.”Loganrollshiseyesanddisappearsfromtheroom,butGarrettstaysbehind.
HestudiesmyfaceforsolongIshiftindiscomfort.“What?”Imutter.
“Nothing,”hesays,buthestillwearsasuspiciousexpressionasheducksoutofmybedroom.
WhenIpopintothebathroomtobrushmyteeth,Irealizethatthepurplehickeyonmyneckisstillvery,verynoticeable.HadGarrettseenit?
Butsowhatifhehad?Anyonecould’vesuckedonmyneckthisweekend.There’snoreasonforhimtosuspectitwasAllie.
GoddamnAllie.ItoldherIwantedheragain,andshe’dhunguponme.Thatdoesn’thappentome—ever.I’mDeanDiLaurentis,forfuck’ssake.Icansnapmyfingersandadozenchicksappear,beggingtoridemydick.LasttimeIwasatthecampuscoffeehouse,thehotbaristahandedmeafreecoffeeandthenofferedtosuckmeoffinthestockroom.
SowhatthehellisAllie’sproblem?Ispentwaytoomuchtimelastnightwonderingifshe’splayinghardtoget.Imean,it’snotlikeshehadn’tenjoyedthesex.I’veneverbeenwithanyonewhoshoweredmydickwithsomuchglowingpraise.
“Ohmygosh,Iwanttomarryyourcock!”
“Best.Dick.Ever.”
“Dean,you’remakingmecome…”
Herthroatycriesrunthroughmyheadonaperverted,boner-inducingloop,andIgripthetowelrackwithonehandasagroanslipsout.Thetoothbrushinmymouthfallsintothesink.Mycocktentsinmypantsandnudgestheporcelain,needingtomakecontactwithsomething,anything.
IwonderifCoachwouldbepissedifIwaslatetomeethimbecauseIwasjerkingoff.
Probably.
*
Thirtyminuteslater,IswipemystudentIDinthekeypadatthehockeyfacility,sippingonthecoffeeIgrabbedonthewayhere.Thewidecorridorisdeserted,andmysneakerssqueakontheshinyfloorsasIheadtothebackofthebuilding.Iwalkpasttherowofclassroomsandthescreeningroom,bypassthekitchenandweightrooms,thenduckthroughthemassiveequipmentarea.
Ourfacilityisstateoftheart.TherearehalfadozenbigcozyofficesthatChadJensencould’veparkedhisassin,butforsomereasonhechosethismodestofficetuckedawaynearthelaundryroom.
Iknockonthedoor,onlyopeningitwhenIhearCoach’sgruff,“Getinhere.”Thelastplayerwhowaltzedinwithoutknockinggotatongue-lashingthattherestofuscouldhearallthewayfromtheshowers.IliketothinkCoachusestheofficetojackoffandthat’swhyheinsistsonprivacy.Loganhypothesizesthathehasasecretofficefamilythat’sonlyallowedtoventureoutintheweehoursofthenight.
Loganisanidiot.
“Hey,Coach.Youwantedtoseeme—”IhaltwhenIrealizewe’renotalone.
I’mnotcaughtoffguardoften.I’mago-with-the-flowkindaguy,whichmeansittakesahelluvalottoshockorsurpriseme.
Rightnow,theonlyflowI’mgoingwithistherushofanxietythattravelsthroughmybloodandseepsintomybones.
FrankO’Shearisesfromthevisitor’schairandflickshiscoolgazeoverme.Ihaven’tseenhimsincemysenioryearofhighschool,buthelooksexactlythesame.Darkbuzzcut,stockybody,severemouth.
“DiLaurentis,”hesayswithacurtnod.
Inodback.“CoachO’Shea.”
Jensenglancesbetweenus,thengetsrightdowntobusiness.“Dean,Frank’scomingonboardasournewdefensivecoordinator.HefilledmeinaboutyourhistoryatGreenwichPrep.”Coachpauses.“Idecideditwouldbeprudentifyoutwoairedoutyourissuesbeforepracticetomorrow.”
IcanonlyimaginewhatO’Sheahadtosayaboutour“history.”Whateveritwas,I’mpositiveitwasbothinaccurateandinnowayfavorabletowardme,becauseO’Shea’sversionofthestoryissoskeweditmakesthestoriesintheNationalEnquirerseemlikewell-researchedacademicpapers.
CoachJensenstepstothedoor.“I’llleaveyoutoit.”
Goddamnit,he’sleavingusalone?WouldabeennicetohaveawitnessaroundincaseO’Sheatriessomething.Afterall,thisisthemanwhoclockedoneofhisownplayersintheemptyparkinglotofahighschool.Iwaseighteenatthetime.Ididn’treportitbecauseIunderstoodwhyhe’ddoneit,butthatdoesn’tmeanI’veforgottenaboutit.Orforgivenhimforit.
O’Sheadoesn’tspeakuntilthedoorlatchesfirmlybehindCoach.“So.Arewegoingtohaveaproblemhere?”
Isetmyjaw.“Youtellme.”Iforcemyselftoadd,“Sir.”
Hisdarkeyesflash.“Iseeyou’restillthesameinsolentsmartassyouwerewhenIcoachedyou.”
“Withallduerespect,sir,I’vebeeninthisofficeforalloffiveseconds.Idon’tthinkyoucanmakethatjudgment.”Mytoneispolite,butinsideI’mseething.Iloathethisman,whichissofuckingironicbecauseIusedtoworshiphim.
“Thereisn’taproblemonmyend,”hesaysasifIhadn’tevenspoken.“Thepastisinthepast.I’mwillingtowipetheslatecleanifthatmakesforamoreconducivetrainingenvironment.”
Howgenerousofhim.
“AllIaskinreturnisthatyoutreatmewithrespectandlistentomewhenwe’reontheice.Iwon’ttolerateanyinsubordination.”Hismouthpinchesinafrown.“AndIwon’tcondoneanyshenanigans.Jensensaidyouhavequitethereputationasapartyboy.Whichdoesn’tsurpriseme—”hemakesanunflatteringnoise“—butifyouwanttokeepyourrosterslot,Iexpectyoutobeonyourbestbehavior.Nobooze,nodrugs,nobrawling.Understood?”
Ijerkmyheadinassent.
“Asforourformerissues,theywillnotbediscussed.”O’Shealevelsmewithanothercoldglare.“Notbetweenus,andnotamongyouandyourteammates.Thepastisinthepast,”herepeats.
Ishovemyhandsinmypockets.“CanIgonow?”
“Notyet.”Hemovestowardthedeskandpicksupathinfolder.EitherI’mimaginingit,orthere’sasmuggleaminhiseyes.“Twomorethings.Andrestassured,CoachJensenisincompleteagreementaboutthis.”
Uneasinessticklesmystomach.
“First,we’removingyoutothesecondlinewithBrodowski—”
“What?”Ibalk.
O’Sheaholdsuphishand.“Letmefinish.”
Islammymouthshut,fightingtocontrolmyrisingtemper.I’mnolongerseething.I’mfuckingenraged.
Thereisn’taproblemonhisend,myass.I’vealwaysplayedonthefirstlinewithLogan.We’rethetwobestdefensemenontheroster.Adynamicduo,forchrissake.BrodowskiisajuniorwhoneedssomuchworkI’msurprisedhe’sstillontheteam.
“JensentrustsmetoworkwiththisdefenseandmakedecisionsasIseefit,”myoldcoachbarksatme.“Thesecondlineisweak.KelvinandBrodowskiaren’tgelling,andeachofthemwillbenefitfrombeingpairedupwithplayersofyourandJohnLogan’scaliber.”
“DidCoachhappentomentionthathetriedthisalreadyduringpre-season?”Ican’thelpbutsay,snidelyenoughtomakehimfrown.“IwaspairedupwithKelvinfortheSt.Anthony’sgame.Itwasadisaster.”
“Well,youwon’tbewithKelvinthistime,willyou?”hecountersinanequallysnidetone.“I’mputtingyouwithBrodowski.Andthedecisionisfinal—I’mdoingwhat’sbestfortheteam.”
Bullshit.He’sdoingthistopunishme,andwebothknowit.
“What’sthesecondthing?”
Heblinks.“Pardonme?”
“Yousaidthereweretwothings.”It’sastruggletokeepmyvoicecalm.“You’rerearrangingthelines—that’snumberone.What’snumbertwo?”
HeslantshisheadasiftryingtodecideifI’mbeingdisrespectfulagain.Dudedoesn’tevenknowhowbadlyIwanttoslammyfistinhisjawrightnow.It’stakingallmywillpowernotto.
O’Sheaflipsopenthefolderandextractsasinglepieceofpaper.Thesatisfiedgleamreturnsashepassesittome.
Iscanthepage.It’saphotocopyofwhatlookslikeapracticeandgameschedule,butit’snotforourteam.“What’sthis?”Imutter.
“Startingthisweek,you’llgenerouslybevolunteeringyourtimetotheHastingsHurricanes—”
“Thewhat?”
“TheHastingsHurricanes.That’sthehockeyteamatHastingsElementary.Middleschoolleague,seventhandeighthgraders.Briarhasacommunityoutreachprograminwhichourstudentathletesvolunteertocoachoractasassistantcoacheswithlocalsportsteams.Theseniorwho’sbeenworkingwiththeHurricanes—she’stheleftwingfortheBriar’sladiesteam.Shecamedownwithmono,soweneedtoreplaceher.JensenandIthinkyou’dbetheperfectcandidatetotakeover.”
Itrytomaskmyhorror.Idon’tthinkI’msuccessful,becauseO’Sheaisopenlysmirkingatmenow.
“It’stwoafternoonpracticesaweek,andgamedayisFridayatsix.Iwentaheadandpeekedatyourclassscheduleanditdoesn’tinterferewiththeHurricanes’schedule.Sowe’reallset.”Hetipshishead.“Unlessyouhaveanobjection…?”
DamnrightIdo.Idon’twanttospendthreedaysaweekcoachingabunchofmiddle-schoolers.Thisismysenioryear,forchrissake.Mycourseworkloadismassive.AndI’malreadypracticingsixdaysaweekwithmyownteamandplayingmyowngames,whichdoesn’tleavealotofdowntime.
ButifIobjecttothis,O’Sheawillnodoubtmakemylifemiserable.Samewayhedidbackinhighschool.
“Nope,itsoundslikefun.”Iforcethewordsoutandresistfromgivinghimthefinger.
Henodsinapproval.“Well,lookatthat.Maybeyouhavechanged.TheDeanDiLaurentisIknewonlycaredaboutoneperson—himself.”
Thejabstingsmorethanitshould.Sure,Icanbeaselfishbastardattimes,butIhadn’tdoneanythingwrongbackthen,damnit.MirandaandIhadbeenonthesamepage…untilsuddenlyweweren’t.
ButIguessitdoesn’tmatterwhowasinthewrong,doesit?Becauseit’sprettyfuckingclearthatFrankO’Sheaisnevergoingtoforgivemeforwhatwentdownbetweenmeandhisdaughter.6
Dean
FirstthingIdoafterIstalkoutofthearenaiscallmyolderbrother.It’sSunday,soItryhiscellfirst,thoughthere’sagoodchancehe’sattheoffice.Nickworkslonghoursatthefirm,includingmostweekends.Ithinkhe’stryingtoimpressourdadwithhisdedicationtothelaw,andhonestly,Ithinkit’sworking.
Thecheerfulvoicethatslidesintomyear,however,doesn’tbelongtoNick.
“Dicky!Yay!Ihaven’tspokentoyouinages!”
Thenicknamenevermademecringewhenwewerekids,butnowthatwe’readults,it’sfuckingmortifying.AsfarasI’mconcerned,oncemylittlesisterlearnedhowtopronounceDean,ourfolksshould’veorderedhertokickDickytothecurb.Thenagain,orderingSummertodoanythingprettymuchensuresshe’lldotheopposite.Mysisterisastubbornbrat.
“WhyareyouansweringNick’scell?”Iasksuspiciously.
“BecauseIsawyournameandwantedtotalktoyoufirst.Younevercallmeanymore.”
Icanenvisionthepoutshe’snodoubtsporting,anditbringsasmiletomylips.“Younevercallmeeither,”Ipointout.
Summergoesquietforasecond.Thensheheavesacolossalsigh.“You’reright.Idon’t.I’vebeenaterriblesister.”
“Naah,you’reprobablyjustasbusyasIam.”Iheaddownthecobblestonepathtowardthebackofthetrainingcenter,makingmywaytotheparkinglot.
“Ihavebeenprettybusy,”sherelents.
Ihearaloudsnortovertheextension.“Whatwasthat?”Iask.
“Nothing.JustNickybeinganass.He’sbeendrivingmenutsallweekend.Hashealwaysbeenthisuptight,ordidithappenoncehebecamealawyer?”
Shesays“lawyer”asifit’sadirtyword.ThoughtoSummer,itprobablyis.Mysisterhaddeclaredattheageoftwelvethatlawis“hellaboring”,andeightyearslaterherstanceremainsthesame.SheonlyagreedtoattendanIvyLeaguecollegetoplacateourparents,butlastwespoke,shetoldmeshewantstogointointeriordesignaftershegraduates.
“Comparedtoyou,everyoneisuptight,”Itellmysister.“Whichisn’ttosayIapproveofallthebatshitcrazythingsyoudo.”Summeristwoyearsyoungerthanme,butshegivesmearunformymoneywhenitcomestograbbinglifebythehornsandseizingthedayandallthatcrap.I’msurprisedourparentshaven’tdisownedheryet.
Athoughtsuddenlyoccurstome.“WhyareyouinManhattan?Shouldn’tyoubeatschool?”
“Ifeltlikevisitingmybigbrother.”
Hertoneiswaytooinnocentformyliking.“Bullshit.”
“It’strue,”Summerprotests.“IwantedtoseeNicky.AndIwanttoseeyoutoo,sodon’tbesurprisedifIshowuponyourdoorstepsometimesoon.”Shepauses.“Actually,I’mthinkingoftransferringtoBriar.”
Analarmgoesoffinsideme.“Why?IthoughtyouwerehappyatBrown.”
“Iam.But…uh…yeah.”Summersighsagain.“I’monprobation.”
Ihaltmid-step.“Whatdidyoudo?”Idemand.
“WhatmakesyouthinkIdidsomething?”There’sasniffovertheline.
“SaveyourLittleMissInnocentactfortheparentals.”Isnicker.“Notthatitworksonthemanymore,either.Nowtellmewhathappened.”
“Let’sjustsaytherewasanincidentatthesororityhouse.Togaswereinvolved.”
Ichokedownalaugh.“Canyoubemorespecific?”
“Nope.”
Igroaninexasperation.“Summer—”
“I’lltellyouallaboutitwhenIseeyou,”shechirps.“Nickywantstotalktoyounow.”
“Summer—”
She’salreadygone.Mybrother’sdeepvoicecomesonthelinehalfasecondlater.“Hey,”hesays.
“What’dshedo?”Iaskhim.
Nickgivesaheartylaugh.“Ohno,I’mnotspoilingitforyou.AllI’mgoingtosayis,classicSummer.”
Fuckinghell.I’mnotsureIevenwanttoknowanymore.“DoMomandDadknow?”
“Yup.They’renotthrilledaboutit,butit’snotlikeshegotkickedout.It’sjusttwomonthsofprobationandtwentyhoursofcommunityservice.”
ThelastbitdistractsmefromSummer’swoes.“Speakingofcommunityservice…”IquicklyfillhiminaboutO’Shea’snewgigatBriar.
“Shit,”NicksayswhenI’mdone.“DidhementionMiranda?”
“No,butit’sobvioushestillblamesmeforeverythingthathappened.”Bitternessclogsmythroat.“Apartofmeistemptedtotrackherdownandtalksomesenseintoher,maybeaskhertospeaktoherdad.”
“Shedidn’tbotherdoingthatbackthen,”Nickpointsout.“Whydoyouthinkshe’ddoitnow?”
Goodpoint.“Iknow,but…”Ireachmycarandjammyfingeronthekeyfobtounlockthedoor.I’mstillonedgefromO’Shea’sunexpectedreappearanceinmylife,andIjustwanttogetthehellawayfromthearena.“Whatever,”Isaydarkly.“Iguessit’sstupidofmetothinkMirandawouldwanttohelpme.I’mthemonsterwhobrokeherheart,remember?”
“Youwantmyadvice?Justkeepyourheaddown.Showupforpractice,dowhatO’Sheasays,anddon’tstartanyshit.Springwillbeherebeforeyouknowit,andthenyou’llgraduateandneverhavetoseethatbastardagain.”
“You’reright,”Iconcede.“It’snotworthstressingover.I’llbeoutofheresoonenough,right?”
“Yup.Butletmeknowifhegivesyouanytrouble,okay?I’lltrytocomeupwithagoodreasontosicalawsuitonhim.”
Ichuckle.“Youdon’tpracticecivillaw.”
“Foryou,babybrother,I’llmakeanexception.”
I’minafarbettermoodafterwehangup.MyfriendsliketomockmeaboutbeingarichkidfromConnecticut.I’msuretheythinkmyparentsaresnobsandmysiblingsarespoiled,buttruthbetold,myfamilyisawesome.
Bothmyparentsarehigh-poweredattorneys,butthey’rethemostdown-to-earthpeopleyou’llevermeet.Don’tgetmewrong,mysiblingsandIdefinitelyhadatonofperksgrowingup.Wehadanannyandhousekeeper.Wewenttoprivateschoolsandgotacushyweeklyallowance.Butwealsohadtodochoresandfinishallourhomeworkbeforeweeversawadime.Ifourgradesslipped,we’dbegroundedinaheartbeat.Andifwetriedpullingthatgimme-whatever-I-want-because-we’ve-got-oodles-of-moneycrap,wewerepunishedforit.TheoneandonlytimeIdemandedmoneyfrommydad,heturnedaroundanddonatedmyentirecollegefundtoacharityforunderprivilegedkids.Thenhemademeclerkathisfirmforthewholesummertoearnitallback.
“What’dCoachwant?”GarrettaskswhenIstrideintothelivingroomfifteenminuteslater.
“Tointroducemetothenewdefensivecoordinator.”Iflopdowninthearmchairandglanceattheflatscreen.GandLoganarebattlingeachotherinagameofIcePro,andjudgingbythescore,Loganisgettinghisasshandedtohim.
“Wehaveanewdefensivecoordinator?”Loganinstantlypausesthegame.“Andwhydidyouneedaprivateintroduction?”
Ichoosemywordscarefully.“Hisname’sFrankO’Shea.Hewasmyhighschoolcoach,soJensenfiguredwe’dwanttocatchupbeforeO’Sheaisofficiallyintroducedtotheteam.”
Loganfurrowshisbrow.“Okay.Butwhyishejustcominginnow?Season’salreadystarted.SeemsweirdtobringinaDCafterwe’vealreadyplayedourfirstgame.”
“Andlost,”Garrettmutters.
“Stilljustonegame,”Loganinsists.“It’snotlikewe’reinsuchbadshapethatweneedanewcoachtoturnshitaround.ThisfeelslikeapanicmoveonCoach’spart.”Frowning,heturnstomeagain.“What’shelike?Goodguy?”
He’sthedevil.“He’sdecent,”Ilie,thenchangethesubject.“Where’sTuck?”
“Notsure.Don’tthinkhecamehomelastnight.”Loganunpausesthegameandrefocuseshisattentiononthescreen.
Iwrinklemyforehead.Tuckerhadn’tspentFridaynightathomeeither.Iwonderifhe’sseeingsomeonenew,becausehedoesn’tusuallystayouttwonightsinarow.
Sincemyroommatesaredistractedbythevideogame,IgoupstairsandforcemyselftocatchuponthecoursereadingsI’dfallenbehindon.Ispendtherestofthedayalternatingbetweenreadingandnapping,onlygoingdownstairstostealafewslicesofthepizzaGarrettandLoganorderintheevening.Idon’tknowwhyI’mfeelingsoantisocial.MaybeI’mstilledgyaboutO’SheashowingupatBriar.Ormaybeit’sbecauseeverytimeIclosedmyeyesforanaptoday,IpicturedAllie’ssexymouthwrappedaroundmydick.Hersmooth,goldencurvespressedupagainstme.Hertitsfillingmypalms.
Whycan’tIgetthisgirloutofmymind?Yes,thesexwasphenomenal.Yes,Ifindherattractive.Butphenomenalsexandattractivegirlsaren’texactlyananomalyinmylife.
Getoverit,IordermydickwhenityetagainhardensatthethoughtofAllie.
Ittwitchesinresponse.Tauntingme.
“Goddamnit,”Igrowl.ThenIfumbleonthebedformyphoneandbringupthenumberI’ddialedlastnight.
Alliepicksupafterfourrings,herwaryvoiceslidingintomyear.“Hey.What’sup?”
Iletoutaraggedbreath.“Iwanttofuckyouagain.”
“Isthisathingnow?You’regoingtocallmeeverynightandsaythat?”
“Maybe?”Shit.I’mcrankyandhornyandasconfusedassheis.“Sayyes,babydoll.Justsayyesandputmeoutofmymisery.”
“Ialreadytoldyou,itwasaone-timething.I’mnotintocasualsex.Wehadfun,sure,but—shit,I’vegottago.CalloneofyourpuckbunniesandI’msurethey’lltakecareofyou,okay?”
Forthesecondtimeintwodays,shehangsuponme.
*
Allie
“Whowasthat?”
IjumpnearlytwofeetintheairatthesoundofHannah’svoice.IdisconnectedthecallwhenIheardherfootstepsinthehall,butIhadn’texpectedhertoappearinmydoorwaythisfast.
“Uh,itwasnoone.”Brilliantanswer.
Sheraisesonedarkeyebrow.“Noone?”
“Telemarketer,”Iamend.“Whichistheequivalentofnoone.”
Shegrumblesinannoyanceassheheadsformybed.“Howdotheyevengetourcellphonenumbers?WhenIsignedupwithmyphoneprovider,theyhadthiswholesectionintheirpolicyabouthowthey’llnever,evergivemynumbertoathirdparty.Well,Icallbullshit,becauseguesswhat?IgetdailycallsfromairlinesandclothingstoresandallthesecompaniestellingmeabouttheirawesomesalesandsayingIwonsomebogusprize.OhmyGod,andtheworstone?Thisstupidcruiseshippromotionthatstartsthecallwithanautomatedfoghorn!It’sawful.”
Hannah’stangentlastsforseveralminutes,andI’mgratefulforitbecauseitmeansshe’stoorileduptofigureoutIliedtoher.Andshe’ssocaughtupinherrantthatshedoesn’tnoticewhenIdiscreetlycheckthetextmessagethatpopsuponmyphone.
Dean:Ureallyneedtostophanginguponme.
Itextback,Ureallyneedtostoppropositioningme.IknowI’magreatlay,butgetoveritalready.
Him:Ican’t.Trustme,I’vetried.
Me:Tryharder.
Him:C’mon,babydoll.Just1moretime.Thinkofhowgooditwillbe…
Ofcourseit’llbegood.He’sasexchampion.Butthatdoesn’tchangethefactthatI’mnotcomfortablewithcasualsex.
Me:Goaway.I’mrunninglinesw/Hannah.
Him:TextmewhenurdoneandI’llsneakintoyourdorm.Wellsywon’tevenknowI’mthere.
I’mstartledtofeelasharpachebetweenmylegs.TheideaofDeansneakinginandfuckingmewhileHannahsleepsobliviouslyinthenextroomisaturn-onIdidn’texpect.
Iignoretheunwelcomeresponseandtype,Goodnight,Dean.
ThenIturntoHannahandsay,“Arewedonebashingtelemarketers?Becausethisscriptisn’tgoingtoreaditself,babe.”
“Sorry.Ican’thelpit—IhearthewordtelemarketerandIturnintoaballofrage.”Shesitscross-leggedonthecenterofmybedandcatchesthescriptItossather.
Iremainstanding.Theopeningscenerequiresmycharactertopace,andIwanttogetafeelforhowtalkingwhilemarchingbackandforthwillaffectmybreathcontrol.
Hannahthumbsthroughtheintropages.“Allright.WhoamI?JeannetteorCaroline?”
“Caroline.Herdefiningtraitsarepettyandinsensitive.”
Mybestfriendgrinswidely.“SoIgettoplaythebitch?Nice.”
Honestly,IwishIwasplayingthebitch.MycharacterisayoungwidowwholostherhusbandinAfghanistan,whichisthemoreemotionallydrainingrole.ThankstothisbreakupwithSean,myemotionwellisdangerouslyclosetodepleted,andI’mscaredIwon’tbeabletotapintoitanddothisrolejustice.
Myfearisn’toffbase.We’reonlyfivepagesinandI’malreadydrained,soIcallforaquickbreak.
“Wow,”Hannahremarksassheskimsthenextfewscenes.“Thisplayisintense.Everyoneintheaudienceisgoingtobebawlingtheentiretime.”
Icollapsenexttoherandstretchoutonmyback.“I’mgoingtobebawlingtheentiretime.”Literally,becausemycharacterweepsineveryotherscene.
Hannahfallsbackonherelbowsandacomfortablesilencefallsbetweenus.Ilikeit,becauseIdon’thavethiswithmanypeople.EvenwithMeganandStella,whoIconsiderclosefriends,oneofusisalwaystryingtofillthesilencewithconversation.Ithinkittakesacertainleveloftrusttositnexttosomeoneandnotfeelthepressingurgetobabbleaway.
Mydadoncetoldmethatthewayapersonrespondstosilencerevealsalotaboutthem.Ialwaysfiguredhewastalkingoutofhisass,becauseDadhasahabitofcomingupwithinsightful-soundingadagesandinsistingthere’swisdominthem,whenhalfthetimeIknowhe’sbullshittingme.
Butrightnow,Iseethetruthinhiswords.WhenIthinkofthesilencesI’vesharedwithmyotherfriends,Irealizetheyreallyareincrediblytelling.
Megbreaksasilencewithjokes,doingherdamndesttofillthelullwithlaughter.ForaslongasI’veknownher,she’sresortedtohumorwhenevershitgetstooseriousforher.
Stellafillsthesilencebybarragingyouwithquestionsaboutyourlife.ForaslongasI’veknownher,she’savoideddiscussingherselfifshecouldhelpit.Iguessthat’swhyitsurprisedmewhenshestarteddatingJustinKohl,thefootballplayerHannahhadacrushonbeforeshefellforGarrett.Stellahasopenlyadmittedmorethanoncethatshe’safraidofintimacy.
ThethoughtofJustinhasmeturningtowardHannah.“Hey,didGarretteverownuptobeingwrongaboutJustin?”
Shewrinklesherforehead.“Wheredidthatcomefrom?”
Igrin.“Sorry.IwasjustthinkingaboutStella,anditremindedmeofhowGarrettwasconvincedthatJustinhadsinistermotives.Didn’theinsistthatJustinwasaslimeball?”
“Yep.”Shesitsupwithalaugh.“Weactuallytalkedaboutitawhileback.IaccusedhimofbeingsubconsciouslyjealousofJustin.”
“Ha.Ibethelovedthat.”
“It’stheonlythingthatmakessense,though.JustinisoneofthenicestguysI’veevermet.ButGarrettinsistshejustmisreadhim.”
“Well,eitherway,I’mgladJustinturnedouttobeagoodguy.Stelladeservestobehappy.”IhearthewistfulnoteinmyvoiceandhopeHannahdoesn’tpickuponit.
Shedoes.“Youdeservetobehappytoo.Youknowthat,right?”
“Iknow.”Iswallowthelumpthatrisesinmythroat.
Hergreeneyestakeonahesitantlight.“Allie…doyouregretbreakingupwithSean?”
Thelumpgetsbigger.Itmakesithardtobreathe,especiallywhenIremembertheagonyinSean’svoicewhenhe’daskedmewhoIsleptwith.
“No,”Isayfinally.“Iknowitwastherightdecision.Wewantedcompletelydifferentthingsforourfuture,anditwasn’tsomethingwecouldcompromiseon,notwithoutoneofusresentingtheother.”
Hannahlookspensive.“Doyouthinkyou’rereadytostartdatingagain?”
Ishudderoutabreath.“Nope,notevenclose.”ButGod,whatIwouldlikeisadistraction.I’mtiredofbeingsad.I’mtiredofwonderinghowSeanisdoingandfightingtheurgetocallhim.Imightnotwanttogetbacktogether,butIhateknowingthatIhurtsomeoneIcareabout.Ihavethisterriblehabitofwantingtomakeeveryonehappy,evenifitmeanssacrificingmyownhappiness.Mydadinsistsit’sanadmirablequality,butsometimesIwishIweremoreselfish.
IguessIwasselfishonFridaynight,though.MyreboundsexwithDeanwasallaboutsatisfyingmyownbaseurges,andasguiltyandembarrassedasIfeltafterward,Ican’tdenyitwashellasatisfying.
Shit.MaybeDean’sright.Maybeweshouldhookupagain.
“MaybeIneedafling,”Isayaloud,justtotestouttheidea.
Hannah’sresponseisswiftandscolding.“Youtriedthat,remember?AfteryouandSeanbrokeupthefirstcoupletimes.Youhatedit.”
It’strue.Ididhateit.“ButIdidn’tactuallysleepwithanyone,”Ipointout.“AllIdidwasgoonabunchofcrappydatesandmakeoutwithafewjerks.Maybethatwasmymistake—actuallydatingthoseguys.MaybethistimeIshouldpickahotdudeandbanghisbrainsoutforafewweeks.Justsex,noexpectations.”
Shesnorts.“Goodluckwiththat.Webothknowyoucan’tevenmakeoutwithaguywithouthearingrelationshipbellsinyourhead.”
Alsotrue.
AndwhyamIevencontemplatingthis?IfthisishowHannahrespondstomebroachingthesubjectofafling,Icanjustimaginewhatshe’dsayifIadmittedI’mconsideringaflingwithDean.Theguyisaplayertotheextreme.Notonlyishenotrelationshipmaterial,butIdoubthecouldevencommittoafling.Ican’tseehimbeingexclusivetome,whichisabsolutelynon-negotiable,becausethere’snowayI’msleepingwithsomeonewho’salsosleepingwithotherpeople.
Yeah…IneedtonipthisDeanideainthebud.Idon’tknowwhyhe’ssoeagertojumpintobedwithmeagain,butI’mconfidenthe’llgetoveriteventually.Theguyhastheattentionspanofafruitfly,andtheaffection-givinghabitsofapuppy,offeringhissexualdevotiontowhoeverhappenstobeholdingthetreat.BywhichImeanthevagina.
AsIreturntomysenses,Ichangethesubject.“Hey,whatareyoudoingforThanksgiving?”
“GarrettandIaregoingtomyauntanduncle’splaceinPhilly.Myparentsareflyinginandmeetingusthere.”
“Nice.Soundslikefun.”
“You’llbeinBrooklyn,right?”
Inod.IspendeveryholidayinBrooklynwithmydad.Ialwayslookforwardtoseeinghim,butthisyearI’matadworriedbecausethelasttimewespoke,heinsistedoncookingThanksgivingdinnerhimself.
UsuallyI’dbecheeringoverthatannouncement,becauseDadhappenstobethebestcookontheplanet.Butsincehewasdiagnosedwithmultiplesclerosisfiveyearsago,I’vebeendoingmybesttomakesurehedoesn’tpushhimself.TheonlyreasonIturneddownafreeridetoUCLA’sdramaprogramwassoIcouldremainwithindrivingdistanceofhim.Themanissodamnstubborn,insistinghedoesn’tneedhelpandthathecanmanageonhisown,butIhadn’tfeltcomfortablemovingtotheoppositeendofthecountryoncehisremissionperiodsbecamefewandfarbetween.
NowI’mevenmorerelievedIstayedontheeastcoast,becauseDad’sconditionhasgottenprogressivelyworsethispastyear.
Likemostpeoplewhosufferfromthedisease,hewasinitiallydiagnosedwithrelapsing-remittingMS,butnowit’stransitionedintothesecondary-progressivetype,whichmeanshisrelapsesaremorefrequentandmoreseverethantheyusedtobe.WhenIvisitedhimoverthesummer,Iwasshockedbythechangeinhim.Suddenlyhewashavingtroublewalking,whenbeforeitwastheoccasionallossofbalanceandmildnumbnessinhislimbs.HehadtwoattacksofvertigowhenIwasthere,andwhenIpressedhim,headmittedthatthepainwasgettingworseandhewasexperiencingtheoccasionalvisionproblems.
Allthis?Fuckingterrifiesme.IalreadylostmymomtocancerwhenIwasthirteen.DadisallIhaveleft.Irefusetolosehimtoo,evenifitmeanschaininghimtohisreclinerinourBrooklynbrownstoneandforcinghimtowatchfootballwhileIcookdinnerinhisstead.
“Okay,breaktimeisover.”OnceagainIneedadistractionfrommybleakthoughts.Groaning,Isitupandopenthescripttowhereweleftoff.“CarolineisabouttoyellatJeannetteagain.”
Hannahtucksastrandofdarkhairbehindherear.“Fortherecord?Ifyoueverlostyourhusband,Iwouldnevercallyouacrybabyandtellyouto‘getoverit’.”Herexpressiongrowsserious.“Inotherwords,youcankeepmopingaboutSeanforaslongasyouneedto.IpromiseIwon’tjudgeyouforit.”
Emotionwellsupinmythroat,butImanagetosqueezeouttwowords.“Thankyou.”7
Dean
Forallhisbullshitaboutthepaststayinginthepast,it’spainfullyevidentthatmyformercoachispushingaMakeDean’sLifeMiserableagenda.Thefirstpracticewithournewdefensivecoordinatorrunsanhourlate—butonlyforthedefensemen.Whileeveryoneelseheadstothelockerroomtoshower,changeandgohome,O’SheaforcestheD-mentostaybehindforextraskatingdrillsafterannouncingthatwe’rethesorriestexcuseforhockeyplayershe’severseen.
Whenhefinallydismissesus,myteammatesandIskateofftheice,cursingandgrumblingtheentiretime.We’realldrippingwithsweat,steamisrollingoutofourhelmets,andourmoodisfoulaswestripoffourgearinthenow-desertedlockerroom.
“Decentguy,huh?”Logansayssarcastically,echoingthedescriptionI’dofferedyesterday.
“Hewasjustshowingushisdickisbiggerthanours,”Imutter.“It’sprobablyhiswayoftryingtoearnourrespect.”
No,it’shiswayofpunishingmeforhurtinghisdaughter,butIkeepthatdelightfultidbittomyself.NotbecauseO’Sheaorderedmenottodiscussitwithmyteammates,butbecauseI’drathernotthinkaboutalltheshitthathappenedwithMiranda.
Ironically,myrelationshipwithMirandaO’Sheadidn’tjustimpactmyhighschoollife,butalsomycollegeone.MirandaisthereasonInowspelloutmyintentions—orlackthereof—beforeeverysinglehookup.Granted,IthoughtI’dspelledeverythingoutbackthentoo,butclearlyIhadn’tarticulateditaswellasIshouldhave.Thesedays,Imakesurewomenknowexactlywherewestandbeforetheirheadscanfillupwithfantasiesabouthappilyeverafter.
“Youdoinganythingfordinner?”Loganasksaswehittheshowers.“GraceisgrabbingChinesefoodintownandmeetingmeatthehouse.Ithinkshe’sbringingenoughgrubforeveryone.”
“Ah,thanksfortheinvite,butI’mhavingdrinkswithMaxwell.NotsurewhenI’llbehome.”
Theconversationendsaswestepintoourrespectivestalls.I’vebarelyfinishedsoapingmyballswhenLoganshutsoffhiswater.Jeez.Dudejustshoweredlikesomeonehadofferedhimamillionbucksifhecouldlatherupandrinseoffinlessthanthirtyseconds.
“Later,”hecallsasheslapsatowelaroundhiswaistandducksoutoftheshowerarea.
Iknowhe’seagertoseeGrace,andforsomereasonthatbringsastrangefluttertomychest.It’snotquitejealousy.Notquiteresentment.Disappointment,maybe?
Igetit.Mybestfriendsareinlove.They’drathercuddleandmakekissyfacesattheirwomenthanhangoutwiththeboys,andI’mnotpissedatthemforit,notintheslightest.Thingis,thisfeelslikethebeginningoftheendforus.
AftermyolderbrothergraduatedfromHarvard,helosttouchwithhiscollegefriendswithinmonths.Teammatesheoncewould’velaiddownhislifefor?Hardlyspeakstothemnow.Friendsfromlawschool?Theyexchangeoneemailamonth,tops.
Iunderstandthatfriendsdriftapartaftercollege.Peoplegetmarried.Theymoveaway.Theymakenewfriendsanddevelopotherinterests.ButIhatetheideaofnothavingGarrettorLoganorTuckinmylife.Ialsohatethiscynicalpartofmybrainthatpointsouttheinevitabilityofthatoutcome.
I’llbeinlawschoolnextyear.Iwon’thavetimetosleepletaloneseemyfriends.Garrettwillmostlikelybelivinginanothercity,playingintheNHL.Logantoo,ifitworksoutwiththeProvidenceBruins,thefarmteamthathasalreadystatedtheirinterestinsigninghimafterhegraduates.It’sonlyamatteroftimebeforehe’scalleduptotheprosandmovingaway,too.AndwhoknowswhatTuckerplanstodoaftercollege.HemightmovebacktoTexas,forallIknow.
Fuck.WhyamIfeelingsophilosophicaltonight?Maybeit’sbecauseIhaven’thadsexinthreedays.Sadly,that’salongtimeforme,andmyballsdon’tlikeit.IblameAllie,ofcourse.
“Dean!”
AfamiliarvoicecallsouttomeasIleavetheteamfacility.IspotKellysashayingupthepathtowardme,lookinglikeshesteppedoffthepagesofaNewEnglandclothingcatalog.Athickredscarfwindsaroundherneck,andshe’srockingapairofbrownleatherbootsandalonggraypeacoat.Herblondhairisupinamessyknot,withlongstrandsframingherface.
She’shotasfuck,buttruthfully,Ihaven’tthoughtaboutherorMichellesinceIsleptwithAllie.Still,Idon’tfeelguiltythatIhaven’tcalledortextedher,andKellydoesn’tscoldmeforitasshegreetsmewithawarmhug.LikeIsaid,chicksknowwhereIstandthesedays.Andironically,whenKellyandMichelleapproachedmeatMalone’s,they’dgivenmetheno-stringsspeechbeforeIcouldevenopenmymouth.They’dstraightuptoldmetheyonlywantedmydick,andIwashappytooblige.
“Didyouhaveagoodweekend?”sheasks.
Ishrug.“Could’vebeenbetter.”Ifacertainsomeonedidn’tkeepturningmedown.
“Aw,that’snogood.”Shesmiles.“Ihavesomethingthatwillcheeryouup,though.Mysister’sintown.Itoldherallaboutyou,andshe’dlovetomeetyou.She’sstayingwithmeandMichelle…”
Thereisnowaytomisinterprettheinvitation.“Ah.Well…”I’mnotsurehowtorespondtothat.
“DidImentionshe’smytwinsister?”
Holyhell.
“Oh,andMichelle’sdowntoo…”Kellywinksatme.“Everyonealwayssaysthreeisthemagicnumber,butI’mthinkingfourisevenbetter.”
Iwaitformydicktorespond.Fuck,Iorderittorespond.Asemi,aballtingle,atwitch.Anything,damnit.Butthere’snothingstirringsouthoftheequator.It’slikemyequipmentjuststoppedworking.
Comeon,LittleDean,helpmeout,Ipleadsilently.We’retalkingfourgyhere.
Stillflaccid.ApparentlyLittleDeanisn’tgoingtocooperateunlessIgivehimwhathewants.Andwhathewants,unfortunately,isnotKelly,MichelleandKelly’stwinsister.
It’sAllieHayes.
“Thatsounds…amazing.Really.ButIhavetopass.I’mhavingdrinkswithabuddytonight,”Isayruefully.
“AnyoneIknow?”
“Uh,maybe.BeauMaxwell.He’s—”
“Thequarterbackofourfootballteam,”shefinishes.Aseductiveglintlightshereyes.“Invitehimalong.Fivecanbejustasfunasfour…”
OhsweetbabyJesus.
Iwanttobeturnedon.Iprayforittohappen.ButLittleDeanain’thavingit.
Asfrustrationformsaknotinmygut,Imumbleanotherexcuse,askforaraincheck,andthenstomptowardmycar,cursingmydicktheentiretime.
*
Twentyminuteslater,IslideintothebackboothatMalone’s.“SorryI’mlate,”ItellBeau.“Practicelastedanextrahour.”
Briar’sstartingquarterbackshrugshisbigshoulders.“Noworries.Ijustgothereacoupleminutesago.”Tomyrelief,theglassofdarkaleinfrontofhimhasbarelybeensipped.
AsIshrugoutofmyhockeyjacketandtossitbesidemeonthebenchseat,acutebrunettewaitresswandersovertotakemyorder.
“Sowhatchabeenupto?”Beauasksaftersheleaves.“Ihaven’tseenyousincemidtermsended.”
“Iknow,man.Ourpracticeschedulehasbeenbrutal.Welosteverypre-seasongameandCoachJensenisshittingabrick.”
“Fuck,Ihearya.Delucaisshittingbrickstoo,”headmits,referringtohisheadcoach.“Wehavenochanceofmakingtheplayoffs.Hell,I’llbesurprisedifweevenplayinabowlgame.”HisfaceisgloomierthanI’veeverseenit,butthere’snotmuchIcanofferintermsofreassurance.
Thefootballteamalreadyhasthreelossesundertheirbelt.Oneortwo,maybetheycould’vecomebackfrom.Butthreeprettymuchtorpedoestheirchancesofrankingthisseason.
Beau’sblueeyesdarkenashetakesalongswigofbeerandchugsnearlyhalfthepintglass.Ifeelhisfrustration.Iknowwhatit’sliketobeanaboveaverageplayeronabelowaverageteam.Granted,thehockeyseasonjuststartedandpre-seasongamesdon’tcountforstandings,butourineffectivegameplayandclumsypracticesdon’tbodewellfortheupcomingseason.
Ontheotherhand,we’rethree-timenationalchampions,soit’snotlikeI’llbecryinginmypilloweverynightifwedon’tmakeittotheplayoffsthisyear.Hell,maybewe’redueforabadseason.Couldbethehockeygods’wayofkeepingushumble.
Beau’ssituationisdifferent,though.Briarrecruitedhimoutofhighschoolandhebleweveryoneawayduringhisfreshmanyear.ThecoachesactuallybenchedtheirseniorquarterbackandnamedBeauasthestarter.Heledtheteamtoanundefeatedseasonandtookthemallthewaytothechampionshipgame.Theylost,sure,butBriargoingtotheplayoffsaftermorethanadecadeofbeingshutouthadbeenamajorachievement.
Thefollowingyear,shitfellapart.Nearlyallthestarplayersontheteameithergraduatedordeclaredearlyforthedraft,leavingBeauwithaweakoffensivelineandanevenweakerreceivingcorps.Theteamhasbeenrackinguplosseseversince,whichisdishearteningingeneral,butevenmoresobecauseBeauhappenstobeanincrediblytalentedquarterback.Unfortunatelyforhim,hedoesn’thavethenecessaryweaponsaroundhimthatittakestowin.
“Youhadtheopportunitytotransferinsophomoreyear,”Iremindhim.“LSUallbutsuckedyourdicktolureyoudownthere.”
Hescowls.“And,what,abandonmyteam?Whatkindofassholedoesthat?”
AnassholewhowantstoplayfortheNFL,Iwanttosay,butIbitebacktheremark.Thankstothefootballteam’srecentperformances,thechancesofBeaugoinghighinthedraft—orgettingdraftedatall—areprettyslim.ButIsupposehisloyaltytoBriarisadmirable.Itdefinitelyspeakstohischaracter,that’sforsure.
“Subjectchange,”Beauorders.“Now,beforeIstartcryinginmySamAdams.”
Asifoncue,thewaitressreturnstodelivermyCoorsLight.I’daskedforabottleinsteadofapintglass,andshemakesanelaborateshowofpoppingoffthecapandpassingmethelongneck,bendinglowsoIhaveaperfectviewofhercleavage.
“Youboysletmeknowifyouneedanythingelse,”shecoos.“I’monlyaholleraway.”
Webothcheckoutherasswhensheturnsaround.Idon’tevenfeelpervyaboutit,becauseshe’sprettymuchinvitingourappreciativeglancesbyshakingthatroundbottomandswayingherhipsasshewalks.HershortblackshirtremindsmeoftheotherfineassIsawthisweekend.AnassthatBeau,despitemynumerousvocalwarnings,isveryfamiliarwith.
“IsawSabrinaatMalone’sonFriday,”Itellhim.
Heshiftshisgazeawayfromthewaitress.“Yeah?”
Inod.“Youstillseeingher?”Andbyseeing,Imeanno-stringsbanging,becauseBeauandIarekindredspirits.Hedoesn’tdorelationships,either.
“Naah.Itfizzledout,”headmits.“She’stoobusy.”
“Busydoingwhat?”AsfarasIknow,Sabrinadoesn’tevenhaveajob.
“Noclue.ShelivesinBoston,soIguessthecommutehassomethingtodowithit.Butitgottothepointwhereshewasonlycomingtoseemeonce,maybetwiceamonth?Andshedisappearsontheweekends,just…poof,disappears.”Heshrugs.“Ifiguredshewasplayinghardtoget,butnowIlegitthinkshe’sleadingadoublelife.”Hepauses.“Youthinkshe’sCIA?”
Iconsiderit.“Noconscience,blackheart…yeah,makessense.”
Hesnickers.“Aw,fuckoff.She’sacoolchick,evenifsheisimpossibletoread.”
“Ifbycoolchickyoumean‘judgmentalbitch’,thensure.”It’smyturntochangethesubject.“Hey,soJustincamebylastweek,andhesaidthere’sthisfreshmanwideoutontheteamwhomightamounttosomething?”
Beaunods.“Johnson.He’sfast,buthestillhasissueswithsecuringtheball.”
Wechataboutourrespectiveteamsagainforthenexttenminutes.ImightplayhockeywhileBeauisMr.Football,butwe’refansofeachother’ssports,sotheconversationflowssmoothlybetweenus.Afterwe’veorderedasecondroundofbeers,thesubjectshiftsbacktochicks,asIglumlyrelaytoBeautheofferKellyhadmadebackatthearena.
“Whatthefuck,man?Youturneddownanorgy?AnorgyIwasinvitedto?”Heshakeshisheadatme.“Areyoucomingdownwiththefluorsomething?”
Irunmyfingersalongtheneckofthebeerbottle.“Naah.Justwasn’tfeelingit.”
“Youweren’tfeelinganorgy—withtwinsisters.”Disbeliefdripsfromhistone.“WhothehellareyouandwhathaveyoudonewithmymanDean?”
Igroan.“Idon’tknow.I’mscrewed,dude.Ihookedupwithsomeonetheothernight,andnowIcan’tgetheroutofmyhead.”
“You’reshittingme.”
“Nope.God-awfultruth.”
Beaucontinuestogapeatme.
“YouthinkIlikethis?”Isaydefensively.“Trustme,Idon’tneedthisheadacheinmylife.”Iswallowamouthfulofbeer.“Hey.YouknowTwilight?”
Heblinks.“Excuseme?”
“Twilight.Thevampirebook.”
Hiswaryeyesstudymyface.“Whataboutit?”
“Okay,soyouknowhowBella’sbloodisextraspecial?LikehowitgivesEdwardaragingbonereverytimehe’saroundher?”
“Areyoufuckingwithmerightnow?”
Iignorethat.“Doyouthinkithappensinreallife?Pheromonesandallthatcrap.Isitabullshittheorysomehorndogdreamedupsohecouldjustifywhyhe’sattractedtohismotherorsomeshit?Oristhereactuallyabiologicalreasonwhywe’redrawntocertainpeople?LikegoddamnTwilight.Edwardwantsheronabiologicallevel,right?”
“AreyouseriouslydissectingTwilightrightnow?”
God,Iam.ThisiswhatAlliehasreducedmeto.Asad,patheticloserwhogoestoabarandforceshisfriendtoparticipateinaTwilightbookclub.
“Idon’tknowwhethertomakefunofyouorreferyoutoashrink,”Beausayssolemnly.“I’venevermetadudewho’sactuallyreadthatbook.”
“Ihaven’treadit.Mysisterwasobsessedwiththosebookswhentheycameout.Sheusedtofollowmearoundthehouseandoffermerecapsagainstmywill.”
“Uh-huh.Sure.Blameitonyoursister.”Beaulaughsbeforegoingseriousagain.“Okay,soyou’rehornyforthischick.Whydon’tyoujustnailheragain?”
“Becauseshedoesn’twanttohookupagain,”Ireplythroughclenchedteeth.
“Impossible.Everyonewantstohookupwithyou.”
“Iknow,right?”Iliftthebottletomylips.“SowhatshouldIdo?”
Beauoffersashrug.“Getoverit.Gooutwithsomeoneelse.”
IonlypickupontheWayne’sWorldreferencebecauseTuckerandIliterallywatcheditlastweekendwhenitcameonTV.“Nice.”Igrinathimandadd,“Idon’tevenownagun,letalonemanygunsthatwouldnecessitateanentirerack.”
Webothrecitethenextline,“WhatamIgonnado…withagunrack?”
Ourloserselvesproceedtobreakoutinlaughterandhighfiveeachother,andthenBeauaddressesthetopicathand.“Seriously,though.”Hegesturesaroundthebar.“Thisplaceisfullofwomenwho’dselltheirfirstborntogohomewithyou.Pickoneandsexthisotherchickrightoutofyourhead.”
“Mydickwon’tletme,”Imutter.
Beausnickers.“Canyourepeatthat,please?”
“Mydickisbeingdifficult,”Iexplainirritably.“Itriedtojerkofftopornlastnight,andsweartoGod,damnthingwouldn’tgethard.ThenIthoughtofAll—thisgirl,”Icorrectmyself,becauseIpromisedAllieIwouldn’ttellanyoneaboutournighttogether“—andbam”Isnapmyfingers.“Hardasarock.”
Beaueyesmethoughtfully.“Youknow,Idon’tthinkwe’redealingwithaBella’s-magical-bloodsituationhere.”
“No?”
“No.Ithinkyou’veimprintedonthisgirl’spussy.”
Achokedcoughsoundsfrombehindme,andIturnintimetoseeourwaitresswalkingby.Hercheeksarered,lipstwitchingasifshe’stryingnottobustagut.
IturnbacktoBeau.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imeanyou’refacingaJacobquandary.Youimprintedonherpussy,andnowit’stheonlypussyyoucanthinkabout.Youexistsolelyforthispussy.LikeJacobandthatweirdmutantbaby.”
“Youfuckingasshole.You’vetotallyreadthosebooks.”
“Nuh-uh,”Beauprotests.Hegivesasheepishgrin.“I’veseenthemovies.”
Idecidetosavemytauntingforlaterbecausetherearemorepressingmatterstofocuson.“Sowhat’sthecure,Dr.Maxwell?GoonafuckspreeandhopeIun-imprint?OrkeepworkingthecharmandhopeIwearherdown?”
Mybuddysnortsloudly.“HowwouldIknow?”Heraiseshispintglass.“I’mdrunk,dude.NobodyshouldeverlistentomewhenI’mdrunk.”Hedrainshisglassandsignalsthewaitressforanother.“Hell,nobodyshouldlistentomewhenI’msober.”8
Dean
Thesecondgameoftheseasonisanunmitigateddisaster.No.Scratchthat.It’sagoddamnbloodbath.
Nobodysaysawordaswefileintothelockerroom,thehumiliationofthelosscreepingbehinduslikeapuddleoftar.Wemayaswellhaveyankedourpantsdown,stuckourbareassesintheairandcheerfullyaskedtheotherteamforaspanking.Wefuckinghandedthemthewin.No,wehandedthemashutout
AsIwhipoffmyjersey,Imentallyreplayeverysecondofthegame.Everymistakewemadeouttheretonightisburnedintomymindlikeacattlebrand.Losingsucks.Losingathomesucksharder.
Damn,therearegoingtobealotofdisappointedfansatMalone’stonight.I’mnotlookingforwardtoseeingthem,andIknowmyteammatesareequallyupset.NonemoresothanHunter,whohurriedlystripsoutofhisuniformasifit’scoveredwithfireants.
“Yougotsomeniceshotsongoaltonight,”Itellhim,andit’sthetruth.Ourscorelessgamewasn’tforlackoftrying.Weplayedhard.Theotherteamjustplayedharder.
“Would’vebeennicerifoneofthemwentin,”hemutters.
Istifleasigh.“Theirgoaliewasonpointtonight.EvenGcouldn’tgetonepasthim.”
Garretttakesthatmomenttolumberuptohislocker,andhe’squicktoreassurethefrowningfreshman.“Don’tsweatit,kid.There’splentymorehockeytobeplayedthisseason.We’llbounceback.”
“Yeah.Sure.”Hunterisunconvinced.Wedon’tgetthechancetooffermoreencouragement,becauseCoachJensenstridesintothelockerroom,tailedbyFrankO’Shea.
Coachwastesnotimedeliveringoneofhisbrief,post-gamespeeches.Asusual,itsoundslikehe’stalkinginpointform.
“Welost.Itfeelsshitty.Don’tletitgettoyou.Justmeansweworkharderduringpracticeandbringitharderforthenextgame.”Henodsateveryone,thenstalksoutthedoor.
I’dthinkhewaspissedatus,ifnotforthefactthathisvictoryspeechesmoreorlessgothesameway—“Wewon.Itfeelsgreat.Don’tletitgotoyourhead.Weworkjustashardduringpracticeandwewinmoregames.”IfanyofourfreshmanplayersareexpectingCoachtodeliverepicmotivationalspeechesalaKurtRussellinMiracle,they’reinforagravedisappointment.
O’Shealingersintheroom.Myshouldersinstinctivelytensewhenhetrudgestowardme,buthesurprisesmebysaying,“Goodcoverageinthedefensivezonetonight.Thatwasasolidblockinthesecond.”
“Thanks.”I’mstillsuspiciousoftheunexpectedcompliment,buthe’salreadymovedontopraiseLoganforsuccessfullykillingthepowerplayinthethirdperiod.
Itossmygearinoneofthehugelaundrybins,thenheadfortheshowersandwashthestenchoffailureoffmybody.Ihatelosing,butIdon’tallowmyselfmorethantenminutestodwellonit.MyfathertaughtmethattrickwhenIwaseightyearsold,afteraparticularlydemoralizinglossonthelacrossefield.
“Youhavetenminutes,”hetoldme.“Tenminutestothinkaboutwhatyoudidwrongandhowbadyoufeelrightnow.Areyouready?”
He’dactuallyclickedabuttononhiswatchandtimedme,andforthosetenminutesIbroodedandsulkedandwallowedinhumiliation.IrememberedtheerrorsI’dmadeonthefieldandcorrectedtheminmyhead.Iimaginedpunchingeveryplayerontheopposingteamsquareinthemouth.AndthenDadtoldmemytimewasup.
“There.It’sovernow,”hesaid.“Nowyoulookforwardandfigureouthowyou’regoingtogetbetter.”
Ifuckinglovemydad.
BythetimeI’moutoftheshower,thebitternessoftonight’slosshasfaded,tuckedawayinmyinternalfilingcabinetinafolderlabeled‘ShittyStuff.’
IthinkGarrettusesthesamefilingsystem,becausehe’sdamnnearchipperaswemeetupwithHannahintheparkinglot.Hepullsherintohisarmsandsmacksakissonherlips.“Heybabe.”
“Hey.”Shesnugglesclosertohim.“It’sgettingsocold!Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifitstartedsnowingrightnow.”
She’snotwrong.It’sfreezingout,andeverybreathwetakefloatsoutinavisiblewhitecloud.
“Barorhome?”Loganasks,joiningusatourcars.
“Bar,”Garrettsays.“Don’tfeellikehavinganyoneovertonight.You?”
Afteragame,weeitherhitMalone’sorinviteourteammatesandfriendsovertothehouse,butit’sobviousnoneofusfeellikeplayinghoststonight.
“Bar,”Loganechoes,andInodinagreement.
“ArewewaitingforTucker?”Isearchthelot,butIdon’tseeourroommateanywhere.“AndwhataboutGrace?”
“TuckalreadyleftwithFitzy,”Logananswers.“AndGraceisn’tcomingtonight.She’satthestation.”
Feigningnonchalance,IglanceatHannah.“Whataboutyourotherhalf?”
“I’mrighthere,”Garrettsayssmugly.
“Imeanherotherotherhalf.”IgrinatHannah.“Thelittleblonddramaqueenyouhangoutwith?”
“Shedidn’tfeellikegoingouttonight.She’stoobusymoping.”
“Mopingaboutwhat?”ButIalreadyknowtheanswertothat.Theex-boyfriend,obvs.
Hannahconfirmsmythoughts.“Sean.Hecalledherthismorning,andIdon’tknowwhathesaidtoher,butshegotreallyquietafterwardandshe’sbeenmopeyeversince.Iwould’vestayedhometonightbutIdidn’twanttomissthegame.”
Garrettleansdowntokisshercold-reddenedcheek.“I’mgladyoudidn’t.Weappreciateyoursupport,babe.”
“I’msobummedyouguyslost,”shesays,butI’mmoreconcernedabouttheideaofAlliesulkingallaloneinthedorm.She’sprobablyovaries-deepinacartonofBenandJerry’srightnowwhileMumford&Sonsplaysinthebackground.
“Areyousureyoushouldn’tgohomeandbraidherhairorsomething?”IaskHannah.“That’swhatchicksdoformoralsupport,right?”
“Yes,Dean.That’sexactlywhatwedo.Hairbraiding,followedbynakedpillowfightsandthenkissingpractice.”
“CanIcome?”LoganandIblurtoutinunison.
“Youwish.Andno,I’mnotgoinghomeyet.ItextedAllieduringthethirdperiodandsheinsistsshe’sfine.She’sdrinkingmargaritasandwatchingthisawfulshow.Like,I’mtalkingreallyawful.Wildhorsescouldn’tdragmebacktheretonight.”
“Whatshow?”Garrettaskscuriously.
“Theworstthingtoeverhappentotelevision,”isallshesays,andeveryonelaughs.
LogantapsthehoodofmyBeemer.“Arewereadytogo?”
Ihesitate.“Actually,doyoumindridingwithGandWellsy?Ineedtomakeafewstopsfirst.I’llmeetyouguysthere.”
“Sure,”hesayseasily.HemovesawayfrommycarandtowardGarrett’sJeep.
Islideintothedriver’sseatandstarttheengine,butIwaituntiltheJeepdisappearsfromthelotbeforeIpulloutofmyparkingspace.Ihaveonlyonestoptomake,andit’snotoneIwantanyofmyfriendsknowingabout.
*
Allie
WhenIheartheknock,myfirstthoughtisthatSeanisatthedoor.ThenIprayheisn’t,becauseafterthebizarreandupsettingconversationwehadthismorning,I’mnotreadytoseehim.
“Iforgiveyou.”
He’dblurtedoutthosethreewordsthesecondIansweredthephone.I,inturn,hadtofightfromspittingoutsomethingnastyinresponse,becauseforgivenessimpliesthatI’ddonesomethingwrongbysleepingwithsomeoneelse,andthatwasn’tthecase.Ihadn’tcheatedonhim.Ihadn’tliedtohim.Sure,havingsexwithDeansosoonaftermybreakupwithSeanisn’tsomethingI’mproudof,butI’mnotthefirstgirltojumpintoreboundsexandIcertainlywon’tbethelast.
Still,despitetheresentmenthis“forgiveness”hadtriggered,apartofmewasrelievedtohearit.GodknowsI’vebeenfeelingguiltyaboutmynightwithDean,somaybeabsolutionisexactlywhatIwasseekingwhenIconfessedmysintoSeantheothernight.
Thatdoesn’tmeanI’mreadyforaface-to-facewithhim,though.He’daskedifwecouldmeetupforcoffee,claiminghehadmoreheneededtosaybutdidn’twanttodoitoverthephone.ItoldhimI’dthinkaboutit.Now,asanotherknockpoundsonthedoor,Ireallyhopehedidn’tdecidetoforcetheissue.
Ibracemyselfforaconfrontationandopenthedoor.Butit’snotSean.It’sDean.
“Heythere,babydoll.”Heflashesagrinandbarrelshiswayinside.“Wellsysaidyouweresulking,soIstoppedbytoturnyourfrownupsidedown.”
“I’mnotsulking,”Igrumble.
“Evenbetter.Savesmefromhavingtodoanywork.”Heunzipshisjacketandtossesitonthearmofthecouch.Thenhestripsoffhissweater,leavinghiminnothingbutfadedbluejeans.
Istareathimindisbelief.“Didyoureallyjusttakeoffyourshirt?”
“Yeah.Idon’tlikeshirts.”
Hedoesn’tlikeshirts.
Thisguy…goddamnit,Idon’tevenknowwhatIthinkofhim.
Heturnstowardthesofa,andthewayhistightbuttmovesbeneaththesnugdenimremindsmeofhowfirmitfeltwhenIsqueezedit.Thenhelowershislongbodyonthesofacushions,whichcausesthedenimtostretchoverhispackage,andnowI’mremindedofthewaymymouthhadwateredwhenDean’scockwasfillingit.
“Ohyeah,suckit,baby.Suckitlikeyouownit.”
Theraspycommandechoesinmymind.Mylipsstarttotingle,becausedamnit,Ihadsuckedit.I’dsuckeditlikeitwasalollipopandanicecreamconeandeveryotherdelicioustreatimaginable,allrolledupinonehardcock.
Crap,IthinkImightbeblushing,whichisconfirmedwhenDeanwinksatme.DoesheknowI’mthinkingaboutblowinghim?
WhatamIevensaying?Ofcoursehedoes.AguylikeDeanprobablyassumesthateveryone,atalltimes,isthinkingaboutblowinghim.
Hestretchesonearmalongthebackofthecouchandbeckonsmewiththeother.“Yousittingorwhat?”
“I’llstand,thanks.”
“Aw,comeon.Idon’tbite.”
“Yes,youdo.”
Thosegreeneyestwinkle.“You’reright.Ido.”
Helookswaytoocomfortablesittingthereonmycouch.AblondAdoniswithhisgoldenchestandsculptedmusclesandperfectlychiseledface.Ifthehockeythingdoesn’tworkoutforhim,heoughttoconsidergoingintomodeling.DeanDiLaurentisoozessexuality.Hecouldslaphisfaceonalaxativelabelandeverywomanintheworldwouldbeprayingforconstipationjusttohaveanexcusetobuyit.
“Seriously,Allie-Cat,sitdown.You’restartingtomakemefeelunwelcome.”
“Youaren’twelcome,”Isputter.“Iwashavingaperfectlyniceeveninguntilyoushowedup.”
Helookshurt,butIdon’tknowifit’sgenuineorifhe’sputtingiton.Isuspectit’sthelatter.“Youreallydon’tlikeme,huh?”
Guiltpricksatme.Crap.Maybeitisgenuine.“It’snotthat.Idolikeyou.ButIwasn’tkiddingwhenIsaidI’mnotintocasualsex,okay?EverytimeIthinkaboutwhatwedidthisweekend,Ifeel—”
“Horny?”hesupplies.
Yes.“Slutty.”
Idon’texpecttheflareofirritationIglimpseinhiseyes.“Youwantsomeadvice,babe?Erasethatwordfromyourvocabulary.”
Isuddenlyfeelguiltyagain,butI’mnotsurewhy.Veryreluctantly,Ijoinhimonthecouch,makingsuretokeepsomedistancebetweenus.
“Imeanit,”hecontinues.“Stopslut-shamingyourself.Andfuckthewordslut.Peopleshouldbeabletohavesexwhenevertheywant,howevermanytimestheywant,withhowevermanypartnerstheychoose,andnotgetsomeshittylabelslappedonthem.”
He’sright,but…“Thelabelistherewhetherwelikeitornot,”Ipointout
“Yeah,anditwascreatedbyprudesandjudgmentalassholesandjealousprickswhowishtheyweregettinglaidontheregularbutaren’t.”Deanshakeshishead.“Youneedtostopthinkingthere’ssomethingwrongwithwhatwedid.Wehadfun.Weweresafe.Wedidn’thurtanyone.It’snobody’sbusinesswhatyouoranyoneelsedoesintheprivacyoftheirbedrooms,allright?”
Oddlyenough,hiswordssucceedineasingsomeoftheshamethat’sbeentrappedinsidemesinceFridaynight.Butnotallofit.“ItoldSean,”Iconfess.
Deanfrowns.
“Notaboutyou,”Iaddhastily.“IjusttoldhimIhadsexwithsomeoneelse.”
“Whythehellwouldyoudothat?”
“Idon’tknow.”Imoan.“IfeltlikeIowedhimthetruth,butthat’scrazy,right?Imean,we’rebrokenup.”Anothermoanslipsout,thisonemoreanguishedthanthefirst.“Butweweretogetherforsolong.I’msousedtotellinghimeverything.”
Deanabsentlyrubsthecushionbehindmyhead.Themovementdirectsmygazetohisbiceps,thedeliciousflexofmusclehonedfromyearsofphysicalactivity.“Behonest,”hefinallysays.“Doyouwanttogetbacktogetherwiththeguy?”
Islowlyshakemyhead.
“Yousureaboutthat?”
“I’msure.”IthinkaboutthenonstopargumentsSeanandIhadsincethesummer,andIfeelevenmoreconfidentinmydecisiontoendit.Allthosespitefulcommentshe’dhurledmyway…mockingmeaboutmydreams…givingmeultimatumsforthefuture…
SeanmighthaveforgivenmeforwhatIdidafterourbreakup,butsuddenlyI’mnotsureI’veforgivenhimforwhathedidbeforeit.
“Weweren’trightforeachotheranymore.”Iswallowthepaininmythroat.“Ifitwaspossibletostayincollegeforever,thenyes,SeanandIwouldprobablybetogether.Butit’stimetogrowup,andwewantcompletelydifferentthingsforthefuture.OratleastIthinkwedo.Thisbreakupisscrewingwithmyhead.Idon’tevenknowwhattothinkanymore.”
“That’syourproblem.Youthinktoomuch.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.“Gee,isthatyouradvice?Stopthinking?”
“Stopobsessing.”Deanshrugs.“Youbrokeupwiththeguyforareason—adamngoodreason,ifyouaskme—andnowyou’vegottafollowthroughonit.Quittalkingtohimandquitsecond-guessingyourself.”
“You’reright,”Isaygrudgingly.
“OfcourseIam.I’malwaysright.”Withanarrogantsmile,hemovescloserandrestsonebighandonmyknee.“Okay,sohere’sourplanfortonight.Firstwe’llbonedowntotaketheedgeoff.Thenwe’llorderapizzaandreplenishourenergy,andafterthat,roundtwo.Soundgood?”
Exasperationrisesinsideme.EverytimeIthinkthere’smoretoDeanthansimplybeingasex-obsessedhorndog,hegoesandprovesmewrong.Oractually,heprovesmeright
“Haveyouconsideredseeingapsychiatristaboutyourdelusions?”Iaskpolitely.“Because,sweetie,there’snochanceinhellofusboningtonight.”
“Fine.Howaboutwegodownoneachotherinstead?”
“Howaboutyouleave?”
“Counteroffer—Istayandwedryhump.”
God,thisguyisincorrigible.“Counteroffer—youcanstay,butyou’renotallowedtotalk.”
Hecounterswith,“Istay,I’mallowedtotalk,butIwon’thitonyou.”
Ithinkitover.“Youstay,youcan’thitonme,andyouhavetowatchmyshowwithoutasinglecomplaint.”
Abroadgrinstretchesacrosshisface.“Iacceptyourterms,madam.”9
Allie
“Sowhatarewewatching?”Mr.I-Don’t-Like-Shirtsglancesatthetelevisionscreen.It’spausedtotheopeningcreditsoftheepisodeIwasabouttoplaybeforeDeanshowedup.
“Solange,”Ianswer.
Hewrinkleshisnose.“What’sSolange?”
“It’saFrenchsoapoperaI’mwatchingsoIcanlearntospeakthelanguage.”
Deansnickers.“Youknowthere’saFrenchdepartmentatthiscollege,right?Classesyoucantake?”
“Yeah,whereallyoudoisconjugateverbsandlearnhowtoaskfordirectionsandwherethebathroomis.I’mallaboutimmersion.IfIhearpeopletalkinginFrenchforlongenough,I’llpickitupalotfaster.”
Heraiseshiseyebrows.“How’sitgoingsofar?”
“Notgreat—”Hesnickersagain“ButI’monlyonseasonone,”Iprotest.“I’msureafterafewmoreseasons,I’llbefluent.”
Deanlooksatthescreen,thenbackatme.Icantellhe’sdebatingwhetherhemadeagraveerrorbycomingovertonight.Buthesurprisesmebysaying,“Allright.Catchmeup.What’sthisshowabout?”
“Areyoubeingseriousrightnow?”
“Asaheartattack.”
“Really?”Ibeamathim,becausethisisthefirsttimeanyonehasofferedtowatchthisshowwithme.Myfriendsrefuseto,thoughtoHannah’scredit,shedidmanagetositthroughthepilot.Afterward,sheinformedmethatshe’dratherhavecrowspeckathereyesthanwatchthenextepisode.Honestly,Idon’tblameher.It’snotagoodshow.Iknowthis.Butwhatstartedoffasalanguageexerciseendedwithmegettingtotallyhooked.It’slikecracktomenow.
“Okay,sothat’sSolange.”Ipressplay,andagorgeousredheadwithmassiveboobsandateenywaistappearsonthescreen.
“Ah,”hesays.“Thetitularcharacter.”
“Youonlyusedthatwordbecauseithastitinit.”
“Obvs.Titsaregreat.”
Isigh.“Anyway,SolangeisdatingSebastian—”
“Sebastian,huh?That’smymiddlename.”Hepauses.“Well,oneofthem,”heamends.
Mybrowfurrows.“Howmanymiddlenamesdoyouhave?”
“Two.Myfullname’sDeanSebastianKendrickHeyward-DiLaurentis.”
Ishakemyheadindismay.“Whatiswrongwithyourparents?Whywouldtheygiveyousomanynames?Didtheywantyoutogetmadefunofinschool?”
Thatmakeshimchuckle.“Trustme,it’snothingcomparedtosomeofthedudesatmyprepschool.ThisoneguyIplayedlacrossewithhadsixmiddlenames.”
“Soyou’resayingit’sarichpersonthing?Cramasmanyunnecessarysyllablesonyourkid’sbirthcertificate?”
“Naah,it’susuallydonetoacknowledgethegrandparentsorsomeotherwealthyrelative.”Heshrugs.“Sebastianismygrandfatheronmydad’sside,Kendrickisonmymom’s.”
Iguessthatmakessense.Butman,hisfullnameisatotalmouthful.
Assomethingcatchesmyeye,Iquicklypointatthescreen.“Seethatguylurkinginthecorner?Theonewiththemustache?That’sAntoine.He’sstalkingSolange.”
Deangivesamockgasp.“Theplotthickens!”
Igivehimthefinger.“But,inthelastepisode,wefoundoutthereasonhe’sstalkingher,andit’snotbecausehewantstojiggledown.”
“Jiggledown?”
“Youknow,fuckher.”
“Right.”Hislipstwitchlikehe’stryinghardnottolaugh.“Sowhy’shecreepingonherthen?”
“Becausehermotherpaidhimto.”Ilowermyvoice,thenfeellikeanidiot,becauseit’snotlikeSolangecanfuckinghearme.“Oooh,andgetthis.Lastepisodetherewasanotherhugetwist.Solange’scolleaguefromthemodelingagency—oh,theresheis.”Onthescreen,astunningblondeenterstherestaurantandsashaysherwaytoSolange’stable.“That’shermother,”IinformDean.“Solange’smotherispretendingtobehercolleague!”
Hefrowns.“Howdoesthatwork?They’rethesameage.”
“Nope,”Isaysmugly.“Thisiswherethecosmeticcompanycomesin.”
Deanlooksutterlylost.“Whatcosmeticcompany?”
“Beautééternelle.Ilookeditup,anditstandsforEternalBeauty.Solange’sfamilyownsit.Oh,andherfatherandunclearebig-timeplasticsurgeons.Anyway,Solangethinkshermotherranoffwhenshewasakid.Well,hermotherdidrunoff,actually.Butafterthedaddied,Marie-ThérèsecamebacktotheFrenchRivieraandblackmailedtheuncleintodoingplasticsurgeryonher,sonowshelookslikeatotallydifferentperson.Solangehasnoideathatshe’sspentthelastsixmonthsworkingwithhermother.”
“Allie.”Deanleansforwardandfixesmewithaneerilysomberstare.“Thisshowisfuckingstupid.”
“Iknow,”Isaysheepishly.“Butit’saddictive.Trustme,oneepisodeofthiscrapandyou’llbehooked.”
“Sorry,babydoll,butIcanprettymuchguaranteethat’snotgonnahappen.”
*
Dean
Ithappened.
Godhelpme.I’mintothisshow.
Icameovertonightwiththesingle-mindedpurposeofworkingthecharmandconvincingAllietogetnakedwithmeagain.Instead,I’msippingonamargarita,I’vejustwatchedtwohours’worthofaFrenchsoapopera,andnowI’mtextingLogantolethimknowIwon’tmakeittoMalone’s.Because…Godhelpme…Iwanttoknowwhathappensnext.
Marie-ThérèseandAntoinehookedupinthelastepisode,whichendedwithacrazedMarie-Thérèseholdingaletteropenertohisthroat—whentherewasnopreviousindicationthatshehadanysortofbeefwithAntoine.Orhell,maybetherewasandwejustdidn’tpickuponitbecausewedon’tfuckingspeakFrench
“Istilldon’tgetwhyshehasagrudgeagainstSolange,”IadmitasAlliehoversoverthecoffeetabletotopoffourmargaritas.Thewidenecklineofhershirtshiftstooneside,providingmewithaviewofonebareshoulderandtheswellofherleftboob.
I’mabouttocommentonhowthesexyviewismuchappreciated,thenthinkbetterofit.IpromisedIwouldn’thitonhertonight,andifIbreakthatpromiseshemightkickmeoutbeforeIfindoutwhyMarie-ThérèsetriedtokillAntoine.
Allieflopsdownbesideme,andIgivemyselfamentalhigh-fivebecauseshedidn’tleaveafootofdistancebetweenusthistime.We’reinchesapartnow,whichtellsmeshe’sstartingtowarmuptome.
“I’mnotsureeither.Ihaven’tfiguredoutthewholebackstoryyet.IthinkithassomethingtodowithSolange’sfatherlovinghisdaughtermorethanhiswife,”Alliemuses.“Thereweresomeflashbacksintheearlierepisodesthatheavilyimpliedhewantedtojiggledownwithhisdaughter.”
“Kinky.”
Shesnickers.
Wegoquietasthenextepisodepicksupexactlywhereitleftoff.AntoinemanagestosubdueMarie-Thérèse,andthetwoproceedtoarguefortenminutes.Don’taskmeaboutwhat,becauseit’sinFrench,butIdonoticethatthesameword—héritier—keepspoppingupoverandoveragainduringtheirfight.
“Okay,weneedtolookupthatword,”Isayinaggravation.“Ithinkit’simportant.”
Alliegrabshercellphoneandswipesherfingeronthescreen.Ipeekoverhershoulderasshepullsupatranslationapp.“Howdoyouthinkyouspellit?”sheasks.
Wegetthespellingwrongthreetimesbeforewefinallylandonatranslationthatmakessense:heir.
“Oh!”sheexclaims.“They’retalkingaboutthefather’swill.”
“Shit,that’stotallyit.She’spissedoffthatSolangeinheritedallthosesharesofBeautééternelle.”
Wehighfiveathavingfigureditout,andinthemomentourpalmsmeet,pureclarityslicesintomeandI’mabletograsppreciselywhatmylifehasbecome.
Withagrowl,Isnatchtheremotecontrolandhitstop
“Hey,it’snotoveryet,”sheobjects.
“Allie.”Idrawasteadybreath.“Weneedtostopnow.Beforemyballsdisappearaltogetherandmyman-cardisrevoked.”
Oneblondeyebrowflicksup.“Whohasthepowertorevokeit?”
“Idon’tknow.TheManCouncil.TheStonemasons.JasonStatham.Takeyourpick.”
“Soyou’retoomuchofamanlymantowatchaFrenchsoapopera?”
“Yes.”Ichugtherestofmymargarita,butthesaltyflavorisanotherreminderofhowlowI’vesunk.“JesusChrist.AndI’mdrinkingmargaritas.You’rebadformyrep,babydoll.”Ishootherawarninglook.“Nobodycaneverknowaboutthis.”
“Ha.I’mgoingtopostitallovertheInternet.Guesswhat,folks—DeanSebastianKendrickHeyward-DiLaurentisisoveratmyplacerightnowwatchingsoapsanddrinkinggirlydrinks.”Shestickshertongueoutatme.“You’llnevergetlaidagain.”
She’srightaboutthat.“Canyouatleastaddthatthenightendedwithablowjob?”Igrumble.“Becausetheneveryonewillbelike,oh,hesufferedthroughallthatsohecouldgethispolewaxed.”
“Yourpolewaxed?That’ssuchagrossdescription.”Buthereyesarebrightandshe’slaughingasshesaysit.
Christ,she’ssopretty.Andsexy…sogoddamnsexy.IwonderwhyInevernoticeditbefore,butIguessit’sbecauseeverytimeIsawherpriortoFridaynight,shewasgluedtoherboyfriend’sside.
ThemomentIthinkaboutAllie’sex,herphonebuzzes.Speakofthedevil.
“Whatdoeshewantnow?”Ihavetroublehidingmyirritation,butshe’stoodistractedbythetextmessagetonotice.
Shetiltsthescreentowardme,andmyannoyancegrows.Socanwemeetup4coffee?itsays.Ireallyneed2talk2u.
“Sayno,”Iadvise.
Herteethdigintoherbottomlip.“It’s…hard.”
“Youhavenoproblemsayingnotome.”
“Ididn’tdateyouforthreeyears,”shepointsout.
Igentlytakethephonefromherhandandsetitonthetable.“Okay.Youreadyforsomerealtalk?”
Shenodsshakily.
“Seanisgoingtokeeptextingyou.He’sgoingtokeepemailingandcallinganddoingeverythinginhispowertowinyouback.Youwanttoknowwhy?Becauseyou’resmartandfunnyandsmokinghot,andheknowshe’satotalidiotforlettingyougo.”
Surprisefillshereyes.
“He’sgoingtokeepatit.Whichmeansyouneedtolearntoignoreit.”Istudyherface.“Thatis,ifyou’reseriousaboutmovingon.”
Shenodsagain,resolutethistime.“Iam.”
“Thenmovethefuckon,babe.Youcan’truntoyourfriend’sboyfriend’shouseorhideoutinthedormeverynight.Telltheguyyoudon’twanttotalktohim,andthengooutandfindyourselfsomedistractions.Icanhelpyou,ifyouwant.”
“Letmeguess,”shesaysdryly“Youvolunteerassexualtribute?”
“Nope.Foronce,I’mnottalkingaboutsex.”
“Whatdoyousuggestthen?”
Igrin.“IthinkyouneedtolivetheLifeofDean.”
“Huh.Okay.SoIshouldthrowonsomehockeypads,letabunchofbehemothssmashmeintotheboardseverynight,andrewardmyselfwithanever-endingstringofcasualsexualencounters.Gotit.”
Ileaninandtugastrandofherhair.“Don’tbeanass.”
“Myapologies.”Shesmiles.“Please,tellmemoreabouttheLifeofDean.”
Myhandtravelsacrosshersmoothcheektograspherchin.“Lookatme,Allie-Cat.DoesitlooklikeIhavemanyproblems?Areyouevergoingtofindmemopinginmyroomorstressingoutabouttrivialbullshit?”
“No,”shesaysslowly.
“I’manoverallhappyperson,right?”
Hersuspiciousgazelockswithmine.“Yes.Buthowisthatevenpossible?Nobodyishappyallthetime.”
“It’sabsolutelypossible.”Irubmythumboverherlowerlip.Herlipsaresofuckingsoft.I’mdyingtokissthemagain.“Youwanttoknowmysecret?”
“Mmmm?”Shesoundsdistracted.Istrokeherlipsagain,andI’mgratifiedwhenherbreathhitches.
“IdowhatIwant,whenIwantit.AndIdon’tgiveashitwhatotherpeoplethinkaboutme.”
Thatgetsherattention.“Soundsnice,beingabletodowhatyouwantallthetime.Sadly,that’snothowlifeworks.”
“Youmakelifeworkforyou,babe.”Myfingerstraveldownherslenderthroat,skimmingoverherpulsepoint.“Whatdoyouwant,Allie?Tellmeonethingyou’vebeendyingtodobuthaven’tgottenaroundtodoing.”
Herforeheadfurrowsasshethinksitover.“Well.I’vebeenwantingtostartanewcleanse,butIkeepputtingitoff.”
“Ihavenoideawhatthatmeans.”
“Igoonthesejuicecleansesacoupletimesayear,”sheexplains.“Itsucks,becauseyou’restuckonaliquiddietfortwowholeweeks,butyoufeelsomuchbetterafterward.”
“You’reafuckingweirdo.Picksomethingelse.Somethingnormal.”
Shepauses,deepinthoughtagain,andthenherexpressionbrightens.“I’vealwayswantedtolearnhowtosalsadance.”
Fuck.That’ssuchachickthingtosay.“Thendoit,”Itellher.
Shechewsonherlipagain.“Idon’tknow…ImentionedittoSeanoncebuthedidn’twanttotakelessonswithme,andIwastooembarrassedtogoalone.Ilookedintoitandfoundoutthatifyoushowupalone,theypairyouupwitharandompartner.”
“Sowhat?It’sanopportunitytomakesomenewfriends.”Ishrug.“Ithinkyoushouldsignup.”
“Areyouofferingtotakesalsadancinglessonswithme?”Herexpressionishopeful.
Isnort.“Noway.IonlydowhatIwant,remember?AndIdonotwanttosalsadance.ButIthinkyoushould.”
“MaybeIwill,”shesaysthoughtfully.
“That’sthespirit.”Igiveherchinateasingpinch.“Stickwithme,kid,andyourentirelifewillchangeforthebetter.That’stheDiLaurentisguarantee.”
Allieheavesoutasigh.
“What?”Idemand.
“Ican’tdecideifyou’rebeingsincereorifyou’retryingtogetinmypantsagain.”
Iwagglemyeyebrows.“Whosaysitcan’tbeboth?”Whenthatgetsmeanothersigh,myvoicebecomesgruff.“I’mbeingsincere.”
“Wow.Ithinkyouactuallymeanthat.”
Forsomereason,hercarefulscrutinyhasmeshiftinguneasily.AndI’msuddenlywhollyawareofthefactthatI’mnotwearingashirt.Sheistoo,becausethosebigblueeyesdriftlower,focusingonmyabsbeforeshewrencheshergazeaway.Theairbetweenusseemstocrackle.Allie’spupilsaredilated,andthere’snomistakingtherapidflutterofherpulseinthecenterofherthroat.
IknowarousalwhenIseeit.LittleDeanknowsittoo,andhepromptlythickensbehindmyzipper.
“Allie…”Myvoicecomesouthoarse.
She’soffthecouchbeforeIcanblink.“Annnndit’stimeforyoutogo.”
Shesoundsoverlycheerful,andIcantellshe’sstrugglingtocontrolthesamewavesofdesirethatarepracticallyswallowingmewhole.
WhenIremainseated,shefrownsdeeply.“Shirtupandgohome,Dean.”
“Allie.”Slowly,Irisetomyfeet.MymouthisfullofgravelasIsay,“Iwant—”
Shewhipsupherhand.“Don’tyoudarefinishthatsentence.Imeanit,it’stimetogo.”
Iwanttoaskherhowlongshe’sgoingtokeepfightingthis,butsinceIknowit’llonlypissherofffurther,Ikeepmymouthshutanddowhattheladyasked—Ileave.
Onthedrivehome,Iresignmyselftoanothernightofgettingupcloseandpersonalwithmyrighthand.10
Dean
Thenextday,IhavethemisfortuneofleavingtheInternationalRelationslecturehallatthesametimeasSabrina.Itenseup,waitingfortheinevitablebitchybarb.
“Youlookedalittlelostinthere,Richie.WasProfessorBurkenotspeakingslowlyenoughforyou?”
Yep,thereitis.
Irollmyeyes.“Right,becauseI’mdumb.Goodone.”Idon’tbotheraskinghernottocallmeRichie.Ican’tstopherfromdoingitanymorethanIcanstopSummerfromditchingmyoldchildhoodnickname.SabrinadecidedIwasastupid,spoiledRichie-Richtypefromthemomentwemet.
Ofcourse,thatdidn’tstopherfrombangingme,nowdidit?
“Sowhichpoorfreshmanwillbewritingyourpaperforyou?”sheaskssweetly.“Youhaveawholeslewofthemonspeeddial,right?IassumeoneofthemwrotetheLSATSforyou,too.”
Ihaltatthetopstepofthefrontentrance.Itoleratehertauntsbecausethey’renotworthdefendingmyselfagainst,buteverynowandthenIhavetodrawtheline.“ItjustkillsyouthatIscoredtwopointshigherthanyou,huh?”Whenhernostrilsflare,IknowI’vehitmymark.
Sherecoversquickly.“Again,probablybecauseyoupaidsomeoneelsetotakethetestforyou.”
“Keeptellingyourselfthat,sweetheart.Whateverhelpsyousleepatnight,right?”
Sabrinatossesherlongdarkhairoverhershoulder.“Isleepjustfine,thankyou.KnowingI’veactuallyearnedmygradesleadstoaveryrestfulexistence.Youshouldtryitsometime.”
Thistimeshehitshermark.Afrowntightensmymouth,butIdon’ttakethebaitbecausethat’sexactlywhatshewantsmetodo.She’sbeenholdingthisbullshitovermyheadsincesophomoreyear,andI’mdamntiredofit.
“Enjoytherestofyourday,Sabrina.”Withashrugofindifference,Imakemywaydownthestepsandwonderifsheplansonkeepingthisfeudgoingwhenwe’reatlawschoolnextyear.Ifuckinghopenot.Thehostilityshedishesoutisgettingold,nottomentionannoying.
Speakingofannoying,I’msupposedtobeatHastingsElementaryintwentyminutesformyfirstpracticewiththerugratteam.GoHurricanes.
AsImaketheten-minutedriveintotown,IcurseO’Sheaforforcingthisvolunteergigonmeandpondertheauthenticityofvoodoodolls.EventuallyIdecideitdoesn’tmatterifthey’rerealornot.It’dstillbefuntopokeneedlesintoateenydollversionofFrankO’Shea.Onceitstartsfallingapartfromalltheholes,Icanusetheheadasastressball.
Ataredlight,IshootaquicktexttomyteammateFitzy—Hey,douknowhow2makeavoodoodoll?
Hisresponsedoesn’tcomeuntilIreachthesmallarenaacrossthestreetfromtheschool.
Him:I’dthinkuwerefckingwithme,butthequestionisstupidenufftofeellegit.Noideahowtomakev-doll.Canprollyuseanyolddoll?Challengewillbefindingavoodoowitchtolinkittoyourtarget.
Me:Thatmakessense.
Him:Doesit??
Me:Voodooimpliesmagic,hexes,etc.Idon’tthinkanydollwouldwork.Otherwiseeverydollisav-doll,right?
Him:Right.
Me:Anyway.Thx.Thoughtumightknow.
Him:Whythefuckwould*I*know?
Me:Urintoallthosefantasyrole-playgames.Uknowmagic.
Him:I’mnotHarryPotter,ffs.
Me:HPisanerd.Uranerd.Ergo,uraboywizard.
Hesendsamiddle-fingeremoji,thensays,BdaybeersatMalone’s2nite.Ustilldown?
Me:Yup.
Him:CUltr.
Ituckmyphoneinmyjacketpocketandhopoutofthecar.AtleastIhavesomethingtolookforwardtoafterthis.CelebratorybeersforFitzy’stwenty-firstbirthdaywillbemyrewardforspendingtheafternooncoachingchildrenagainstmywill.
TherinkisemptywhenIstridethroughthedoubledoors.ThecoldairgreetsmelikeanoldfriendandIbreatheitin,shiftingmyduffeltomyothershoulderandmakingmywaytothehometeambench,whereatallmaninaredsweaterandscuffedblackhockeyskatesispeeringataclipboard.Thewhistlearoundhisnecktellsmehe’sthecoachoftheHurricanes.
“DiLaurentis?”WhenInod,heextendsahand.“DougEllis.Nicetomeetyou,kid.IwatchedyourFrozenFourgameonTVinApril.Youplayedwell.”
“Thanks.”Igesturetothedesertedice.I’mtenminutesearly,justlikeO’Sheaorderedmetobe.“Where’rethekids?”
“Lockerroom.Theyshouldbeoutsoon.”Hesetstheclipboardontheledgethatspansthebench.“Chadfillyouinonwhat’sexpectedofyou?”
“Nope.”DespitewhatO’Sheatoldme,Idon’tthinkCoachJensenhasanyideaI’vebeenrecruitedtoworkwiththeHurricanes.
“Well,it’snotallthatcomplicated.Westarteachpracticewiththirtyminutesofdrills,thendoathirty-minutescrimmagesplitupintothreeten-minuteperiods.Theboysworktheirassesoff.Goodkids,thelotofthem.Talented,smart,eagertosharpentheirskillsandgetbetter.”
“That’sgoodtohear.”
“TheylovedKayla—”Atmyblankexpression,hesays,“Yourpredecessor.”Right,thechickwho’dcomedownwithmono.“Anyway,sheworkedmostlywiththeoffense.Didaterrificjob,butI’llbehonest,I’mgladtohaveaD-manonboard.Afewoftheboyshavetroublemanningthedefensivezone.I’dlikeforyoutoworkcloselywiththem.”
Wechatforafewminutesaboutmyduties,andthenhedeliversafewwarningsaboutnotdroppingF-bombsaroundthekidsandnotmanhandlingtheminanyway.
“Gotit—keepitPGanddon’ttouch’em.Anythingelse?”Iask.
“Naah.You’llfigureouttherestasyougoalong.”
Allinall,Ellisseemslikeadecentman,andwhenthekidsthunderoutofthelockerroomandgreethimlikehe’sJesusChristbroughtbacktolife,myopinionofhimclimbshigher.Hetoldmehe’stheschoolgymteacherbutthatevenifhelosthisjob,he’dneverwalkawayfromthisteam.Ortheeighthgradegirls’volleyballteam,whichheapparentlyalsocoaches.
IdropontothebenchandquicklykickoffmyTimberlands,replacingthemwiththeBauersIstowedinmyduffel.ThenIhoptheledgeandskatetowardEllisandthekids.Halfofthemarewearingredpracticejerseys,theotherhalfareinblack.Ellisintroducesmetotheteam,whoooohandaaahwhenheinformsthemofmymultipleFrozenFourwins.Bythetimewesetupthefirstskatingdrill,everykidontheiceisbeggingforone-on-oneattentionfromme.
I’mnotgonnalie—Ihaveablastfromthewordgo.Theboys’passionforthegameremindsmeofwhenIwasakid,howexcitedIwastoputonapairofskatesandteardowntheice.Theirenthusiasmisdownrightcontagious.
WhenEllisblowshiswhistletosignalit’stimeforthescrimmage,IfindI’mgenuinelydisappointedthatthedrillsareover.I’dbeengivingtipstoaseventh-gradernamedRobbieduringthelastshootingdrill,andthewristshothe’dfloatedpastthegoaliehadbeenabeauty.Iwanttoseehimdoitagain,butnowit’stimefortheboystotaketheskillstheyjustlearnedandapplythemtothescrimmage.
EllisandIserveasbothrefsandcoaches,callingoutpenaltiesandofferingadvicewhenneeded.Thethirty-minutegameendswaytoofastformyliking.Icouldstayoutthereforever,butEllissignalstheendofthescrimmageandgesturesforeveryonetoskateforward.
There’sastrangeclenchinmychestasheaddresseseachboy,oneatatime,totellthemonethingtheydidrightatpracticetoday.Faceafterfacelightsupathiscompliments,andbythetimeEllisisdoneIthinkImightbeinlovewithhim.
Damn,he’sagreatcoach.
Afterthat,wefollowthekidstothelockerroomandhelpthemputawaytheirequipmentinthepropercubbies.They’realoud,boisterousgroup,laughingandjokingandchirpingeachotherastheychangeintotheirstreetclothes.Thehallwayoutsidethedoorislitteredwithvendingmachinesandparentswaitingfortheirsons.Robbie,however,staysbehind.He’schangedoutofhispracticeuniform,butI’mtroubledtoseehimlacinguphisskatesagainandtuckingthebottomsofhisjeansintothem.
“Whatchadoing,kid?”
Helookssurprisedtofindmestandingthere.“Oh.”Heflushes.“Igetanextrathirtyminutestoskate.”Adefensivenotecreepsin.“Coachknows.”
SinceIknowbetterthantotakeathirteen-year-old’swordatfacevalue,IduckouttotrackdownEllis,who’sintheequipmentroomsecuringsticksonthelongrackagainstthewall.
“What’sthisaboutRobbiestayingbehindtoskate?”
Ellisglancestowardthedoorway.“Oh.Yes,it’sfine.I’mheadingoutthereinasectosupervisehim.TellhimnottostepontheiceuntilIgetthere.”
Ican’thidemyfrown.“Whydoeshegetextraicetime?”
“Hismotherdoesn’tgetoffworkuntilfour-thirtyonTuesdaysandThursdays,andthefamilylivesinMunsen,sotheschoolbusisn’tanoption.”Ellismakesanannoyedsound.“SomebullshitabouttownboundariesandtheHastingsbusesbeingunableto‘service’othertownships.Robbie’smothermanagedtogethimenrolledherebecausehe’sanassettoourhockeyprogram,butapparentlytheschooldistrictdoesn’tthinkit’simportanttoprovidesafetransportationhometothekidswholiveoutofthedistrict.”
“SoRobbiehangsaroundthearenauntilhismomshowsup?”
Ellisnods.“IarrangeditwithJuliaatthestartoftheseason.Istickaroundafterpractice,watchhimandhissisteruntilshegetshere.”
DidImentionhowmuchIlovethisman?
“I’llstickaroundtoo,”Ioffer.“IwasteachingRobbietheartofwristshotsbeforethedrillended.Wouldn’tmindfinishingupthelesson.”
Hisexpressionisacombinationofsurpriseandrespect.“Ibethe’dlovethat.Thanks,kid.”
WhenIreentertherink,Robbieisskatinglazycirclesalongtheboards.Hisdirty-blondhairrufflesbehindhim,andIdecidehemightneedalessonabouthair,too—asin,trimtheshitoutofitbeforeitreachesmulletstatus,orwavegoodbyetoanychanceofgettinglaid.
I’mwalkingdowntheconcreteaislewhenahigh-pitchedvoicestartlesmetoastop.
“Whoareyou?”
Iturntoseeatinyelfincreaturesittingatthehalfwaypointinthebleachers.Well,it’sagirl,butholyhell,shemightaswellbeacharacterfromaPixarmovie.Hugeblueeyestakeupherentireface,herhairissofairit’snearlywhite,andhermouthisatinypinkrosebud.
“Whoareyou?”Icallback,oneeyebrowarched.
“Iaskedyoufirst.”
Fightingasmile,IclimbthestepsuntilIreachherrow.AglanceattherinkrevealsthatRobbieishavingfunskatingaimlessly.Ellisisattheboardskeepinganeyeonhim,soIplopdownintheseatnexttothecartoonelfandsay,“I’mDean.ThenewassistantcoachoftheHurricanes.”
Thosebigeyesstudymyface,asifshe’stryingtodecideifI’mlying.“I’mDakota,”shefinallysays.Shepointsaskinnyfingerattheice.“That’smybrother.”
“Ah.You’reRobbie’slittlesister.”
“WhosaysI’mthelittleone?”shechallenges.“MaybeI’mhisbigsister.”
“Kid,I’dbesurprisedifyou’renotstillindiapers.”
“Idonotweardiapers!”Hercheeksredden.“I’mten,”shesayshaughtily.
Igasp.“Holysh—sugar.You’repracticallyanoldladythen.”
Thatmakeshergiggle.“Iamnot.Howoldareyou?”
“Twenty-two.”
Herjawfallsopen.“That’sold.”
“Iknow,right?Ishouldprobablystartplanningmyfuneral.WhodoyouthinkIshouldleavemyfortunetoinmywill—thechickfromtheHungerGamesortheonefromDivergent?”
“They’renotrealpeople,”shesaysfrankly.
Ifeigninnocence.“Areyousure?IswearIsawKatnisswalkingdownthestreettheotherday.”
“You’relying.”
“Yup,youcaughtme.”Igesturetothepinkspiralnotebookinherlap.“Whatchadoing?”
Herbottomlipsticksout.“Homework.Mrs.KleinsaidtowriteawholepageaboutwhatI’mthankfulforonthisThanksgiving.”
“Mrs.Kleinsoundslikeamonster.”
Dakotagiggles.“Naw,she’sokay.Sheorderedpizzaforthewholeclassonetime.Itwasafterwegotthehighestscoresontheliterarytest.”
“Literacy,”Icorrect.
Shewavesherhand.“Whatever.”
Agrinspringsfree.“Allright,let’sstopwastingtime.”Iflipherlittlenotebooktoafreshpage.“It’stimetofigureoutwhatyou’rethankfulfor.”
Pleasurelightsupherface.“You’regoingtohelpmewithmyhomework?”
“Sure,whynot?We’vegottwentymoreminutestokilluntilyourmomgetshere.Whatelsearewegonnado?”
*
Allie
I’minthepassengerseatofMegan’scarwhenDeantextsme.I’mnotsurprisedtoseehisnameonmyphone.I’vebeenexpectinganother“Iwanttofuckyou”fromhimallday,soitwasonlyamattertimebeforeithappened.Buttonighthethrowsmeacurveball.
Him:AbunchofusratMalone’s2niteforFitzy’sbday.Joinusifufeellikeit.
Meganglancesoverfromthedriver’sside.“Who’stextingyou?Andpleasedon’tsaySean.”
“No,it’snotSean.It’soneofGarrett’sfriends,”Ianswervaguely.“AbunchofthehockeyguysareatMalone’sforsomeone’sbirthday.Hesayswe’rewelcometojointhem.”
“IsHannahthere?”
Ishakemyhead.“She’satrehearsaltonight.”Likeme,Hannahisalsobusypreparingforoneofherfinalprojects.Asamusicmajor,she’srequiredtoperformanoriginalsongforthedepartment’swintershowcase.
IguessMegandoesn’tthinkit’soddthatI’mgettinginvitedtohockeygatheringswithoutHannah,becauseshedoesn’tcommentonit.Instead,shesays,“Let’sdoit.”
“Areyouserious?”Aftermorethanthirtyminutesdebatingadozenoptionsforourgirls’nightout,wefinallydecidedtograbalatebiteatthedinerinHastings.Malone’sistheonlybarintown,soobviouslythatsuggestionhadcomeupearlyintheconversation,butMeghadbeentheonetovetoit.“Ithoughtyoudidn’twanttodealwiththewholebarscenetonight.”
Shepushesherredbangsoutofhereyes.“Changedmymind.IthinkI’minthemoodtobesurroundedbycuteboys.”
“Really?”Isayinsurprise.“Whataboutthenewboyfriend?Istheretroubleinparadisealready?”Meganhasbeensocageyaboutthisnewguyshe’sdating,butIassumedtheyweredoingokay.Normallyshe’sahugechatterboxwhenitcomestoherlovelife,butnotthistime.AllIknowabouthimisthathelivesinBostonandsheonlyseeshimontheweekends.
“No,we’refine.”Shepauses.“Well,notreally.”Anotherpause.“It’scomplicated.”
“Youknow,ifyouactuallytoldmesomethingabouthiminsteadofbeingMs.Secretive,Imightbeabletooffersomeadvice…”
Hergreeneyesstayfocusedontheroad.Evenifshewasn’tdriving,Iknowshe’dstillbeavoidingmygaze.
“Okay.Spill.What’swrongwithhim?”
“Nothing’swrongwithhim.”
“Bullshit.Therehastobe,otherwiseyouwouldn’tbehidinghimfromallofus.Sowhatisit?Doesheliketosetbarnsonfireinhissparetime?Doeshekillsquirrelsandmakelittlehatsoutoftheirfur?Doeshehaveaweirdmolethattakesuphiswholeface?Doeshe—”
“Thirtyseven,”sheinterrupts.“He’sthirty-seven.”
Myeyebrowsshootup.“Oh.Wow.That’s…”
Old,Iwanttosay,butI’vealwaysbelievedintheageisnothin’butanumberphilosophy.OratleastIwanttobethatopen-minded.Imean,Ithinkit’shellacreepywhenasixty-year-oldmandatesaneighteen-year-oldgirl.Butthirty-sevenisn’texactlygeezerstatus.It’sonlyfifteenyearsolderthanmeandMeg.
“See?ThisiswhyIdidn’ttellyouguys.”Accusationcolorshertone.“Iknewyou’dbealljudgy.”
Iholdupbothhandsinsurrender.“I’mnotjudging.Yousurprisedme,that’sall.”
Herprettyfeaturesrelax.
“TellmemoreaboutMr.Thirty-Seven,”Iurge.“Ipromisethere’snojudgmentonmyend.”
Shegrudginglyprovidesafewmoredetails.“Hisname’sTrevor.He’sapediatricsurgeonatBostonGeneral.”
Okay,I’mimpressed.
“He’sdivorced,andhehasafive-year-olddaughter.”
Hmmm.Notsoimpressedanymore.“Andyou’recoolwiththat?”Iaskcarefully.“You’reonlytwenty-two,hon.Areyoureadytobesomeone’sstepmother?”
“That’stheproblem,”shemoans.“Iwasn’teventhinkingthatfarahead.TrevorandImetonline.WewerechattingallthroughSeptember,butwedidn’tmeetinpersonuntilamonthago.He’ssweet.Smart,gorgeous,easytotalkto.Butwe’restillintheearlystagesoftherelationship,youknow?Morecasualthanserious.”Shetapsherpolishednailsagainstthesteeringwheel.“WhenIsawhimlastweekend,hesaidhewantsmetomeethisdaughter.”
Eek.
“Eek,”Isayoutloud.
“Iknow,right?SonowI’msecond-guessingthewholerelationship.Meetinghiskidisahugedeal.Whatifshehatesme?Orworse,whatifshelovesme,andthenmeandherdadbreakupandthispoorkidendsuptraumatized?”
“Shewon’tfallinlovewithyouafteronemeeting,”Iassureher.“ButIagree—thisisahugedeal.”
MegstopsherlittleredToyotaattheintersectiononeblockfromHastings’mainstretch.“Idon’tknow…ItoldhimI’dlethimknowonFridaywhenIseehim,butI’msuperconfused.Ihavenoideawhattodo.”Shegoesquietforasecond,thenletsoutaheavybreath.“IfwegotoMalone’s,canyouDDonthewayhome?Imightwantsomethingstrongerthansoda.”
“Noprob.”Iwasn’tplanningondrinkingtonight,anyway.Ihaverehearsalatsevena.m.,andapoundinghangoverwillmakeithardformetocryoncommand.Intheopeningscenealone,mycharacterwailslikeanewbornthreetimes.“Shouldwegotoanotherbar,though?”Iaskhopefully.“MaybetheoneinMunsen?”
“Whywouldwedothat?”
Ishrug.“Thehockeycrowdcangetkindarowdy.”
“Icouldusealittlerowdy,”sheadmits.“Trevorisgreat,buthe’snotmuchintopartyinganymore.He’sinbedbyteno’clockeverynight.Evenonweekends.”Herbottomlipsticksout.“Maybethat’sanotherreasonIshouldendit,huh?”
“Look,I’dneverdreamoftellingyouwhattodo,”Isaygently.“AndI’mnotsayingyoushouldbreakupwithsomeonejustbecausetheirpartydaysarebehindthem.Butyou’reinyoursenioryearofcollege,hon.Youshouldn’tbegoingtobedattenifyoudon’twantto.Youshouldenjoythislastyearoffreedom,inthisweirdplacewhereyou’reanadultbutnotanadult,knowwhatImean?Savetheearlybedtimesfornextyearwhenyoubecomeacard-carryingmemberoftherealworld.”
Apensivelookcrossesherexpression.Icantellshe’sabsorbingtheadvice,andIhopeshereachesadecisionthatmakesherhappy.GodknowsI’vebeendealingwithtoughdecisionslatelytoo.BreakingupwithSean.FiguringoutwhereIwanttotakemyactingcareer.
WalkingintoabartowillinglyspendtimewiththeguyIhadaone-nightstandwith…
Shit,whatamIdoingcomingtothebar?NothinggoodcanbegainedfromseeingDeantonight.Worsecase,he’llaccidentallyletsomethingslip,andeveryonewillknowthatwehookedup.Bestcase,he’llflirtshamelesslywithmeandjustbeplainannoying.
SinceMalone’sistheonlyalcoholgameintown,it’sthego-toplaceforbothlocalsandBriarstudentseverydayoftheweek.Ifyoushowupafternine,you’relookingatstandingroomonly.MegandIwaltzinatten-thirty,andit’slikesteppingintoasaunacrammedwithhundredsofsweatybodies.Themainroomisjam-packed.Icanbarelyseethecounterbecausetoomanybodiesareswarminginfrontofit,andtherowofboothsintheraisedsectionsoneithersideofthemainareaarealloccupied.
“Iwanttoorderadrink!”Meganshoutsoverthemusic.SomerocksongIdon’trecognizeisblastingfromthespeakers.IfGarrettGrahamwerehere,hecouldprobablytellmethenameofthesong,who’ssingingit,andwhatyearitwasreleased.Hannah’sboyfriendhasahard-onforclassicrock.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedtofindouthemakesHannahplayLynyrdSkynyrdrole-playinggamesinbed
We’reabouttoheadforthebarwhenafamiliarvoicerisesabovethemusic.“Allie-Cat!Overhere!”
IshiftmyheadtoseeDeanwavingatmefromalargeboothtomyright.Idon’tknowhowhespottedmeinthethrongofpeople.Ihadn’teventextedhimtosayIwascoming,sohe’seithergotexceptionalSpideysensesorhe’sbeenmonitoringthedoorlikeacreeper.
MeganandIlinkarmstoavoidgettingseparatedandmakeourwaythroughtheseaofbodies.Iinhaleagustofperfumefromaplatinumblondeinashortskirt.Imanagetosurvivetheperfumeassaultonlytobreatheinacloudofsomethingmorepotentfromtheguybesideher.Myeyesstarttowater,andIalmostturnaroundtotellhimtogoeasyontheAxebodyspraybeforehekillssomeone.
“Look,Fitzy,girls!”DeanannounceswhenMeganandIreachthebooth.Herapidlyaddressestheotherguys.“Quick,makeroomforthembeforetheydisappear.”
Laughterbreaksout,andInoticemostoftheplayersaregrinningatoneguyinparticular,whoI’veseenbeforeatsomeofthehockeypartiesHannahdraggedmeto.IthinkhisnameisColin,butIusuallyhearhimbeingreferredtoaseitherFitzorFitzy.He’sabigguywithmessybrownhair,darkscruffonhisface,andwhatlookslikeatattoopeekingfromthecollarofhisshirt.Isuspecthe’sdefinitelyrockingachesttat,becauseI’veseenhiminaT-shirt,andIrememberhimhavingfullsleevesonbotharms.
Theboysshufflearoundtoaccommodateus.Meganslidesinnexttoaguywithabuzzcut.HeintroduceshimselfasHollis.IsqueezeinbetweenTucker,who’sengrossedonhisphone,andPierre,oneoftheFrench-Canadiansontheteam.Hegreetsmewithasmile,andapairofadorabledimplespopout.RoundingoutthegrouparetwoplayersI’venevermet.Inhisheavyaccent,PierreintroducesthemasWilkesandEkberg.
Dean,whoisacrossfrommeontheothersideofHollis,winkswhenoureyeslock.“Youmadeit.Didn’tthinkyouwould.”
“Wewereintheneighborhood,”Isaylightly.
“Gladyouwere,becausethiswasbecomingatotalsausagefest.Seriously,thebirthdayboydidn’tinviteasinglechicktonight.”
“Fitzyisallergictowomen,”Hollissayshelpfully.
Thebirthdayboy—orman,rather,becausethere’snothingboyishaboutthisguy—rollshiseyes.“Ididn’trealizethatwantingtocelebratemybirthdaywiththeguyswassuchacrime.”
“Didyouevenstoptoconsidertheimplications?”Deanshootsback.“Whataboutthetime-honoredbirthdayblowjob?Didyathinkofthat?Ordoyouexpectoneofustodoit?”
“I’msurePierre’sdown,”Hollispipesup.WhentheFrench-Canadiangiveshimthefinger,hesmilessweetly.“What?Ithoughtthat’swhatyouguysdidupinQuebec,no?BlowyourbuddieswhilewhisperingsweetFrenchnothingstothem?”
Pierresnorts.“You’refromSanFrancisco.I’mprettysurethat’stheblow-your-buddiescapitaloftheworld.”
Aroundofsmacktalkensues,whichiscutshortwhenafrazzledwaitressappearstoserveMeganandme.Megordersavodkacranberry.Iaskforaglassofwater.
“Water?”Deanmocksafterthewaitressdashesoff.“Yousureyoudon’twantanythingelse,babydoll?Maybe…hmmm…howabouttequila?Ialwayspeggedyouforatequilagirl.”
Inarrowmyeyesathim.Fortunately,nobodyelseputsmuchstockinthecomment.Whywouldthey?It’snotlikeanyofthemknowthattequilaisthereasonIwoundupinbedwithDean.TheonlypersonwhoknowsisDean,whopromisedtokeephismouthshutaboutit.
But…theteenysmirkonhisfaceismakingmeantsy.
WhydoIgetthefeelinghe’sabouttospillthebeans?11
Allie
I’mstillglaringatDeanwhenmyphonevibratesinmypurse.IabsentlyfishitoutandmybreathcatcheswhenIseethemessage.
Him:RememberwhenItookthattequilashotoffyourtits?
IlookuptofindDeanblinkinginnocentlyatme.ButIcanseehisarmmovingunderthetable.Sureenough,afollow-upmessageappears.
WhenIpoureditalloveryournipplesandlickedupeverydrop?Mmmm.Gettinghardjustthinkingaboutit.
Argh.Ican’tbelievehe’ssextingmeinthebar.Duringhisfriend’sbirthdayhang.
Igritmyteethandtexthimback.
Me:Cherishthememory,sweetie.Cuzit’sneverhappeningagain.
Him:Usayingudidn’tlikeitwhenIwassuckingonthosesexynipples?
Thenipplesinquestiontightenintohardpeaks.Iknowthepaddingofmybrahidesthetraitorousresponse,butthewayDean’ssmuggazedropstomybreaststellsmeheknows.
Idrawabreathandanswer,Meh.Itwasallright.
Hissmilewidens.“Naah,”hesaysinresponsetosomethingWilkesjustasked.“I’mnotworried.Yale’sgoaliehasnothingagainstG’sslapshot.”Iguessthey’retalkingabouttheirgameagainstYaleonSaturday,butI’mtoobusywatchingthesubtlemovementofDean’sarm.He’stypingsomethingelse.
Him:Hmmm.Isee.WhataboutwhenIlickedyourpussy?Justallrighttoo?
Iignorethesharpclenchbetweenmylegsandscowlathim.
“Allie,”Megansaysinexasperation.
“Sorry.What?”
“Iwasaskingaboutyourplay.Rehearsalsstartedthisweek,didn’tthey?How’sitgoing?”
“Prettygood,”Ianswerinanabsenttone.Ican’ttellifDeanistypingsomethingelse.Ihopenot.“Theguywho’splayingmydeadhusbandisfuntoworkwith.How’syoursgoing?”
“Shitty.”
“Aw,I’msorry,hon.”IknowMegisn’thappywiththeplaywrightshe’dbeenpairedwith,andIdon’tblameher,becausehehappenstobethemostpompousassholeinthedramadepartment.Everythinghewritesispretentiousandbrimmingwithover-the-topangst.Hethinkshe’sthereincarnationofArthurMiller.
“‘Slade’likestorewriteentirescenesduringrehearsal.”Sheputsquotationmarksaroundhisname,whichmakesFitzychuckle.
“Idon’tthinkyouknowhowtouseairquotes,”heinformsher.
“No,Ido.‘Slade’isn’thisrealname.It’sactuallyJoshuaSandeski.”Shesnortsderisively.“ThisassissofullofhimselfI’msurprisedhedoesn’tpoopoutlittlebrownreplicasofhissmugface.”
Theguyshootatthedisgustingimageshe’spainted.
“Firstdayofclasses,weallhadtositaroundinacircleandintroduceourselvestoourfellowactors.”Sheglancesatme.“Rememberthat?”
“Oh,Iremember,”Isaydryly.
“Anyway,”shetellsFitzy,“thisjerkstandsupandsays,‘I’mJoshuaSandeski,butIgobySlade.RefertomeasanythingelseandIwillnotrespond.’Andhewasn’tkidding.AnytimetheteacherslippedupandcalledhimSandeski,hewouldflat-outignoreher.”
“That’sthedouchiestthingI’veeverheard,”Deanremarks.
Shit,hisarmismovingagain.
“Ithinkit’sballsy,”Hollisdisagrees.“Youknowwhat?Fuckit.I’mpullingaSladeandgivingmyselfasoloname.Fromnowon,youguyscanonlyrefertomeas‘Thunder.’”
Idiscreetlypeekatthelatestmessage,andmybreathhitches.
Him:Mydickissohardrightnow.I’mdyingtobeinsideu.
Idon’tindulgehimthistime.IfIdon’trespond,he’lleventuallystop,right?
Wrong.
Themessageskeeppoppingup,eachonefilthierthanthelast.
Gonnatakeitslownexttime.Savoreverysinglesecond.
Sofuckingslow,baby.Justslideinandoutofyourtightpussy…
Untilyou’rebeggingformore.
Igrabmyglassandchokedownsomewater.I’mawareofDean’ssoftchuckle,audibleevenwiththemusicblastinginthebar.
Iwon’tgiveuwhatuwant,tho.I’llkeepfeedingumycock,inchbyinch.
AndthenI’lltakeitawayagain.
Everytimeubegmetopoundintou,I’llgoevenslower.
Gonnatormentthatsweetpussyallnite,baby.
All.Fucking.Night.
Ishoottomyfeetlikesomeonelitafireundermyass.“Ineedtousetheladies’room,”Iblurtout.
IgnoringthebroadgrinstretchingDean’sinfuriatinglysexymouth,Idartawayfromtheboothasfastasmyhigh-heeledbootscancarryme.
Fuckityfuck.I’msoturnedonmythighsareactuallystickingtogether,andI’mworriedtheremightbeawetspotonthebackofmyjeans.Tomakemattersworse,Meganhadn’tevenmadeadentinherdrink,whichmeanswewon’tbeleavinganytimesoon.WhichmeansIneedtocollectmycomposureandextinguisheverysparkofdesirethat’sburninglikejetfuelthroughmyblood.
IhopetoGodthatDeanquitssextingmewhenIgetback.
Ifhedoesn’t,there’sagoodchanceImightorgasmatthetable.
*
Hekeepssexting.
Ikeepignoringhim.
Ourbattleofwillslastsformorethananhour,andIcan’tsayI’mnotimpressedbyhispersistence.Nottomentionthesheeramountofdirtywordshehasinhisvocabulary.
WhenInoticeDeanvisiblysquirmingonhissideofthebooth,Iflashhimacheekygrinandfinallytexthimback.
Me:Urjusttorturingyourself,honey-pie.Betterstopb4theblueballssetin.
Ipunctuatethatwithtwoemojisthatseemfittingforthesituation—apairofbluecircles.
Deansighsandrisestohisfeet,butnotbeforehedoessomestrategicrearrangingdownbelow.IthinkI’mtheonlyonewhoseeshimdoit,andmysmilegrowsimpossiblywider.
“I’mgoingtochangeupthesetunes,”hetellsthegroup.“WhoeverkeepsputtingonAerosmithrockballadsisbummingthehellouttame.”
Ashewalksoff,myeyesbetraymebyhominginonhisbackside.Hisblackpantshughistautbuttockslikeaglove,whichmakesmewonder,arecargopantsusuallythattight?Ididn’tthinktheywere.MaybeDeanhasatailoronretainerwhomakeshimspecialcargopantsthatshowoffhisass?Thatseemslikesomethinghewoulddo,vainbastardthatheis.
Eitherway,hisassisyummy.Damnit,everythingabouthimisyummy.Ican’thelpbutadmirethewayhisbroadshouldersfillouthislong-sleeveUnderArmorshirt,orhowhisblondhairistheperfectamountoftousled.ThenIlosehiminthecrowd,andIfeelaflickerofreliefbecausenowthathe’soutofsight,Ihavesometimetogetmyraginghormonesundercontrol.Therespiteisbrief,though.Whenhereturnstothebooth,he’sstillasgorgeousaseverandI’mstillahornybundleofnerves.
HeresettlesinhisseatjustasthecurrentsongendsandtheopeningstrainsofDean’sselectionblareoutofthespeakers.
It’sCheapTrick’s“IWantYouToWantMe.”
Ican’tstopaburstoflaughter,whichearnsmeastrangelookfromFitzy.“DidImissthepunchline?”heasks.
“Nope.SometimesIjustlaughfornoreason,”Isayflippantly.“I’mweirdlikethat.”
Meganpipesup.“It’strue.Sheis.”
IswallowanotherlaughandavoidDean’seyesashissongcontinuestoplay.I’mnotsurprisedwhenmyphonevibrates.
Him:Icould’vegonewithsomethingalilmoresubtle.Butwhyplaygames?I’mgoddamnachingforu,Allie.
Shit,hecalledmeAllie.Hemeansbusiness.
Iliftmyhead,andtheintensityburninginhisgazemakesmyheartstutter,thenpropelsitintoahardgallop.Deanisalreadyinsanelyattractivetobeginwith,butwhenhe’sturnedon?He’sabsolutelyspectacular.
Withhissmokygreeneyesathalf-mast,lipspartedslightly,strongthroatworkingasheswallows,Icanalmostbelieveheisaching.Thathe’strulyinphysicalpainfromwantingmesobad.ButthisisDean,forcryingoutloud.Heprobablyspringsabonerifalightbreezefloatsoverhiscrotch.Seriously,justbumpintohimandyougethimhard.Theguyisobsessedwithsex,andhalfthegirlsatthisschoolcanattesttothat,becausehalfthegirlsatthisschoolhavesleptwithhim.
Sure,it’sflatteringtobeonthereceivingendofallthatheadysexualenergy.Whatwomandoesn’tlikefeelingdesirable?ButI’dbeanidiotifIbelievedevenforasecondthatI’mtheonlywomanDeanDiLaurentisisflashingthosebedroomeyesat.Nope,I’mnothingmorethananothernotchonDean’sexorbitantlylongbelt.
Thereminderspursmetomyfeet.“I’mreallynotfeelingCheapTricktonight,”Isaysweetly.“ThinkI’llswitchitupagain.”
Mypurposefulstridetakesmetothejukeboxacrosstheroom.It’snotoneofthoseold-schoolones,butamodernjukeboxwithatouchscreenandslotsforbothcashandcredit.Ifeedadollarbillintothemachineandstudymyoptions.Jeez.Nearlyeverysongthat’severbeenwrittenisavailableonthisthing.
Igrinwhenoneartistinparticularjumpsoutatme.Iscrollthroughherdiscography,selectthetitleI’msearchingfor,andaddittothequeue.Thesidebaronthescreenrevealsthere’soneothersongaheadofmine,aKeshatrackthatsendsahordeofcollege-agepatronstothedancefloor.Whichreallyjustmeanstheystartdancingwhereverthey’restanding,becausetheareainfrontofthekaraokestagethatusuallyservesasthedancefloorhasbeentakenoverbyaclusterofhipsterswhoareallengrossedbytheircellphones.
“Nicepick,”Tuckercallsouttome.He’sbeenphone-obsessedtonighttoo,soI’msurprisedthathe’ssuddenlybeingsocial.
“Notmine,”Icallback.
“What’dyouchoosethen?”Deanaskssuspiciously.
“You’llfindoutsoonenough,mypretty.”
Threeminuteslater,theintrocomeson,andachorusoffemalewhoopsringsoutthroughthebar.
Deanglaresatme.
Mysongchoice?Pink’s“UandURHand.”
“Hellyeah!”Meganslamsherglassdownandhopstoherfeet,stickingoutherhandtome.“We’redancing.”
Idon’thavetimetoobject,becauseshe’salreadydraggingmeintothecrowd.Wellthen.Iguesswe’redancing.
Asthebasslinethudsbeneathourheels,wethrowourarmsupintheair,shimmyourhips,androckthefuckout.Meg’sredhairwhipspastmyfaceasshespinsaround.Idoaspintoo,becauseitgivesmetheopportunitytosneakapeekatDean.Hewearsaresignedlook,butthere’salsoaflickerofamusementthere.
WhenwegettothepartofthesongwherePink—whoisagoddess,bytheway.Agoddess!—says“buh-bye”tothecreepshe’ssingingto,IshootDeanasaccharinesmileandfluttermyfingersinhisdirection.
Thetipofhistonguetoucheshisbottomlipasaslowgrincurveshismouth.Hegivesalittlewaveinresponse.Wellplayed,Icanpracticallyhearhimdrawling.
MegandIkeepdancing,andourtwosomedrawsmoreandmoreattention,andmoreandmoreparticipants.Suddenlywe’resurroundedbyothergirlswhoarediggingthesongashardasweare.It’sprettymuchananthemforanywomanwho’severhadtodealwithaslimyjerkhittingonheratabar,orplyingherwithdrinksinthehopesofgettinglaid,orjustplainannoyingherwhenshe’stryingtohangwithhergalpals.
AtinyAsiangirlwithmultiplefacialpiercingsandspikypinkhairbumpsherhipstomine,andthenwe’redancingback-to-back,smackingourbuttstogetherasweshareamomentoffemalecamaraderie.I’mlaughingandbreathlessfromhowmuchfunI’mhaving,andthistimewhenIseekDeanout,hedoesn’tlookamusedanymore.
Ohcrap.
He’sarousedagain.
HissultryeyestrackeverymoveImake.Bythetimethesongends,I’mburningup.Notfromsweatorexertion,butfromDean’sgazerakingovermelikeflameslickingthroughahayfield.
OnceMegandIreturntothebooth,Ichugtherestofmywater,thenliftmyhairuptofanmyhotneckwithonehand.Myphonesitsonthetabletop,andIinstinctivelytensewhenthescreenlightsup.AquickglanceatDeanrevealshe’sgothishandunderthetableagain.
Ibitemylipandstareatmyphone.
Don’treadit,Iordermyself.
Ireadit.
Him:Nexttimeuputonashowlikethatforme,ubetterfuckingbenaked.12
Allie
MeganandIgetbacktocampusalittleaftermidnight.Mytwo-bedroomsuiteisshroudedinshadowswhenIcreepinside.There’snolightspillingoutfromHannah’sdoor,whichtellsmeshe’salreadygonetobed.
Makinganefforttobequiet,Igatherupmytoiletriesandduckouttousethebathroomwesharewiththesixothergirlsonthisfloor.Tenminuteslater,ItiptoearoundmybedroomandchangeintomyPJs,thenshutoffthelightandcrawlunderthecovers.
I’veneverhadanytroublefallingasleep—I’musuallyoutcoldthemomentmyheadhitsthepillow.
Tonight,sleepeludesme.Dean’ssextsleftmehotandbothered,andIspendthenexthourtossingandturninginanattempttogetcomfortable.ButI’mnotcomfortable.Myboobsareachyandmypussyisthrobbing.EverytimeIrollover,mynipplesscrapethemattressandtheinnocentfrictionmakesthemacheevenharder.
ThisisDean’sfault.Whydidhehavetotextmeallthosedirty,dirtythings?
Agroanslidesout.Irolloveragain,thistimeontomyside.NormallyIliketosleepwithapartoftheblankettuckedbetweenmythighs.Rightnow,havingsomethingjammeddownthereisanexcruciatingtease,andmyhipsinvoluntarilystartrockingagainstthecomforter.
“Goddamnit.”Mytorturedvoiceechoesinthedarkness.Irollontomybackandproponekneeup,becauseobviouslyIwon’tbegettinganysleepuntilItakecareofbusiness.
“UandURHand”isprovingtobeapropheticsongchoice.
Igritmyteethandstickmyhanddownmyplaidpajamabottoms.Unfortunately,I’mnotoneofthosewomenwhocanrubherclitafewtimesandpresto!Orgasm!Nope,Ineedastory,adeliciousfantasytotakemeovertheedge.Inrecentdays,myfantasieshavefeaturedmygo-tocelebritycrush:theperfectionthatisRyanGosling.Soit’sRyanIturntonow,inmygravehourofneed.
Thefantasyalwaysstartsdifferently.I’matabarandwegetourflirton.I’minahotelroomandthere’samix-upthatforcesustoshareabed.I’mjoggingonthebeachinMalibuandlookwhoIruninto!
Butitalwaysendsthesame—withtheGosscrewingmesilly.
Ioptforthehotelroom,sinceitallowsforaplethoraofChoose-Your-Own-Sexual-Adventurescenarios.Tonight,I’msleepingnakedbecausetheairconditioningisonthefritz.IsupposeIcouldjustsleepnakedwithoutgivingmyselfanexcusetodoit,butIlikemyfantasiestobesomewhatconsistentwithmyreallife,andsinceI’mnotanakedsleeperinreallife,brokenairconditioneritis.
Okay,wherewasI?IrubmyindexfingerovermyclitasIpicturemyselflyingonaking-sizedbed.I’mdriftingofftosleepwhenIhearabeep.Someoneswipedakeycardinthedoor.I’moutraged!Didtheconciergedecidetosendthehousekeeperupinthemiddleofthenight?Whocouldpossiblybewalkingintomy—well,lookatthat.It’sRyanGosling.Hesauntersintotheroom,bare-chestedforsomereason.HisjeansridesolowIcanseethegloriousman-veeofhisnakedhips.
He’ssurprisedtofindmethere,andwequicklydeterminethere’sbeenadouble-bookingerror.Thenwehaveafive-minuteconversationaboutourlives,inwhichherevealsthatEvaMendesbrokeupwithhim.
Yes,there’sbothdialogueandsmalltalkinmysexualfantasies.
EventuallyIclimboutofbedand—ohno!Thesheetcoveringmynakedbodyfallstothecarpet.Ryan’sblueeyeswidenwithappreciation.Hiscockvisiblyhardensbeneathhiszipper.
Helickshislipsandstepscloser.
Iteasinglyglidemyfingersdownthevalleyofmybreasts.Hiseyesburnlikeliquidsapphires.
No,likeemeralds.Becausehiseyesaregreennow.Whyaretheygreen?
Inthedarknessofmydormroom,Ireleasealow,irritatedcurse.Forfuck’ssake.
WhyisDeancrashingmyfantasy?
Myfingerstillsovermyclit.Okay,wellthisisjustrude.RyanandIwereabouttojiggledown.Deanisnotallowedtoruinthatforme.
Isqueezemyeyelidsshutandtransportmyselfbacktothefantasy.ButI’mnolongerinthehotelandRyanisnolongerwithme.I’matahockeyarenawithDean,andwe’remakingoutontheice.
Stiflinganothergroan,Ishakemyselfoutofthesceneandonceagainordermyhandtostopmoving.WhereonGod’sgreenplanetisthisfantasygoing?Iceiscold.Whowantstofreezetodeathwhenthey’regettingiton?AndwhyisDeankissinghiswaydownmynakedbody?Hispracticeisscheduledtostartanyminute.Theentireteamisgoingtowalkoutandcatchus—
“Iliketheideaofgettingcaught.”
ThegroanescapesbeforeIcancorralit.Dean’sraspyconfessionisn’tpartofthefantasy—it’sonehundredpercentreallife.
ThenightI’daskedhimwhyhedoesn’thavesexinhisbedroom,hiseyeshadgoneheavy-lidded,puremoltensexdrippingfromhisvoiceashe’ddrawled,“Iliketheideaofgettingcaught.”
Yep,DeanDiLaurentisgetsoffonthethoughtofsomeonecatchinghimintheact.
Anddidheendtheconfessionthere?Ofcoursenot,becausethatwouldmeanhehasn’tmadeithismissioninlifetosexuallytormentme.Nope,he’dfollowedthefirstpartwith,“AndonceIgetcaught,Ilikebeingwatched.”
I’mlustingoveranexhibitionist.Hell,maybeI’manexhibitionisttoo,becauseratherthanstopthefantasy,Iletitplayout.
“Youbettercomefast,baby.”Dean’sbreathticklesmyinnerthigh.“Otherwisemyteammatesaregonnawalkoutofthatlockerroomandseemyfaceburiedinyourpussy.”
Mybreathingquickens.Isqueezeonebreast,lightlytoyingwithmynipple.Myotherhandstrokesmyclitintightlittlecircles.OhGod.I’msowet.Andmyclitisswollenwithdesire.IcanpracticallyfeelDean’stongueswirlingoverit.
“Oh,youlikethatidea,don’tyou?”Thepadofhisfingergrazesmyopening.“Lookhowwetyouare.”
Hepusheshisfingerinsideme.
No,I’mpushingmyownfingerinsideme.MybreastshavebeenabandonedandnowI’vegotbothhandsbetweenmylegs.Rubbingmyclitwithone,fingeringmyselfwiththeother,asImeltintothemattressandimagineDeangoingdownonme.
“Gonnafuckyourighthereontheice,Allie.”
Mytoescurl.Thepressureinmycoreisunbearable.
Inthefantasy,Deanrisestohisknees.Hischestgleamsunderthebrightlightsinthearena.Hiscockislongandproud.Hewrapshisfistaroundthebaseandleansforward,bringingitcloserandclosertowhereIwantitmost.
Andthenwehearit.Footsteps.Voices.Laughter.Theplayersarecomingoutofthechute.Deansmileswickedly.Thenheplungesthatharddickinsideme—
AndIcomesohardIforgethowtobreathe.Ilieonmybed,gasping,trembling.Starsflashbehindmyclosedeyelidsastheorgasmcrashesthroughmeinhot,pulsingwaves.
OhmyGod
Thatwas…itwas…Idon’tevenhavethewordstodescribeit.
Andthesadpart?Theorgasmthatjustrippedmetoshredswasn’thalfaspowerfulastheonesDeangavemeinperson.
I’mstillshakingfromtheaftershocksasIfumbleinthedarkuntilmyhandlandsontheboxoftissuesatopmynightstand.Ipullacoupleoutandusethemtowipebetweenmylegs.Ican’trememberthelasttimeIgotthiswetduringasolosession.
Thinkofhowmuchwetteryou’llbeifyoufuckmeagain…
Argh.IcanpracticallyhearDeantauntingme.Enticingme…
Itakeabreath.Okay.I’mapragmaticperson.AndIacedthatArgumentativeLogiccourseItookinfreshmanyear.SomaybeIneedtorationalizethisout.
PremiseI:DeanDiLaurentisisaphenomenallay.
PremiseII:Hewantstohavesexwithmeagain.
PremiseIII:Theideaofhavingsexwithhimturnsmeon.
Conclusion:IshouldhavesexwithDean.
Allright,thatonewaseasyenough.Nowcomesthecomplicatedpart.
PremiseI:Casualsexmakesmeuncomfortable.
PremiseII:Ijustgotoutofalong-termrelationshipandamnotreadyforanotherone.
PremiseIII:EvenifIwas,Iwouldn’twantarelationshipwithmanwhoreDean.
Conclusion:Um…?
Itryanotherone:
PremiseI:Idon’twantarelationshipwithDean.
PremiseII:Hedoesn’twantarelationshipwithme.
Conclusion:Weshouldhavecasualsex.
Anotherno-brainer,butitstilldoesn’tsolvetheCasualSexconundrum.Really,though,ifIstoptothinkaboutit,theonlypersondishingoutanyjudgmenthereisme.WillaflingwithDeanmakemeaslut?Hecertainlydoesn’tthinkso.Neitherwouldmyfriends,althoughIcertainlydon’tplanontellingthemaboutitifIchoosetoflingDean.Whichraisesthequestion,whydoIwanttokeepitasecret?
IchewontheinsideofmycheekasIponderthat.Theanswercontinuestostumpme,buttheideaofeveryoneknowingI’mscrewingaroundwithDeanstillbringsarushofdiscomfort.Fine.It’llhavetoremainasecret.MaybetomorrowIcangivesomemorethoughtastowhyIfeelthatway.
Well…shit.HaveIactuallyreachedadecision?
I’malreadygrabbingmyphone,so…yeah,IguessIhave.
ItapDean’snameandenteronewordinthemessagebox:Okay.
You’vegottogivethemancredit—heknowsexactlywhatImean,becausehetypesback,When?
Me:Tmrwnite?Hannah’sstayingatyourplace.Ucancomehere.8?
Him:Kiddiegamestartsat6.Won’tbefreetil9.
Me:Kiddiegame?
Him:Don’tworryaboutit.Tellutmrw.
Him:Whatchangedyourmind?
Whatchangedmymind…Insanitymaybe?Anunhealthyobsessionwithsex?Hisawesomedick?
Me:Decideditwastime2livetheLifeofDean.
Him:Tookulongenuff.So.9o’clockworkforu?
Ihesitate.
Me:Yes.
God,whatamIdoing?MaybeIhavegoneinsane.
There’salongdelaybeforehisnextmessageappears.Aborderline-hystericallaughpopsoutofmymouthafterIreadit.
Him:I’llbringtherope.13
Allie
Imetmyagent,IraGoldstein,throughafriendofmydad’s.He’sbeenrepresentingmesinceIwastwelveyearsold,andtheveryfirstgighebookedformewasacerealcommercial.Ihadonlyoneline,whichIstillremembertothisday:
“HowcouldsomethingTHISTASTYbeSOGOODforyou?YUM!”
I’mprettysuremydadstillhasaDVDcopyofthecommercialsomewhereinourbrownstone.Ihopeit’slockedupinhisgunsafe,becauselordy,Ineverwantthatmortifyingtapeeverleaking.
Irasplitshistimebetweentheagency’sManhattanandLosAngelesoffices,somostofourinteractionstakeplaceoverthephone.Todayhe’scallingfromLA.
“How’smygirldoingthismorning?”heasksinthebooming,jovialvoiceI’vegrowntolove.
“Thisafternoon,”Icorrect.Rehearsaljustfinished,andIbalancemyphoneonmyshoulderasIbuttonupmycoatonthewayoutoftheauditorium.“It’stwoo’clockontheeastcoast.”
“Ah,right.Fuckingtimezones.They’reliabletomakemesenile.IneverknowwhereIamorwhattimeitis.”
Ilaugh.
“YougetachancetoreadtheFoxpilotIcourieredover?”Iraisano-nonsense,business-mindedperson,whichIappreciate.He’salsoashark,butagentsaresupposedtobesharks,andIstilladorehimevenwhenhe’stryingtosellmeonprojectsthatIknowhe’sonlychosenforthemoney.
“Iskimmedit.Itlookedlikeithadpotential.”
“Well,giveitanotherreadanddon’tskimthistime.Ispoketooneoftheproducerslastnight.They’rereallykeenonhavingyoucomeintoreadforthepart.”
“Remindmewhichpart?Bonnie?OrwasitSarah?”
“Holdon.Letmecheck.”Papersshuffleovertheextension.He’sbackafewsecondslater.“Bonnie.”
Iswallowmydisappointment.Damnit.IwashopingitwouldbeSarah.Thepilotisforathirty-minutecomedyaboutthreegirlswhohatedeachotherinhighschoolbutareforcedtoroomtogetherincollege.Itfollowsthemastheynavigatetheirfreshmanyear,learningaboutloveandlifeandfriendshipwhilegettingintomanyapickle.ItwasdescribedtoIraandmeasanensemblecast,butawell-knowntelevisionactresshasalreadycommittedtotheroleofZoey,soclearlytheyplanforhertobethestar.
Theothertworolesareupforgrabs,butIwould’vepreferredreadingforSarah,theprudewhoneedstolearnhowtoletherhairdown.Icould’vehadsomefunwiththat.
Bonnie,ontheotherhand,istheairheadofthetrio.She’sgotsomefunnylines,butshe’sdumberthanabagofrocks.Herflakypersonalityandone-digitIQareenoughtosetwomen’slibbackathousandyears.
ButmaybeI’mworryingfornothing.MaybethewritershaveameatyarcplannedforBonnie.Itdoesn’tmakesensetohavethreefemaleleadsbutonlydeveloptwoofthem,right?
“It’stheperfectroleforyou,sweetheart,”Iraraves.“Youcanplaythecuteditzytypeinyoursleep.”
Yes.Ican.ButI’mnotsureIwantto.EveryroleI’veeverhadhasbeenthecuteditzytype.Itwouldbenicetobroadenmyhorizons,stretchmyactingmusclesabit.
Except…thisisnetworktelevision,forcryingoutloud.Ihaveachancetoco-starinapilotthat,goingbythebuzzalreadysurroundingit,willundoubtedlybepickedupforafullseason.
“I’llgiveitanotherreadtonight,”Ipromise.ThenItrytoconjureupsomeenthusiasmaboutpotentiallyplayingBonnie,butI’mnotfeelingevenaniotaofwheeeee!
Cometothinkofit,it’sbeenawhilesinceI’vereadanythingthat’striggeredmywheeeee!meter.ThelastprojectIwasexcitedaboutwastheplayIdidforBrettCavanaughthissummer.
“CastingstartsinFebruary,”Iratellsme.
Ifurrowmybrow.“That’salmostthreemonthsfromnow.WhydidtheycastthepartofZoeysoearly?”
“TheywantedtolockdownKateAshbybeforeanothernetworkcouldpoachher.Theproducersarewrappingupthefinalseasonoftheirothershow,andthenthey’llbereadytogettheballrollingonthisproject.TheywantyoutoflyoutonFebruarysixth.”
Mystomachdrops.“Ican’t.Widowopensontheeighth.Wehavedressrehearsalsthatweek.”
“Widow?”
“TheplayI’mdoingatschool.”
Irasighs.“Anychancethey’llletyouskipdressrehearsals?”
“Notaone.”
“Shit.”
Silenceensues.Iradoesthatalot,fallingdeepinthoughtforminutesatatime.Ithinkheforgetswe’reonthephoneandnotinthesameroom.
“Ira?”Iprompt.
“Sorry,sweetheart.Thinking…”Afteranotherlongpause,hisbriskvoicereturns.“Allright,letmegetVirgil’sassistantontheline.I’llseewhatwecando.”
Hedisconnectsthecallwithoutsayinggoodbye,whichisanotherbadhabitofhis.Heinsistshedoesn’thavetimefor“thatcrap.”
Tenminuteslater,IwalkupthepathtoBristolHouseandswipemyIDattheentrance.Iprobablywon’thearbackfromIratoday,andapartofmehopestheproducerscomebackandsay,Toughshit.Ifshecan’treadonthedaywewanthertoread,we’llgivetheroletosomeoneelse.
Whichisacrazythingtohopefor,because,again…Network.Television.
Whatiswrongwithme?
Manythings,apparently,becausenotonlyamIconsideringskippinganauditionthatcouldlaunchmycareer,I’malsoplanningonhavingsexwithDeanDiLaurentistonight.
Yep,oursexdateisstillonlikeDonkeyKong.Ihaven’tchangedmymind.Infact,I’m…Godhavemercyonmysoul…anticipatingit.I’mevenbailingonmyworkouttodaytoprepareforit.
Afterwolfingdownagrilledcheesesandwichforlunch,IcallacabtodrivemetothesaloninHastings.
Tanya,mymani/pedi/waxguru,isreadyandwaitingwhenIstrollthroughthedoor.Idecidedlongagothatshe’sasadist,becauseshe’salarminglygung-hoabouttorturingmynetherregions.WegettheBrazilianoutofthewayfirst,becauseIdon’tlikehavingtheideaofHotWaxTorturehangingovermyheadduringmymanicure.
OnceI’mbareasababy’sbottom,TanyarubssoothingoiloverthesensitiveareaandducksoutoftheroomwhileIslipmyundiesandleggingsbackon.Itusuallytakesafewhoursbeforetherednessdownbelowsubsides,butDean’snotcomingoveruntilnine,soI’llhaveplentyofdownstairsrecoverytimeandthenI’llbegoodtogo.
IleavethewaxroomandjoinTanyaathermanicurestation.Anhourlater,Iwaltzoutofthesalonrockingfire-engine-rednailandtoepolish,becauseIthinkDeanwillgetakickoutofseeingmybrightrednailsscrapinghiswashboardabs.I’daskedTanyatomakethemshorterandrounderthistime,soIdon’tscratchtheshitoutofhimagain.
Onthecabridebacktothedorm,ItrytofigureoutwhetherI’mexcited,ordisappointedinmyself.Istillcan’tbelieveIcavedintoDean’spotentmasculinity,butIcan’tdenyI’meagertoreacquaintmyselfwithhismagicalpenis
Unless…whatifit’slostitsappeal?Imean,howmanytimescanyoureallyrubagenie’slampbeforeitsmagicalpowersrunout?Ordoesagenie’slampholdaninfinitenumberofwishes?
DeepthoughtswithAllisonJaneHayes,folks.
Huh.Maybethatshouldbemytelevisionshow.
*
Bythetimenineo’clockcreepsup,I’mreadyto,asWillSmithsoaptlyphrasedit,getjiggywithit.
I’veundergoneabeautificationprocessfromheadtotoe.I’mwaxed,polished,scrubbedandlotioned,andIevenflatironedmyhairafterblow-dryinginsteadofleavingitatitsnaturalstateofkindawavy
Itfeelslikeawastetogothroughsomuchtroublebeauty-wiseandthennotwearalittleblackdressorsomesexylingerie,butIfigureHorndogDeanisgoingtoripmyclothesoffthesecondhegetshere,soI’minyogapantsandatanktop.Nobra(because,again,what’sthepoint?)butIamwearingpantiesbecauseIdon’tlikegoingcommandounlessI’mfeelingscandalous.SometimesI’ddoitwhenSeanandIweregoingtoafancyrestaurant.ItdrovehimcrazyknowingIwasn’twearinganythingunderneathmy—
You’renotallowedtothinkaboutSeanwhenyou’reminutesawayfromsleepingwithanotherguy!
Toolate.Sean’sinmyheadnow.Istillhaven’tagreedtomeethiminperson,butIknowIshouldprobablygivehimanansweroneofthesedaysbeforeheresortstothebulldozerapproach.Hedoesthatalot.
Caseinpoint—showingupatmydormuninvited.
WhichdrovemetofleetothesafetyofGarrett’shouse.
WhichdrovemeintoDean’sbed.
Seemslikethere’samoralitytaleintheresomewhere,anuggetofwisdomthatSeanwouldbenefitfromacquiring.Pushyourex-girlfriendtoohardandshesleepswithamanwhore
Ormaybeit’sbetterifheskipsthatparticularlesson.Besides,it’sanunfairindictmentonmypart,becauseitwasn’tSean’sfaultIsleptwithDean.Itwasmydecisiontodoit.
AndnowI’mmakingthedecisiontodoitagain.
Deanisfiveminuteslate.IfidgetimpatientlyonthecouchwhileIwaitforhim,unabletoconcentrateontheepisodeofSolangethat’splayingontheTV.Ihaven’twatchedtheshowsincethenightDeanwasover,andI’mstartledtorealizeit’snotasmuchfunwithouthim.Ikindofenjoyedhisrunningcommentary,andhoweveryfiveminutesorsohe’dpausetheshowtoannounce,“Allie-Cat,Ihavenofuckingideawhat’sgoingon!”
Itwas…cute.
Ohbrother.DidIreallyjustusethewordcuteinconjunctionwithDean?Ijotdownamentalnotetoneversaythatoutloud.He’dprobablyaccusemeofhavingacrushonhim.
Footstepsthumpinthehall,causinganticipationtoriseinmychest.Myheartdoesasilly,unwelcomeflipwhentwoknocksthudagainstmydoor.It’samanly-soundingthump-thuuuump,andwhenIswingthedooropen,Deanisstandinginfrontofme.He’swearingfadedjeanswitharipinoneknee,ahunter-greencableknitsweaterbeneathhisBriarjacket,andablackwoolhat.
“Hey.”I’msuddenlyfeelingawkwardaboutthiswholesituation.
“Hey.”Hetugsoffhishatashestridesinside.Inoticehishairiswet,asifhe’sjustcomeoutoftheshower.Hisgazetravelstothetelevision.“Ohshit,whatdidImiss?DidMarie-ThérèsemanagetofindacopyofClaude’swill?”
“Idon’tknow.Istartedtheepisodeaboutthreeminutesbeforeyoushowedup.”
“’Kay,wellifyouwatchanymorewithoutme,shootmeatexttoletmeknowwhathappens.”Hetosseshishatandcoatonthecouch.
Iswiftlypickthemup.“Nope,thesearecomingwithus.Bootstoo,”Iadd,gesturingtotheblackTimberlandshe’sintheprocessofremoving.
“Wherearewetakingthem?”
“Myroom.Idon’twanttheretobeanyevidenceofyourpresenceinthisroomincaseyouforgetsomething.Thisisacovertoperation.”
“Whateveryousay,Mrs.Bond.”
Inmybedroom,Idrophisstuffonthedeskchair.Thenshitgetsawkwardagain,becauseDeanisstandingthere.Fivefeetaway.Smirkingatme.
“What?”Imutterdefensively.
Heshrugs.“Nothing.”Buthestilldoesn’tmakeasinglemovetowardme.
“You’rejustgoingtostandthere?Comehereanddosomething,damnit.”
Thecornersofhismouthquirkup.“Dowhat?”
I’mevenmorefrazzled.“Idon’tknow.Kissme.Takemyshirtoff.Anything.”
Deancrosseshisarmsoverhisbroadchest.“Nuh-uh.Ifyouwantme,comeandgetme.”
Aggravationclimbsupmyspine.“Sowe’replayinggamesnow?”
“Naah,nogames.”Heliftsonedark-blondeyebrow.“ButI’mstillnotconvincedthisisn’tsomesortoftrickeryonyourpart.”
“What,youthinkIinvitedyouoversoIcouldfuckwithyou?”Iofferasaucysmile.“Sweetie,IinvitedyouoversoIcouldfuckyou.Period.”
Hechuckles,andthedeep,huskysoundgoesstraighttomycore.Oh,screwit.Ifheneedsmetomakethefirstmove,I’llmakethefirstmove.It’snotlikewebothdon’twantthesamething.
Withoutaword,Ibridgethedistanceandsweepmypalmoverhischeek.
Deangivesaslightintakeofbreath.Hisfaceiscompletelyclean-shaven,andIfindmyselflongingforsomestubble.Ilikedthewayitfeltagainstmyskinlasttime.
Butunlikelasttime,I’mstonecoldsobertonight.There’snowayIcanusealcoholasanexcuseforwhatI’mdoingrightnow.
Iglidemyhandoverthebackofhisscalpandslidemyfingersthroughhisdamphair.Asoureyeslock,Itughisheaddownandourlipsmeetinafeatherlightkiss.Notongue.Nourgency.It’sanexploratoryhey-how-are-yabetweenourmouths,beforeIpullbacktolookathim.
SweetLord.Hisgazecontainssomuchraw,palpableheatitstartlesagaspoutofme.ThenextthingIknow,Dean’smouthcrashesovermineagain,andthere’snothingexploratoryaboutthiskiss.
It’spurehunger.
Histonguethrustsintomymouthinadeep,punishingstroke.Ihearmyselfmoan,butDeanswallowsthedesperatesoundwithanothergreedykiss,hiswarmhandsclampingonmyhipsashekissesmeuntilI’mbreathless.
Myheartispounding.Holyhell,I’minsanelyturnedon.Soishe—Ifeeltheproofofitwhenhegripsmyassandyanksmeagainsthim,grindingourlowerbodiestogether.
“Yougetmesofuckinghard,”hegrowls.
Herotateshiships,bendingslightlysohisshaftlinesupinthecradleofmythighs.Thenherocksforwardandhiserectionrubsovermyclit,triggeringashockwaveofpleasurethatsizzlesalongmyspine.
“Naked,”Ichokeout.“Now.”
Withanotherchuckle,heignoresthefranticrequestandkissesmeagain.Hislipsareasgreedyasbefore,utterlydominating,andjustwhenIthinkthisfrenetic,passionatemake-outsessioncouldn’tpossiblygetanyhotter,Deanabruptlyslowsitdown.Histongueticklesmybottomlip.Hisperfectteethgiveitatinynip.Thenheburieshisfaceinmyneckandlavishesitwithsoft,open-mouthedkissesthatleaveshiversintheirwake.
Sincehedoesn’tseemtobeinanyhurrytogetnaked,Itakemattersintomyownhands.Icapturethehemofhissweateranddrawtheheavymaterialupward.Igetituptohiscollarbone,andheliftshisheadtohelpwiththerestoftheway.Themomenthissweatercomesoff,Ieagerlysweepmypalmsoverhiswarm,bareflesh.
Hemakesahuskynoiseandthreadshisfingersthroughmyhair,watchingmewithlust-filledeyesasIcaresshischest.
Thisguyisbuilt.IdamnnearpurrwithhappinessasIexplorethehardplanesofhischest.Itraceeachsculptedpecwithmyindexfinger,thentargetoneflatnippleandpressdownonit.Hejerks,hisbreathinggoingheavier.Itrailthatsamefingerdownthelineofdarkblondhairleadingtohiswaistband,thenflattenmypalmandstrokethedefinedridgeofhisabs.
Dean’slipsfindmyneckagain.Withdeftfingers,heworksthematerialofmyshirtupandeasesitovermyhead.
Hesucksinabreath.“Nobra?”
“Seemedredundant.”
Pleasureignitesinsideofmewhenhecupsmybreasts.Hesweepshisthumbsovermynipples,andgroanssoftly.“Youdon’tknowhowbadlyI’vewantedtoplaywiththesetitsagain.”
Myheadlollstotheside,andhetakesadvantageandlicksapathfrommynecktomyear.HesuckslightlyonthelobeandIsagagainsthiswarmchest,losingmyselfinsensation.Deancontinuestoteasemynipples,butusesonlythepadsofhisfingers.He’sbarelymakingcontact,andmynipplestightenpainfullyeverytimehisfingertipsghostoverthem.
“Perfecthandful.”Hesqueezesbothbreasts,histhumbsdancingalongtheundersideofeachone.“Andthesenipples.JesusChrist,baby.”
Hedipshishead,andIcryoutwhenheflickshistongueovermyrightnipple.Afterallthattortuousnon-attention,thefirm,purposefullickhegivesmeislikeanelectricshockthroughmybody.
“Hellyeah,”hegroans.“Icouldsuckonthesesweetlittlenipplesallnightlong.”
Andthenhefollowsthrough.Atleastwiththesuckingpart.Hecloseshislipsaroundthehardbudanddrawsitintohishot,wetmouth.
“Ohfuck.”Igasp.
“Feelgood?”Hisbreathticklesmybreastsashekisseshiswaytomyothernipple.
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Isitmakingyouwet?”
Imumblesomethingunintelligible,becausehe’slickingplayfulcirclesaroundmynippleandInolongerrememberhowtocreatewordswithmymouth.
“Whatwasthat?”heteases.
Moregibberishcomesout.“Mmrrmblergh.”
Deanlaughs.“Okaythen.IguessI’llhavetofindoutformyself.”Hehooksbothhandsundermywaistbandandtugsmyleggingsandpantiesoff.AfterIkickthemaway,hewastesnotimebringinghishandbetweenmylegs.
Idon’texpectitwhenheslidestwofingersinsideme.“OhmyGod,”Imoan.Thewaveofpleasurenearlyknocksmeoffmyfeet.
“Jesus.Youarewet.Drippingwet,baby.”Agrowlleaveshismouth.Hiseyesareferal,glittering.“IfIdon’tlickthispussyrightthissecond,I’mgoingtolosemymind.”
Iexpecthimtopushmeontothebed.Hesurprisesmebybackingmeupagainstthedoor.Hesinkstohiskneesandwrenchesmylegsapart,andIshiverwhenIseehimpeeringupatme,lustdarkeninghisgaze.HelickshislipsandIalmostcomeonthespot.
Deansmileswickedlywhenheseesmyexpression.“Youwantmymouthonyou?Mytongue?”
Imanageajerkynod.
Whenhismouthnearsmycore,Imakeastrangledsound.
Whenhistonguefindsmyclit,someoneelsemakesasound.
It’snotme,andit’snotDean,andasHannah’scheerfulvoiceechoesinthehallway,thetwoofusfreezeinplace.Meonmyfeet,Deanonhisknees,asifwe’reperformingapervertedtableauforaliveaudience.
“Hey!”Hannahcallsout.“Ijustcamebacktograbmysheetmusic.IforgottobringitwithmetoGarrett’s.”
Dean’sheadtiltsup,buthislipsarestillcentimetersfrommypussy.PanicfluttersthroughmewhenHannah’sfootstepsgetominouslyclosetomybedroomdoor.
“Allie?”
Ipressmylipstogether.IfIsaynothing,maybeshe’llassumeIwentout.
Butno.There’snowayshecan’tseethelightundermydoor.Andshehadtohavenoticedmycoat,shoesandpurseoutinourcommonarea.
“Allie?”Sherapsonthedoor.
IlookhelplesslyatDean.Theevilgleaminhiseyeshasmenarrowingmyown.Idon’tknowwhathe’splanning,butI—ohGod.Hedragsthetipofhistongueovermyclit,andnowmyeyesarewideninginhorror,becauseI’mprettysureIjustmoaned.
“Icanhearyouinthere,”Hannahaccuses.
Yep,Imoaned.
Iclearthegravelfrommythroat.“Uh,yeah,I’mhere.Sorry,Iwas…”
Deanpepperskissesupanddownmyslit.Iforgethowtotalkagain.
“I…ohgosh,”Isqueezeout.“Ididn’thearyoubefore.”
There’sapause.Along,worrisomepause.
“Allie…”Hannahtrailsoff,coughs,thenkeepsgoing.“AmIinterruptingyouwhileyou’re,um…ridingthesolotraintoOrgasmville?”
Dean’sshouldersbegintoshakeuncontrollably.Hismuffledlaughtervibratesagainstmyclit,andtheresultingeffectrivalsthegoodvibrationsofeverysextoyinmynightstand.
Ahoarse“Yes!”iswrenchedfrommythroat.It’smeantforDean,butHannah,ofcourse,doesn’tknowthat.
“Shit,”sheblurtsout.“I’msorry!Leavingnow!Iswear!”
Herhurriedfootstepsretreatdownthehall.Ihearhermovingaroundinthecommonroom.Thenthefrontdoorshuts.
MyheartisstillracingasIlowermygazetoDean.
“Ithoughtshe’dneverleave,”herasps.14
Dean
AlliecomesfasterthanIexpect.Mytonguebarelytouchesherclitbeforeshe’stremblingandmoaningandrockingagainstmymouth.Iguesstheideaofalmostgettingcaughtisasbigaturn-onforherasitisforme.
Damn,IwishI’dgottenheroffwhenHannahwasstillbehindthedoor.Thatwould’vebeensofuckinghot.Adirtylittlesecretjustforus.Butthisisgoodtoo,Allieridingmyfacelikeshe’sajockeyandI’mherchampionshipracehorse.
Scratchthat,it’smorethangood.Mydickisanironspiketryingtochiselitswayoutofmyjeans,andeachtimeherinnermusclesbeardownonthetwofingersI’vegotlodgedinsideher,Ifeelanansweringjoltinmyballs.Whenherbodyfinallyrelaxes,Igiveherclitonelastteasinglick,thenhoptomyfeet
“Youokaythere?”Igrinatherhazyexpression.
“I’mgreat.”Shesoundssleepyandsated,butshesnapstoattentionwhenIreachformyzipper.
Iletmypantsdroptothefloor.I’mnotwearingboxers,because—whatwasitshesaidbefore?It’sredundant.Whenmycockspringsfree,Igripitinmyrighthandandgiveitamuch-neededstroke.Christ,I’mpainfullyhard.
Ieatupthesightofhernakedbody.She’sshorterthanthechicksIusuallygofor,butI’mokaywiththat.Andshe’ssomehowslenderandcurvyatthesametime.Itakeineveryappetizingdetail,fromherperkytitstohersmooth,paleskintothepinkparadisebetweenherlegs.
Iwasalmostexpectingtobeletdowninsomeway,thatmyweek’sworthoflustingforthisgirlhadexaggeratedherappeal.Ithadn’t.ThankGodshechangedhermind,becauseIwantherasbadlyasIdidbefore.
Mygazetravelsbacktoherface,restingonhersexymouthforamoment,thendropsbacktohercompletelybaremound.
Igroaninfrustration.
“What’swrong?”sheaskshuskily.
“I’mtryingtodecidewhatIwantmore—thoseprettylipswrappedaroundmycock,oryourtightpussysqueezingthehelloutofit.”IslowlypumpmyerectionasIconsiderthetwoequallytemptingoptions.“Givemeyourmouth.”
Herblueeyesnarrow.“WhatifIdon’twantto?”
Isqueezemyswollentipbeforeslidingmyfistdowntothebase,waggingmyfulllengthather.“Don’tactlikeyoudidn’tlikesuckingonthistheothernight.”
Whenshedoesn’tanswer,Istepforwardandpressmynakedbodyagainsthers.Sheshivers.Itakeherhand,wrapitaroundmyshaft,andsheshiversharder.
Idipmyheadtowhisperinherear.“Please,baby,I’vebeensuchagoodboy…I’vewaitedawholeweekforthis.Don’tIdeservearewardformypatience?”Irubthesideofherneckwithmylips.“I’vebeen—”Ikissherjaw“such—”Ikissmywayuptohermouth“—agoodboy.”
Alliemakesabreathynoiseandmovesherhandalongmyshaft.Thenshesinkstoherkneeswithoutaword.Mydicktwitchesinexcitement.Shepartsherlips.Licksthem.Licksthemagain.Ican’ttakemyeyesoffhermouth.Iwantitonme,buttheacheinmyballswarnsmethatthesecondthere’sanykindofsuctiononmycock,itwon’tbelongbeforeIexplode.
Oneflickofthetongue.That’sallAllieisabletodobeforeI’myankinghertoherfeet.“No,nothappening,”Igrindout.“I’mgonnacometoofast.”
Outrageflashesinhereyes.“OhmyGod.You’resuchamouth-tease!”
“Don’tcare.Iwantyourpussy.Getonthebed.”
Ihalfexpecthertoarguewithme,becausesheseemstogetoffonthat,butshe’ssurprisinglyobedient.Inaheartbeat,she’sstretchedoutonthemattress,openingherlegsenticingly.
Fuckme.Herpussylipsareglistening.Icanstilltasteheronmytongue,andnowI’mtryingtodecidewhethertogodownonherasecondtime,becauseholyhell,Iwantanothertaste.LittleDeanbothlovesandhatestheidea,cautioningthatifmymouthsomuchastouchesheragain,I’mgoingtocomesansstimulationalloverhergoddamnsheets.Andwhere’sthefuninthat?
Drawingabreath,IsettleonmykneesinfrontofherandeaseforwardsoI’mcradledbythesoftnessofherthighs.Alliereachesoutahandandgripsmyshaft,andIalmostshootrightthen.Ihadn’tnoticedhernailsbefore—they’rebrightred.Downrightsinfulasshescrapesthemalongmylength.Sherubsthelittleslitthat’sleakingmoisture,andIshudder,pushingmycockheadtowardheropening.
“Condom,”sheremindsme.
Shit.Ican’tbelieveIalmostforgottosuitup.Usuallyit’ssecondnaturetome,likethrowingonmypadsbeforeIhittheice.
Iflingmyarmoverthesideofthebedandfeelaroundontheflooruntilmyfingerscollidewithmypants.IfishoutthecondomI’dtuckedinmypocket.
Amomentlater,I’mbetweenherlegsagain.IwatchherfaceasIfistmycockandguideitcloser.Thetipnudgesher,demandingentrance.Shevisiblytrembles.Withhercheeksflushedandherblondhairfannedoutbehindher,shepaintsthesexiestpictureI’veeverseen.
WebothsighhappilywhenIsinkintohertightsheath.Fuck,Ilovesex.Idon’tcareifmenandwomenwerecreatedbyGodorevolutionorlittlegreenMartians.I’mjusteternallygratefulthatsomeonegaveusdicksandpussiesandafunwaytousethem.
IbenddowntobrushmylipsoverAllie’s,whichchangestheangleslightly,pushingmedeeperinsideher.Ashudderofpleasureovertakesme.Centersme.Ipullmyhipsback,theneasebackin.Slowly.Deliberately.
Allie’sbreathinggetschoppier.“Stopteasingme.”
“Youthinkthisisteasing?”Isplaymypalmonherflatbelly,mythumblightlygrazingherclit.
Whenshearchesherhips,Imovemyhandawayandshewailsindisappointment.Ichuckle.“Thatwouldbeteasing.”
“OhmyGod.Ihateyou.Touchme,”sheorders.“Touchmeandfuckmeandmakemecomeagain.”
Inarrowmyeyes.“Youweren’tthisbossylasttime.OrwasItoodrunktorememberit?”
Alliesitsupinanimpressiveshowofflexibilityandloopsherarmsaroundmyneck.She’sinmylapnow,grindingdownonmydick.“Iwasbossier.Butthat’sbecauseyouneededalotmoreinstruction.”
“Bullshit.YouwerepantinginorgasmthesecondItouchedyou.”
“HowdoyouknowIwasn’tfaking?”shetaunts,andthensherocksherhipsandwebothgroan.
Istillherbyclaspingherwaist.“Wereyou?”I’msuddenlyremindedofLogan’sconfessionthatGracefakedanorgasmthefirsttimetheyhookedup.I’draggedhimmercilesslyaboutit.NowI’mhorrifiedthatAlliemighthavedonethesamething.Sheisadramamajor,afterall…
Shesays,“No,Iwasn’tfaking”andreliefcoursesthroughme.Shegrudginglyadds,“You’rereallygoodinbed.”
“I’mgreatinbed,”Icorrect,thengiveanupwardthrustthatmakeshergaspindelight.
“Dothatagain,”shebegs.
“Doitforme.”Ifallontomybacksoshe’sastridemeandreachuptotweakonepuckerednipple.“RidemeuntilIshoot.”
Hermouthcurvesinawickedsmile.Ohyeah,shelikesthatidea.Bracingherhandsonmyabs,sheraisesherselfup,thensinksdownonmebeforeIcanblink.There’sahotblonderidingmydickandI’minheaven.Herperkytitsswayasshemovesoverme,andwhenherhairfallsontoherforeheadshepushesthegoldenstrandsawayandkeepshergazefixedonmine.Undulating.Grinding.Drivingmecrazy.
“Touchme.”Herdon’t-mess-with-meexpressionpromptsmetobringmyhandtowherewe’rejoinedandobedientlyrubherclitwithmythumb.
Pleasurefloodshereyes,buttheordersdon’tstopthere.“Slower.”Herbreathingquickens.“Doitinlittlecircles.No,notthatmuchpressure.Softer…ohmygosh,yeah,likethat.”
Iain’tgonnalie—Iappreciatehowbluntsheisabouttellingmeexactlywhatsheneeds.Afterall,sheknowsherownbodyahelluvalotbetterthanIdo.ButI’maquicklearner.Itisn’tlongbeforeherwordsbecomemoansandshestartsfuckingmycockinearnest.
She’slyingontopofmenow,herlipssoclosetomyearthateverysexynoiseshemakesgoesstraighttomyballs.Myhipssnapup,overandoveragain,asourbodiesslaptogetherandourmouthsmeetinasloppykiss.
I’mstillkissingherwhenshestartstocome.Shebitesdownonmylowerlipandgivesalowcry,andthemind-blowingsensationofherpussyspasmingaroundmetriggersmyownrelease.Igoofflikearocket,pleasureblurringmyvisionandcloudingmybrain.I’msurprisedthecondomdoesn’tburstfromthemassiveloadIjustpouredintoit.
“Whatthe…?”AsIfloatdownfromthehigh,Iregisteracopperyflavorinmymouth.Itouchmylip.Myfingertipscomebackstainedwithblood.Jesus.Alliehadbittenmehardenoughtodrawblood.Ichokeoutalaugh.
Sheliftsherheadatthestrangledsound.Herhairisatangledmess,hereyelidssoheavythey’renearlyshut.“What…?”Alarmfillsherface.“Ohno!You’rebleeding!”
Ilaughevenharder.I’msofrickin’gladIdidn’tabandonmypursuitofher.Thischickwhoclawsandbitesandfuckswithtotalabandon.I’veneverhadthismuchfuninmylife.
“It’snothing,”Iassureher.
Sheclearlydisagrees,slidingoffmeandreachingforthenightstand.Shecomesbackwithatissueandpressesittomylip.“I’msorry.Doesithurt?”
“Notintheslightest,”Ianswercheerfully.Itakethetissuefromherhandandtossitoverthesideofthebed.ThenIrearrangemybodysomyheadisonthepillowinsteadofthemattress,andtughertowardme.
Allienestlesallthatnakedgoodnessbesidemeandrestsherheadonmyshoulder.“Endlesssupplyofwishes,”shemumbles.
“Huh?”
“Yourdick.”Shesighs.“It’sthegiftthatkeepsongiving.”
“Damnrightitis.ItoldyouI’vegotagreatcock.”
Igrinupattheceilingandstrokehersideboob.Weliethereinsilenceforabit,bothofusstillcatchingourbreath.Eventuallyshemurmurs,“Sowhat’sthiskiddiegameyoumentioned?”
Ittakesasecondtofigureoutwhatshe’stalkingabout.“Oh.TheHurricanes.Mynewdefensivecoordinatorisforcingmetovolunteerattheelementaryschool,soI’mhelpingoutasassistantcoachofthehockeyteam.”
“Thatsoundslikefun.”
“Ican’tbelieveI’msayingthis,but…itis.Fun,Imean.”
Andtonight’sgamewasalotmoreexcitingthanI’danticipated.TheHurricanesfacedoffwiththeteamthat’sleadingtheirdivision,andeverykidontheicetonightplayedatalevelthatimpressedme.Oh,andthewinninggoalwasawristshotcourtesyofRobbieOlsen.Damnedifmychestdidn’toverflowwithpride.
“IvolunteeredatadramacampeverysummerwhenIwasinhighschool,”Allietellsme.“Ialwayshadablast,andIwassobummedwhenthecampshutdown.TheyhelditatthisoldtheaterinBrooklyn,buttheareawasrezoned,sothecitytoreitdownandnowit’sacomputerstore.”Shesitsabruptly.“Ohcrap.Iforgottodosomething.”
Herbodydrapesovermychestassheleanstowardthenightstand.Ican’tresistcapturingonenippleinmymouthandsucklingonit.Thetightbudfeelssofuckinggoodonmytongue.Isuckharder,andAllieshiversbeforebattingmyheadaway.“Holdthatthought.Idon’twanttoforgetthisagain.”
Shegrabsherphone,andIseeherpullingupareminderapp.Shetypessomething.Frommyvantagepoint,itappearstobe“trainticket.”
“Trainticket?”
“Yes,Mr.Nosy.”Shesetsthephonedown.“I’mremindingmyselftobookmytickettoNewYork.IneedtodoitwayinadvancethistimebecauseitgetsreallybusyonThanksgiving.LastyearIendeduphavingtotakealatertrainthatdidn’tgetinuntilfourinthemorning.”
“YouspendingThanksgivingwithyourparents?”
Shestretchesoutbesidemeagain.“Justmydad.”Shepauses.“Mymompassedaway.”
“Ah,I’msorrytohearthat.”Istrokemypalmalongherbarearm.ThenInotehowweirditistobelyinginbedwithher,justtalking.ButI’mstilllimpfromourtriptothebonezone.TheJawsofLifecouldn’tprymeoffthisbedrightnow.“Areyouclosewithyourdad?”Iask.
Herheadlightlybumpsmyshoulderasshenods.“Veryclose.He’sthebestmanI’veeverknown.”
“Whatdoeshedo?”I’mnotsurewhyI’maskingallthesequestions.It’snotahabitofminetotrytogettoknowthechicksI’msleepingwith.ButAllieisdifferent.She’sWellsy’sbestfriend,forstarters.Anditdoesn’tfeelrighttowham-bam-thank-you-ma’amher.
“HewasascoutfortheBruins,”shereveals.
“Noshit?”I’mhighlyimpressed.“Hemustknowhishockeythen.Didheplay?”
“Incollege.HewasdraftedbytheKings,buthetorehisACLduringtrainingcampsohiscareerkindofendedbeforeitevenbegan.Ithinkhewasrelieved,though.Healwayssayshewasbetteratfindingthetalentthanbeingthetalent.”
“Still,that’satoughjob,”Ipointout.“Hemusthavebeentravelingallthefrickin’time.”
“Hewas.Thatpartsucked,howoftenhewasaway.ButMomandIcoped.Aftershedied,Dadwouldtakemewithhimwhenhecould,butmostofthetimeIstayedwithmyauntinQueens.”
“Isheretirednow?”
Shestiffensslightly.“Yeah.Heis.”Anotherpause.“SowhatareyoudoingforThanksgiving?Whereareyoufromagain?Connecticut?”
“Yup.Greenwich.AndManhattan.Myfamilysplitourtimebetweenthetwo,butIwenttohighschoolinConnecticut.”
“Prepschool,”shecorrects.
Itweakherhair.“Stillconsideredhighschool.”
“Sure,butIbetyougotatonmoreperkstherethanIdidatWashingtonPublicinBrooklyn.Youspoiledbrat.”Icanhearinhervoicethatshe’steasing.“Andyoudidn’tanswerwhatyou’redoingfortheholiday.”
“I’mnotsureyet,”Iadmit.“Timingwise,I’mkindascrewed.WeplayHarvardtwodaysafterThanksgiving.”
“So?Greenwichisn’tthatfarfromhere.NeitherisManhattan.Youcanhopatrainorflighttoeitherandstillbebackintimeforthegame.”
“Myfamilywon’tbeinGreenwichorManhattan.They’llbeatthehouseinSt.Bart’s.”
Alliesitsupagain,hermouthagape.Thenshestartstolaugh.“Welllah-di-dah.”Inthenextbreath,sheaffectsaflawlessBritishaccent.“Why,yes,dearboy,myfamilydoesindeedownahomeinSt.Bart’s.Fahthaisanavidsailor,andMuthasimplyadoressippingmimosasonourprivatebeach.”
Ipokeherintheside.“You’rejustjealous.”
“OfcourseIam.YouhaveahouseinSt.Bart’s.That’sbadass.”Herexpressionisthoughtful.“Yourparentsarelawyers,right?”
Inod.
“Ididn’trealizelawyersmadetropical-island-beach-housekindofmoney.”
“Itdependsonthelawyer.Mydadisoneofthetopcriminaldefenseattorneysinthecountry,soyeah,he’sdoingallright,”Isaywryly.“AndMomspecializesinrealestatelaw,whichisalsoprettylucrative.Buttheybothcamefrommoney,too.”
“Letmeguess.GrandpasSebastianandKendrickwereoilbarons?”
Forsomereason,I’mstupidlypleasedthatsherememberedmymiddlenames.“Nope,there’snooilinourfamily.GrandpaSebownedashippingcompany.Well,hestillownsit,butaboardofdirectorsrunsitnow.AndGrampsKendrickwasarealestatedeveloper.”
“LikeDonaldTrump?”
“Prettymuch.DidyouevergointoManhattanwhenyoulivedinBrooklyn?”Ifrownassomethingoccurstome.“Hey,howcomeyoudon’thavetheBrooklynaccent?”
“NeitherofmyparentswasoriginallyfromNewYork,somaybethat’swhy?Dad’sfromOhio.MomgrewupinCalifornia.Italklikethem,Iguess.Anyway,ofcourseI’vebeentoManhattan—doyouthinkIspentmydayshidingundertheBrooklynBridgelikeatroll?”
Isnicker.“EverspendanytimeontheUpperEastSide?”
“Sure.Ihadafriendwholived—”Hereyeswiden.“Holyshit.HeywardPlaza.Ijustputthattogether.”
Theaweonherfacemakesmegrin.
“YouowntheHeywardPlazaHotel?”Allieexclaims.
“Me,personally?No.ButIsupposeImightinherititoneday.Mymom’ssideofthefamily,theHeywards,ownsrealestateallovertheglobe.Hotelsmostly,butwe’vegotthiscoolcondominiuminAbuDhabithat’sbasicallymadeentirelyofglass.It’s—”
“Okay,youneedtostoptalkingnowbecauseyou’remakingmewanttopunchyou.Ihonestlydidn’trealizeyouwerethisrich.I’mnotsureifit’saturn-onoraladyboner-killer.”
“Turn-on,”Isayinstantly.“Everythingaboutmeturnsyouon,remember?”
Shesnorts.“Uh-huh.Ifyousayso.”
Iflashacockygrinandstartpointingatvariouspartsofmybody.“Myface?Turn-on.Chest?Turn-on.I’drolloverandshowyoumyass,butwebothknowtheanswerwillbe‘turn-on’soI’llskipthatone.Dick?Turnthefuckon.Andthenwegettothenon-physicalawesomenessthatisDean.”
“Speakinginthethirdperson?Notaturn-on.”
Iignorethejab.“I’madorable,firstoff.Mysenseofhumorisstellar—obvs.”
“Obvs,”sheechoesdryly.
“I’mextraordinarilyskilledintheartofconversation.”
Shenods.“Whenit’saboutyourself,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse.”Ipretendtothinkitoversomemore.“Oh,andI’mamindreader.Nolie.Ialwaysknowwhattheotherpersonisthinking.”
“Yeah?WhatamIthinkingrightnow?”Alliechallenges.
“Thatyouwantmetoshutupandfuckyouagain.”
Sheshakesherheadindismay.“Goddamnit.That’sactuallywhatIwasthinking.”
Ismirkatherandtapmyforehead.“Toldya.Mindreader.”
“Congratulations.”Shesighs.“Howmanycondomsdidyoubring?”
“One.”
“Underachiever.Stickyourhandinthatdrawer.Shouldbeafewinthere.”
Iopenthenightstanddrawer,which—well,lookeehere—containsmorethanjustrubbers.Myhandemergeswithaseven-inchsiliconevibratorinacomicalshadeofpink.
“Aw,who’sthislittlefella?”Iwavethedildoupanddown,andit’sflexibleenoughthatitflopsaroundlikearealdick.
Alliesnatchesitfrommyhand.“Little?Youbettertakethatbackorelseyou’llgiveWinstonacomplex.”
“Winston?Areyoukiddingme?”
“Ohcomeon,you’retellingmehedoesn’tlooklikeaWinston?”
Istudythepinksextoy.Forsomethingthat’sshapedlikeacock,it’sactuallyridiculouslygirly.AndWinstonisagirlynameifI’veeverheardone.“Huh.Iguesshedoes.”
Shenodsearnestly.“Ihaveatalentforpickingsuitabledicknames.”
Ipromptlyscowlather.“Don’tgetanyideasaboutnamingmine,youhearme?”
“Why?AreyouscaredI’llcomeupwithsomethingbetterthanwhatyou’vealreadygot?”Hertoneispuresweetness.
“WhosaysInamedmydick?”
Allieslantsherheadinchallenge.“Areyousayingyoudidn’t?”
Ishruginresponse.
“Ha!Iknewit!What’shisname?”
Myscowldeepens.
“Comeon,tellme,”shebegs.“IpromiseIwon’tmakefunofyou.”
Afterafive-secondinternaldebate,Icapitulate.“It’sLittleDean.”
Thatmakesherhowlinlaughter.“OhmyGod.Ofcourseitis.Youaresuchadork.”
Ipinchherthighinretaliation,butsheonlylaughsharder,soIshutherupbyrollingheroverandslammingmymouthdownonhers.Sheimmediatelypartsherlipstograntmytongueaccess,andsoonwe’remakingoutandrubbingupagainsteachotherlikecatsinheat.
Ieasemymouthawayandrasp,“Feelliketyingmeupagain?”
“Nope.I’vegotsomethingelseinmind.”
“Damn,butIwasreallyexcitedaboutit.”
“Stopcomplaining,sweetie.Trustme,you’regoingtolikethis.”
It’sherturntorollmeover,andIgroanasshestartskissingherwaydownmybody.Amomentlater,herwarmmouthengulfsmycock,and…yeah…LittleDeansureain’tcomplaining.15
Dean
Saturdaynight’sgameagainstYalestartsoffpromising.
AfterGarrettscoresanearlygoal,wesuccessfullymanagetokeepYaleoutofourzoneformostofthefirstperiod.Well,exceptforwhenBrodowskifoolishlygetsoutofpositionandhandsYale’scenterandrightwingabreakaway.
Thankstothatboneheadmove,I’mfacedwithanoddmanrushandit’spureblindluckthatYaledoesn’tgetagoaloutofit—theshotsmacksoffthepipe.IdivetowardthepuckandsnapoffaquickpasstoHunter.OurforwardsblessedlyflypastthecenterlineintoYaleterritory,whileIdomydamnedestnottostrangleBrodowskiaswewhiztowardthebenchforalinechange.
Isquirtwaterthroughmyfaceguardandspititatmyfeet.Sweatpoursdownmyfacefromtheexertionittooktosinglehandedlydefendourzone.
Besideme,Brodowskiisproperlyshamefaced.“Imessedupthecoverage,”hemutterstome.
Igritmyteethandsay,“Happenstothebestofus.”Becausethat’swhatyou’resupposedtosaywhenyou’repartofateam.Wedon’tplaytheblamegamehereatBriar.
Butifanyoneistoblameforthatbreakaway?It’sBrodowski,sureasshit.
“Whathappenedtoyourlip?”heasks,studyingthethinredcutsplittingmybottomlip.
“Sex,”Igruntinresponse.
Onmyotherside,Tuckersnickers.He’daskedmethesamethingthismorning,andI’dgivenhimthesamenon-answer.
OntheothersideofTucker,oneofourfreshmanwingerslookshighlyimpressed.“You’remyidol,dude,”hecallsout.
Thefirstline’sshiftlastsfortherestoftheperiod,andwehitthelockerroomwithaleadof1-0.Forthefirsttimeinweeks,moraleishigh.
Thesecondperiodstartsoffexactlylikethefirst.Anotherearlygoal,thistimecourtesyofFitzy.We’releading2-0now,andYaleisfeelingthepressure.Asaresult,theycomeatushard,playingaggressivelyandtakingshotaftershotatgoal.PatrickCorsen,ourgoaltender,isnowherenearastalentedasouroldgoalieSimms,whograduatedlastyear.Healsohasabadhabitofskatingtoofarfromthecrease,sowhentheopposingwingerconnectswithacenteringpassfromhisD-man,Corsenisn’tinpositiontostopthepuck.
Butit’sallright.We’restillinthelead.For…oh,aboutanotherthirtyseconds.I’mhoppingoutformyshiftwhenthesamewingerwho’djustscoreddoesanimpressivewraparoundandflicksanothershotpastCorsen.Thefuckerscoresagain.Twogoalsinlessthanaminute,andjustlikethat,ourleadbecomesatie.
Therestofthesecondisscoreless.
Inthethird,everythingfallsapartforus.Ican’tevencountallthethingsthatgowrong—it’sonebullshiterroraftertheother.
Logantakesatwo-minutepenaltyforslashing.Yalescoresonthepowerplay.
2-3.
Wilkeslandsinthesinbinforhooking.Yalescoresonthepowerplay.
2-4.
Corsenisfakedoutbyawinger,whomovesasifhe’sshootinglow,thensnapsthepuckhigh.Itfliesintothenet,topleftcorner.Yalescores,andthistimeweweren’tevenshort-handed.
2-5.
Hunterslapsinaone-timer.
3-5.
Itakeabrainlesstrippingpenalty.Yalescoresonthepowerplay.
3-6.
Thefinalbuzzersounds,andwe’velostourthirdgameoftheseason.Funtimes
*
O’SheapullsmeasidebeforeIcanboardthebus.HealreadyyelledatmeandLoganinthelockerroomfortakingfoolishpenaltiesthatresultedintwogoalsfortheotherteam,andIsincerelyhopehe’snotgearinguptodoitagain.I’minafoulmoodandmybrain-to-mouthfiltersaren’tworkingatfullcapacityrightnow.IfO’Sheapushesmybuttons,Idon’tknowthatIcancontrolmytemper.
“Whatisit,Coach?”Iaskaspolitelyaspossible.
Hisdarkeyesflickoverme,andthenhereachesintohispocketandpullsoutaBlackBerry.Whichmomentarilydistractsme,becauseIcan’trememberthelasttimeIsawaBlackBerry.Doesn’tprettymucheveryonehaveaniPhonethesedays?
“Anythingyou’dliketotellme?”O’Sheasayscoolly.
Iamliterallydrawingablank.“Um…aboutwhat?”
Hisjawticks.Withoutaword,hehandsmethephone.
There’saslightqueasinessinmygutasIglanceatthescreen.It’sopentoanInstagramaccountIdon’trecognize,butthephotoinquestionfeaturesaslewoffamiliarfaces,includingmyown.I’mnotsurewhotookit,butitwasobviouslysomechickwhowasatMalone’sonThursdaynight,becausethehashtagsbelowtheimageare#HockeyHottiesand#SexyBriarBoys.
I’llbehonest—I’mnotreallyseeingtheproblemhere.Thepictureshowstheguysandmeclinkingourshotglassestogetherincheers.We’dorderedtheroundofshotsbeforeswitchingtopitchersofbeer.Andsure,we’redrinking,butnoneofusareminors,andit’snotlikewe’dgottencaughtwithourpantsdown,hangingbrain.We’rejustsittinginabooth,forchrissake.
“Stillhavenothingtosay?”
IraisemygazetoO’Shea’s.“ThiswastakenonThursdaynight.WewerecelebratingFitzy’sbirthday.”
“Icanseethat.Andexactlyhowmuchcelebratingdidyoudo?”
“Ifyou’reaskingifwegotsloppydrunk,theanswerisno.”
Thatdoesn’tappeasehim.“DoyourememberwhatItoldyouinJensen’sofficetheotherday?Isaidnoboozing,nodrugs,andnobrawling.”
“Weweren’t‘boozing’,sir.Wejusthadafewdrinks.”
“AreyouawareofBriar’spolicyregardingdrugandalcoholrestrictionsforstudentathletes?Ifnot,I’dbehappytoprovideyouwithacopyofit.”
“Oh,comeon,Coach,youcan’texpectusnottodrink.We’reincollege,forfu—Pete’ssake.Andwe’reallovertwenty-one.”
“Watchyourtone,DiLaurentis,”hesnaps.“Andyes,theothercoachesandIdoexpectthatofyou.Aslongasyouplayhockeyforthisschool,you’retofollowtherulessetoutbyyourcoachesandtheNCAA,andconductyourselfaccordingly.”
“Sir…”Itakeacalmingbreath.ButIdon’tfeelcalm.I’mpissedabouttonight’slossandnotinthemoodtogetchewedoutforhavingacouplegoddamndrinks.“MyteammatesandIconductedourselvessuperblythenightinquestion.Sorestassured,youhavenothingtoworryabout.”
“Don’tgetsmartwithme,son.Wehaveaseriousproblemhere—”
“No,wedon’t,”Icutin.“Ithinkyou’reoverreacting.Wewenttoabarandhadafewbeers.It’swhatwedo,okay?Buthey,ifthisissomethingyou’retrulyconcernedabout,maybeyoushouldrunitbyCoachJensenandseewhathesays.”Mymouthtwistsinasneer.“He’stheheadcoachofthisteam,right?Shouldn’thebetheonetohandlethis‘seriousproblem’?”
Iregretthewordsthemomenttheyexitmymouth,butgoddamnit,I’vehadituptoherewiththisman.
Predictably,O’Sheadoesn’ttakekindlytohavinghisauthoritychallenged.“Chadhasgivenmefreereinoverthedefensemen,anditwouldserveyouwelltorememberthat,”hespitsout.“Whenitcomestothedefense,Ihandleanyissuesthatarise.Andthis,Mr.DiLaurentis,isanissue.Youwillnotindulgeinalcoholordrugsofanykindwhileyou’reamemberofthisteam,youhearme?”
Forchrissake.I’mdonewiththisshit.
“Yougotit,Coach.CanIgetonthebusnow?”
Angerreddenshisface.“Youwanttojoinyourteammatesonthebus?Thenyou’dbettertakesomefuckingresponsibilityforyouractions.Acknowledgethatyoudidsomethingwrong.”
I’msecondsawayfromlosingit.Myhandsballintofists,butbysomemiracle,Imanagetostopmyselffromhittinghim.“Outofcuriosity,areyouplanningondeliveringthissamelecturetoeveryoneelseinthatpicture?OramIjustspecial?”
“Iplanontalkingtoallofthem,don’tyouworry.IchosetospeaktoyoufirstbecauseIwasalreadyawareofyourhistorywithalcoholabuse.”Heliftsoneeyebrow,andholyfuckingshit,Ialmostletmyfistfly.
Myhistorywithalcoholabuse?
Fuckthat.Andfuckhim
HeknowsdamnwellIdon’thaveaproblemwithalcohol.He’sjustbeingaspitefulassandtryingtofindnewwaystopunishmeforwhathappenedwithMiranda.Butthis?ReferencingtheonetimeIdranktoomuch—whenIwasagoddamnteenager—andusingittoimplyI’madrunk?
I’m.So.Done.With.This.Shit.
“Thankyouforyourconcern,”Isaypleasantly.“It’smuchappreciated.Really.”ThenIleavehimstandingonthepavementandstalktowardthebus.
Fortunately,hedoesn’tstopme.
I’mstillfightingtogatherthescatteredpiecesofmycomposureasIslideintomyusualseatnexttoTucker,whoshootsmeaquizzicallook.“Whatwasthatabout?”
“Absolutelynothing.”Ifishmyearbudsoutofmypocketandpopthemin.IfTuckconsidersthatrude,hedoesn’tsayanything—hejustlowershisgazetohisphone,andafewminuteslater,we’reontheroad.
TherocktrackthatcomesuponmyiPodshuffleonlyrilesmeupmore,soIpulluptheplaylistWellsymadeformethissummerandtrytocalmdowntothesoundsofsmoothjazzandeasycrooning.Nope.Notworking,either.IswitchofftheiPodandlistentothelowchatterofmyteammatesinstead.
LoganandFitzyarebabblingaboutafirst-shootervideogamethatFitzyisreviewingforthecollegeblog.Hollisistryingtoconvincesomeonetomeethimathisdorm—“I’llmakeitworthyourwhile,baby”—whichmeanshe’seitheronthephone,orheandhisseatmatejustcameouttotheentirebus.CorsenandhisseatmatearearguingaboutwhothehottestactressonGameofThronesis:thechickwhoplaysDaenerysorthebroadwhoplaysCersei.
“You’rebothwrong,”Garrettcallsout.“Melisandreisthehottest.Handsdown.”
“Theredwitch?Noway.Shegavebirthtoagrossshadowcreature.Thatpussy’stainted,dude.”
“Spoileralert!”Wilkessaysirritably.“Iwasplanningonstartingseasononethisweekend!”
“Don’tbother,”Fitzyadvises.“Theshowsucks.Readthebooksinstead.”
“IsweartoGod,ifyoutellusto‘readthebooks’onemoretime,I’mgoingtostrangleyou,”Corsenannounces.“Imeanit.I’llstraightupstrangleyou,Colin.”
Ourresidentnerdshrugs.“Can’thelpitifthebooksarebetter.”
Idon’tjoinin,butsecretlyIagreewithFitz.Thebooksarebetter.ThoughIdoubtanyonewillbelievemeifIsaidIread’em.Withtheexceptionofmyroommates,mostofmyteammatesdon’ttakemeseriously.I’mprettysuretheythinkI’monlyattendingHarvardLawbecausemyrichparentsboughtmywayin.Doesn’tbotherme,ifI’mbeinghonest.Igetakickoutofitwhenpeopleunderestimatemyintelligence.HalfthetimeIwillinglyplayintothedumbblondstereotype,justforfunsies.
Asthechattercontinues,Ituneeveryoneoutandreachformyphone.Idon’tknowwhatcompelsmetoopentheFacebookappandsearchhername.I’monautopilot,barelyawareofwhatI’mdoinguntilthesearchresultspopup.
TherearedozensofMirandaO’SheasonFacebook,butnoneofthemaretheoneI’mlookingfor.
Idoanothersearch,thistimewithhernameandthewords“DukeUniversity.”Ihavenoideaifsheevengoesthere,butitseemslikeagoodplacetostart.Whenweweredating,allMirandaevertalkedaboutwashowmuchshewantedtogetintoDuke.
Thistimeherprofileappearsonthescreen.
Istudythesmallthumbnailpic.Shehasn’tchangedinfouryears.Shestillhasthesameroundface,thesameunrulydarkcurls,thesamebrowneyes.
Tomydismay,herprofileisprivate.Ican’tseeanythingexceptherprofilepicandcoverphoto,whichisagenericbeachlandscape.Istareatthelittlegreenbuttonatthetopofthepage.
Addfriend
Idon’tknowwhatpossessesmetoclickit.ButIdo.
Withthefriendrequestsent,Iturnofftheappandputmyphoneaway.Tuckerisn’tonhisanymoreeither.He’sleaningbackagainsttheheadrestwithhiseyesclosed,andIdecidetofollowhislead.We’vegottwomorehoursuntilwereachBoston,thenanotherhourtoHastings.Mightaswellgetsomesleepandtrytoforgettonight’sdisastrousgame.
Thenapdoesthetrick.Iwakeupfeelingcenteredandrelaxed,andwhenIpeeroutthewindowandwaitforthenextroadsigntoappear,Idiscoverwe’reonlyahalfhourfromcampus.
Intheseatbesideme,Tuckerisalsoawake,typingonhisphoneagain.
“Dude,areyoudatingsomeone?”Ican’tstopmyselffromasking.I’vebarelyseenTuckerlately,andweliveinthesamehouse.
“No,”hesaysdismissively.
“Yousureaboutthat?”
“IthinkIwouldknowifIwasdatingsomeone.”Butthere’sanoddnoteinhisvoice,whichIcan’tforthelifeofmedecipher.
“Where’veyoubeen,then?You’reneverhomeanymore.”
Tuckershrugs.“Igotoclass.Studyatthelibrary.Chillinmyroom.”Hepauses.“Icrashedatafriend’splaceinBostonafewtimes.”
“Whatfriend?”
Beforehecananswer,myphonerings,andIswearhelooksrelieved.Imakeanotetocross-examinehimagainlater.It’llbegoodpracticeforlawschool.
IpickupwhenIseeBeau’snameandgivehimtheusualgreeting.“Maxwell.What’sshaking?”
“Hey.Howwasthegame?”Loudmusicblastsinthebackground,butIcanhearhimloudandclear.
“Shitty.”
“Yeah.Ireadtherecaponthecollegesportsblog.Yougotyourasseskicked.”
“Why’dyouevenaskhowitwentifyoualreadyknewtheanswer?”
“Iwasbeingpolite.”
Ihavetosnicker.
“Anyway,partyatmyplacetonight.Iknowit’slate,butI’mstillextendinganinvite.FiguredyoumightneedsomethingtohelptakeyourmindoffthebeatingyougotfromYale.”
Iconsiderit,butonlybriefly.“Naah.Thanks,butI’mnotinthemood.”Atiredbreathslipsout.“It’sbeenacrapnight.”
“Allthemorereasonforyoutocomeout.It’sahotgirlsmorgasbordinhere.Andyouknowwomen—theycan’tresistamopey,broodingman.Tellthemhowsadyouareaboutlosingyourgame,andthey’llbebeggingyoutoletthemmakeyoufeelbetter.”Hepauses.“Wait.Unlessyou’restilldealingwith…ah,equipmentmalfunctions?”
“Nope.We’reallbetternow.”
“Nice!DoesthatmeanBellafinallythrewyouanotherbone?”
“Bella?”Isayblankly.
“Yeah,youknow,thechickyouimprintedon.”
Ichuckle.“Right.Yeah,shedid.”Ikeepmyresponsevague,becauseTuckerisrightthereandhe’snotallowedtoknowaboutAllieandme.And…shit.IguessthatmeansI’mnotallowedtoharasshimforbeingsosecretivelately,whatwiththispot/kettlesituationwe’rein.
“Good,thenyou’reallfixed.Nowcomeoverandputthatnewlyfunctioningdongtogooduse.”
“Naah,”Isayagain.“I’mreallynotfeelingit.”ButIamfeelingsomethingelse,becauseasusual,themerethoughtofAlliegetsmehard.“We’llconnectsometimethisweek.Gooutforbeersorsomething.”
“Soundsgood.Later,bro.”
Thesecondwehangup,Iopenanewtextbox.It’llbenearlyonea.m.bythetimeIgethome.That’sabsolutelybootycallterritory,butit’sSaturdaynightandAlliedoesn’thaveclassestomorrow,soIfigureI’msafe.
Me:u+me=wildanimalsex2nite?
Sherespondsrightaway.Good,she’sstillup.
Her:u=tempting–me=alreadyinbed÷sleep.
Me:Whythedivisionsign??
Her:Idon’tknow.Iwastryingtoanswerinmath.Bottomline:I’minbed.
Me:Perfect.That’srightwhereIwantutobe.I’llbetherein45.
Her:Ucan’t.Hannah’shome.
Me:We’llbevery,veryquiet.Shewon’tevenknowI’mthere.
There’sashortdelay,andevenbeforeheranswerappears,Iknowit’sgoingtobeano.
Her:Don’twant2riskit.Let’swaitforanitewecanbealone.
Me:Uhavenosenseofadventure.
Her:Uhavenopatience.
Me:Notwhenitcomestou.
Her:Wehadsex3timeslastnite!I’msurethat’lltideuovertilweseeeachotheragain.
Me:Andwhenwillthatbe?
Her:Tomorrownitemaybe?I’llletuknow.
Me:Fine.
Me:Btw—totallygonnathinkofuwhenI’mjerkingoff2nite.
Her:That’scool.Ijustfingeredmyselfandpretendeditwasu.
Igroanoutloud.
Tuckerswivelshisheadtowardme.Helooksatmyface,thenmyphone,thenrollshiseyes.“Seriously,man?You’resextingrightbesideme?Getaroom.”
IwishIcouldgetaroom.Allie’sroom,tobeexact.Butclearlythat’snotinthecardstonight.Andnow,thankstothatlittlecocktease,Igettospendtherestofthebusridewithastiffy.16
Dean
“Doyouhaveagirlfriend?”Dakotaskipsaroundtheequipmentroomlikeatinypixie,whileIstackhelmetsontheshelfinfrontofme.
Sincetheboys’lockerroomisn’texclusivetothehockeyteam—it’salsotheoneusedbyeveryothermalestudentatHastingsElementary—thatmeansallthehockeygearneedstobestoredinthisequipmentroom.Asassistantcoach,it’smyjobtoputitallaway.
“Well,doyou?”shedemandswhenItakelongerthantwosecondstorespond.
Iglanceatherovermyshoulder.“No,Idon’t.Andshouldn’tyoubedoingyourhomeworkrightnow?”NotthatImindhercompany.Dakotaishighlyentertaining.
Shehopsupontotheclosedlidofalargestoragecontainerandsitscross-legged.“Don’thaveanyhomeworktoday.”Twirlingtheendofherblondponytail,shechewsloudlyonhergum,blowsabigpinkbubble,thensays,“Whynot?”
“Whynotwhat?”Ishovethelasthelmetontheshelfandturntowardher.
“Whydon’tyouhaveagirlfriend?”
“BecauseIdon’t.”
“Haveyoueverhadagirlfriend?”
“Sure.I’vehadlots.”Well,notsinceIstartedcollege,butIdon’ttellDakotathat.Itprobablyisn’tappropriatetorevealtoaten-year-oldgirlthatI’vebeensingleforthelastfewyearsbecauseIwasbusyscrewingmywaythroughBriar.
Speakingofscrewing,ifIdon’tgetsomeactionsoon,IsweartoGodmyballswillexplode.Ididn’tendupseeingAllieonSunday,andshewasn’tabletomeetupyesterdayeither.She’sbeenbusywithrehearsalsandmentionedsomethingaboutneedingtomakeanauditiontape,butI’mstartingtowonderifshe’sdodgingme.She’dbetternotbe,becauseI’mnotreadyforthis…fling?Sure,fling.I’mnotreadyforthisflingtoend.
“YouknowmybrotherRobbie?”Dakotaasksinahushedvoice.
Isnickerloudly.“No,kid,Idon’tknowRobbie.Ijustcoachhisteam.”
Asheepishflushbloomsonhercheeks.“Oops.Right.Thatwasastupidquestion.”
“Yathink?”
Giggling,shesays,“Anyway,youcan’ttellanyone,butRobbiehasagirlfriend!”
Iraisemyeyebrows.“Yeah?Andhowdoyouknowthat?Areyouspyingonyourbigbrother?”
“No,hetoldme,dum-dum.Robbietellsmeeverything.HernameisLaceyandshe’sineighthgrade.”Dakotashakesherheadinamazement.“That’sawholegradehigherthanhim.”
Istiflethelaughterthreateningtospillover.“Landedhimselfanolderwoman,huh?GoodforRobbie.”
Dakotalowershervoicetoawhisperandproceedstotellmeeverysingledetailaboutherbrother’seighth-gradegirlfriend.Ilistenobligingly,allthewhiletryingtopinpointexactlywhenitwasthathangingoutwithmiddle-schoolersbecamethehighlightofmydays.
Don’tgetmewrong,thetimeI’vespentatBriarhasbeenawesome.Myhockeyteamwonthreenationalchampionships,andacademicallyI’vealwaysbeenatthetopofmyclass.TheonlycourseIhadtroublewithwasanincomprehensiblepoliticsclassinsophomoreyear,whichIfinishedwithaB+.ButIdon’tliketothinkaboutthatgrade,becauseit’stangledupwithalotofotherbullshitI’dratherforget.Despitethat,Ican’tdenyI’vehadasuccessfulacademiccareer.IknockedtheLSATSoutofthepark.IgotintoHarvardLawonmyownmeritinsteadofrelyingonmyfamilyname.
ButIdon’tremembereverbeingexcitedaboutmycourses.Ididn’tjumpforjoywhenmyLSATscorescameback.AndI’mcertainlynotdoingcartwheelsatthethoughtofgoingtoHarvard.
ItwasalwaysassumedthatI’dgothelawschoolroute.It’snotsomethingmyfolkspushedmeinto,butIcan’tpretendit’ssomethingI’mpassionateabout.Notlikemybrother,wholivesandbreathesthelaw.Heloveshisjobatthefirm,saysthateverytimehestepsintoacourtroom,hefeelsalive.It’sthesamewayGarrettandLoganfeelaboutplayinghockey.
Me?I’veneverhadthatfeelingbefore.Lovingsomethingsohardthatitbuzzesthroughmybloodandmakesmyentirebodycometolife.
OratleastIhadn’tfeltthatwaybeforeFridaynight,whenIwitnessedtheHurricanesutterlydominatethedivisionleader.Andthenagaintoday,whenIsetupapassinghorseshoedrillandwatchedeveryboyontheiceabsolutelykillit
“Dean,you’renotlistening!”
Dakota’saggravatedvoicejerksmefrommythoughts.“Sorry,kid.Ispacedout.Whatwereyousaying?”
“Nothing,”shemutters.
She’sobviouslyupsetaboutbeingignored,whichtellsmeshemusthavesaidsomethingimportant.Idragametalchairtowardher,twistitaround,andstraddleit,restingmyforearmsonthebackrest.“Talktome.”
Herbottomlipsticksoutinapout.“Iwasaskingyouaquestion.”
“Okay,thenaskitagain.Ipromisetolistenthistime.”
“Willyou…”Therestfliesoutinahurriedrush.“Teachmehowtoskate?”
“Canyouslowthatdown?”Iaskwithasmile.
“Teachmehowtoskate,”sherepeats.
Ifurrowmybrow.“Youdon’tknowhowtoskate?”
Dakotaslowlyshakesherhead.
“Whythehe—hecknot?”I’maghast.WholivesinNewEnglandanddoesn’tknowhowtoskate?That’sjustblasphemy.
“Mymomonlyhadenoughmoneytosendoneofustoskatinglessons,andRobbie’soldersohegottogo.Andhe’sgonnabeafamoushockeyplayeronedaysoheneedstoknowhowtoskate.”
AlthoughDakota’stoneisdefensive,Idon’tmissthenoteofhurtbeneaththesurface.Myheartdoesapainfullittlesomersault.MysiblingsandIneverhadthesekindsofproblemsgrowingup.Ourfamilyhadplentyofmoney,whichmeanswedidn’thavetomakeanysacrifices.Summergotherballetlessonsandswimmingcertificates.NickandIgotourskatinglessonsandhockeycampsandalltheequipmentweeverneeded.
Ihadn’tliedtoAllietheotherweek—theLifeofDeanisprettyfuckingsweet.I’vealwaysgottenwhateverIwanted.
Now,seeingDakota’supsetface,Ifeellikeaspoiled,ungratefulbrat.
“Iguessthatmeansyoudon’townskates?”Isayslowly.
Shegivesanothershakeofthehead.
“Whatsizeareyourfeet?”
“Idunno.Small?”
Ichuckle.“Letmeseeoneofyourshoes.”
Shequicklypullsoffaneon-pinksneakerandholdsitoutforme.
AfterIcheckthesizetag,Ihandtheshoebackandwanderovertothelargemetalcabinetthatholdstheboys’skates.Mostofthemarefartoobigforher,butaftersomeriflinganddiggingaround,IfindapairofBauersonthebottomshelfthatmightfither.
Iholdupthescuffedblackskates.“Trytheseon?”
Horrorfillsherbigblueeyes.“Butthoseareboyskates!Iwantgirlskates.”
Anotherlaughticklesmythroat.Whenherexpressioncollapses,Isighinstead.“Okay.Don’tworry,kid.I’llseewhatIcando,okay?”ItucktheevilboyBauersbackinthecabinetandfirmlyshutthedoorbeforesheburstsintotears
CoachEllischoosesthatmomenttopokehisheadintheroom.“Yourmother’shere,”hetellsDakota.
I’mafraidhe’llnoticeherstrickenfaceandhavemearrestedforupsettingaminororsomething,butwhenIglancebackatDakota,she’sallsmiles.
“Bye,Dean!”Shehopsoffthecrateanddartsoutthedoor.
Ellisgrinsatme.“Sweetkid,huh?”
Ifollowhimoutoftheequipmentroomandwespendacoupleminutesdiscussingwhatwewanttheboystoworkonnextpractice.Oncewewrapup,Ileavethearenaandcheckmyphoneonthewaytomycar.There’satextfromGarrettsayinghe’scrashingatBristolHousewithHannahtonight,butthathelefthisJeepathome,sohe’llneedaridebackfrompracticetomorrow.
WhenIstrideintoourkitchentenminuteslater,IfindanotefromTuckeronthefridge,informingushe’sspendingthenightatafriend’s.Hismysteriousnon-girlfriend,Isuppose.
Andthen?Thetrifecta.Loganwandersintogrababottleofwaterandsayshewon’tbehometillate.
“Where’reyougoing?”IaskasIrummagearoundinthefridge.
“Boston.Grace’sdadgotusticketsforthisorchestrathing.Neitherofusreallywanttogo,butshesayshe’llbehurtifwedon’t.”
Igrinovermyshoulder.“Soyou’respendingyoureveninglisteningtoclassicalmusic?”
“Yup,”hesaysglumly.“Butthere’sanintermission,soGracepromisedwecouldfoolaroundinthecoatclosetduringit.”
“Soundslikeagoodtradeoff.”
“Iknow,right?”
Loganleavesacoupleminuteslater,andmyin-dire-need-of-sexlibidospringstolifeatthethoughtofhavingthehousetomyselftonight.Idon’twasteanytimecontactingAllie,whomustbeashornyasIam,becausesheanswersrightaway.
Her:YES!3daysofstress=comingoverrightaftermyworkout.Gimmeacouplehours,tho.
Me:Favortoask.
Her:?
Me:BringWinston.
Therequestearnsmealaughingemoticonandawinkyface,whichcouldeithermean“That’shilariousbutno”or“That’shilariousandyesIwill.”Ihopeforthelatter.
*
IflipthroughaSportsIllustratedatthekitchencounterwhileIscarfdownmydinner,whichconsistsofleftoverchickenandbroccoli.Theteamnutritionistemailsusaweeklylistofsuggestedmealplans,butTucker,ourresidentchef,seemstothinktheword“suggested”means“mandatory”becauseherefusestokeepanyjunkfoodinthehouse.Sincehe’stheonlyonewhorememberstogogroceryshoppingandtheonlyonewhoactuallyenjoyscooking,thisisthehealthiesthouseonthefuckingplanet.
Afterdinner,Ishower,shave,anddoalittlebitofmanscaping,becauseI’mnicelikethat.ThenIsettleatmydesktostartmyInternationalRelationspaper,whichI’mstillworkingonwhenAllieringsthedoorbell.Isavethefile,closethelaptop,andgodownstairstoletherin.
She’sonthephonewhenIswingopenthedoor.Shemouths,“Sorry”andholdsuponefingertoindicateshe’llbeaminute.
“Wantdinner?”Imurmurassheentersthefronthall.“We’vegotleftovers.”
Alliecoversthemouthpieceforasecond.“Thanks,Ialreadyate.”Sheliftsherhand,“No,I’mstillhere,Ira.Andyes,Isentyouthetape.Idon’tgetwhyyouneededitthisfast,ifthey’renotmakinganycastingdecisionsuntilFebruary.”
Weheadupstairs,andIletherwalkaheadofmesoIcanadmireherass.Whenwereachthesecond-floorlanding,Ican’thelpbuteaseinbehindher,rubbingmyachinggroinagainstherbottomasIbendmyheadtokissherneck.
Sheshiversandswatsmeaway.“Idon’tknow,”shesaysintothephone.“I’mstillonthefenceaboutthisrole.”Shepauses.“Yes,Ireadwhattheyaskedmetoread.MyfriendMeganreadZoey’spartoff-camera.”
Inoticethatshekeepsrubbingherlowerback.Everytimeherpalmtouchesacertainspot,herexpressiongrowspained.Ormaybeshe’sjustannoyedwithwhateverthisIradudeissayingtoher.
“Iovernightedittoyouatthecampusshippingcenter,soyoushouldgetittomorrowafternoon.”Shepressesherhandtohertailbone,massagingabsently.“IfyouthinkIneedtoredoit,Iwill.ButIdidthebestIcouldwithwhattheygaveme…yes…yes,Ira…we’lltalktomorrow.”
Shehangsupandturnstowardme.“Myagentisdrivingmenuts,”sheannounces
Ihadn’tevenknownshehadanagent,soI’mnotablyimpressed.“Howcome?”
“HewantsmetoauditionforthisFoxpilot,butI’mnotabletoflytoLAforthecastingsessionsoIhadtosendanauditiontapeinstead.Nowhe’sallworriedthatmy‘naturalcharm’won’tshowthroughoncamera.Whichisfrickingstupid,becausethat’swhattelevisionactingis—conveyingemotiononcamera.”
IfrownwhenInoticeshe’sstillclutchingherback.“What’swrong?”
“Idon’tknow,”shemoans.“IthinkIpulledsomethingatthegym.I’vebeensuperstressedaboutthisplayI’mdoing,andIworkedmyselftoohardtonight.Mybackiskillingme.”
“Wantmetorubitforyou?”
“God,yes.Please?”
I’mabouttoinstructhertolieonthebed,butthenIhaveabetteridea.“Getnaked,”Iorder.“I’llberightback.”
Afteryearsofplayingsports,I’mnostrangertoachesandpains.Tightmuscles,soreribs,bustedknees…I’vehaditall,andIdiscoveredalongtimeagothatnothingloosensmeupmorethanagoodsoak.Sinceavisittotheteamfacility’swhirlpoolorsteamroomisn’tanoption,Idothenextbestthingbyrunningascaldinghotbath.
Asthewaterlevelrises,IrummageinthecabinetunderthesinktoseeifthereareanybathsaltsoroilsIcandumpinthere.Ifindabottleofbubblebath,whichIassumebelongstoGracebecauseHannahhastheluxuryofusingGarrett’sprivatebathroom.G,thatgreedybastard,pulledrankonusandusedtheteamcaptaincardtoclaimthemasterbedroomwhenwemovedintothishouse.
Logan,TuckandIareforcedtosharetheoneinthehall,anditshows.Theshelvesareoverflowingwithdudeproducts,thetowelsareforeveronthefloor,andthewastebasketcontainsanalarmingamountofcondomwrappers.
Sighing,Istartcollectingthediscardedtowels.Loganleftapairofkhakisontherack,butIjustdrapethedamptowelsoverthepants,thengrabtwocleanonesfromthelinenclosetandsetthemontheclosedtoiletlid.
IreturntothebedroomtofindaverynakedAlliesittingattheedgeofthebed.Mybodyresponds,hardeningtothesightofallthatsmooth,bareskin.Hernipplesarepointedinsalute.Fuck,Iwanttosuckonthem.
AgrinbreaksoutwhenInoticewhatshe’sholding.“Youactuallybroughthim?”
“YoutextedwhenIwasstillatthedorm,soIdecidedtograntyouyourfavor.”Shemenacinglywavesthedildoatme.“ButifyouwantmetoshoveWinstonupyourbutt,it’snothappening.”
Ichokeoutalaugh.“Don’tworry.I’dpreferitifmybuttstayedWinston-free.”
“Good.”Shelovinglystrokesthepinkphallus.“Don’tgetmewrong—I’lltotallyshovewhateveryouwantupthere.JustnotWinston.He’sspecialtome.”
Wait,what?
“Holdup.That’syourissue?You’rewillingtopegmeifIaskyouto,butonlyaslongaswedon’tuseyourpreciousWinston?”
“OfcourseI’dpegyouifyouaskedmeto.”Shesaysthisasifit’sthemostnormalthingontheplanet.“WhywouldIeverdenyyouallthatprostatepleasure?It’sliketellingawomanyouwon’ttouchherclit.”
“Asamanwhohasneverexperimentedwithhisprostate,Ican’tcommentonthestrengthofthatcomparison.”
Herjawdrops.“Never?Really?Okay,we’redefinitelygoingtohavetochangethat.”
“Pass.”Itughertoherfeet,enjoyingthesightofherbaretitsswaying.“Comeon,I’vegotsomethingthatwillmakeyoursorebackfeelbetter.”
Ileadhertothebathroom,andherfacelightsupwhensheseesthebubblebathI’dprepared.“Ohmygosh.Thisisawesome.”
Takingthevibratoroutofherhand,Inudgehertowardthetub.“Getin.Butmakesuretoleavesomeroomforme.”
“Ooooh,we’rebathingtogether?Kinky.”Shedelicatelydipsonefootinthewater,thenmoansloudenoughtowakeupmydick.Notthathewasasleep.He’salwaysonhighalertwhenthisgirlisaround.“Niceandhot,”shepurrs.
Isecondthat.
IsetWinstonontheedgeofthetub,thenstripoutofmyT-shirtandsweats.ThewatersloshesasAllieslidesforwardsoIcangetinbehindher.
Thesteamrisingaroundussmellslikethestrawberryflavorofthebubblebath.Imakeacontentednoise,drawingherslippery,nakedbodyagainstmychest.Mylegsaretoolongforthisdamntub,soIhavetopropmykneesup,butIdon’tcare,becauseAllie’sroundassispressedupagainstmycockandI’mperfectlywillingtodealwithsomelegcrampsifitmeanskeepingherinthisposition.
“Okay,backtoourbutttalk.Areyoureallynottheleastbitcurioustoknowwhatitfeelslike?”
Iglidemyhandsdowntohertailboneandstartkneadinghersmooth,wetflesh.“Notintheslightest.”
“Oooh,thatfeelsgreat…keepdoingthat…”Shemoansagainasshesagsintomytouch.“Whataboutafinger?Letmestickonefingerupthereandseewhathappens.”
Isnort.“Iappreciatetheoffer,butno.”
“Wouldyoufeelbetterifaguydidittoyou?Because,sweetie,Ihaveafewgayfriendswhowouldkilltogettheirhandsonyourass.”
ThistimeIgivehera“Hellno.”
“Inevertookyouforahomophobe,”shetaunts.
“I’mnot.”
“Liar.”
“I’mnot.Seriously,Idon’tcareifyou’regayorstraightorbiorwhateverothercategoryyoufallunder.I’mjustnotinterestedinbottomingforsomedude.Dicksdon’tdoitforme.”
“Howdoyouknow?”shechallenges.“Whatifyouhookupwithaguyandenduplovingit?”
“Trustme,Iwon’t.”
“Howcanyoubesureunlessyoutryit?”Ishrug,whichsummonsasquealfromher.“OhmyGod,youhavetriedit!”Watersplashesovertheedgeofthetubasshetwistsaroundsowe’refacetoface.“Whowashe?Whatdidhelooklike?Whatdidyouguysdo?Tellmeeverything!”
“There’snothingtotell.”
“Bullshit.”Sherunsonehandoverthetinywhitebubblesclingingtomypecs.“I’llmakeyouadeal.Ifyoutellmeaboutyourgayexperience…”Shepausesenticingly“…I’lltellyouaboutmylesbianone.”
Justlikethat,I’mharderthansteel.“Deal,”Isayinstantly.
Herlaughterbouncesofftheshowertiles.“Men.You’resoeasytomanipulate.”
“Ofcourseweare.It’sourfatalflaw—we’reruledbyourcocks.”Iskimmyhandsuphersoapystomachtocuphertits.Ikeepcatchingtantalizingglimpsesofhernipplespeekingthroughthewhitesuds,andIcan’thelpbutseekthemoutwithmyfingers.WhenIpinchtherigidpeaks,Alliemakesathroatysoundandcloseshereyes.
“Nuh-uh,”Ichide,droppingmyhands.“Youcan’tdanglealesbianencounterinfrontofmeandthennotfollowthrough.”
“Ohright.Iforgot.”Sheshrugsdismissively,whichcausesdropletstoflyofftheendsofherhair.“Imadeoutwithagirlfriendofmineinjunioryearofhighschool.Wegotdrunkatapartyanddecidedtotryit.”Anothershrug.“Itwasallright.”
“Justkissing?”
“Yep.”
“Anditwasonly‘allright?’”Igrumble.“Welldamn.That’sdisappointing.”
“Gee,I’msosorrymyexperiencedoesn’tliveuptoyourpervystandards.Butthat’swhathappened.Okay,yourturn.Whendidyougogay?”
“Alsohappenedinhighschool,”Iconfess.“AbuddyandIwereonadoubledateandthegirlsdaredustokiss.Wesaidwe’ddoitonlyiftheykissed.Didn’tthinkthey’dcallourbluff,butnope,theyactuallystartedmakingoutlikepornstars.SoJasonandIcouldn’tbackout.”
“Didyoulikeit?”
“Itwasn’tawful,butitdidn’tgetmehard.”
“Wastheretongue?”
“Yup.”
“Alotoftongue?”
“Idon’tknow.Anormalamount.”
ShelooksasdissatisfiedbymytaleasIwaswithhers.“Anditdidn’tgoanyfurtherthanthat?Youdidn’ttouchthetipsofyourdicksandpretendyouwereswordfighting?”
Ilaughhardenoughtomakeallthewaterinthetubeddylikeariverrapid.“No,butnowIkindawishwedid.Thatsoundslikeablast,”Ichokeoutbetweenchortles.“Dickswords.”
Alliegoesintohystericstoo,butthewayshe’sshudderingwithlaughtercauseshersoapythighstoslideupanddownmycrotch,whichswiftlytransformsmyamusementintopurearousal.
She’sstilllaughingwhenIcapturehermouthinahungrykiss.Butnotforlong.Soonshe’sgaspingagainstmylips,lockingherhandsatthenapeofmyneckashertonguetangleswithmine.
Iclaspherhipsandeaseherforwarduntilmyshaftislinedupwithherpussy.ShewhimperswhenIglidemylengthalongherwetflesh,rubbingmycockheadoverherclit.
“Dean…”
Herbreathywhisperbarelyregisters.I’mtoodistractedbyherwarm,slipperypussyandthesofttitsI’mnowsqueezinginmypalms.
“Dean.”
“Mmmm?”
“Didyouhearthat?”
Isuddenlynoticeshe’sgonestiff,andherheadisslantingtowardthecloseddoor.Istilltheslowmovementofmyhipsandlistencarefully,butthehouseissilent.“Idon’thearanyth—”
Ohshit.Wait.Idohearit.Theunmistakablesoundsofsomeonethumpingupthestairs.
Andthen:
“Bro,youwillneverbelievewhathappened!”
BeforeIcanblink,Allieisoutofthetub,hernaked,dripping-wetbodydivingbehindthedoorhalfasecondbeforeLoganthrowsitopen.17
Dean
“WedroveallthegoddamnwaytogoddamnBoston,onlytorealizeIleftmygoddamnwalletathome.Sowehadtogetbackinthetruckanddriveallthewayhome,andnow—”
Loganskidstoastop,cartoon-characterstyle.I’msurprisedhisheaddoesn’tspinandhiseyeballsdon’tbugout.
“Um.”Hisgazebouncesaroundthebathroomlikearubberball.
Helooksatthetowelrack,wherehiscargopantsarehanging.
Helooksatthebathtub,whereI’mlounginglikeCleo-fucking-patra.
Helooksatthebubblessurroundingmybodylikeafluffywhitecloud.
AndthenhelooksatWinston.
“Dude,”Iblurtout.“It’snotwhatitlookslike.”
“Nope,nope,nope,Idon’twanttoknow!”Loganthrowshishandsintheairandstartsbackingtowardthedoorasifheaccidentallywalkedintoalion’sden.Hehalts.Snatcheshispantsofftherack.Continuesbackingaway.Hiseyesonceagainfocusonthepinkdildotwoinchesfrommyhand.
Itryagain.“Ipromiseyou,it’snot—”
“Idon’twanttoknow.”
Helungesoutthedoorandslamsitshut.Ihearhisfootstepsthumptowardthestairs.Thentheythumpbacktothebathroom.
“Hey,listen,I’mgonnastaywithGracietonight.Thatwayyoucan…uh…finishupwhateveritisyou’re…uh…doing.”
Fuckinghell.
IwaituntilIhearthefrontdoorshutbeforeIaddressAllie.“Youhidbehindthedoor?Really?”
Shestepsforwardsheepishly.“I’msorry.”
“Youcanshoveyoursorriesinasack,babydoll.Yourealizewhatyou’vedone,right?”Iglareather.“You’veofficiallyallowedmybestfriendtobelieveIliketoshovedildosupmyass.”
“Aw,that’snottrue.Ifanything,Loganisenlightenednow.Weopenedhismindtothedelightfulpossibilitiesofanalplay.”
“Getinhere,”Iorder.
Alliequicklylowersherselfinthewaterandkneelsinfrontofme.“Iamsorry,youknow.Iprobablyshould’vetoldhimIwasinhere.”Shetucksastrandofwethairbehindherear.“Ijust…Iliketheideaofkeepingthisasecret.Youknowwhatwillhappenifeveryonefindsoutwe’rescrewingaround.They’llgetallupinourbusinessandturnthisflingintosomethingbiggerthanitis.”
She’sright.That’sthenatureofthesocialbeast,andIwastryingtoavoidthesamething.Butgoddamnit,Loganisnevergoingtoletmelivethisdown.Takingabubblebathwithapinkdildo?Alliehasdoomedmetoafateasthepunchlineofanever-endingjoke.
“Letmemakeituptoyou,”shebegs.“I’msurewecanfindsomewaytogetLoganoffyourmind…”Hersoapyfingersencirclemycock,whichrapidlyhardensinherhand.“See?You’realreadyforgetting.”
Igroanwhenshegivesmeafirmstroke.“Nope,I’mstillmadatyou.”
“What’llittakeforyoutobeun-madatme?”
“Yourmouth,forstarters.”
Sheconsidersit,hergazetrackingthemotionofherownhandbeneaththewater.“NormallyI’dsayyes,butIdon’tthinkIcanholdmybreathforthatlong.AndI’mprettysureI’lldrownifItrytosuckyouoffwithmyheadunderwater.”
Chuckling,Irisetomyfeetandbraceonepalmonthetiledwall.Sudsslidedownmychestandclingtomywetskin.“Howaboutnow?”
“ThisIcanworkwith.”Shescootsclosersoherfaceisascantinchfrommyjuttingerection.Thenshelicksherlips,andit’sthehottestthingI’veeverseen.
No.Correction—watchingherwrapthoselipsaroundmeisthehottestthingI’veeverseen.
Shesucksgently,hertonguecurlingaroundmytipasifshe’ssamplingadelicioustreat.Hersoftmoanhumsthroughmybody,triggeringajoltofpleasure.
IreachdownandtracemyfingeralongtheperfectOformedbyherlipsastheystretchtightaroundme.“Youhavenoideahowgorgeousyoulookrightnow.”
Herblueeyeslockwithmine.Ishudderwhenhermouthwelcomesmein,hotandwetandeager.Witheachslowsuck,shetakesmeindeeperanddeeper,untilI’mdamnnearpokingthebackofherthroat.Jesus.Iwanttopumpintohermouth,hard,butIknowifIincreasethetempo,I’llshootwaytoofast.
“You…”Herbreathticklesmyengorgedtip“areso…”Shelickstheunderside,andItremblewithneed“…suckable.”
Alaughwheezesout.“Andwhatmakesme‘suckable’?”
“This.”Shesqueezesmyshaft.“Thisgorgeousdick.Big,butnottoobig.”Herfingerswraparoundmeagain.“Thick,butnottoothick.It’sperfect.”
“Istheresuchathingastooanythingwhenwe’retalkingdicks?”
Laughinghuskily,sheswallowsmeupagain,andInolongerrememberwhatwe’retalkingabout,becauseAllieHayesistoodamngoodatgivinghead.
Shecupsmysacassheworksmewithhermouth,lickingandswirlingandbasicallydrivingmeoutofmygoddamnmind.Everysquareinchofskinstartstobuzz.Thegrowingpleasuremakesmykneeswobble.
Keepingonehandonthewall,IthreadtheotherthroughAllie’sdamphairuntilmypalmiscuppingherscalp.“Yougonnaletmecomeinyourmouth,baby?”
Shehasn’tyet.Thelastblowjobshegavemeendedwithherjackingmethroughtheclimax.ButI’vebeendyingtoshootinhermouth,feelherthroatworkingtoswalloweverydrop.
Alliepeersupseductively.Myballsgotighttomybody,heavywithneed.Whenshegivesaslightnod,I’magoner.Thereleasesearsintomybodyandspurtsoutofmycock.Ahoarsegroanbreaksfreeasshesucksmedry.
Ittakesalmostafullminutetorecover.Oncemybreathingsteadiesandmyvisionclears,Idropintothewateragain,nudgingherbackward.AlliesqueakswhenIliftheruponthesmallporcelainledge.It’saboutafootandahalfwide,offeringplentyofroomforhertosit.
“Myturn,”Imutter.
HereyessmolderasIpartherlegsandstrokeherinnerthighs.Theskinthereisbaby-soft,silkybeneathmyfingers.I’mabouttolowermyheadandfeastwhenIremembersomething.
Withawickedgrin,IslidebackwardinthetubandreachforWinston.
Allie’sbreathhitches.
“Let’sseeifWinstongetsyouoffasgoodasLittleDean,shallwe?”Idragthetipofthesextoyoverherclit,chucklingwhenshewidensherlegsevenfurtherapart.Ilovehershamelessness,howshe’supforanythingandcompletelyunapologeticaboutit.Justlikeme.
Iteaseherforawhile,glidingthetoyupanddownherslituntilshe’sbumpingherhipsforward,visiblyagitated.Aroused.ThenIspreadherapartwithmyfingersandeasetheheadofthepinktoytowardheropening.
WebothwatchasIfeeditinsideher.Iwastryingtogoslow,butshe’ssowetthatthetoy’sentirelengthslipsinwithoutresistance.Idrawitout,leavingonlythetipthere,thenplungeitinagain.
Alliemoans.
Idotoo,becauseyetagainI’vebeenprovenwrong.Watchingthedildotunnelinandoutofher?That’sthehottestthingI’veeverseen.
“Howdoyoufeel?”Imurmur.
“Full,”shemurmursback.
Withthetoystillwedgedinsideher,Ibenddownandpressmytonguetoherclit.Ilickitsoftlyandstartmovingmyhand,thelazydragofmytonguematchingthelazythrustofthetoy.Allieclutchesmyhairandsquirmsontheledge.Themovementofherlegssplasheswaterinmyface.Idon’tcare.Icaptureherclitbetweenmylipsandsuckleit,whileWinstoncontinuestodohisjobdownsouth.
Thenoisesescapingherthroatgetbreathier,faster.Isuckharderandshiftthetoysoit’shittingheratanangle,andthatgetsmeadelighted,“OhmyGod.”
Ismileagainstherhotfleshassheconvulses.Ilovemakingthisgirlcome.Shealwaysreactslikeshe’sjustreceivedanunexpectedgift,likeshetrulydidn’texpectthisbigshinypresentbuthooboyshe’smorethanhappytotearopenthewrapping.
Herbodysagsonablissfulcry,andthenhereyelidsflutteropen.“IloveWinston.”
Igentlypulloutthetoy.ButI’mnotgentleinthewayIscowlather.“Youknowhe’snotreal,right?”
“Trustme,letmeputhiminsideyoujustonetimeandIbetyou’llbesingingadifferenttune.”
Wedripwateralloverthebathmatandtilesaswegetoutofthetub.WhenIbendovertodrainit,Alliesmacksmybuttandsays,“StoptemptingWinston.”
Isnicker,thenturnaroundtograbheratowel.
Inmyroom,Alliesetsthetoyonmydresserandstartstodryoff.“Ireallyamsorry,bytheway.”Shesighs.“Loganisgoingtotortureyouaboutwhathesaw,huh?”
“Big-time.”Whenguiltfloodsherexpression,Isightoo.“Don’tworry,it’sfine.I’lltellhimsomeonewashidingbehindthedoorbecauseshewasembarrassed.”
Allielooksalarmed.
“Iwon’tsayitwasyou.”
Myreassurancehastheoppositeeffect.Hereyesdarkenwithdispleasure.“Soyou’regoingtotellhimyouhadarandomgirlover?”
“WouldyouratherIsaiditwasyou?”
“No.But…”Shebitesherlipandsaysnothing.
I’vebeenwithalotofwomen.Iknowwomen.Andwhentheyclamuplikethis?They’renotjustworkingonethoughtoverintheirbrains.Nope,they’reconstructingacomplicatedwebofscenariosandwhatifs,eachthreadlayeringoveranother,thickeningandtwistinguntilsuddenlythey’remadaboutsomethingthatneverevenoccurredtoyou.
Istifleanothersigh.“Spititout,Allie-Cat.”
“Areyousleepingwithanyoneelse?”
Thatcatchesmeoffguard.“No.Ofcoursenot.”Onceagain,thereassurancefallsondeafears.She’sevenwariernow.“I’mnot,”Isayfirmly.
Shestudiesmyfaceasifshe’splayingWhere’sWaldo,exceptshe’shuntingforalieinsteadofaweirdoinahat.Thensheletsoutabreath.“Weprobablyshould’vehadthisconversationbeforewehadsexagain.Thewholeareweoraren’tweexclusive.”
Isupposeshe’sright,thoughit’snotadiscussionIhaveoften.EveryoneIhookupwithalreadyknowsit’snotexclusive.Onbothsides,becauseit’snotlikethey’restayingtruetomeeither.Ifuckedacutesophomoreafewmonthsagowhoopenlyadmittedshe’djustcomefromadatewithsomeoneelse.
WithAllie,Ijustassumeditwasexclusive.Iwouldn’tdreamofplayinggameswithWellsy’sbestfriend.
“We’reexclusive,”Itellher.
“Youseriouslyhaven’tbeenwithanyoneelse?”Shedoesn’teventrytohidehersurprise,andIdon’tknowifIshouldbeinsulted.
“NotsincethefirsttimeyouandIweretogether.”
Shenods.“Andyou’recoolwiththat?”
“Areyou?”
Anothernod.“Iwantittobeexclusive.Imean,Iunderstandthatthisisafling,butIdon’tfeelcomfortablewiththeideaofyousleepingwithanyoneelse.Samegoesforme—Iwon’tdoiteither.”
“Okay,”Isayeasily.
Allieremainsunconvinced.“You’rebeingtooagreeableaboutthis.”
“WouldyoupreferIthrowatantrumanddemandtofuckotherpeople?”
“No,but…”Andthereshegoes,bitingherbottomlipagain.“You’resayingyou’reperfectlycontenttojustbewithmeforaslongasthislasts?WhatifIgetbusyagainlikeIwasthesepastcoupledays?Youwon’tgooutandjiggledownwithsomeoneelse?”
Iwasgoodwiththistalkupuntilthispoint.NowI’mannoyed.“What,youdon’tthinkIcankeepmypantszippedforacouplemeaslydays?”
“Wedidn’tseeeachotherforthreedays,Dean,andyouwouldn’tstopwhiningabouthowhardupyou’vebeen.”
“JustbecauseIlikehavingsexontheregdoesn’tmeanI’mcrawlingthebarseverysecondofthedaylookingtogetmynutoff.”
“Okay.Sorry,”shesaysruefully.“ButIhadtoask.”Shefidgetswiththebottomofhertowel.“Look…domeafavor,allright?Ifsomeonehitsonyouwhenyou’reoutandyou’redyingtosleepwiththem,orifyoujustfeellike,um,takinganotherlover…willyoushootmeatextsaying‘flingover’orsomething?”
“Iwill,”Ipromiseher.
Buthonestly,Idon’tenvisionthateverhappening.Ihaven’tthoughtaboutanyoneelsesinceAlliebulldozedherwayintomybedthatfirstnight.Whichisdisconcerting.Ifiguredthatifwehookedupenoughtimes,I’deventuallygetheroutofmysystem,butthisgirlturnsmeonsomethingfierce.Evennow,inthemidstofanawkwardconversationabout‘takingotherlovers’,mybodyisprimedforasecondround.
I’mstartingtowonderifI’llevergetheroutofmysystem.
*
Allie
IwentonmyfirstcastingcallwhenIwastwelve.Iwassuperpumpedaboutit,andalthoughIdidn’tgetthepart,Istillhadablastreadingforthecastingdirector,whowastheloveliestwomanI’devermet.ShegavemevaluablefeedbackIstillremembertothisdayandadvisedmetokeepatitbecauseshesaw“something”inme.
Itwasn’ttoolongafterthatwhenIrealizedtheauditionprocessisn’talwayskittensandrainbows.Doesn’tmatterifyou’rereadingforcommercialgigsordayplayerjobsorjuicierroles—you’reboundtofacethisparticularhurdleatleastonce:thedifficultactingpartner.
Yep,there’soneofthoseateveryaudition.Thepersonwhotriestosabotageyoueventhoughyou’rereadingfordifferentparts.Orout-actyoubecausetheyneedtolookbetter.Orbehavelikeanunprofessionalassandforgetalltheirlines,makingyoulookbadintheprocess.Orsometimesthey’rejustjerks,andyou’dratherboileveryinchofskinoffthanbeinthesameroomasthem,letalonereadascenetogether.
I’veencounteredalltypesofscenepartnersovertheyears,andthebestadviceIevergotabouthowtohandleitcamefromJackEmery,theactingcoachatthedramacampwhereIvolunteered.
Hetoldmetousethenegativeenergy.
Youcan’tcontrolhowtheotheractorisgoingtobehave.Youcan’tforcethemtoremembertheirlines,orforceyourselftomakenicewithsomeonewho,frankly,doesn’tdeservetheenergyittakesforyoutofakeasmile.Jackinstructedmetotakethatnegativeenergyandchannelitintomyownperformance.Sure,theadvicedoesn’tnecessarilyapplywhenyou’rereadingforacerealcommercialandyou’resupposedtobehappy-go-lucky,allsmilesasyoushovelsugarintoyourmouth.
Butitabsolutelyhelpsifyourcharactershaveacombativerelationship.Inthatcase,it’seasytousetheangerorirritationorjustplainhatredandbringittotheperformance.
WhichiswhatI’mdesperatelytryingtodoatThursdaynight’srehearsalwiththeseniorwho’splayingmysister.
I’vehadclasseswithMalloryRichardsoninthepast,butthisisthefirsttimewe’veactedtogetheronstage.Lastweek,wehadourscriptsonhandbecauseitwasthestartofrehearsals.
Thisweek,ourstudentdirectorwantsustoperformsansscript.Notthewholeplay,butacoupleofscript-freescenestojumpstartthememorizationprocess.I’mfinewiththat,becauseI’vememorizedhalftheplayalready.
Mallory?Shecanhardlystringtogetherafullsentence.
“Faceit,Jeannette,you’reweak,”Mallorysaysflatly.“WhydoyouthinkBobbyleft?Becausehecouldn’t—”Shestops.“Line,”shecallstothefrontrow,whereourdirectorandtwostudentproducersareseated.
There’snomistakingSteven’sfrustration.Idon’tblamehim.Thispasthour,I’veheardMalloryshout“Line!”somanytimesthatthewordhaslostallmeaning.
“‘Hecouldn’tstomachyoursniveling,’”Stevensupplies,hisbaritonevoicecarryingthroughthecavernousroom.“‘You’repathetic.You—’”
Malloryinterrupts.“Thanks,Iknowtherest.Itrippeduponthesnivelingpart.”
Stevensignalsforustostartagain.
“Faceit,Jeannette,you’reweak.WhydoyouthinkBobbyleft?Becausehecouldn’tstomachyoursniveling.You’repathetic.Youfallapart…line!”
Iresisttheurgetolungeacrossthestageandtacklehertotheground.Maybescreamthewordsintoherearattopvolumesotheysinkintoherlazybrain.
Stevenrattlesoffthenextline.
Westartagain.
“I’mtiredofbeingtheonewhohastoholdyourhandandwipeyourtearsand—”
“Bobbyisdead!”Iroar,staggeringtowardher.“IfIwanttocryaboutit,I’mdamnwellallowedto!Andnobodyaskedyoutoholdmyhand.Ididn’taskyoutocomehere,Caroline.”
“I’mherebecause…”
Iwaitforit.
“Line!”
Andonandonitgoes.
Line.
Line.
Line.
Wehavetheauditoriumuntilten-thirty,whichleavesusanotherhourtorehearse.NormallyStevenmakesuseofeveryavailablesecond.Tonight,he’sclearlyhadenough.Hestandsupandannouncesthatrehearsalisover.
I’msurprisedittookhimthislong.
“We’llregrouptomorrow,”hesays.“We’vegotthespacefromnoontilthree,sowecancoveralotmoregroundthen.Readoverthescenesafewmoretimes,Mal.Youreallyneedtonaildownyourlines.”
“I’msosorry,Steve,”Mallorymoans.Atleastshehasthedecencytolookembarrassed.“Ididn’tgetachancetostudythescenelastnight.IwaspreparingamonologueforNigel’sclass.”Shesighsloudly.“I’mswampedrightnow.”
Welcometocollege,Iwanttosay,becausecomeon,doesshethinkshe’stheonlyonewithaheavyworkload?
I’mtakingascreenwritingcoursethatrequiresmetowritetwoscenesaweek.Myfilmtheoryprofassignssomanyreadingsmyeyesarestartingtocross.Formyauditionworkshop,we’reexpectedtopreparemonologueseveryweek;theseminarisdesignedtohelpstudentactorsgetcomfortableandbuildconfidencefortheauditionprocess,butapparentlyit’stoo“easy”toletususeexistingmaterialtofake-auditionwith.
Needlesstosay,I’mequallyswamped,butyoudon’tseememakingexcuses.Nope,Istillfindtimetomemorizeafewmeaslypagesofdialogue.
I’mhappythatrehearsalisover,though.I’mtooclosetothrottlingMallory,whodoesn’tevensaygoodbyeassheleavesthestage.
“We’lldobettertomorrow,”IassureSteven.Ifeelawfulthatwelethimdowntoday,becauseIknowhowseriousheisaboutdirecting.
Thefirsttimewemet,Iteasedhimthatheshouldbeinfrontofthecameraandnotbehindit.Seriously,theguyisgorgeous.Dark-chocolateskin,flawlessfeatures,mesmerizingeyes.HeremindsmeofIdrisElbaminusthesexyBritishaccent.ButStevenisn’tinterestedinbeinganactor.HeoncetoldmethathisgoalistowinaBestDirectorOscarbythetimehe’sforty.
“You’renottheonewhoneedstogetbetter,”Stevenreplies.“You’redoingaterrificjob.”
Ituckthecomplimentinmyproverbialbackpocketandexitthestagethroughthewings,diggingintomybagasIwalk.Ifindmyphone,andmyheartflipswhenIseeamissedcallfromIra.I’dcalledhimlastnightforanupdateabouttheCavanaughplaythatI’mdyingtoauditionfor.I’mnotcertainit’sevenhappeningorifitwasjustarumorbuzzingaroundBroadway,soIaskedIratolookintoit.
Icheckthetime.It’snine-thirty,sothatmeanssix-thirtyonthewestcoast.Iknowhe’sstillinLAbecausehetextedearlierthathewas“doinglunch”withtheproduceroftheFoxpilot.Idon’tknowifI’mhappyordisappointedthattheproducersletmesendinascreentest.Luckily,Iprobablywon’thearbackfromthemanytimesoon,sincetheyaren’tofficiallycastinguntilFebruary.
“Hey,Ira,”Isaywhenhepicksup.“It’sAllie.IwantedtocheckifyouhadanynewsabouttheBrettCavanaughplay.”
“Actually,Ido.”
Thenwhydidn’tyoucallme?
“Theproductionprocesshasdefinitelystarted.Iknowoneoftheproducers,soIreachedouttoher.”Hepauses.“It’snotgoodnews.”
Myheartdropstothepitofmystomach.“Oh.Whatdidshesay?”
“It’sanall-malecast.Boldmove,huh?”
Verybold.Nottomentiondevastating.Isuddenlyfindmyselfdesperatelywishingforapenis.
“Unfortunately,thatmeansthereisn’taroleinitforyou—”Nokidding.I’mpenis-less!“ButItoldNancyyou’reinterestedinworkingwithBrettagain.Shepromisedtopassthatalong,sowhoknows?Maybehe’llgiveyouaringwhenhehassomethingelsebrewing.”
Thatcheersmeup.Alittle.I’mstillmega-bummedbythenews.
IsendDeanamessageonmywayoutofthebuilding.
Me:Suchacrappyday!Mightventtoulater.Howwasthegame?
Hedoesn’tmessageback.Granted,it’sonlybeenthreeseconds,buthe’susuallyprettyquicktoreply.
FiveminutesintomywalktoBristolHouse,andthere’sstillnoanswer.Hisgamewouldbeoverbynow.Hannahsaiditstartedatsix.It’snearlyten.
Fivemoreminutespass.I’malmostatthedorm.Whyisn’theanswering?
It’sbeentenminutes,crazypants.Relax.
Insteadofrelaxing,Igrowevenmoredistressedbecausesomethingtroublinghasjustdawnedonme.
Ididn’tcontactDeanbecauseIwantedsex.
Iwantedtoventaboutmyday.
Ohshit.Hannahisabsolutelyright—theword“casual”doesn’texistinmyvocabulary.Ihadacrappyrehearsal,andmyfirstinstinctwastoreachouttotheguyI’msleepingwithandtellhimallaboutit.Havehimlistentomeandcomfortmeandtellmeit’sallgoingtobeokay.
Repeatafteryourself,AllisonJane.He.Is.Not.Your.Boyfriend.
“Heisnotmyboyfriend,”Isayfirmly.
“What?”Atallguyinaparkaslowshisgaitandglancesoveratme.
Ijerkinsurprise.“Oh,Iwasn’ttalkingtoyou.”
Hisgazerestsonmyear,andIrealizehe’ssearchingforaBluetooth.Whenhedoesn’tfindone,hegivesmeastrangelookandkeepswalking.
“Talkingtoyourselfdoesn’tmakeyouacrazyperson,”Icalloutafterhim.Well,unlessyou’rethehomelessguyIusedtoseearoundBrooklyn,whowouldscreamaboutgovernmentconspiraciesandhowaliensarestealingourbraincellsviaourphones.
Thenagain,who’stosayLouisn’tperfectlysane?Maybealiensaredoingthat.Ican’tproveotherwise.
Itrudgetherestofthewayhomeandletmyselfintothedarkenedsuite.Hannahisn’thomeyet.Iknowshewenttothehockeygametonight,soIgiveheracalltofindoutwhatshe’suptonow.
“Hey!”Whereversheis,it’sloud.Ihearacacophonyofvoicesinthebackground,andapoundingbasslinethatthudsinmyear.“I’matthebar.Youwanttojoinus?”
Iputonacasualvoice.“Who’sthere?Garrettandtheguys?”AndDean?
Istopmyselfbeforethequestionpopsout.Damnit,I’mactinglikeagirlfriendagain.Anincrediblynauseatinggirlfriendtoboot,thekindwhochecksuponhermanwhenheisn’twithher.
“Yup.Mostoftheteamishere.Wewontonight,soeveryone’scelebrating.”Anotherwaveofmusicswellsovertheline.“Garrettkeepstryingtochallengemetoashotcontest.”
“Whataretheothersupto?”Iaskwithfeignednonchalance.“Logan…Tuck…Dean…?”
Ihatemyselfrightnow.Ireally,reallydo.
“Tuckisn’there.Logan’splayingpool.AndsomegirlistryingtoeatDean’sfaceoff.”
Myentirebodygoescold.
Um…excuseme?
“Anyway,Icanbarelyhearyou,”Hannahsays.“Textmeifyou’recoming.”
MyhandtremblesasIputdownthephone.Deanisatthebarmakingoutwithsomeoneelse?
Twodaysafterwetalkedaboutbeingexclusive?
Ohhellno.18
Allie
Mymotherwasabeautifulwoman.I’mnotsayingthisbecauseI’mherdaughterandthereforesawherthroughrose-coloredlenses.I’msayingitbecauseit’strue—EvaHayeswasabeautiful,stunning,exquisitewoman.Shemodeledwhenshewasinhertwenties,andthoughshewasn’ttallenoughforrunwaywork,shewasahighcommodityintheprintmarket.IstillhaveeverycatalogueandmagazinespreadsheeverdidinascrapbookIkeeponmybookshelf.
Iinheritedherblondhairandblueeyes,butmyfeaturesaren’tflawlesslikehers.Momhadoneofthoseclassicallybeautifulfacesthatwouldmakemen,womenandchildrenstopandstarewhenevershewalkedby.
Me,I’mmorecutethanbeautiful.
ButI’velearnedthattherightmakeupandtherightclothescantransformanygirlfromcutetosexbomb
Idon’tknowwhatmyplanis.DeanandIaren’tdating,firstoff.AndsinceIdon’twantanyonetoknowwe’refoolingaround,Ican’tstormintoMalone’sanddumpapitcherofbeeroverhishead.
WhatIcandoisshowhimexactlywhathe’sgivingup.
Iwon’tlie—ithurtsthathedidn’tgivemeadvancewarninglikehe’dpromised.Anditdefinitelystingsthathe’swithsomeoneelsetonightwhenIwould’vebeenhappytokeepflingingwithhim.ButIknewgoingintothiswhoIwasgettinginvolvedwith.DeanHeyward-DiLaurentissleepsaround.TheEnd.
Myego,however,refusestostandforthis,whichiswhythirtyminuteslaterIfindmyselfslidingoutthebackseatofataxiandsteppingontothecurbinfrontofMalone’s.
MypeacoatkeepsmetoastyasIlingernearthedoordebatingmyplanofaction.Acoupleofcollegeguyspopoutofthebar,andI’mgratifiedwhenbothofthemstoptocheckmeout.Ha.Andtheirappreciativegazesarebasedsolelyonmymakeupandfuck-me-sillyupdo.They’dprobablybesalivatingiftheysawwhatwasunderneathmycoat.
Ireachformyphone.Here,ItellHannah.Whereru?
Her:Pooltable.
Takingabreath,Iwalkinsideandmakemywaythroughthecrowd.ThemusicvibratesinthefloorbeneathmyheelsasIpasstheboothsontheleftandheadtowardthearchwaywherethemainroomopensontothegameroom.
Therearehalfadozenmoreboothsandtallstandingtablesinthissectionofthebar.Iinstantlyspotmybestfriend.She’stalkingtoLoganandHollis,whileGarrettcirclesoneofthegreen-felttableswithapoolcueinhishand.Holdingabeerbottle,FitzyiswatchingGarrettlineupashot,hisowncuerestingonthewallbesidehim.
IfinallycatchaglimpseofDean.He’salmosthiddenfromviewinthecorner,talkingtoacurvybrunetteinskinnyjeansandalow-cutsweater.
Nicesweater,sweetie,butIcanbeatthat
Iunbuttonmycoat,slipitoff,andtuckitundermyarm.ThenIsquaremyshouldersandsaunteruptothepooltable.
Awolfwhistleslicesthroughthemusic,courtesyofLogan.“Je-sus,”hemarvelsatme.“Youlookbangin’.”Hisblueeyestwinkle.“What’stheoccasion?”
Ismiledemurely.“Justfeltlikelookingpretty.”
Hannahsnorts.“Babe,youlookmorethanpretty.Ithinkeverydudeinthisbarjustsprungaboner.”
Ishrug.Ionlycareaboutonebonerinparticular.IwonderifLittleDeanhasnoticedmeyet.
“Soyouwonthegame,huh?”IsaytoLogan.
“Damnrightwedid.”
“Nice.Youguysarebackontrack,then.”IknowBigDeanwasupsetabouttheirthree-gamelosingstreak.
“Yeah,don’tgetaheadofyourself.WewereupagainstaDivisionIIteam.AndeventhenwebarelysqueakedouttheW.”
“Yo,Logan!”Garrettshouts.“ThinkIcanmakethisshot?”
“’Scuseme,ladies.Mysupremebilliardsskillsandbestfriendservicesarerequired.”Hewandersoff.
Hannahleansincloser.“So.Doesthismeanyou’rereadytodipyourtoeinthedatingpoolagain?”Grinning,shegesturestomyoutfit,which,ifI’mbeinghonest,doesn’treallysay“Iwanttodate.”
ItsaysDTF.
Myroyal-bluebandagedressstopsataboutmid-thigh.Iworeapush-upbra,somycleavageisouttothere.Mysmokyeyeshadowmakesmyeyeslookhuge.Myfive-inchstilettosmakemylegslookimpossiblylong.Sure,theynearlyfrozeoffduringthewalkfromthecabtothebar,butthequestforhotnesssometimesrequiresasacrifice.That’sBeauty101.
“Naah,I’mjusttestingthewaters.”
Hersmilewidens.“Well,considerthistestaced.I’ddoyou.”
Itenseabruptly,feelingDeanapproachbeforeheevensidlesuptome.“Lookinggood,babydoll,”hesayslightly.
ButIheartheedgeinhisvoice,andhisdispleasureisunmistakable.Whichispreposterousbecausewhatdoeshehavetobepeevedabout?I’mnottheonewhowasmakingoutwithsomeoneelse.
“Thanks.Who’syourfriend?”IaskinthesweetestvoiceIcanmuster.
Hisexpressiongoesblank.“Huh?”
Inodtowardthebrunette,who’sinspectinguswithvisiblesuspicion.Ican’tbelieveDeanhasthegalltoactlikehedoesn’tknowher.Ijustsawthemtalking.
“Oh,”heanswers.“Polly?Paula?Ididn’tcatchhername.”
Ofcoursehedidn’t.
“Penelope,”Hannahsupplies.“Isatnexttoherduringthegame.She’samassiveDeanfan.Talkedmyearoffaboutyouthewholetime.”Mybestfriendsmirks.“Ifinallyhadtointerruptandtellheryoudon’tliveuptothehype.”
Isecondthat.
“Bullshit.I’mbetterthanthehype.”Evenasheprotests,hesoundsdistracted.Icanfeelhimstaringatme.
“I’mgoingtogetadrink.”Ipushawayfromthetable.
“Greatidea,”Deansaysinanoverlycheerfulvoice.“Icoulduseonetoo.”
Iclenchmyteethashefollowsme.It’sdamnhardtorunintheseheels,soIsettleforaspeed-walkandhopeIlosehiminthecrowd.
God,itwasastupidideatocomeouttonight.Idon’tknowwhatIwasexpecting,butitwasn’tthis.Ifanything,I’meventenserandangrierthanIwasbefore.
AsqueakfliesoutofmymouthwhenI’msuddenlytuggedbackward.
Dean’slipsbrushmyearashegrowls,“Ifyoucameheretoteaseme,it’sworking.”
Myjawstiffens.Ispinaroundandlevelhimwithaglare.“Contrarytowhatyoubelieve,theworlddoesn’trevolvearoundyou.”Excepthe’sright.ThatiswhyIcame,andnowIfeeltotallyandutterlyfoolish,becauseI’mnotthekindofgirlwhoplaysgames.
Ishouldhavestayedhome.Rehearsalhadleftmeinabadmood,andthenIletthethoughtofDeanwithsomeoneelseturnmeintoacharacterfromaromcom.Dressinguplikeaharlottogetsomeundeservingguy’sattention?WhoamI?
Myself-disgustspursmetokeepwalking.Iapproachthecounter,wherethethrongofmentherepartsformeliketheRedSea.Iguessthat’sonebenefitoflookinglikesexonstilettos.
IorderaCosmo,becausewhynot?ImightaswellliveuptotheimageI’vecreated.Ibroughtalittleblackclutchwithme,butwhenIopenittogetsomemoney,threedifferenthandsbrandishingtwenty-dollarbillsflyupintheair.
“Igotthis—”
“It’sonme—”
“Letmebuyyouadrink—”
Deanrumblesoutanannoyedsound.ThenextthingIknow,he’syankingouthisowntwentyandshovingitatthebartender.“Onme,”hesayssharply.Heglaresatmyothersuitors,whoallaverttheirgazes.
“Areyougoingtopeeonmenowtomarkyourterritory?”Ihissathim.
Hiseyesflash.“Idon’tknow—shouldI?Whatthehellisgoingonhere,Allie?”
“Nothing.”Itakethedrinkthebartenderhandsmeandswiftlyduckawayfromthecounter.
Deanstayshotonmyheels,soIwalkfaster,andthenwe’rewithourfriendsagainandIbreatheinrelief.Good.Nowhecan’tpestermeforanswersanymore.
Penelopeimmediatelyrushesover,andmyspinestiffenswhenshelatcheshertalonsontoDean’sbareforearm.TheblackT-shirthe’swearingstretchesacrosshisperfectchestandshowsoffhisperfectarms.Thesamearmsthatwerepinningmedowntheothernightwhenhewasmovinginsideme.
IswallowamouthfulofmydrinkandtrytopayattentiontoHannah.She’stalkingabouthershowcaserehearsalsandhowhappysheisthatthefacultyislettinghersinganoriginalcompositioninsteadofpairingherupwithasongwritingmajor.
“I’mthinkingofsendingoutsomedemostolabels,”sheadmits.
“Really?”Shementionedafewmonthsagothatshemightwanttofocusmoreonsongwritingthanperforming,butIhadn’trealizeditwasaseriousconsiderationonherpart.
“Yeah.”Shetoyswithastrandofdarkhair,whichdrawsmyattentiontotheneon-greenclipholdingitback.It’stheonlysplashofcolorinherall-blackgetup.“Ilovecomposing.Imean,Ialsolovebeingonstage,butDexterandIwerefoolingaroundonthepianoatrehearsallastnight,andwhenhesangoneofthesongsIwasworkingon,itwas…”
Ituneherout.I’manawfulfriend,Iknow,butIcan’thelpit.I’mfartoodistractedbytheevilvulturethat’speckingatDeanlikehe’sajuicycarcass.Runninghermanicuredfingersupanddownhisarm.Strokinghisbiceps.Leaningintowhispersomethinginhisear.
Inhisdefense,hedoesn’tappeartonoticethatPenelopeisgluedtohisside.Hisgazeisfixedonme,andit’sgrowingcloudierbythesecond.
Isipmydrinkandspendthenexthourmakinganefforttobesocial.ButI’mjustgettingincreasinglyangry—atmyself
IinadvertentlycastDeaninarolethatheshouldn’tbeplaying.He’snotmyboyfriend.Ishouldn’tbetextinghimafterIhaveabadday.Ishouldn’tbeupsetthathedidn’ttextback,orthathe’stalkingtoanothergirl.
Though,again,inhisdefense,hedoesn’tseemtheleastbitinterestedinPenelope.EverytimeIsneakapeekatthem,he’sonhisphoneandnotpayingheralickofattention.
Myclutchkeepsbuzzing,whichtellsmehe’smostlikelytextingme.ButmyphonestaysinmypursebecauseI’mtoobusydealingwiththerealizationthatapparentlyI’mhelplesswithoutaboyfriend.
I’m…co-dependent?Isthattherightword?AndisthatwhyIkeptgettingbacktogetherwithSean?BecauseIcan’tbealone?IhadaboyfriendtheentiretimeIwasinhighschooltoo…
Okay.Imightbemakingamountainoutofamolehillrightnow.JustbecauseI’vealwayshadaboyfrienddoesn’tmeanI’vegotissues,right?Ilikehavingaboyfriend.Ilikeholdinghandsandkissingandsnugglingandtellingeachotheraboutourdays.Thatdoesn’tmeanIneedoneatalltimes.
MaybeIjustsuckatflings.I’msureplentyofotherwomenhaveproblemsseparatingemotionsfromsex.
Still,thisisallverydisheartening.Idecideit’stimetogo.I’mnotpayingattentiontoawordanyoneissaying,andnowIkindofwanttogohomeandGoogle“co-dependency”toseeifIcanself-diagnosemyself.
Idowanttopeefirst,though,soIexcusemyselfandwalktowardtherestrooms.Idon’tbotherturningaroundtoseeifDeanisfollowingme,becauseIknowheis.Icaughtaglimpseofhiminmyperiphery,disentanglinghimselffromPenelopethemomentImovedawayfromthetable.
Tomyfrustration,thelinefortheladies’roomisunacceptablylong.Nope,I’mnotwaitingthirtyminutestousethetoilet.Idon’thavetogothatbad.ButIknowifIturnaround,I’llprobablybumpintoDean.
Ikeepwalkingstraightaheadtowardtheemergencyexit.I’veuseditbefore,soIdon’texpectanalarmtogooff,anditdoesn’t.ColdairhitsmybarearmsandlegswhenIstepintothealleybehindMalone’s.IhurriedlyputonmycoatjustasthedoorfliesopenandDeanemerges.
“Goaway,”Itellhim.
Hisnostrilsflare.“No.”
“Fine,thenstayouthere.I’mgoinghome.”Ifumblewiththeclaspofmyclutch.IneedtocallacabandtellHannahI’mleaving.Deansnatchesthepursefrommyhand,summoninganirritatedexpletive.“CanIpleaseIhavemypurseback?”Idemand.
“No.Notuntilyoutellmewhyyou’repissedatme.”
Idon’tanswer.
“Stopactinglikeabratandfuckingtalktome,”heorders.
“Whydon’tyougofindPenelope?”Isuggest.“I’msureshe’dbehappytotalktoyou.Ifyou’relucky,shemightevenstickhertonguedownyourthroatagain.”
He’smomentarilystartled.Thenhestartstolaugh.“You’rejealousofPenelope?”
“I’mnotjealous,”Ianswercoolly.“Ijustdon’tappreciatebeingliedto.”
Dean’sjawfallsopen.“WhendidIlietoyou?”
Mycheeksheatup.Damnit.Damnhim.Anddamnmeforgivinghimthepowertomakemefeelso…so…God,Idon’tevenknowwhatI’mfeelingrightnow.
“Youpromisedtoletmeknowifyouweregoingtohookupwithsomeoneelse,”Iaccuse.
“Ididn’thookupwithher.”
“Hannahsaidyouwerekissingher.”
“No,shewaskissingme.Ortryingto,atleast.ItoldherIwasn’tinterested.”
“Youdid?”Someofmyindignationfalters,butIforcemyselfnottosoften.Itdoesn’tmatterwhatDeandidordidn’tdo.IstillallowedthisflingtoveerinadirectionI’mnotcomfortablewith,andnowit’stimetogetbackontherightpath.
“Yes,Idid,”heretorts,“becausecontrarytowhatyoubelieve,I’mamanofmyword.ItoldyouIwouldn’tscrewaroundwithanyoneelse.”
“Fine.Ibelieveyou.”Iswallow.“CanIgonow?”Itrytograbmypursebuthekeepsitoutofmyreach.
“You’restillpissed,”hesaysflatly.
“I’mnot.”
“Don’tbullshitabullshitter,babydoll,”hesnaps.
“Areyousayingyourshe-kissed-mestoryisbullshit?”Isnapback.
“No,whatI’msayingis—”Hespitsoutafrazzledcurse.Thenexhalesslowly.“I’msayingyou’renotleavinguntilyoutellmewhat’swrong.AndFYI?Ifanyoneshouldbepissedrightnow,it’sme.”
Myjawdrops.“Howso?”
“I’vebeengettingshitfortwodaysthankstoyourHoudiniactinthebathtub,”Deansaysdarkly.“IfoundabottleoflubeundermypillowlastnightwithanotefromGarrettsaying‘Foryourass’.Loganboughtacartonofpinklemonadeandkeepsgivingmeathumbsupeverytimehedrinksaglass.Gracecan’tlookmeintheeyewithoutgiggling.AndnowI’mgettingshitfromyou,andyouwon’tevendomethecourtesyoftellingmewhy?”
“I’m…I’m…argh,I’mdonewiththis.”ThewordsburstoutbeforeIcanstopthem.“We’renotflinginganymore,okay?It’sdone.”
Dean’sshoulderssetinasevereline.“Why?”
“BecauseIsaidso.”
“AndIdon’tgetasayinit?”
“No.”
“Bullshit,”hesaysagain.“Youcan’tjustcallitoffwithoutgivingmeagoodreason.”
Apowerlessfeelingrisesinmythroat,becauseIdon’thaveagoodreason.
“IhadabaddayandyouwerethefirstpersonIcalled.”
ThatsoundsinsaneifIsayitoutloud.ButIknowmyself.Icanfeelmyselffallingintotheboyfriendbear-trap,andIneedtostepoutofitbeforethedamnthingsnapsshutandmanglesmypoorhelplessheart.
“Areyoutellingmeyou’renotattractedtomeanymore?Isthatit?”
“No,that’snotit.YouknowIam.But—”
“Butnothing.”Heedgescloser,andmybreathgetstrappedinmylungs.Hiseyesareonfire,hischiseledfeaturestwistedinaferallook.I’veneverseenDeanangrybefore.It’shotashell.“Howaboutwerecapwhathappenedtonight?Howdoesthatsound?”
BeforeIcanblink,I’magainstthebrickwall,andhismouthisinchesfrommine.We’rehalfhiddenbetweenastackofmilkcratesandadumpsterthatisblessedlyempty.Notthatitmatters,becauseevenifitwereoverflowingwithgarbage,Istillwouldn’tbeabletosmellanythingotherthanDean’sspicy,masculinescent.EverytimeIinhale,theaddictivefragrancemakesmybrainfoggierandfoggier.
“YouheardIwasatthebarwithanotherchick,andyougotjealous.HowamIdoingsofar?”
Iclenchmyjaw.
“Thenyoufreakedoutbecauseyougotjealous,right?AmIstillnailingthis?”WhenIdon’tanswer,helocksmychininhishand.“What’sgoingoninthatgorgeousheadofyours?Youthinkthismeansyou’regoingtofallforme?Thatbecauseyouwantmealltoyourself,itmeanswe’reonthetracktomarriageandbabies?”
Hismockingtonegrates.“Don’tbeanass.”
Heignoresme.“Well,itdoesn’tmeananything,babydoll.Soyouwerejealous.Bigdeal.DoyouknowhowfuckingjealousIamrightnow?DoyouthinkIlikeseeingeveryguyinthebardroolingoveryourtitsandshovingtheirhandsintheirpocketstorearrangethestiffysyougavethemshowingupinthatgetup?Iwanttoriptheireyesoutjustforlookingatyou.”
Mysurprisedgazerisestohis.
“Nolie,”hetellsme.“Butdoyouseemefreakingoutaboutit?No,becauseitdoesn’tmeanadamnthing.Onlythatwe’renotdoneturningeachotheron.”
Hethrustsonebigthighbetweenbothofmine,grindingagainstmesoIcanfeelhiserection.
“Istillturnyouon,don’tI?”
Thehardridgepressingintomybellydistractsmefromreplying.Icanfeelmypantiesdampening.God,I’mridiculouslywet.Andmynipplesaresuddenlyincrediblysensitive,achingwildlyastheypuckeragainstthelaceofmybra.
“It’sokay.Youdon’thavetoanswer.IknowIstilldo.”Hislipsbrushovermyear,elicitingaflurryofshivers.“IfIslidemyhandunderthatdressrightnow,webothknowwhatI’llfind.Thatyourpussyiswetterthanit’severbeen.”
Ican’tbreathe.Becausethere’snoair.Deanisstealingitallwithhisfilthytaunts.Andhishandsarepushingmycoatoffmyshoulders.I’mfrozeninplace,toofascinatedbytheintensitysimmeringinhiseyes.Heletsthecoatdroptothedirtypavement,theneasesthehemofmydressupandcupshispalmovermycore.Theresultingflashofpleasureiswhatsnapsmeoutofmytrance.
We’reinpublic,damnit,butDeandoesn’tseemtocare.Andeventhoughit’scoldoutside,hisfingersaresurprisinglywarmastheydipunderthecrotchofmypanties.
Chuckling,herubsthewetnesspooledthere.“Yeah.That’swhatIthought.”
He’smockingmeagain,andmyindignationreturnsinfull-force.“Getoveryourself,”Imutter.“I’dbewetifanyguywasrubbingupagainstme.”
“Bull.Fucking.Shit.”Histhumbbrushesmyclit.Ialmostfallover.“It’sme.Youwantme.”Hepushesonefingerinsideandmyinnermusclesbetraymebytighteningaroundit.“Andaslongasthishungrypussykeepsdrippingforme,we’renotfuckingdone.”
OhGod.He’sfingeringmeinearnestnow.Thepleasureisunbearable,centeredbetweenmylegs,pulsinginmyveins.It’sallIcanconcentrateon.
“Dean…”SomehowIrememberhowtotalk.“Anyonecanwalkoutsiderightnow.”
“Good.Letthem.Letthemseewhatabadgirlyouare.”
Imoansoloudit’sembarrassing.Deanaddsanotherfingerandworksbothinsideme,curlingthemuntiltheyhitaspotthatbringswhitedotstomyvision.Irockagainsthishand,nolongerputtingupaprotest,butgreedilytakingwhathe’sgivingme.
“Shouldwegivethemarealshow?ShouldItakeyourighthereagainstthewall?”
Myvisioncomesbackintofocus.Hiseyesareblazingwithunadulteratedlust.Hisfreehandhoversoverhiszipper.Hetipshishead,waitingformetorespond
Idon’tknowwhatspellhe’scastoverme.Ishouldpushhishandaway.Tellhimtokeephispantszippedandstopbeingajerk.We’reinpublic.Someonereallymightseeus.
Sowhyismyheartpoundingevenharder?
AndwhyamIdippingmyheadinanod?
Approvalflashesinhiseyes,alongwithadoseofpureneed.Hisfingersslideoutofmycore,andthenhespinsmearoundsoI’mfacingthewall.
Itensewhenmuffledvoicesdrifttowardusfromthestreetbeyondthealley.Whatifwegetcaught?Whatifwegetcaughtbyacop?Peoplegotojailforthis,right?
Dean’shotbreathfansovermyneckasheliftsmydressuptomywaist.Thechillintheairraisesgoosebumpsonthebacksofmythighs.
Ishouldstopthis.Probably.Maybe.ButIdon’t.
Ihearthesoundofplastictearing,clothesrustling,andthenhiserectionslidesbetweenmyasscheeks.Itmoveslowerandloweruntilthetipnudgesmyopening.
“Youbettercomefast,”Deanwhispersinmyear.“I’msohotforyouIwon’tlastmorethanacouplestrokes.”
Idon’tknowifI’lllastmorethanacoupleseconds.Myclitisswollentothepointofagony.Soaremybreasts.I’veneverhadaquickieoutsideabarbefore,andeverythingaboutthismomentisdifferentandthrillingandterrifying.Theaddedelementofdanger,theriskofsomeonecatchingus,hasturnedmybodyintoalivewirejustwaitingforonesparktoigniteit.
AndthatsparkcomesintheformofonedeepthrustfromDean.
Mycryofclimaxiscutshortwhenheclapsahandovermymouth.Forsomeonewhojusttauntedmeaboutputtingonashow,he’ssuddenlycautiousofoursurroundings.
I,ontheotherhand,can’tevenrememberwhatcontinentwe’reon.Theorgasmracesthroughmeandleavesmebreathless.IbeardownonDean’sshaftwitheveryuncontrollableshudder,andhegivesabarelyaudiblegroanandburieshisheadbetweenmyneckandshoulderashepumpsintomefrombehind.
Hewasn’tkidding.HecomessofastIdon’tknowwhethertobeimpressedorteasehimaboutit.Hedrivesintomeonelasttimeandtrembleswildly,hishandsclampedtightonmyhips.
I’mtremblingtoo,butIdon’tknowifit’sfromtheorgasmicaftershocksorthefrigidbreezeonmybarebutt.
Whenloudvoicesbreakthesilence,IjumpawayfromDeanandshovemydressdowntomythighs.Apeekbehindthedumpsterrevealsshadowyfiguresamblingalongthesidewalk.Notasingleheadturnstowardthealley.
IpickupmycoatandhurriedlyputitonasDeantuckshisstill-hardcockintohispants.Heflicksthecondominthedumpsterandgivesmeawarylook.
“What?”Myvoicedoesn’tsoundlikemyvoice.It’slower.Throatier.
Hisgazerakesovermefromheadtotoebeforelockingwithmine.“We’renotdone,”hesaysgruffly.
Ibitetheinsideofmycheekandsay,“Iknow.”19
Allie
AccordingtoHomelessLouinBrooklyn,wheneveryougetadéjàvu,it’ssimplyaglitchthathappenswhenaliensattempttoaccessyourmemories.Iguessthat’swhatthelittlegreenmenareuptonow,becauseholyhell,déjàvucity.
Fridaynightstartsoutthesamewayitdidtwoweeksago.Ileavethefitnesscenterwithmygymbaginonehandandmyphoneintheother.TherearethreeunreadmessagesfromSeanwaitingforme.
Ireadthemandgroan.Hereally,reallyneedstotalktome.Crap.
SomehowI’vesuccessfullymanagedtoavoidseeinghimfortwoweeks.SexwithDeanhasservedasagreatdistraction,buttonightIdon’thavethatluxury.DeanisstillattherinkfortheHurricanesgameandhehasplanswithhisfriendBeauafterward.
IneedtodecidewhattodoaboutSean.DoIwanttotalktohim?Isthereapoint?I’mstartingtothinkourpreviousbreakupsdidn’tstickbecausewetriedtoremainfriendsafterward.That’sjustabadideaallaround.Youcan’tbefriendswithanex,atleastnotrightaway.Meganinsiststhatasix-monthno-contactperiodisrequiredbeforeyoucanevenconsiderit.
NotthatMeganisarelationshipexpert.LastItalkedtoher,shewasstillseeingthethirty-seven-year-olddoctorbutkeepsmakingupexcusesforwhyshecan’tmeethisdaughter.Ifshecan’tcommunicatewithhimaboutherfearsandconcerns,howisthatarecipeforahealthyrelationship?
ButIshouldbefocusingonmyownloveliferightnow.Well,exlovelife,becauseIdon’tloveSeanMcCallanymore.It’sscaryhowquicklyittookformyfeelingstofade.
Mymotherusedtosaythattimehealsallwounds.That’sdefinitelytrue.Theyearaftershedied,justpicturingherfacewouldtriggerarushofgut-wrenchingpain.NowwhenIthinkabouther,itstillhurts,butinaduller,bittersweetway.Imissher,butIdon’tfeeltheurgetocurlupinaballandcrythedayaway.
Butthat’sgrief.Ithoughtlovewouldtakelongertofade,whichmakesmewonderifmaybetheprocesshadbegunlongbeforeSeanandIbrokeup.MaybeIfelloutoflovewithhimearlierandhadn’trealizedit.
Andmaybecoffeeisn’taterribleidea.IguessIcanuseitasanopportunitytogaugehowmyheartrespondsinhispresence.
I’mstilldebatingasIwalkupthestairstothedorm.BristolHouseonlyhasfourfloors,sothere’snoelevator,justfourflightsIhavetoclimbwhilecartingmygymbag.
IexitthestairwellintothehallandfreezewhenIspotSeansittinginfrontofmydoor.
Onceagain,he’stakenthedecisionoutofmyhands.
Hisheadisbentoverhisphone,butitsnapsupatthesoundofmyfootsteps.Thenhe’sonhisfeet,walkingtowardme.
Myheartdoesrespond,butnotinthewayIexpected.Seanlooksexactlythesame—darkhairstickingoutthesidesofabackwardRedSoxcap,deepbrowneyes,clean-shavenface.Shouldn’tthesightoftheboyIspentthreeyearswithmakemyheartache?
ButallIfeelisannoyance.
“Don’tbemad,”heblurtsoutinsteadofsayinghello.He’sobviouslypickeduponmydispleasure.“IknowIshouldn’thaveshownupunannounced.”
“Thenwhydidyou?”
“Becauseyou’renotansweringanyofmytexts.”Heshakeshisheadangrily.“Weweretogetheralmostfouryears,Allie.Youcan’tevensparefiveminutestotalktome?”
“Ididn’thaveanythingtosay.”Iunlockmydooranddumpmybaginthehall.WhenSeantriestofollowmeinside,Ifrownandgriptheedgeofthedoortodenyhimentrance.
Hescowls.“What,I’mnotallowedtocomeinnow?”
“There’snoreasonforyoutocomein.Saywhateveryouneedtosay,Sean.”
“I’mnotdoingitoutinthehallwheretheentirefloorcanhearme.”
Idrawadeepbreath.Idon’tknowwhyI’mbeingsoharshrightnow.Maybebecauseseeinghimjustremindsmeofthefightthatledtoourbreakup.Alltheunfair,insensitive,cruelwordshe’dhurledmyway.
Iforcemyselftoexhale.I’mprobablybeingextrasnippybecausethisevening’srehearsalsuckedagain.Mybreakneckpaceonthetreadmillhadn’thelpedeither.
“Look,Idesperatelyneedashower,sowhydon’tImeetyouattheCoffeeHutinthirtyminutes?Wecantalkthere.”
Icantellhe’sstillupsetIwon’tlethimin,buthenods.“Fine.Icoulduseacaffeinefix,Iguess.”
Inodback.“I’llbetheresoon.”ThenIclosethedoorandleanagainstitforafewseconds.Shit,Idon’tthinkIwanttohavethisconversation,whateveritis.
IwishHannahwereheresoIcouldgetheradviceonhowtohandlethis,butshe’satrehearsal.Withhershowcasecomingup,IdoubtI’llbeseeingmuchofheruntiltheperformanceisoutofherhair.
Intheshower,IremindmyselfthatIbrokeupwithSeanforareason.Well,manyreasons.Wewanteddifferentthingsfromthefuture.Iwasn’thappy.Hewasangryallthetime.
Bottomline,itwastoomuchheartacheandnotenoughreward.Iliketothinkmymomwouldagreewithmeonthat.Yes,she’durgedmetoworkhardatrelationships,andyes,relationshipsdorequireeffort,buttheyshouldn’tbehostile,right?
Ican’timaginewhatSeancouldpossiblysaythatwouldmakemereconsider.
*
Seanhassnaggedusatableinthebackofthebusycoffeeshop,halfhiddenbehindahugeceramicplanterwithafakefernfanningoutofit.Idon’tquiteunderstandthedécorofthisplace.Therearewaytoomanyplants—aretheygoingforajungletheme?Eh,Idon’tcare.Ilovethewayitsmellslikefreshlygroundcoffeebeans,andI’mgratefulfortheprivacy
Seanslidesatallfoamcupclosertome.“Igotyoucoffee.”Hesmileswryly.“Vanillalattewithanextrashotofespresso.”
Thistime,myheartdoesreactaccordingly,clenchinghard.Ofcourseheknowsmycoffeeorder.Heknowseverythingaboutme,andviceversa.Idon’tneedtopeekinhiscuptoknowhe’sdrinkingamediumroast,onecream,nosugar.Andthatthepaperbagonthetablecontainsablueberrymuffin,whichistheonlytypeofmuffinheeats.Whenweweretogether,Iforcedhimtotryeverymuffinandpastrybehindthecounter,butheinsistedthatblueberryistheonlyflavorthat“enchants”histastebuds.
Fuck.NowI’mjustsad.
“How’veyoubeen?”heasksquietly.
Ohno,we’restartingoffwithsmalltalk?Iwrapbothhandsaroundmycuptostopfromfidgeting.“Allright.You?”
“Notthegreatest,but…”Heshrugs.
Inoticehelookstired.Ishenotgettingenoughsleep?Ibitebackthequestionbeforeitslipsout.We’renottogetheranymore.Hissleepinghabitsarenolongermyconcern.
“Imissyou,”hemumbles.
Ihastilysipmycoffee.Idon’tsayitback,becausethetruthis…Idon’tmisshim.Rightafterwebrokeup,sure,ofcourseIdid.Butsincethen,I’vehadotherthingsonmymind.Theplay.Dean…
WhenIdon’trespond,hecontinueswithadejectedlook.“I’vebeendoingalotofthinkingsinceyouendedit.Alotofsoul-searching.”
Ifinallyfindmyvoice.“That’sgood.I’mglad.”
“Iwasthinkingbacktothelastsixmonths,andIrealizedhowbadlyIscrewedup.Iwassuchanasstoyou,Allie.”Hisexpressionisearnest.“ButnowIknowwhy.”
Mythroattightens.“Why?”
“BecauseIwasscared.”
Awshit.There’svulnerabilityswimminginhiseyes.Ibattletheoverwhelmingurgetoreachacrossthetableandsqueezehishand.
It’snotmyjobtotakecareofhimanymore.
“You’vehadyourentirefutureplannedoutsinceyouweretwelve.Youknewexactlywhatyouwantedtodo,andthat’ssofuckingrare.Notalotofpeoplecansaythat.”Histonegrowsrueful.“Isureashellcan’t.Ididn’tgrowupdreamingaboutworkingformydad’sinsurancecompany.Butit’saguaranteedjob,andnotalotofpeoplehavethat,especiallycomingoutofcollege,butit’snotlikeI’vebeenchompingatthebittogobacktoVermont.”
“Yousuremadeitsoundlikeyouwere,”Ipointout.
“Becauseit’stheonlyoptionIhave.”Hesoundsfrustrated.“Iwastryingtogetmyselfexcitedaboutit.And…honestly,picturingyoutherewithmemadetheideaofgoinghomemorebearable.Aneasierpilltoswallow,Iguess.Butitwasn’tfairtoyou.IhadnorighttoinsistthatyousacrificethefutureyouwantjustsoIcouldfeelbetteraboutthefutureI’mstuckwith.”
I’mdumb-founded.Seanhadn’tgivenanyindicationthathedidn’twanttobeinVermont,butIsupposethat’syetanothersignofthecommunicationbreakdownbetweenus.
“YoutoldmeonourveryfirstdatethatyouplannedonmovingtoLAaftergraduation.Youkepttellingmethat,upuntilthemomentwebrokeup.”Heshakeshishead,shame-faced.“ButthissummerIdecidednottohearitanymore.IconvincedmyselfthatIwasthemostimportantthinginyourlifeandyou’dgowhereveryouhadtoinordertobewithme.”
“That’snotafairexpectationtohaveofanyone,”Isaysoftly.“Youcan’tordersomeonetoputyourhappinessaheadoftheirown.”
“Iknow,andIwaswrongtogiveyouanultimatum.Itoldyou,I’vebeendoingalotofthinking.”Hetakesabreath.“Icametoafewconclusions.”
Mystomachdropswhenhesticksonehandinhisjacketpocket.OhdearGod.Pleasedon’tlethimpulloutavelvetjeweler’sbox.
IsitcrazythatIalmostwishhe’sgoingforagun?ThatheplansonholdingeveryonehostageuntilIagreetogetbacktogetherwithhim?Forsomescrewedupreason,IthinkI’mbetterequippedtohandlethatthanaproposal.
Buthishandemergeswithanarrowenvelope.Hesetsitonthetabletop.
“What’sthat?”IstareattheenvelopeasifitcontainsAnthrax.
“Openit,”heurges.
Fuckityfuck.
“Please.”
Thesincerityinhistonecausesmetocave.Ipickuptheenvelope.It’ssealed,buttheflapistuckedinsoIusemyfingernailtopryitout.Ipeekinsideandseeasinglesheetofpaper,whichIextractandunfoldasIfightmygrowingtrepidation.
Shockhitsmefirst.Followedbysuspicion.Followedbydeepdistress,because…whattheheckamIsupposedtosaytothis?
I’mstaringataconfirmationreceiptfortwoairlineticketstoLosAngeles,California.Theflightdepartsthedayaftergraduation.
IbitemylipandliftmygazetoSean’s.
“Youandme,baby,”hesaysfervently.“ThisiswhatIshould’vedoneinthefirstplace.ItwasstupidtotryandforceyoutomovetoVermont.WhatIneededtodowasswallowmyprideandmovetoLA.Withyou.”
OhGod.WhydidIinsistonmeetinginpublic?Publicisbad.PublicmeanseveryoneisabouttowitnessSean’sagonyandhumiliationwhenIsay—
“No.”
Uncertaintypassesoverhisface.“What?”
“You’renotcomingtoLAwithme.”
Sean’smouthopens.Thencloses.Thenopensagain.IgivehimamomenttodigestwhatIjustsaid.Unfortunately,it’sthesamemomentmyphonebuzzes.Idigaroundinmypurseand…wonderful,atextfromDean.
Him:Game’sdone.Hurricanesrockeditlikeahurricane.Beaucan’tmeetuptillater.Quickie?
God,Iwish.
Me:Can’t.Inthemiddleofsomethingbrutaloverhere.
“Whynot?”Seanfinallyasks.
“Because…”I’mdistracted.
Him:Everythingok?
Me:Yeah.HavingcoffeewithSean.
There’saninterminablylongdelay.
Seanisstillwaitingformetoanswer.I’mwaitingforDeantoanswer.IrealizeIprobablyshouldn’thavesaidanythingtoDean,butI’dbeentypingonautopilot.
Hecomesbackwith:
WTF?
Me:Iknow*sigh*I’llexplaineverythinglater,k?
There’snoresponseafterthat,andSeanislookingincreasinglyirritated.“Whoareyoutexting?”hedemands.
“Hannah,”Ilie.
TheworstpartaboutdatingsomeoneforaslongasIdatedSean?Theyalwaysknowwhenyou’relying.
“Bullshit.”Angerinfuseshiseyes,darkandfierce.“Isitthatguy?Theoneyousleptwith?”
“No,it’snot.”ThistimeIdon’tcareifheseesthroughthelie.“Andevenifitwas,it’snoneofyourbusiness.We’rebrokenup.”Itakeabreath.“Andthat’sthereasonyoucan’tcometoLAwithme.”
Sean’smouthflattens.Hisfaceandnecktakeonadeepflush.Eventhetipsofhisearsarered.“Youdon’tmeanthat.”
“Yes,Ido.I’msorry.Ijustthink…it’stimewemovedonfromeachother.”
“Moveonfromeachother,ormoveontootherpeople?”Hissnottytoneraisesmyhackles.“Likethisguywhosenameyouwon’ttellme?”
Icouldbeajerkandtossoutanother“it’snoneofyourbusiness.”Icouldalsophilosophizeandgivehimthewhole“ifyoulovesomeone,letthemgo”spiel.
Idoneither.Isimplyslidetheticketstowardhimandsay,“I’msorry.Ihopeyou’reabletogetarefundforthese.AndIreallyhopeyoufigureoutwhatyourpassionis,whetherit’sworkingforyourdadordoingsomethingelse.”Damnit,I’mchokingup.“Ireallydowantthebestforyou,Sean.Iwantyoutobehappy.”
Hedoesn’tanswer.Hesitsthere.Stone-faced.
Iscrapemychairback.MyhandsshakeasIputonmycoat.Idon’tbothertellinghimwecanstillbefriends,becauseIknowhedoesn’twanttohearthatrightnow.Besides,I’mnotabouttomakeanypromisesImightbeunabletokeep.
“Bye,Sean,”Isaysoftly.
*
Twenty-fourhoursaftermyheartbreakingencounterwithmyex-boyfriend,itbecomesglaringlyobviousthatDeanisgivingmethesilenttreatment.
ItextedhimafterIleftthecoffeehouse,askingifhestillwantedtomeetup.
Noanswer.
ItextedagainlatertoaskifhewentoutwithBeau.
Noanswer.
Itextedtosaygoodnight.
Noanswer.
Itextedtosaygoodmorning.
Noanswer.
Now,asIsitonmybed,homealoneonaSaturdaynight,I’mfindingithardtocutDeananyslack.Lastnight,Iwasfullywillingtotakeresponsibility.OfcourseDeanhadassumedtheworstwhenhefoundoutIwaswithSean,andIdon’tblamehimforgettingpissyaboutit.AfewhoursofsulkingisaperfectlyreasonablereactiontothinkingImight’vegottenbacktogetherwithmyex.
Buttwenty-fourhours?That’sbullshit.IfDeanismadatme,fine,lethimbemad.Ifhe’sdonewithme,fine,Iguesshe’sdone.Atleasthavetheballstotellme.Ignoringsomeoneuntiltheygetthe“hint”isdownrightinsulting,andIdon’thavepatienceforthat.
IgrabmylaptopfromthenightstandbecauseIdesperatelyneedadistractionrightnow,andnothingismoredistractingthanwatchingadorablevideosonYouTube.Hopefullythere’sababygiraffeouttherethatdecidedtocough,orababyhippothatfeltlikesplashingaroundinapond.
SomehowIenduponTwitter.Andgee,lookatthat.Deanisalive.Nowhecan’tuse“Iwasdead”asanexcuseforwhyhe’ssnubbingme,becauseaBriarstudentislivetweetingtonight’shomegameandjustmentioneda“DiLaurentis”goal.
Iclosethebrowserandhopoffthebed.MaybeI’mamasochist,butseeingDean’snamemakesmewanttoseeDean.Iwantanswers,damnit.Iwanthimtolookmeintheeyeandtellmeiftheflingisover.
Ittakesmenearlythirtyminutestowalktothearena,whichisontheoppositeendofBriar’shugecampus.Attheticketbooth,IflashmystudentIDtogetthediscountrate.Thestudenttellersays,“Standingroomonly”assheslidesaticketundertheglass.
Aminutelater,I’mintheareareservedforstandingpatrons.Thesecondperiodjuststarted.
IpeerattheicetryingtorememberDean’sjerseynumber.Myminddrawsablank,soinsteadIscanthenamesonthebackoftheblack-and-silverjerseys.Dean’ssurnamecontainssomanylettersitshouldbeeasytospot,butnope,I’mnotseeinghimontheice.Maybehislineisn’tplayingrightnow?Buthedoesn’tseemtobesittingonthehomebencheither.
Weird.
Onawhim,IopenTwitteronmyphoneandsearchfortheprofileIwasfollowingearlier.Maybe@BriarBryan38tweetedsomeupdateswhenIwaswalkingover.Iskimthemostrecentpostsuntilonecatchesmyeye.
Myheartpromptlylurchestomythroat.
Deanwasthrownoutofthegame.20
Dean
Isitintheemptylockerroom,headdown,shouldershunched.Valiantlytryingnottograbthenearestitem—whichhappenstobemyhelmet—andhurlitatthewall.TheknucklesofmyrighthandarecrackedandbleedingthankstotheviolentuppercutIunleashedattheSt.Anthony’sforward,butIpressmypalmsagainstmythighsandletthebloodsoakintomyhockeypants.
IdespisethosefuckersfromSt.Anthony’s.Ourteamsarelong-timerivals,sowheneverweplayeachother,tensionandsmacktalkaretobeexpected.Butthehostilityhasgottenworseoverthepasttwoyears.Andacoupleweeksago,abunchofSt.A’sguyshadmessedwithoneofGrace’sfriends,takingawayherphoneandrefusingtoletherleavetheirseedymotelroom.
Tonight,I’mtheoneatfault.Therewastheusualtrashtalkintheface-offs,aggressiveskating,overlyphysicalhitsonbothsides.ButIwasalreadyhot-temperedgoingintothisgame,andwhenthatassholegoadedmeintotakingaswing,Ijustlostit.
Theytossedmeoutforunsportsmanlikeconduct.Yeahright.IftherefsheardevenhalfthefilthConnellywasspewingaboutourmothers,they’dthrowthatfuckerouttoo.
Asisstands,I’mtheonlyoustedplayer.Onepunchthrowninanalreadyheatedgameprobablywon’tgetmeasuspensionfromtheteam,butnowI’mstuckinthelockerroom,prohibitedfromleavinguntilIgettheobligatorytongue-lashingfromCoachJensen.
Ormaybehe’lldelegateagainandletO’Sheadeliverthelecture.Luckyme.Thatwouldmeantwolecturesfromthatbastardinthespanoftwenty-fourhours.He’dcalledmeintohisofficelastnightwhenIwasdrivinghomefromtheHurricanesgame.AddtothatAllie’sadmissionthatshewaswithherex,andit’snosurpriseIendedupgettingtrashedwithBeau.
IsweartoGod,ifAlliegotbacktogetherwiththatundeservingass,I’mgoingto…what?Loseitagain?“Breakup”withher?AllI’vedonesofarisavoidher,bigtalkerthatIam.Truthfully,I’mafraidofwhatshemightsay.
Footstepsechobeyondthedoor.Iinstantlytense.Wait,it’sthewrongdoor,Irealize.Nottheoneleadingouttotheice,buttheonethatopenstothemainhallway.
“Dean?”Allie’svoicehasmyheadsnappingup.
Howthehelldidshegetbackhere?Wehavesecurityguardsmanningthefacilityduringhomegamestopreventpeoplefromstealingintothelockerroomsandmessingwiththeequipment.Thatactuallyhappenedacoupleyearsago—arabidfanofouropponents’snuckinandspray-paintedLOSERonourlockers.Ihadn’trealizedsomecollegesletinfive-year-olds.
There’sasoftknock.“Dean,areyouinthere?”
Iansweronaraggedbreath,“Yeah.”
Alliepokesherblondheadintheroom.Shespotsmeonthebenchandmakesabeelinetowardme.She’sinjeansandaredsweater,withherhairupinamessybun,andeitherI’mimaginingitorhereyesarerimmedwithred.Hasshebeencrying?
“How’dyougetpastsecurity?”Iaskgruffly.
“ItoldtheguardI’myourgirlfriendandthatIdesperatelyneededtocheckonmyman.Theremayhavebeensomecrocodiletearsinvolved.”Shegrinswryly.“Theabilitytocryoncommandreallycomesinhandysometimes.”
“Andheboughtit?”
“Yep.I’mveryconvincing.ButIdidhavetoshowhimmyBriarIDtoproveIwasn’tasaboteur.”Shesitsbesideme.“Whydidyougetkickedoutofthegame?”
Istarestraightahead.“Isuckerpunchedsomeone.Damnfoolishonmypart.Ideservetobeinhere.”
“Maybe.Butitstillsucks.”Shegoesquietforamoment.Icanfeelherblueeyesboringintothesideofmyface.“You’reavoidingme.”
Iglanceover.“Justabit.”
“Abit?Therearen’tdegreesofavoidance,Dean.You’reeitheravoidingsomeone,oryouaren’t.”
“Nottrue.Sometimesthere’reextenuatingcircumstances.Unexpectedvariables.”
“Likewhat?”
Ishrug.“Doesn’tmatter.”
“Itdoesmatter,”shecorrects,“butwecanputapininthatforthemoment.”Shepressesonehandagainstmycheek,thenslidesittomychintotwistmyheadtowardher.Forcingeyecontact.“Iknowyou’repissedatmeforseeingSean.”
“I’mnotpissed.Youcanseewhoeveryouwant.”Iputonanindifferenttone,wheninside,I’mbristling.“Butletmejustpointoutthehypocrisyofthat.Weren’twesupposedtogiveeachotherahead’supbeforewehookedupwithanyoneelse?”
“Ididn’thookupwithhim.”
“No?”
“No,”shesaysinafirmvoice.“AndifyoursilenttreatmentalsohastodowithyouthinkingSeanandIgotbacktogether,Icanassureyou,wedidnot.Hewantedto,butIsaidno.”
Ican’texplainthegustofreliefthatslamsintomychest.“Goodtoknow,”Isaylightly,buttheknowinggleaminhereyesrevealssheisabsolutelyawareofhowpleasedIam.
Shetakesmyhandandtwinesourfingerstogether.“SeanandIareover.Idon’twanttobewithhim,andthat’sexactlywhatItoldhimyesterday.”
“Bethewasn’tthrilledtohearit.”
“Nope,butit’ssomethinghe’llneedtoaccept.”Sherubsherthumbovermytenderknuckles.They’renotbleedinganymore,butthewayshegasps,you’dthinkmyhandhadbeenamputated.“Youshouldn’tbefighting,”shesayssternly
“Hockeyplayersarehot-blooded,babe.Wefightsometimes.Nottheendoftheworld.”
“Whatdidthejerksaytogetyoutopunchhim?”
“Idon’tevenremember,”Iadmit.“Itwasallablur,andIwasalreadyinashittymoodtobeginwith.”
Guiltfillsherexpression.“Becauseofme?”
“Naah.”Myfingerstightenthroughhers.“O’SheaisonmycaseagainbecauseanothergoddamnpictureshoweduponInstagram.”Ichuckleharshly.“IreallyneedtostartpayingmoreattentionwhenI’matMalone’s.”
“O’Sheaisyourassistantcoach?Theonewhoforcedyoutovolunteeratthemiddleschool?”
“Defensivecoordinator,andyes.”
“Okay,andwhatpicturearewetalkingabout?Wait,apicturefromMalone’s?Ofus?”Herfacegoespale.
“No,”Iassureher.“MeandPenelope,thepuckbunnywhowaschewingonmyneck.O’Sheaispissed.”
“Why?ArePDAsforbidden?”Shequicklyadds,“NotthatI’msayingyouwerePDA’ingwithher—Iknowshewastheonecomingontoyou.Butforargument’ssake,evenifyouwerereciprocating,howisthatapunishableoffense?”
“Hewasn’tbitchingaboutthePDA.I’mholdingabeerinthepicture,andO’Shea’sgotastickuphisassaboutusnotdrinking.”
“Um.Herealizeshe’scoachingcollegeplayers,right?Ano-drinkingruleisimpossibletoenforce.”
“Iknow.”
“Andallyou’redoinginthepictureisholdingabeer?Whatthehell?It’snotlikeyougotcaughtsnortinglinesofcokeoffhertits.”
Asmileticklesmylips.“Ofcoursenot.IfIwasgoingtosnortlinesoffanyone’stits,itwouldbeyours.”
“Aw,thanks.That’ssoromantic.”Stillstrokingmypalmwithherfingertips,sheleanscloserandkissesmycheek.“O’Sheaisanidiot,sweetie.Don’tlethimgettoyou,okay?Especiallynottothepointwhereyou’resoangryyou’repunchingpeopleandgettingthrownoutofgames.”
She’sright—Ineedtodoabetterjobofcontrollingmytemper.ButFrankO’Shea…fuck.Justthesoundofhissharp,condescendingvoicerilesmeup.
Allie’slipsbrushovermyjawinafleetingkiss.Thenshereleasesmyhand,visiblyreluctant.“Ishouldprobablygobeforesomeoneseesmeinhere.Thethirdperiodwillbeoversoon.”
“Didyouhappentocatchthescorebeforeyoucamebackhere?”
“Ithinkitwastied.”
Shit.Well,hopefullymyboysmanagetoturnthetieintoalead,becauseI’msicktodeathoflosing.
AndI’msickofsneakingaround,ifI’mbeinghonest.
Itwasexcitingatfirst,sleepingwithAlliebehindourfriends’backs,butI’mnotfeelingitanymore.WhensheshowedupatMalone’stheothernightlookinglikethat?Iwantedtostickmytonguedownherthroatinfrontofeveryone.Itwasdamnhardpretendingtobeunaffectedbyher,andI’mdamntiredoffurtivelytextingherforquickiesandlyingtomyfriendsaboutwhereI’mgoing.
Friends,who,bytheway,nowthinkIincorporatedildosinmyjerk-offroutine.WhenTuckerhandedmeaplateofbaconandeggsthismorning,heinnocentlyaskedifmy“littlepinkbuddy”wouldbejoiningusforbreakfast.Garrettalmostbrokeariblaughing.PoorGracestillcan’tlookatmewithoutblushing.
IknowAlliedoesn’twantourfriendstoknowwe’refoolingaround,butIwishtherewasawaywecouldhavealittlemorefreedom.Maybewecouldbookahotelroomfortheweekend,justspendtwowholedaysinbedwithoutworryingabout—
Inspirationstrikes.“Hey,wait.”Ireachforherhandbeforeshecanstandup.“DidyoubookyourtrainticketforThanksgivingyet?”
Alliecurses.“No,Ididn’t.Argh!WhyamIsobadatrememberingthings?Isetareminder!”
“Don’tbookit.”
“Whynot?”
“BecauseIhaveabetteridea.”Ihesitate.“Whydon’tIcometoNewYorkwithyou?Wecandriveupinmycar.”
Shelooksstartled.“Oh.You…uh…wanttospendThanksgivingtogether?Um.Well.I’mseeingmydad—”
“I’mnotinvitingmyselftodinneroranything,”Icutin.“IfiguredI’dstayatmyplaceinManhattanwhileyou’rewithyourdad,andifyou’refreeThursdayorFridaynight,youcancomeover.”Iwigglemyeyebrows.“We’dhavethewholeplacetoourselves.”
“Well,that’sintriguing,”shesaysslowly.“WhendoyouneedtobebackatBriarforthegame?”
“I’dhavetoleaveSaturdaymorning.Whenwereyouplanningoncomingback?”
“Saturdaymorning.”Atinysmileliftsherlips.“Timingworksout…”
“Doesthatmeanyou’redown?”Iaskhopefully.
“AfreeridetoNewYorkandwildweekendsex?Ofcourse.”
“Good.Ihaveonefavortoask,though.”
Shetipsherhead,waitingformetocontinue.
Mymood,whichhadbeenlowerthanlowbefore,isnowasbrightasthegrinIflashher.“BringWinston.”
*
Andthat’showIendupdrivingtoNewYorkwithAllieinthepassengerseat.
Thesunhasalreadysetbythetimewehittheroad,becauseAlliehadrehearsaluntilsix,andthenittakesherawholefrickin’hourtopack.Me,Ibringabackpack.Her?Shebringsanoverstuffedsuitcasethatbarelyfitsinmytrunk.
Ihadleftmyhockeybagintherebecauseitliterallydidn’toccurtomethatshe’dpacksomuchshitforthreeshortdays.Luckily,theparkinglotbehindBristoliscompletelydeserted,whichmeansnobodyseesustryingtojamthesuitcaseinthetrunk.Thecampusiseerilysilent,almostasiftheRapturesuckedeveryoneupintothesky.Clearlywe’renottheonlyoneswhodecidedtoheadoutthedaybeforeThanksgiving.
HannahandGarrettflewtoPhillythismorning,andGraceandLoganweregoneafewhourslater.They’revisitingLogan’sfatherinrehab,thenhittinguphismotherinBostonforthenightbeforecomingbacktoHastingstospendtheholidaywithGrace’sdad.TuckerwasstillhomewhenIleft,buthe’sdrivingtoHollis’splaceinNewHampshiretomorrowmorning.I’mglad,becauseifhedidn’thaveanywheretogo,theguiltwould’vesuckeredmeintoinvitinghimtoManhattan.
AfterAllieandIarefinallysettledinthefrontseat,Idiscoverthatwehavecompletelydifferenttastesinmusic.Ittakesaboutfiveminutesofbickeringbeforewereachacompromise—weeachgetthirty-minutemusicblocks,duringwhichtheotherpersonisn’tallowedtocomplain.Thelittlebratevensetsatimertoensureweabidebytherules.Andofcourse,sheannouncesshe’sgoingfirst.
“Whycan’tIgofirst?”Iobject.
“BecauseI’mplayingthevaginacard.”
Ismirkather.“Fine.ThenItrumpitwiththepeniscard.”
“That’snothowitworks.”Shesoundsexasperated.
“Thenhowdoesitwork?BecauselastIchecked,genitalsdon’tdecidewhogetstolistentotheirmusicfirst.”
“Ohyes,theydo.”AllieaddressesmelikeI’makindergartner.“See,ifyoutakeawaymydickprivileges,I’llbefineformonths.Years,even.ButifItakeawayyourpussyprivileges?You’llbeutterlylost.Likeadrowningmanatsea,desperatelygrabbingforthevaginapreserver.”Shebeams.“Therefore,vaginatrumpspenis.”
Mysmirkfades,becauseshe’sright.
Asaresult,Ispendthefirstthirtyminutesofthedrivelisteningtocheesy80sballadsthatallfeaturethewordloveintheirtitles.
“IWanttoKnowWhatLoveIs.”
“IJustCalledToSayILoveYou.”
“ItMustHaveBeenLove.”
You’dthinkAlliewasnotsosubtlytryingtotellmesomething,exceptI’mfairlycertaineverysongfromthe80sisaboutlove.
Whenit’smyturn,IpickthefilthiesttracksIcanfind.Ol’DirtyBastard.Somenon-radio-friendlyJay-Z.CypressHill.IeventhrowanInsaneClownPossesonginthere.
AllieretaliatesbyputtingonMadonna’sgreatesthits.
Insteadofpunishingher,Idecidetorewardmyselfandswitchfromhip-hoptocountry.Yup,richboylikesTimMcGraw.Sosueme.
We’restillontheI-90withabouttwohourslefttogowhenAlliepullsoutherphoneandstartstyping.
Keepingmyeyesontheroad,Iask,“Whoyoutexting?”
“Dillon…afriendfromhighschool.ShegoestocollegeinFlorida,butI’mhopingshe’scominghomeforthebreak.Oooh,andIshouldcheckifFletchisaround.”
“Fletch?”
“KyleFletcher,butIcallhimFletch,”shesaysabsently.“Ex-boyfriend.”
Myheadswivelstowardher.“You’remakingplanswithyourex-boyfriend?”
“Retractthoseclaws,missy.Fletchisstillagoodfriendofmine.”
Ican’tfightmycuriosity.“Howlongwereyoutogether?”
“Threeyears.”
Iwhistlesoftly.“AndthenthreeandahalfmorewithSean…You’reanester,huh?”
“No,I’mnot,”sheprotests.
“Babe,that’salmostsevenyearsofyourlifespentinaseriousrelationship.Andyou’reonlytwenty-two.”
“Twenty-one.I’maChristmasbaby.”
“Forreal?Yourbirthday’sthetwenty-fifth?”
“Thetwenty-fourth.IguessthatmakesmeaChristmasEvebaby.Sorry.”
“Youbetterbesorry.Howdareyoumisleadmelikethat?”
Sherollshereyes.“Anyway,fine.You’reright.Thatisalongtime.”Shepauses.“What’syourlongestrelationship?”
“Alittleoverayear.”Ianswerwithoutmovingmygazefromthedarkhighway.
“Really?”shesaysinsurprise.“That’salotlongerthanIexpected.Highschool?”
Inod.
“Why’dyoubreakup?”
It’smyturntorollmyeyes.“Becausewewereinhighschool.”
“So?Whatifshewasyoursoulmate?”Alliechallenges.“Youdon’tbelievehighschoolsweetheartscanmakeit?”
“Nope.Idon’tthinkyou’recapableofknowingwhatyouwantorneedfromarelationshipatthatage.Whenyou’reinhighschool,youhavenoconceptofreallife.Youdon’trealizehowmuchgrowingupyoustillhavetodo.I’mdefinitelynotthesamepersonnowthatIwasinmyteens.Hell,I’mnotthesamepersonIwaslastsemester.”
“Sureyouare.”Shesmilessweetly.“Youwereamanwhorelastsemesterandyou’reamanwhorethissemester.”
“True,”Isaywithasnicker.
Alliedropsherphoneinthecupholderandshiftsaroundinherseatsoshecanseemebetter.“Doyoustilltalktoyourhighschoolgirlfriend?”
Tensionslicesintomybones.“No.”
“Youjustlosttouch?”
“Iguessyoucansaythat.”Iexhaleslowly,hopingtoeasethetightnessinmychest.“She’sthereasonCoachO’Sheahatesme,actually.Miranda’shisdaughter.”
“Uh-oh.Youdatedyourcoach’sdaughter?”Allietakesonachidingtone.“Oh,sweetie,that’slikerulenumberoneinthedatinghandbook—neverdatethekidofyourauthorityfigure.”
“DoIlooklikesomeonewhofollowstherules?”Myansweringgrinfadesrapidly.“Icouldn’thelpit,”Iadmit.“Atthetime,Mirandawasprettyfrickin’awesome.Impossibletoresist.SheattendedGreenwichPrepforfreebecauseFrankcoachedthere,soshewasn’tarichkid.ShewascompletelydifferentfromthegirlsI’dalwaysgonetoschoolwith.Shedidn’tgiveashitaboutimageorbeingtheQueenB,didn’tshameotherpeopletomakeherselffeelbetter.Shewasdown-to-earth.Funny.Hot.”
“Wellduh.DeanHeyward-DiLaurentisonlybangshotties.”
“Ididn’tbangher.Atleastnotrightaway.Ittookalongtimetogetthere,butIwasn’tinanyhurry.”Iwink.“Wehadfundoingotherstuff.”
“Sowhendidyoudothedeed?”
“Acouplemonthsbeforewebrokeup.”Myshouldersstiffenagain.Ihatethinkingaboutthatnight.
Alliesensesit,becausehertonebecomeswary.“Whathappened?”
Fuck,whydidIevenopenthisdoor?“Aboutninemonthsintotherelationship,thingsgot…intense.”AndwhyamIevenansweringthequestion?“Mirandastartedtalkingaboutusstayingtogetherwhenwewenttocollege,whichwasneverpartofthedeal.”
“Wait—didO’Sheaknowatthispoint?Thatyouweredatinghisdaughter?”
“Yeah,heknew.Hewasn’tthrilled,buthesaidaslongasMirandawashappy,hewashappy.Didn’tstophimfromgivingmegriefaboutit,though.I’dpickherupforadateandhe’dinterrogatemeaboutwhereweweregoing,whowouldbethere,whenwe’dbeback.AndonetimehethreatenedtoshootmyballsoffifIdidn’ttreatherwithrespect.”
“MyfathergaveFletchthesamespeechwhenwestarteddating.Trustme,it’sadadthing.”Allie’slaughterdiesoff.“SoMirandawastalkingaboutcollege…?”
“Allthetime,anditreallyfuckingworriedmebecausewewereonthesamepagegoingintotherelationship.Ididn’twanttodothelong-distancethingincollege.Isawmybrotherandhisex-girlfriendgothroughit,samewithafewbuddieswhograduatedtheyearbefore.Theyspenttheirfreshmanyearholdingontosomethingtheyshould’vejustletgo.Thephonecallsgotlessfrequent,thevisitsstopped,thejealousyandinsecuritysetin.Worryingaboutwhattheotherpersonwasupto,whotheymightbehookingupwith.Ididn’twantthat,andneitherdidMiranda.ShewasplanningongoingtoDuke.IwasplanningonBriarorHarvard.Webothagreedthatifwewerestilltogetherbythetimegraduationrolledaround,wewouldendit.”
“Butshechangedhermind?”
“Yup.Itwassubtleatfirst.She’dtalkaboutsomethingweweregoingtodointhefuture,I’dremindheritprobablywouldn’thappen,andshe’dlaughitoffandsaysheforgot.Butthenshegot…clingy.She’dcallliketentimesaday,andsuddenlyshewasparanoidIwascheatingonher.Iwasn’t,bytheway—I’venevercheatedonanyoneImadeacommitmentto.”
“Soyouendedit?No,wait,firstyouhadsexwithher.”
IheartheaccusationinAllie’stone,andIcan’tdenyithitsitsmark.“Yeah.Idid.”Mymouthrunsdry.Itrytoswallow.“Mirandawaswiththisotherguyfortwoyearsbeforeshewentoutwithme.Whenwestarteddating,shetoldmeshe’dhadsexbefore.”
“Ohno,”Alliemurmurs.“Idon’tlikewherethisisgoing.”
“Wewereataparty,andshewasactingallclingyagain,notlettingmetalktoanyone,refusingtoletgoofmyhand.Sheevenfollowedmeintothefuckingbathroom.Iwasfrustratedandangry,andIstartedpoundingbeersbecauseitwastheonlywaytopassthetime.Shedidn’twanttoleave,butshealsowouldn’tleavemyside.Iwasactuallyconsideringbreakingupwithherrightthen,andIguessshesenseditbecausenextthingIknowshe’sdraggingmeupstairs.”Regretthrobsinsideme.“Iwasdisgustinglywasted,nottomentionseventeenandhorny,soIwasn’texactlyfightingheroff.Wehadsex.Andthenafterward,sheadmittedshewasavirgin.”
“Shit.”
“IfI’dknown,Iwouldhavebeenmore…Idon’tknow,careful?Gentler?Iwassloppydrunkandshegotasloppylay.Forherfirsttime,Allie.Ifeltlikeatotalassthenextday,butMirandawasn’tmad.Shesaidshefeltclosertomethanever,andafterthat,itwaslikeDEFCONlevelclinginess.Suddenlyshewasplanningcollegevisitsandsayinghowweshouldthinkaboutgettingengaged,thatastrongercommitmentwouldmakeiteasiertostaytruetoeachother.”Mystomachchurnsjustthinkingaboutit.Ihadn’teventurnedeighteenatthatpoint.
“Solikeanyteenageboywould,youfreakedoutandendedit.”
Inod.
Shesighs.“Idon’tblameyou.I’msureanyonewouldfeeloverwhelmedinthatsituation.”
“Maybe.But…Mirandadidn’thandlethebreakuptoowell,”Iconfess,fightingthenauseaclawingatmygut.“Turnsoutshe’ddealtwithdepressioninthepast,butshenevertoldmeaboutit.Ineverwould’veguessedeither,becauseshewassohappyandeasygoingallthetime.ButIfoundoutthat’sbecauseofthemedsshewastaking.ThemedsshestoppedtakingafterIendedit.”
“Shit,”Alliesaysagain.
“Shechangedcompletely.Shewascryingallthetime,screamingatmeinthehalls,callingmeinthemiddleofthenightthreateningtokillherself.Ihadnochoicebuttoinvolveherdad,becauseIwasterrifiedshemightactuallycommitsuicide.Frankpulledheroutofschoolafterthat,andIhaven’tseenorheardfromhersince.”
Allie’sjawdrops.“Areyouserious?”
“Frankwouldn’tallowit.”ThefrustrationIfeltbackthenrisesagainnow.“HetoldmeMirandawasbackonhermedsandgettingprofessionalhelp.Oh,andthatifIevertriedtocontactheragain,hewouldripmythroatout.Thatdidn’tstopmefromworryingabouther.Imean,Istillcaredabouthereventhoughwewerebrokenup,soaboutamonthaftersheleftschool,IcorneredCoachintheparkinglotanddemandedtoseeMiranda.”Myjawtwitches.“Andhepunchedmeintheface.”
“OhmyGod.Didanyoneseehimdoit?”
“No.Itwaslate,andhewascomingoutofastaffmeeting.Nobodyelsewasaround.Butyeah,heclockedmegood.That’swhenIfoundoutthatMirandatoldhimwehadsex.ShealsotoldhimIwasdrunkoutofmymindwhenithappened.”
“Well,that’snotcool,”Alliesaysangrily.
“Noneofitwascool.Ishouldn’thaveletherseducemethatnight,absolutely.”Bitternessclogsmythroat.“ButsheletherfatherbelieveIwassomedrunkassholewhotookadvantageofher,andthatwasn’tfaireither.”Iforcemyselftorelaxmygriponthesteeringwheel.“Anyway,that’swhyO’Sheacan’tstandthesightofme.HethinksIplayedthelonggamewithhisdaughter—spentayeartryingtogetintoherpants,andthendumpedheronceIgotwhatIwanted.”
“Andyoureallyhavenoideahowshe’sdoingnow?Youhaven’ttriedtocontacther?”
“IsentheraFacebookfriendrequestawhileago,”Iadmit.“Shehasn’tacceptedit.Ithinkshe’sdoingwell,though.HerprofilesaidshegoestoDuke.”
“IguessitmakessensethatO’Sheawassooverprotectiveofher,”Alliemuses.“Itmusthavebeenreallyhardforhim,watchinghisdaughterstrugglewithdepression.Watchinghergetbetter,andthenfallintothatdarkplaceagain.”
Maybe,butIrefusetoempathizewiththatbastard,notwhenhe’stryingtomakemylastyearatBriarsodamnmiserable.
“Youmakemoresensetometoonow,”sheadds.
“Howso?”Idon’tlikeherthoughtful,probinggaze.
“Thisiswhyyou’realwayssoupfrontaboutsex,right?You’remakingsureyourhook-upsareonthesamepageasyou?”
“I’mnotmisleadinganyoneeveragain,that’sforsure.Ortakingtheiragreementatfacevalue.Idon’tcareifitmakesmeanass,butInever,everlieaboutmyintentions.AndIneverdatevirgins,”Isayasanafterthought.“Orfreshmen,becausetheytendtobeclingier.”
“TheLifeofDeansurehasalotofrules.”
“Withoutthoserules,thereisnoLifeofDean.”
“Isuppose.”Shepauses.“Thevirginthingistough,though.It’seasyforagirltolieaboutthat.Imean,horsebackridingalonehasprobablybrokenfiftypercentofhymens.”
Ibarkoutalaugh.“Trustme,myvirginradarisinfalliblethesedays.”
“Ohyeah?HowdidyouknowIwasn’tavirgin?”
“BecauseGarrettstaysatyourdormeveryotherweekendandheheardyouandSeaninthebonezonetonsoftimes.Hetoldmeyouwereascreamer.”
Shegasps.“Hedidnotsaythat.”
“Hetotallydid.Faceit,babe,you’realoudlay.”Ichuckleatherstrickenexpression.“That’snotabadthing.Vocalisgood.”IthinkofherthroatymoansandbreathyOhmyGods,andI’msemi-hardinananosecond.“Vocalisverygood.”
“No,it’sembarrassing,”shemutters.Hercheeksarebrightred.
“Hey,I’dwayratherbeinbedwithaloudwomanthanaquietone.Silentcomersaretheworst.Isleptwiththisonechickwhodidn’tmakeasoundtheentiretime.Seriously,Ihadnoideaifshewasevenenjoyingherself,andthenwhenitwasoversheturnedtomeandthankedmeforthemultipleorgasms.”
Allieletsoutahoot.“You’relying.”
“Idon’tlie.”
“You…reallydon’t,huh?I’mstartingtothinkyoumightbethemosthonestpersonI’veevermet.”
“AnotherrequirementintheLifeofDean.Saywhatyoumean,meanwhatyousay.”
“Anddowhatyouwant.”
“Anddowhatyouwant,”Iecho.
“IthinkIreallyliketheLifeofDean.”
IthinkIreallylikeyou,Ialmostblurtout.
Fortunately,Imanagetotampdownthesentiment,because…whatthehell?Ilikebangingher.Allieiseasytotalktoandfuntofuck—that’sallthereistoit.Andconsideringhowadamantsheisaboutthisbeingnothingmorethanafling,Iknowsheagreeswholeheartedlywithmeonthat.
Butafewhourslater,whenIpullupinfrontofathree-storybrownstoneinBrooklynHeights,Alliethrowsmeacurveball.
“Doyouwanttocomefordinnertomorrow?”
Theinvitationisalarmingandunexpected.
Andalarming.
DidImentionalarming?
Myuneasemustbewrittenallovermyface,becauseAlliehurrieson.“Iwon’tbeinsultedifyousayno.Honestly,youcansayno.IwasjustimaginingyouallaloneinManhattanforThanksgivingwhileyourfamilyisscarfingdownatropicalturkeyinSt.Bart’s,anditwassuchalonely,depressingpicturethatIfiguredI’dextendtheinvite.”
“What…”Iclearmythroat.“Whatwillyoutellyourdad?”
Sheshrugs.“I’llsayyou’reafriendfromschoolwhodidn’thaveanywhereelsetogo.Itwon’tbeabigdeal,Ipromise.Youguyswilltalkhockey,I’llcookdinner,we’llwatchsomefootball,andthere’safortypercentchanceweallgetfoodpoisoning.JustaregularoldHayesfamilyThanksgiving.”
Alaughfliesout.“Soundslikeablast.”Iconsiderit.“Okay,I’min.Whattimedoyouwantmetoshowup?”
“Fourshouldbegood,butweprobablywon’teatuntilfive.”
Inod.
“Okay.Awesome.”Shesmilesruefully.“Nowhelpmegetmysuitcaseoutofthetrunk,willyou?I’mprettysureI’llbreakmybackifItrytoliftthatthingmyself.”21
Dean
Allie’sfatherhatesmeonsight.
I’msureifImentionedittoAllie,she’dwaveoffmyconcernsandsaythingslike“he’sjustgrumpy”or“oh,that’sjusthowheiswitheveryone”.Butshe’dbewrong.
JoeHayeshatesmefromthemomentheopensthedoorandseesmestandingonthestoop.Andhooboy,don’tIfeeloverdressed.Allietoldmetodress“nice”,soI’dchosenawhiteTomForddressshirtandgrayArmanitrousers.Nosuitcoat,butmyblackRalphLaurenjacketgetsaneyebrowflickfromAllie’sdad,who’sinsweatpantsandaflannelshirt.
“YouAJ’sfriendfromschool?”hebarks.
Iwrinklemybrow.“AJ?”
“Mydaughter.AllisonJane?”Mr.Hayeslooksannoyedthathehastoexplain.
“Oh,ah,yes,sir.IknowherasAllie,though.”
“Andyoudidn’tknowhernickname?”Hemakesaderisivesound.“Notmuchofafriend,areya?”Hemutters,“Comein”andturnsaroundstiffly.Stiffintheliteralsense,becausehisgaitisvisiblylaboredashestumblesforwardonaslendercane.
AlliehadwarnedmethatherfatherhasMS.Shealsoadvisedmenottobringitupinconversation,sayinghedoesn’tliketalkingaboutitandwillmostlikelybitemyheadoffifImentionit.SoIdon’t,butit’sclearevenwithmynon-medicalbackgroundthathe’sinpainrightnow.
IfollowMr.Hayesthroughasurprisinglylargemainfloorwithgleaminghardwoodandwhatlooksliketheoriginalwoodworkanddoorsfromwheneverthisbrownstonewasbuilt.Allieandherdadhavethetwolowerfloors,whichI’mbrusquelytoldcontainfourbedroomsandthreebaths.EitherthefamilypurchasedtheapartmentbeforetheBrooklynHeightsneighborhoodbecamesuperexclusive,orpro-hockeyscoutsmakewaymoremoneythanIthought.
Heleadsmeintoaspaciouslivingroomwithabaywindowthatoverlooksaneatlytendedgardenandpatio.“Doyougarden?”Iaskpolitely.
Allie’sdadscowlsatme.“Womanupstairstakescareofthegarden.”
Okaythen.
“Dean.Hey.”
OhthankChrist.Alliepopsintotheroom,andI’mrelievedtoseeshe’swearingaknee-lengthbluedress.Notafancyone,butniceenoughthatInolongerfeellikeIshoweduptoapotluckinatuxedo.
“Youwantanythingtodrink?”sheasksaftershegreetsmewithaquickhug.
IglanceatthebrownleathercouchthatMr.Hayesisslowlyloweringhimselfon.Hetucksthecaneontheedgeofthesofaandsnatchesabeerfromthecoffeetable.Hishandtrembleswildlyasheraisesthebottletohislips.Whenhecatchesmestaring,hescowlsagain.
“Uh…”Igulp.“Abeerwouldbenice.”
“CoorsorBud?”
“Bud.”
Shenods.“Comingrightup.”
I’monceagainleftaloneintheclutchesofMr.Hayes,whoseblueeyesarenowgluedtotheLionsgameflashingontheflatscreen.I’vegotaboutfiveinchesandthirtypoundsontheman,buthestillfuckingterrifiesme.Isuspecthewasabruiserwhenheplayedhockey.He’sgotthatstockybarrelchest.Andthesurlyattitude.
“Whatareyouwaitingfor,prettyboy?Sitdownalready.”
Prettyboy?
Goddamnit.WhydidIshowupinFordandArmani?Allie’sdadprobablytookonelookatmyexpensivegetupanddecidedIwasarichprick.
Veryreluctantly,Isitontheotherendofthesectional.
Mr.Hayesglancesoverbriefly.“AJsaysyouplayhockey.”
“Yes,sir.”
“Forward?”
“Defenseman.”
“What’reyourstatssofarthisseason?”
Ipauseuncertainly.Wait,doesheexpectmetorattleoffactualnumbers?Likegoalsandassistsandpenaltyminutes?Icouldprobablyballparkit,butrecitingmyownstatisticsfeelspompous.
“They’redecent,”Isayvaguely.“Theteam’shadarockystart.WewontheFrozenFourlastseason,though.”
Henods.“Wonitjunioryear.BostonCollege.”
“Nice.Uh.Congrats.”Hisfaceisutterlyexpressionless,soIcan’tbesureifthisissomekindofpissingmatch.Ifso,IcouldprobablymentionIwonittheyearbefore,too.ButIkeepmymouthshut.Luckily,Allieisbackwithmybeer,andIreachforitasifit’salifepreserver.“Thanks,babe.”
Webothfreezethemomenttheendearmentleavesmymouth.Shit.IhopeMr.Hayesdidn’thearthat.
He’ssittingrighthere.Ofcourseheheard.
Itwistoffthebottlecapandtakeamuch-neededswigofalcohol.
“SowhatdidImiss?”Allieasksinanoverlycheerfulvoice.
Herfatherscoffs.“PrettyboyoverherewasjusttellingmehowhewontheFrozenFour.”
Fuckinghell.
ThisisgoingtobealongThanksgiving.
*
Dinnerisawful.Well,notthefood—forsomeonewhoclaimstosuckatcooking,Alliedidaprettygoodjobwiththemeal.It’stheactofeatingsaidfoodthatIfindexcruciating.Theconversationisbrutal.Mr.Hayesseemstobegoingoutofhiswaytoantagonizeme.Hispreferredphraseoftheeveningis“ofcourse.”Exceptit’sspokeninaflat,condescendingtonethatmakesmewishIwasspendingThanksgivingintheemptyhouseinHastings.
WhenAllietellshimI’mgoingtolawschoolnextfall,hesays,“Ofcourse.”
WhenshementionsmyfamilyownsaplaceinManhattan,hesays,“Ofcourse.”
WhenIthankhimforhavingmetodinner,hesays,“Ofcourse.”
Goddamn.Brutal.
Don’tgetmewrong,I’mmakingagenuineefforttobepolite.Iaskhimwhatitwasliketobeaproscout,butallIgetisahalf-mumbled,one-sentenceresponse.Icomplimenthimonhownicethisbrownstoneis,andhegruntsouta“thankyou.”
EventuallyIgiveup,butAllieismorethanhappytofilltheawkwardsilence.Asshetellsherfatherabouttheplayshe’sactingin,hercourses,herupcomingauditions,andeverythingelseshehasgoingon,that’stheonlytimeMr.Hayesseemstocometolife.It’sobviousheloveshisdaughterdeeply,andhehangsontoeverywordshesayslikeshe’sofferinghimthesecretstoeternallife.Hedoesscowlatheronce,though,afterheasksifshe’sstillintouchwithSeanandsheadmitstheyhadcoffee.
“Neverlikedthatboy,”Mr.Hayesmutters.Foronce,heandIareonthesamepage.
Alliechewsherlastbiteofgravy-ladenmashedpotatoesbeforevoicingaprotest.“Aw,that’snottrue.Youguysalwaysgotalongwhenwecametovisityou.”
Herfatherchuckles.Well,lookatthat,he’sactuallycapableofconveyinghumor.Ineverwouldhaveguessed.
“Hewasyourboyfriend—Ihadnochoicebuttogetalongwithhim.Nowhe’snot,soIdon’thavetopretendtolikehimanymore.”
Icoverupalaughbehindmynapkin.
“Boywastooneedy,”Mr.Hayescontinues.“Ididn’tlikethewayhelookedatyou.”
“Howdidhelookatme?”Allieaskswarily.
“Likeyouwerehisentireworld.”
Shefrowns.“Andthat’sabadthing?”
“Damnrightitis.Nobodyshouldeverbesomeoneelse’sentireworld.That’snothealthy,AJ.Ifyourwholelifeiscenteredononething—oneperson—whatchagoingtobeleftwithifthatpersongoesaway?Absolutelynothing.”Hegrufflyreiterates,“Nothealthy.”
JoeHayeshasaverypracticalwayoflookingatthings.I’moddlyimpressed.
“Well,nowyou’rejustmakingmefeelbadforSean.Let’schangethesubject.Dean,tellmydadaboutyourlastgame.”
Isighruefully.“Really?TheoneIgotthrownoutof?”
Herdadharrumphs.“Ofcourse.”
Theconversationbecomesstrainedagain.I’mrelievedwhenit’sfinallytimetoclearthetable,eagerlystandinguptohelpAlliegatherthedishes.There’sstillhalfaturkeyleftintheservingplatter,whichMr.Hayesreachesforashestaggerstohisfeet.
“No,Dad,”Alliesaysinastrictvoice.“Goandwatchtherestofthegame.DeanandIcancleanup.”
“I’mnotaninvalid,AJ,”hegrumbles.“I’mperfectlycapableofcarryingoneplatetothekitchen.”
Nosoonerdothewordsexithismouththantheplatterwobblesinhishand.Orrather,hishandwobblesandtheplatterfollowssuit,abruptlyslippingfromhisgripandsmashingtothehardwood.
Theceramicshatterstopieces,sendingtheslipperyturkeycareeningacrossthefloor.Iimmediatelysetdownmyplatesandhurryaroundthetable.Alliedoesthesame,andourheadsbumpwhenwebothreachforthesamebrokenpiece.
“Goddamnit,”Mr.Hayesbitesout.“I’lltakecareofthemess.”
“No.”Hertoneisn’tstrictanymore—it’scommanding.Shesnatchestheceramicshardfrommyhandandsays,“Dean,wouldyoutakeDadtothelivingroomandmakesurehestaysthere?”
Herfatherlevelsmewithadeathglarethatmakesmyballsshrivelup,butnowayamIfacingAllie’swrathrightnow.Stiflingasigh,IlightlyclaspJoe’sarmandleadhimoutofthesmalldiningroom.
Thescowlstaysfixedonhisfaceevenafterhe’ssettledonthecouch.“Icould’vecleaneditupmyself,”heinformsme.
“Iknow.”Ishrug.“ButIthinkwemadetherightcallsneakingoutofthere.Forsuchatinylittlething,yourdaughtersureisterrifyingwhenshe’stryingtogetherway.”
Hislipscurveeversoslightly.Holyshit,didIalmostmakehimsmile?
ButwhatevershredofhumorImighthaveinduceddisappearsbeforeIcanblink.Mr.Hayeslowershisvoicetoadeadlypitchandasks,“WhatdoyouwantwithAJ?”
Ishiftinconfusion.“Idon’tunderstandthequestion.”
“Iseethewayyoulookather,too.”Hisjawbeginstotwitch,butIdon’tknowifit’sfromanger,orthediseasehe’sbattling.“Youlikeher.”
“OfcourseIdo,”Isayawkwardly.“We’refriends.”
“Don’tfeedmethatbull.I’vebeenalivealotlongerthanyou,prettyboy.YouthinkIcan’ttellwhenamanisinlust?”
AndIthoughtthedinnerconversationwasuncomfortable.
“Igetit.AJ’sacatch.She’ssmart,prettylikehermom.She’scaring—toodamncaringsometimes,”headmits.“Ifshelovesyou,she’llalwaysputyourneedsaheadofhers.”AndIknowhe’stalkingabouthisownrelationshipwithAllienow.It’sobviousthatbecauseofhisMS,sheputshisneedsfirst,nottomentioncoddleshimmorethanhelikes
“Sheneedsamanwhowilltakecareofher.”Hisvoicegoessoftforamoment,butthenitsharpens.“You’renotthatman,kid.You’reincapableofthat.”
Insultpricklesmyskin.Whoishetomakethatsortofjudgment?
Henoticesmyfrownandchuckles.“Iwasahockeyscoutformorethantwentyyears—youthinkyou’rethefirstcockySOBI’vemetinmylife?Cockier,too,becauseyougrewupwithmoney.Youalreadyhavethatentitledsenseofimportancethatcomesafteraplayersignshisfirstseven-figurecontract.”
Iforcemyhandsnottoclenchintofists.“Justbecausemyfamilyhasmoneydoesn’tmeanI’mabadperson,sir.”
“Notsayingthat.”Heshrugs.“Butguyslikeyou,youknownothingaboutrealworldproblems.Andifshitdoesgowrong,youthrowalittlemoneyattheproblemandpoof—allfixed.”Blueeyes,ashadedarkerthanAllie’s,sweepovermefromheadtotoe.“You’renotwhatsheneeds,Dean.Youwouldn’tstepupandbethereforherifitcamedowntoit.”Apause.“Idon’ttrustyoutotakecareofmydaughter.”
Withthatfinalcuttingremark,heshiftshisgazebacktothefootballgame.22
Dean
AlliecallsmeatnoonthenextdaywithanupdateaboutherETA.“Hey,I’minataxi.I’llbethereinfifteenortwenty,dependingontraffic.”
Ijuststeppedoutoftheshower,soI’minatowelasIstridepastthefloor-to-ceilingwindowsinmybedroom,balancingthephoneonmyshoulder.“Whydidn’tyoutakethetrain?Wouldabeenfaster.”
“Ifeltliketreatingmyselftoacozybackseatinsteadofacrampedsubwayride.”
“Righton.”
“AnyspecialinstructionsforwhenIgetthere?Whatfloorareyouon?”
Iabsentlyenterthewalk-inclosetandgrabapairofsweatpantsoffashelf.“Justtelltheconciergewhoyouareandsomeonewillbringyouup.Theelevatorrequiresakeytogettothepenthouse.”
Shesighs.“YouliveinthepenthouseoftheHeywardPlazaHotel?”
“Yup.”Idropthetowelonthepolishedhardwood.“Hey,whatdoyouthink—willthatmakeyourdadhatemeless,orhatememore?”
Herlaughterticklesmyear.“Ohshutup.Hedoesn’thateyou.”
Yeahright.She’dbesingingadifferenttuneifshe’dheardtheshithesaidtomeinthelivingroomlastnight.
Idon’ttrustyoutotakecareofmydaughter
Fuck.MSornot,theoldmanisstilldeliveringblowsthatstingdayslater.
Ishovetheangeringexchangeoutofmymindandsay,“I’llseeyousoon.”ThenIwanderaroundmyroomcollectingrandomitemsofclothing.
Thecleaningstaffalreadytidieduptheplacethismorning—theyshowuptwiceaweeklikeclockwork,whetherornotanyoneisstayingatthepenthouse—butIhaveamystifyinghabitofaccumulatingamessevenifI’vebeensomewhereforonlyacouplehours.OurhousekeeperVeracallsmetheAccidentalSlob.
Twentyminuteslater,afterthefrontdeskbuzzestoletmeknowmyvisitorhasarrived,Iheadfortheelevatorthatopensdirectlyontothelivingroom.
Onlymyprepschoolfriendshavevisitedmeherebefore,andsincetheirhomesareequally…luxurious…noneofthemhadeverbattedaneyewhentheycameover.
Alliebatsaneye.
Thesecondsheemergesfromtheelevator,herjawisonthemarblefloorandhereyebrowsarehigherthanthefifteen-footceiling.
“SweetmotherofMoses,”shebreathes.Herawedgazetravelsaroundtheparlor,livingroomandnorth-facingterrace,beforereturningtome.“Okay.Idemandatour.”
Iofferaself-deprecatinglaugh.“It’llbealongtour,”Iwarnher.
“Idon’tcareifittakesfivehours.Iwanttoseeeveryinchofthispalace,yourmajesty.”
AsIshowheraroundthepenthouse,Ifindmyselfviewingitthroughhereyes.Everyroomweentermakeshergawkandgaspandcurseinamazement—thewalnut-paneledlibrary,themodernchef’skitchen,thegym,thewinecellar…okay,Iguessthisplaceisaweebitoverthetop.
“Wherearethebedrooms?”Shelooksconfusedwhenwewindupbackinthelivingroomandstopnearthehand-carvedmantelpieceofthemassivefireplace.
“Oh,thatwasjustthefirstfloor,”Isaysheepishly.
“Thisplacehastwofloors?”
Imumble,“Three.”
“Threefloors?”ShestaresatmeasifIjuststeppedoffanalienspaceship.“IthinkIwanttopunchyourightnow.”
“IthinkIwanttopunchmyself.”Idon’tlikethisunwelcomepangofself-consciousness.Orrather,Idon’tlikefeelinglikeI’mthemostoverindulgedprickontheplanet.
Allie’sfather’svoicesuddenlybuzzesthroughmymind.Disparagingandcold,mockingmeabouthowIknownothingabout“realworldproblems.”
Damnit.WhyamIlettingthatmangetundermyskin?SowhatifIgrewupwithmoney?Istillknowthemeaningofstruggleandhardshipand…fuck,whoamIkidding?TheLifeofDeanisprettysweet.Italwayshasbeen.ButIcanstillempathizewithpeoplewho’vebeenlessfortunatethanIam.Icanstill“stepupandbethere”whensomeonefuckingneedsme.
Weclimbthesweepingmarblestaircaseandshestopstoadmireoneofmymom’sfavoriteabstractpaintings.Forallthepompandcircumstanceofthisplace,myparentsdidn’tgooverboardwiththedécor.Thepenthousehasaclean,moderndesign,andmostoftheartonthewallsisbynomeansexpensive.Momisallaboutsupportinglocalartists.
“Isyourroomonthesecondfloor?”Allieasks.
Ishakemyhead.“Masterbedroomisdownthere.”Ipointtotheleft.“Guestroomsarethere.”Ipointtotheright.“Youwanttoseeanyofthoseorcanweskipthisfloor?”
“Wecanskipit.”She’salreadyboundingupthestairsagain.
Ileadherintomybedroom.Sheadmireseveryinchoftheenormousroom,fromthecustom-madeoakbedtothebuilt-inbookshelvestothewallofgleamingwindows.
“Nocurtains?”Shesoundsabitdazed.
“Automaticshades,”Iadmit.“Remote-controloperated.”
“Wow.”Asshewandersaroundexploring,thesunlightfloodingtheroomcatchesinhergoldenhair,whichisloosearoundhershoulders.Shestudiestheendlessrowsoftitlesonthebookshelf,thenwhirlstowardme.“Okay.Admitit.”
“Admitwhat?”
Shepointsanaccusingfingeratme.“You’resmart.”
Isnortloudly.“OfcourseI’msmart.”
“Yousureashelldon’tactlikeit.”Alliecrossesherarmsoverthefrontofherloosestripedsweater.“Infact,Ifeellikeyougooutofyourwaytomakeeveryonebelieveyou’readummy.Withyour‘babydolls’andfoullanguageandthewayyouthrow‘ain’t’intoasentenceeverysooften.”
Iflashheragrin.“Nope,that’sjusthowIfuckingtalk,babydoll.Ain’tnothingwrongwiththat.”
Hereyesdancewithamusement.“Uh-huh.Sohowcomeyounevertalkaboutlawschool?”
“What’stheretotalkabout?I’mnotinlawschoolyet.”IsitontheedgeofthebedthatIhastilymaderightbeforeshegothere.
“Butaren’tyouexcitedaboutit?”shepresses.
“Eh.Notreally.”Atherfrown,Ichucklesoftly.“I’msureI’llbeexcitedwhenI’mthere.I’malive-in-the-momentkindaguy,remember?”Ipatthebedspread,thencrookafingerather.“Getoverherealready,willya?”
“GivemeonegoodreasonwhyIshould.”
Islidemyhandintomycrotchandcupit.“LittleDeanisfeelingignored.”
Laughing,Allieclimbsintomylapandrestsherhandsonthebackofmyneck.Shebringshermouthclosetomine.“Poorguy.Doesheneedanafternoondelight?”
“He’sdyingforit,”Imurmur.OurlipsmeetinakissatthesametimeIeasemyhandsunderhershirt.Igroanwhenherbarebreastsfillmypalms.Ifrickin’loveitwhenshedoesn’twearabra.Makesitsomucheasiertoliftuphershirtandpoponesweetnippleintomymouth.
“Ohhh,”shemoans.“That’snice.”
“Abouttogetnicer,baby.”IworkmyotherhandbetweenourbodiessoI’mcuppingheroverherleggings.“Fuck.Weneedtogettheseclothesoff.”
Allie’sgazedartstowardthewindows.“Shouldweclosetheshades?Where’stheremote?”
I’mwhollyfocusedonthedelicioustaskofsucklinghernipple,workingmytongueoverthehardbud.
“Dean,”sheprotests.“We’reprettymuchinaglassbox!Whatifthere’ssomeonewithatelescopewatchingusfromoneoftheotherbuildings?”
“Thenthey’regoingtogetahelluvashow.”Ipinchbothnipples,andI’mrewardedwithathroatynoise.
HerobjectionsdieoffasIlowerherontothemattressandproceedtopeeleverystitchofclothingoffherbody.ShepushesmysweatsoffmyhipsandIkickthemaway,andthenwe’renakedandkissingandrollingaroundonmyhugebeduntilwe’rebothbreathless.
“Coolifwesaveforeplayforlater?”Iwhisperagainstherneckbeforedraggingmytonguebacktohertitsagain.
“Mmm-hmmm.Justgetinsidemealready,”shewhispersback.
Igrabacondomandfitmyselfagainsthersoakedpussy,thankingGod,andanyotherdeitieswhocaretohearmygratitude,thatAllie’sasturnedonasIam.Oursexualcompatibilityisoffthecharts.Webothhissoutpleasure-lacedbreathsasIslidehome.Home?Ihaltmid-thrust.
“Don’tstop.”Allie’shuskycommandmakesmyballstighten.I’mdevelopingaPavlovianresponsetohercatalogofsounds.Breathymoans,raspysighsandI’msemi-hard,ifnotatfullmast.Happynoises,laughsandI’mgrinningback.It’s…different.
Shetapsmeontheshoulderimpatiently.“Needsomeinstruction?BecauseLittleDeanisn’tallthewayinyet.”
Imuffleachuckleagainstherluscioustitsandthrusthome.There.Isaidit.Home.Thisissex,forchrissake.Idon’tneedtooverthinkthis.NotwithAllie.Shewantsmeballsdeep,fuckinghermindless,andthat’swhatIwant,too.
“Ohhe’sin,baby.He’sinsofarandsohardyou’regoingtofeelitfordays.”Ijackforwardhardenoughthatsheskittershalfwayacrossthemattress.Shebracesherhandsagainstthepaddedheadboardandstaresatmefromunderheavy-liddedeyeswithacomeandgetmelook.
Yeah,sherocksmyworld.AndI’mgoingtoreturnthefavor.
Thewallsofherpussyconvulsearoundme,squeezingmeinthemosterotichugeverinvented.Ifightoffmyorgasm.NowayamIcomingyet.Iwanttoseethosegorgeouseyesrollingbackinherhead.Iwanthermouthfallingopenandherfacetotakeonthattotally-lost-in-the-momentglazedexpressionshegetswhenshe’ssointothefuckingthatIknownothingisinherheadbutme.
Ipushherhairback,tanglingmyfingersinthethickstrandsandtuggingherheadsoIcankissherproperly.Sheattacksmytongue,suckingitintohermouth,lettingmefuckherwithitwhileIhammerherwithmydick.
We’rebothgettingsweaty.Ourslipperybodiesmoveagainsteachotherinaperfectrhythm,onethatmakesmedizzywithexcitement.
“Youfeelsogood.Likeagoddamndream,”Itellherthroughgrittedteeth.Theeffortnottocomeistestingmylastbitofcontrol.
“Yes.There.Fuckmerightthere,”shecries,punctuatingherorderswithclawsinmyshoulders.Ibracemyself,elbownearherhead,kneediggingintothemattressforleverage,andgivehereverythingI’vegot.Inmeasured,powerfulstrokes,Iworkherintoamindlessstateofpleasureuntilshe’sshakingandscreaminghersatisfactionintotheemptyroomsofthispenthouse.
She’sstilltremblingwhenIflipheroverandramintoherfrombehind.Myballsslapagainstherthighs,andthetightnessofherpussyfromthisanglenearlymakesmyeyeswaterfromthepleasure.Shemakestheseincrediblysexysoundsthatincludethewords“Dean”and“ohGod”and“yes”untilit’sastrangesortofsong,hermoansthemelody,ourbodiesbangingoutthesexbeat,ourheartsgettingmixedupinallofituntilI’mthemindlessone.Allmysensesarefilledwithher—hersounds,hersmell,hertouch.Her.
Bareasspumpingintoher,Idon’tcareifthere’satelescopeouttherewatching.LetthemseehowmuchIlovebeinginsidethisgirl.
*
Wespendthewholedayinbed.Well,notjustinbed.Wealsofuckinmyenormouswalk-inshowerunderthesprayoffourshowerheadsandmultiplebodyjets.
AndIgodownonherinthekitchenwhileshe’ssprawledonthemarblecounter.
Andsheblowsmeinthegameroom.
Andwesixty-nineintheprivatesauna.
DidImentionthisisthebestdayever?
Bythetimenineo’clockrollsaround,I’mlegitspent.Drained.Thereisn’tadropofsemenleftinmybody.AllieHayessuckedandfuckeditalloutofme.
“You’reasexfiend,”IgrumblewhenIfeelherhandstrokingmythigh.Wejustfinishedeatingdinner—burgersandfriesdeliveredbyroomserviceandconsumedinbed—andnowwe’relyingonmymillion-thread-countsheets,recoveringfromthemostintensesexmarathonI’vehadinalongtime.Orever.
“Ican’thelpit,”Allieprotests.Shesitsup,andI’mflooredbyhowgorgeousshelooksrightnow.Flushedcheeks,tousledhair,hazyeyes.“TheLifeofDeangetsmeallhotandbothered.”
Myphonerings,andIgroaninrelief.“OhthankJesus.Hopefullywhoeverthisiswillsavemebeforeyoubreakmydick.”TurnsoutmysaviorisBeau,andIpickupwithmyusual,“What’sshaking,Maxwell?”
“Weare,”Beauanswerscheerfully.“Asin,we’reshakingourassesonthedancefloortonight.”
“Um.Areyouaskingmetogooutdancingwithyou?”Ipause.“Andshouldn’tyoubeinWisconsinwithyourgrandmotherrightnow?”
“Gramsbailedonus—wentonsomeseniors’cruiseinsteadofspendingtheholidaywithherfamily.Howdareshe,right?Thatbitch.”Beausnickers,whichItakeasanindicationthathe’sjoking.Ifnot,Ifeelbadforhisgrandmother.“JoannaandIareinthecitywithourfolks.Let’smeetup.”
“HowdoyouknowI’minthecity?”Iasksuspiciously.IhaveaBostoncellnumberandIhadn’ttoldhimIwascomingtoManhattan,sothere’snoreasonforhimtothinkI’mhere.
“I’vegotthatfriendfinderapp.Showsyouwhereallyourfriendsareatalltimes.”
Awesome.I’mbeingstalkedbyoneofmybestbuds.
“We’regoingtoaclubinSoHo.Youdown?”
“Holdonasec.”IcoverthemouthpieceandlookatAllie.“Feellikegoingout?Beauandhissisterareintownandthey’rehittingupanightclub.”
Reluctancecreasesherforehead.“Beau,asinBriar’squarterback?”
Iknowexactlywhatshe’sthinkingandI’mquicktosquashherfears.“Hewon’tsayanythingifheseesustogether.Seriously.Maxwellknowshowtokeephismouthshut.”
Afteraverylongbeatofhesitation,shefinallynods,atinysmileliftingherlips.“Ihaven’tbeentoaclubinages.”
Iliftmyhandfromthephone.“We’rein.”
“We?”
“I’mbringingafriend.”
“Nice.Meetyouthereinanhour?”
“Soundsgood.”IhanguptofindAllieindistress.“What’swrong?”
“Ididn’tbringanythingclubbytowear.”Shechewsonherbottomlip.“CanwestopinBrooklynfirstsoIcanchange,oristhattoomuchofahassle?”
“Noneed,”Isay,tuggingheroffthebed.“Youcanborrowsomethingfrommysister.You’reaboutSummer’ssize.”
“Areyousureshewon’tmind?”AlliefretsasIusherheracrossthehallintomysister’sroom.“Somegirlsgetsupertouchyaboutlendingouttheirclothes.”
“Trustme,shewon’tcare.”
Allie’sfacefillswithastonishmentwhenweenterSummer’scloset.Andbycloset,Imeanthecavernousroomthat’salmostthesizeofAllie’sbrownstone.
“Howisthisacloset?”Allieexclaims.Shemovesforwardandsqueals.“OhmyGod.She’sgotanentirewallofshoes.NowIwanttopunchyoursister.”
Ichuckle.“Iwouldn’ttryit.Summerplaysbyschoolyardrules.She’llclawyoureyesandripyourhairout.”
Allieexaminesanotherrackoverflowingwithhangers.“IfIcheckanyofthesetags,amIgoingtoseewordslike‘Prada’and‘Kors’and‘Lagerfeld’?”
“Yup.”
“Thenpleasedirectmetothecheapsectionsoyoursisterdoesn’tkillmeifIspillsomethingonherpreciousVersace.”
“Babe,youreallyneedtotrustmewhenIsayshewon’tmind.Ornotice,forthatmatter.SummerleftallthisstuffbehindwhenshewenttoBrown,”IremindAllie.“NottomentionalltheclothesinherclosetinConnecticut.Justpickwhateveryou’dlike.”
“Okaythen.Well,sinceIprobablywon’tgetthechancetowearaValentinodresseveragain—atleastnotuntilhecustomdesignsmydressfortheOscars—”Thatgetsanotherlaughfromme“—Ipickthisone.”Sheholdsupablacklaceminidresswithagapingneckline,thenglancesattheshoewall.“AndI’llpairitwith…oooh,arethoseJimmyChoos?”
“Andthat’smycuetoleave,”Iannounce.“Comefindmewhenyou’reready.”
IleaveAllietofawnoverSummer’scloset,andgotomyownroomtogetdressed.Whichtakesalloffiveminutes.IthrowonagraysweaterandthesametrousersIworelastnight,thenlieonmybedwatchingYouTubevideosonmyphonewhileIwaitforAllie.Somewhereatthetwenty-minutemark,shepopsintotheroominablurofdesignerblack,grabsasmallmakeupkitfromherpurse,anddisappearsintomybathroom.
“Ohhey!”shecallsafewminuteslater.Herheadpokesoutfrombehindthedoorway.“MyfriendDillonjusttexted.Shegotinlastnightandshewantstomeetup.Herboyfriend’sheretoo.CanIinvitethemtotheclub?”
“Sure,goahead.”
Myphonebuzzes,andIshutoffYouTubesoIcanaccessmymessages.
Logan:JustfoundtheperfectxmaspresentforyouinBoston.
Aphotopromptlyappears,summoningaloudgroanfrommythroat.TheassholesentmeapicofanoveltyMyLittlePonydildo.Damnthingisbrightpink,withrainbowsparklesonthehandle.
Logan:Andit’srechargeable!Udon’thavetobuybatteries.THAT’Shandy!
Me:Hardy-har-har.You=comedian.
ThenImessageGrace:TellyourBFtostopbeingmeantome.
Shetextsbackasmileyface.Traitor.
“I’mready.”
Myheadsnapsup,andholyhell,Iforgethowtobreatheforamoment.Man,sheshouldconsiderditchingactingandbecomingamakeupartist,becausethisgirlhastheabilitytocompletelytransformdependingonwhatshedoestoherface.JustwhenIgotusedtothinkingofherasthegirl-next-doortype,withhersubtlemakeupandshinylipglosses,shesuddenlyshowedupatMalone’slookinglikeawetdreamcometolife,withbigsmokyeyesandpoutycrimsonlips.
Tonightit’sacombinationofthetwo—naturalwithasplashofglamour.Nudelips,shimmerygoldeyeshadow,andmascarathatmakesherlashesappearimpossiblylong.
“HowdoIlook?”Sheplantsahandonherhipanddoesasexypose.
“Ridiculouslyfuckable.”Ihopoffthebedandzeroinonher,drawingherbodytowardmineasIbenddowntogiveheraquickkiss.Herscentfillsmynostrils.Ibreathedeeply,tryingtoidentifyit.Strawberries?Mangos?Roses?Ican’tfigureitout,butit’sgoddamnaddictive.
“Whatisit?”
I’mstartledtofindherfrowningatme.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Herfrowndeepens.“Youwerestaringatme.”
Iwas?Shit,Ihadn’tevenrealizedit.“Sorry,Imusthavespacedout.”Ipasteonacarelesssmile,doingmybesttoignoretheweirdflutterinmystomach
Andthefunnylittleshiverracingupmyspine.
Andthewaymychestsomehowfeelsbothtightandlightatthesametime,whichisasperplexingasAllie’sunnamablescent.
Swallowing,Iforcemyselftoignoretheparadoxinmychest,andfollowAllie’ssexyassoutthedoor.23
Allie
I’mnervousaboutBeauMaxwell’sreactiontomeandDeanshowinguptogether,butitturnsouttobeunnecessary.Beaudoesn’tevenblinkwhenDeanintroducesmeas“G’sGF’sBFF”.MaybeallthelettersDeanthrewoutconfusedhim?Eitherway,hejustseemsthrilledthatwecameouttotheclubatall.
Beau’ssisterJoannaisequallyoverjoyed,throwingherarmsaroundDean.“DiLaurentis!OhthankGodyou’rehere.Youdon’tunderstandhowcloseI’vecometokillingmyidiotbrotherthesepastcoupledays.”
“Naah,youdon’twanttokillme,”Beausayswithabroadgrin.“Youloveyourlittlebrotherandyouknowit.”
Joannagiveshimthefinger,butshe’sgrinningtoo.She’sasattractiveasBeau,tallandstatuesquewithsparklingblueeyesanddarkhaircutinashortbob.DeantoldmeshecurrentlyhasasmallroleinaBroadwayshow,whichisthefirstthingIaskheraboutasweheadinsideaftergoingthroughtheline.BywhichImeanskippingitaltogether,becauseonewordinthebouncer’searfromDeanandthevelvetropemagicallyliftsforus.
Inside,thestrobelightsaregoingstrongandthemusicisdeafening.JoannaandIneedtoscreamourlungsoutinordertocontinueourconversation.DeanandBeau,whowerewalkingaheadofus,areimmediatelyswallowedupbythefrenziedmob.
“Welosttheboys,”IshoutinJoanna’sear.
Sheshakesherheadandpointsatthespiralstaircasetoourleft.Sureenough,theguysareascendingthemetalsteps.Deanglancesoverhisshoulder,findsusinthecrowd,andgesturesforustofollowthem.
IdiscoverthatthestaircaseleadstotheVIParea.WereachthetopintimetohearDeanaddressthebeefybouncermanningtherope.“DeanHeyward,”heshouts.“Tonyknowsme.”
ThebouncertouchesthetinyBluetoothtuckedinhisear.Hislipsmove,butIcan’tmakeoutwhathe’ssaying.Asecondlater,ourlittlegroupsaunterspastyetanothervelvetrope.
Fortunately,themusicisn’taslouduphere,soIdon’tneedtoshrieklikeabansheeanymore.“DeanHeyward?”Itease.“ArewenotusingDiLaurentisanymore?”
Heslingshisarmaroundme,andthespicyscentofhisaftershaveinfusesmysenses,makingmeshiver.“DiLaurentisworksbetteratcountryclubsorcharitybenefits.TheHeywardnameopensmoredoorsinManhattan.”
Itsuredoes.NotonlydowehaveaccesstotheVIPlounge,butwe’regivenaspacioustablebythewrought-ironrailingthatoverlooksthedancefloor.ItakeoutmyphonetocheckifDillontexted—yep.Sheandherboyfriendwillbeheresoon.Itellhertocomeupstairswhentheyarrive,thenrefocusontheconversationaroundme.
JoannaisteasingherbrotheraboutsomeonenamedSabrina,buthe’sinsistingtherelationshipisover,whichseemstoupsethissister.
“You’resuchanidiot.Seriously,Beau-Beau,youneededsomeonelikehertokeepyouinline.”
SinceDeanstillhashisarmaroundme,it’simpossiblenottofeelitwhenhestiffens.Istudythehardsetofhisprofile,andlightlysqueezehisthigh.“Youokay?”
“Ah,don’tmindhim,sweetheart,”Beausayswithachuckle.“HealwaysgetslikethiswhenthesubjectofSabrinacomesup.Ithinkhe’sstillsulkingthatshesnubbedhimaftertheyboneddown.”
I’mnotsurprisedtohearthatDeansleptwiththisgirl,whoeversheis.WhatIamsurprisedaboutismycompletelackofjealousy.
Thesamethinghappenedduringourdrivetothecity.ListeningtoDeantalkabout“silentcomers”andpasthook-upshadn’tupsetme,notthewayithadthenightIsawPenelopepawinghimatMalone’s.ButIhadn’tfeltthreatenedthistimearound.Maybebecausetheywereclearlymemoriesforhimandnotpresentdayspectersthatcouldinterferewithwhateverwehavegoingon?I’mnotentirelysurewhatthereasonis,butIlikethisodd,unexpectedtrustIhaveinhim.
Intheseatbesideme,DeanisrollinghiseyesinresponsetoBeau’staunt.“Trustme,I’mhappytobesnubbed.”
Iwaitforhimtoelaborate.Whenhedoesn’t,itheightensmycuriosity,soIpokehiminthesideandsay,“Spill,sweetie.Iwanttohearaboutthisbloodfeudyou’vegotgoingon.”AsHannahcanattest,I’mtoonosyformyowngood.
“SodoI,”Beausayshonestly.
Deanwavesitoff.“Itwasjustsomestupidbullshitinsophomoreyear.Nobigdeal.”
“Obviouslyitisifitstillbothersyoutwoyearslater,”Ipointout.
Reluctancecreaseshisforehead.“Longstoryshort?Iwasstrugglinginacourse,buteverytimeIthoughtIfailedatestorwroteashittypaper,I’dgetanAonit.Mebeingatotalmoron,Ididn’tconnectittothefactthatIwasbangingmyTA.”
Beausnickers.“Loveit.”
Isigh.“Ohboy.”
“Iknow,itwasastupidmove,”Deansayspenitently.“Anyway,SabrinaandIwerepaireduponthefinalproject.Weeachdidhalftheworkanditwasgradedseparately.MyhalfwasC-materialatbestandwebothknewit,exceptthenourgradescamebackandIgotanA.SabrinagotaB-minus.”Hisjawtightens.“Shewaspissed.Shewenttotheprofessortobitchaboutit,andheendeduprereadingeverypaperIturnedinandeverytestItook—allgradedbytheTAIwasscrewing.TurnedoutIshouldhavebeenfailingtheclass.ButIwasacingit.”
Deansoundssodisgusteditstartlesme.Beforewehookedup,Iassumedhewasthekindofguywhobreezedthroughlifeonafreepassbecauseofhislooksandmoney.Thisstorycorroboratesthat.Buttheangerinhisvoicerevealssomethingelse—hedoesn’twantthefreepass.
“Icouldn’tstomachit,”headmits,confirmingmysuspicions.“ItoldtheproftogivemetheF.Iwasperfectlywillingtoretakethecourseoverthesummer.Butthebastardwouldn’tfailme.”
“Whynot?”Joannaspeaksup,bothindignantandbewildered.
“Heknewmyfather,”Deanmutters.“Theywenttolawschooltogether,andhetoldmehe’dlooktheotherwayasafavortomydad.Isaidnoway.Wearguedforawhile,untilhefinallyagreedtolowerthegradetoaB-plus.Itwasthe‘besthecoulddo’.”
Dean’sexpressionisdarkerthanastormcloud.“Ishould’vefailedthatfuckingcourse,buttheDiLaurentisnameboughtmeapass,andSabrinaneverletsmeforgetit.ShethinksI’marichassholewhogetswhateverhewants.”Histonegrowsdismissiveagain.“Whatever.Shecanthinkwhatshewants.OnlymatterswhatIthink,right?”
Iseerightthroughthecarelesssmileheflashes.Itbothershimthatpeoplethinkhe’sawealthyplayboywhohaseverythinghandedtohimonasilverplatter.Andyes,Idorecognizethatsideofhim—theLifeofDeanisprettyfuckingsweet—butI’vealsoseenotherfacetsofhispersonalitythispastmonth.
He’stenacious.Seriously,thisguynever,evergivesupwhenhewantssomething.
Hecaresabouthisfriendsandteammates.Hell,Ididn’tseehimonMondayandTuesdaythisweekbecausehe’drequestedextraicetimesohecouldhelpsomeguynamedHunterhonehisskills.
HeownsmorebooksthanthepubliclibraryinBrooklyn,andIcantellfromtheirwearandtearthathe’sactuallyreadallofthem.
He—
“Yourpurse.”
Myheadliftsup.“Whataboutit?”
Deangesturestotheblackclutchonthebenchseatbetweenus.“It’svibrating.”
IshakemyselfoutofthebizarreWhyDeanIsSoGreatlistIwascomposing,andsnapopentheclutchtofindmyphonebuzzing.
Isetdownmyrumandcoke.“Myfriendsarehere.Willyoucomegetthemwithme?Imightneedyoutotalktothebounceragain.”
Hegivesanexaggeratedsigh.“Iknewit.You’rejustusingmeformyconnections.”
“Yep,”Ianswercheerfully.
Weheadbacktothestaircase,andIsquealwhenIspotafamiliarfacebehindtherope.
“They’rewithus,”Deantellsthebouncer.
Amomentlater,there’sateeny,equallyexcitedbrunettehurlingherselfintomyarms.“OhmyGod!It’ssogoodtoseeyou!”shrieksmybestfriendfromhighschool.“Youdon’tfuckingcallmeenough!”
Igrinandsay,“Ittakestwototango”andthenwe’rehappilyhuggingagain,untilInoticetheshadowloomingoverus.
Dillondisentanglesherselffromtheembraceandintroducesustoherboyfriend.“ThisisRoy.”
Lasttimewespokeonthephone,shementionedshewasdatingafootballplayer.Iwould’veguesseditevenifshehadn’ttoldme,becauseRoyisamonsterofaman.Atleastsix-seven,witharmsasthickastreetrunksandthighsthatarebiggerthanmytorso.AndeitherI’mimaginingit,orhelooksexactlylike—
“Dude,anyoneevertellyouthatyoulooklikeayoungSamuelL.Jackson?”Deandemands,stealingthewordsrightoutofmymouth.
Roy’smassiveshoulderssetinarigidline.“Ahhh,Igetit,’causeallusbrothaslookthesametoyou,right?”
MyalarmedgazefliestoDillon,becausethemenacingglaretwistingRoy’sfeaturesisdownrightterrifying.Andhisvoiceisdeeperthanthebasslinethuddingthroughtheclub.
“Whatnext?”Roygrowls.“Yougonnasaythere’ssomethin’wrongwithmegoingoutwiththisfinewhitegirl?Isthatwhatyou’resaying?”
Deanisunfazed.“Yeah,yougotme,man.I’mahugeracist.”HeshakeshisheadincredulouslyashecontinuestostareatRoy.“It’sfrickin’uncanny.Youlookexactlylikehim.”
I’msecondsawayfromclappingmyhandoverDean’smouthbeforethisbehemothsnapshimlikeatwig,buttomyastonishment,Roy’sominousexpressiondissolves.
“I’mjustplayingwithyou,bro.Igetitallthetime.”Roybreaksoutinahugegrin.“Iwontengrandlastsummeratacelebrityimpersonationcontest—firstplaceformySamJackson.IdidthespeechfromDeepBlueSea,rightbeforethesharkgets’im.”
“Nice.”Deanflashesamischievoussmile.“PS,somemoreracismcomingyourway—yousoundlikeJamesEarlJones.”
Roythrowshisheadbackandreleasesabig,boominglaugh.ThenheslapsDeanonthearmandsays,“You’reallright,whiteboy.”
Justlikethat,they’rebestfriends,talkinganimatedlyastheychargeahead.
Dillonsighsandlinksherarmthroughmine.“Roylikestoscarepeople,”sheapologizes.
Isnicker.“Don’tworry,Deandoesn’tscareeasily.”
“Dean,huh?”Hereyeslightup.“Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouhadanewboyfriend?”
“BecauseIdon’t.We’rejusthavingsomefun.Nothingserious.”
“Ha!Yeahright,AJ.Withyou,it’salwaysserious.”
Notthistime,Iwanttosay,butwe’vereachedthetableandtheguys’voicesdrownoutourconversation.BeauandRoyarealreadytalkingfootball,andbecausethelatterissodamnenormous,hetakesupatleastthreepeople’sworthofspaceonthebench-styleseat.Dillonslidesinbesidehim,whichleaveszeroroomforme.
Grinning,Deantugsmeintohislapandwindsonestrongarmaroundmywaist.“Youcansitrighthere,babydoll.”
“Aw,thanks,honey-pie.”
ThesixofusmakesuchanunlikelygroupthatIsuddenlyhavescenesfromTheBreakfastClubflashinginmymind.BeautheEastCoastquarterback.Deanthehockeyplayer.RoythelinebackerfromLouisiana.JoannatheBroadwayactress.Dillonthefinancemajor.Andme,thefuturestarofromcoms.
Despitethat,there’snoshortageofconversation.DillonandIfilleachotherinonwhatwe’vebeenuptothepastfewmonths.SinceIstartedcollege,I’velosttouchwithmostofmyhighschoolfriends,butDillon’sfriendshipisoneIwasdeterminedtopreserve.
AsIchatwithher,I’mveryawareofthefactthatDeanistouchingme.Constantly.Strokingmyshoulder.Grazingmythigh.Nuzzlingmyneck.Atonepointheevenbrusheshislipsovermycheek,whichsummonsaloudhootfromBeau.
“Jesus,Bella,”hemarvels.He’shighlyamusedashemeetsmyeyes.“WhatkindofspelldidyoucastonmymanDean?I’veneverseenhimlikethiswithachickbefore.”
“Myname’sAllie,”Icorrect.
Thatmakeshimlaughharder.
Deansighs,thenleansincloseandmurmurs,“Wannadance?”
“Depends…Areyouagooddancer?”
“Everymanisagooddancer.”
Isnort.“ThebrokentoeIgotinhighschoolbegstodiffer.”
“Sorry,whatIshould’vesaidis—everymaniscapableofbeingagooddancer.”Hishandslockaroundmywaistasheliftsmetomyfeet.“There’sjustonemoveamanneedstoknowinordertorockitonthedancefloor.”
“Yeah?What’sthemove?”Iaskcuriously.
Deantwineshisfingersthroughmineaswedescendthestaircase.“STAG.”Hehastoshouthisanswer,becausethemusicislouderdownhere.
Istandonmytiptoessomymouthisclosetohisear.“What’sstag?”
“TheonlyoneofLogan’scrazyacronymsIlivemylifeby—STAG.”Hismouthstretchesinabroadsmile.“Standthereandgrind.”
Laughterbubblesoutofmythroat,turningintoashriekofdelightwhenDeanhaulsmeintohisarms.Iwrapmylegsaroundhiswaistandholdontightashecarriesmetothedancefloor.Thenhesetsmeonmyfeet,presseshisdelectablebodyagainstmine,andprovesthatSTAGreallyistheonlymovethatmatters.
Asthesultry,pulse-poundingbeatsnakesitswayintomyblood,ItossmyhairandshakemyhipsandrunmyhandsupanddownDean’srippledchest.Thestrobelightflashesthroughthedarkclub,offeringtantalizingglimpsesofDean’schiseledfeatures,hishypnoticgreeneyes,thesensualcurveofhismouth.
Wedanceforhours.Oratleastitfeelslikehours.Theothersjoinusonthedancefloor,andIcan’trememberthelasttimeIhadthismuchfun.IdancewithBeau,whograbsmyasseverychancehegets.IdancewithRoy,whohassomesickmovesforamanmountain.IdancesandwichedbetweenDillonandJoanna.IdancewithDean,andtheeroticgrindingofhishipsmakesmehotandachyandutterlyblissful.
DillonandIslingbacktwoshotsatthebar,butI’mnotdrunk,justdeliciouslybuzzed.Deanseemstobetakingiteasytoo,buttheothersaredefinitelyontheirwaytogettingplastered.EspeciallyBeau,whosecheeksareflushedandeyesarebrightashevertical-sexesagorgeousredheadonthedancefloor.
Joannabegsoffaroundeleven-thirty,sayingshehasanearlyrehearsalinthemorning.DillonandRoyfollowsuitsoonafter;themomentDillonstartsslurringherspeech,Royprovestobenotonlyaresponsibleadult,butaconscientiousboyfriend,andpromptlywhisksheraway.Aroundmidnight,afterBeaustaggersuplookingmorewastedthanever,Deandecidesit’stimeforustogo,too.
“Where’syourfriend?”IaskBeau,peeringpasthisshoulderinsearchoftheredhead.
“Wenthometoherhusband.”
Ifightalaugh.Dean,who’sprettymuchtheonlythingholdingBeauuprightatthispoint,snickersloudly.
Weexittheclubandstepintothefrigidnightair.Beauisleaningonmenow,becauseDeanisatthecurbhailingusataxi.WithJoannagone,I’mworriedaboutBeaugettinghomesafely,soIinsistheshareacabwithus.
“Youshouldgoupstairswithhim,”ItellDean.“Makesurehegetsallthewaytohisdoor.”
Acabmiraculouslyappears.Islideinfirst,followedbyBeau,whogroans,closeshiseyes,andproceedstopassoutwithhisheadonmyshoulder.
DeangetsinandrattlesoffBeau’saddresstothecabbie.Helooksathissleepingfriend,thenmeetsmygazeoverBeau’shead.
“Hisparentsarehome,right?”Isayslowly.“Willtheyfreakoutiftheyseehimlikethis?”
“Maybe.”Deansighs.“Beausaysthey’rekindastrict.Hewenttoall-boysCatholicschoolshiswholelife.”
Ibitemylip.“Maybeweshouldn’ttakehimhome,then.”
“Probablynot.”Deanleansforwardandtapsthedriver’sseat.“Forgetthefirstaddress.JusttakeustoHeywardPlaza,please.”Heglancesbackatme.“I’lllethimsleepitoffinthepenthouse.”
Fifteenminuteslater,we’reinthehotelelevator.It’sweird,butafewmeaslyhoursatthenightclub,andsomehowI’vealreadyforgottenthatDeanlivesinafrickingpalace.I’monceagainamazedbymyluxurioussurroundings,andsoisBeau,whoseblueeyeswidenwhenhestumblesoutoftheelevator.
Hisjawfallsopenashestaresattheendlesswallofwindowsthatoverlookthesparklingcityskyline.“Holyshit.Ifeellikeaprince.”
“Iknow,right?”Isaytohim.
Stillshakinghisheadinastonishment,hestaggerstowardthehugearmchairneartheC-shapedleathersectionalandcollapsesonit.Withinseconds,he’ssnoring.
Deanwrapshisarmsaroundmefrombehindandkissesmyneck.“Bedtime?”heasks.
Itwistaround.“I’mnottired,”Iconfess.“Doyoufeellikewatchingamovie?”
“Actually,I’vegotsomethingevenbetter.”Hewaggleshisbrowsenticingly.“Gochangeintosomethingcomfy.I’llgetitsetup.”
Getwhatsetup?AndIhope“comfy”actuallymeanscomfortableandthathe’snotexpectingmetocomebackinalaceteddyandgarterbelt.
IleftmyovernightbaginDean’sroom,soIquicklydashupthestairstothethirdfloor—Istillcan’tbelievethisplacehasthreefuckingfloors—andchangeintocottonboxersandatanktop.WhenIreturntothelivingroom,IfindDeansprawledonthecouchwiththeremoteinhand.He’sshirtless.Shocking.Buthislow-slungtrousersshowoffthesexyVofhiships,andmytonguetingleswiththeurgetolickallthatdeliciousmanflesh.
Imoistenmysuddenlydrylipsandwalktowardhim.“Whatarewewatching?”
“Seeforyourself.”Heclickstheremote,andIgaspwhentheopeningcreditsofSolangeflashonthelargestscreenI’veeverseenoutsideamovietheater.
“Howisthison?”Iexclaim.“DidyoustealtheDVDsfrommydorm?”
“Nope.IcalledaheadbeforeweleftBriarandaskedtheconciergetotrackdownseasontwoforus.”
I’mdumbfounded.AfterI’drandomlystumbledonthisshowwhilesurfingYouTube,Ipaidagirlinmydormtodownloadalltheepisodesandburnthemforme.SolangeishugeinFrance,butnobodyherehasheardofit,whichmeansit’snearlyimpossibletofindonline,andorderingtheDVDsoffAmazonispointlessbecausetheyonlyworkonEuropeanplayers.
“YoumadeonephonecallandgotyourhandsonanobscureFrenchsoapopera?”Istareathim.“Fuck.TheLifeofDeanistrulyglorious.”
“Toldya.”Stretchingoutonhisback,heraisesonehandandbeckonsme.
Iwastenotimesnugglingupbesidehimandrestingmyheadonhisshoulder.Hisbarechestiswarmandsturdy,andhesmellsheavenly.Idon’tbotheraskingwhatkindofaftershaveheuses,becauseit’sprobablysomethingI’veneverheardofthatcostsathousandbucksadrop.
Weliethereforawhilewatchingtheshow,whichnowfeaturesawholeslewofnewcharacterswhoarecausingtroubleforSolange.
“Youknow,”Deanmuses,“ifMarchadhalfabrain,he’ddumpChristineandhookupwithMonique.”
“IlikeChristine,”Iprotest.“She’ssweet.”
“She’sconninghim,babe.Nobodyisthatsweetallthetime.”
“Iam.”
Dean’ssnortvibratesagainstmycheek.“Yeahright.You’remaybetwentypercentsweet.Tops.”
Ipretendtobehurt.“Doyoureallythinkthat?”Iaskinasmallvoice.
Hestrokesasoothinghanddownmyspine.“Naah,”hesaysgruffly.“Don’tworry.You’reonehundredpercentsweet.”
“Ha.Iwasn’tworriedintheslightest.Justwantedtohearyousaythat.”
Hechucklesandholdsmecloser.Astheepisodeunfolds,wegetmoreengrossedinit,fallingsilenttowatch.Deanisabsentlycaressingme,hislongfingersgrazingthesideofmyboobwitheachslowstrokeofhishand.Idon’tthinkheevenrealizeshe’sdoingit,butitmakesmefeel…fine,it’smakingmehorny.
“I’mtellingyou,she’suptosomething.”Dean’sgreeneyesarefocusedontheTV,buthishandkeepsstroking.
Onthescreen,Christinesitsatatableatanoutdoorbistro,whisperingintohercellphone.Theconversationseemspleasantenough.Thenagain,it’sinFrench,sowhoknows.
“Ibetyoushe’shiringacontractkiller.”Dean’sthumbnailgrazesmynipple.
I’mnowthoroughlydistracted.
He’sstilltalkingaway.
“WeneedtofindaversionofthisshowwithEnglishsubtitles.”
Histhumbmovesawayfrommynipple,theneasestowarditagain.
“Igetyou’retryingtolearnthelanguage,babe,butit’sdrivingmenutsnotknowingwhat’sgoingon—”
“Dean.”
“Mmm?”
“Stopdoingthat.”
“Stopdoingwhat?”
“Touchingmyboob.”
“Oh.WasIdoingthat?”
IpropmyselfuponmyelbowsoIcanseehisface.Hisimpishexpressiontellsmehewasn’tasobliviousasIthought.
“Youknewexactlywhatyouweredoing,”Ichide.“Andnowyouneedtostopdoingit.”
Histonguecomesouttolickhislips.“Why?Isitgettingyouallworkedup?”
“Yes.”
Herespondswithadeepchuckle,thenrollsusoversowe’relyingonoursidesfacingeachother.Hecupsmyleftbreastandsqueezesgently.Thistimewhenhisfingertipsfindmynipple,it’swithabsolutepurpose.Herubstherapidlyhardeningbud.Thenhereleasesmybreastandslideshishandinsidemyboxers.
IcastanalarmedglanceinBeau’sdirection.He’snotsnoringanymore,buthiseyesarestillclosed.
“Beau’ssittingrightthere,”IhissatDean.
“He’sasleep.”Hisfingersteasethewaistbandofmypanties,thendipbeneathit.Whenhisthumbpressesonmyclit,IhavetobitemylipsoIdon’tmoan.
“Dean,”Imurmurnervously.
“Allie,”hemurmursback.
Thepadofhisthumbgentlycirclesmyclit,sendingahotshiverracingupmyspine.HerubsandteasesuntilI’mswollen,aching,andmyhipsinvoluntarilyhitchforward,seekingdeepercontact.Hechucklesagain.
“Dean…”It’sawarning.
“Allie.”It’sataunt.
Hishandmoveslower,thecallousedpalmscrapingmypussyonitsdescent.Onetalentedfingerslipsinsideme.Acrossbetweenabreath,asighandagroanescapesmylips,butit’sinstantlycutoffwhenDeanpresseshislipstomine.
Ikisshimbackhungrily,helplesstoresisthim.DeanDiLaurentisisinmybloodnow.Ididn’texpecttheintensesexualchemistrybetweenus,butit’shere,andit’saddictive,andIdon’tknowhowIcanevergiveitup.Hegrindstheheelofhishandagainstmyclit,andthedeliciouspressurehasmythighsclenchingtogether.Pleasuregathersbetweenmylegs,makingmyentirebodytremble
I’mfartooawareofthesoundswe’remaking.Ourheavybreathing.Thewetglideofhisfingermovinginsideme.IpraytoGodthatBeauisn’talightsleeper.
“Ialwaysknowwhenyou’regettingclose,”Deanwhispers.
“How?”Themethodicalthrustofhisfingerisdistracting.Istarttosquirm,myinnermusclesbearingdownonhimasthepleasureintensifiesanddancesalongmyheatedflesh.
“Yourcheeksturnbrightred,andyoureyes…theyglazeover.”Hiswarmmouthskatesovermyjawbeforetravelingdownmyneck.“Yourpulsethrobs…righthere—”Helicksthecenterofmythroat“—andyourpussysqueezesmesofuckingtight,likeit’stryingtotrapmyfingerinsideofit.”
Mybreathsgoshallow.Mymindisfoggy.HisdeepvoiceandmagicalhandareallI’mabletofocuson,butwhenhecurveshisfingerandstartsmovingitfaster,mybrainshutsdowncompletely.
“That’sit,”Deansayshoarsely.“Comeforme,baby.”
Iclosemyeyesandletthesensationstakeover,gaspingsoftlyasthepressurefinallyreleasesandIfloatawayonacloudofbliss.Sighing,Irestmycheekagainsthispecs,whilelingeringfluttersofpleasuresweepthroughmybody.
“YouguysknowI’mawake,right?”
Beau’swryvoicetriggersarushofhorrormingledwiththeburnofembarrassment.IburymyfaceagainstDean’schest,toomortifiedtolookoveratthearmchair.
“AndnowI’mhardasarock,”Beauaddsinajauntyvoice.“SoI’mjustgonnagoaheadandask—anychanceofathreesome?”
Myheadliftsinindignation,butIcan’thelpbutlaughwhenIseetheintriguedgleaminDean’seyes.
“Don’teventhinkaboutit,”Iorder,jabbingmyfingerintohischest.IsituptofixBeauwiththesamesternlook.“Erasethatideafromyourprettyhead,Maxwell.Becauseit’snothappening.”
Hissmileisdownrightsaucy.“Tonight,orever?”
“Ever.”
“Givemeonegoodreasonwhynot,”Beauchallenges.
“Becausea)Idon’twantto,andb)picturethis—it’stenyearsfromnow.I’maHollywoodA-lister,athree-timeAcademyAwardwinner,themostsought-afteractressevertogracethesilverscreen…andthenthelatestissueofPeoplemagazinehitsthestands.Andyouknowwhattheheadlinereads?”ImovemyhandthroughtheairasifI’mspellingouttheheadline—“Celebritydebaucheryexposed.AllieHayes,collegethreesomequeen.”
Beauspellsouthisownheadline.“SuperBowlchampBeauMaxwellquotedassaying,‘bestnightofmylife.’”
IsighandturntoDean,who’sclearlytryingnottolaugh.“Andnowit’stimeforbed.SaygoodnighttoyourfriendBeau,sweetie.”
“Goodnight,Beau,”Deansaysobediently.24
Allie
DeanandIarrivebackatcampusatnoonthenextday.Sincetheteambusleavesatoneo’clockfortheirgameinBurlington,heshouldbehightailingitoutoftheparkinglotifhewantstogohomeandchangefirst.Buthestaysrootedinthedriver’sseat.
“What’swrong?”Ican’tdecipherhisexpression.
“CanIseeyoutonight?”Hisvoiceishusky,andthere’saninexplicablechordof…something…init.
“Ihaverehearsal,soitdependsonwhenStevenletsusout.Callmewhenyou’rebackfromVermontandwe’llseewhereI’mat?”
Henods.Stilldoesn’tmove.
“Doyoumindhelpingmewithmysuitcase?”
Anothernod.
Ifightapangofuneasinessaswegetoutofthecar.There’snooneintheparkinglottoseeusunloadmybag,butthatisn’twhat’smakingmeapprehensive.It’stheintensityDeanisradiating.It’slikehewantstosaysomethingbutdoesn’tknowhowtobroachthesubject.
“Everythingokay?”Iasklightly.
ThosegreeneyessweepovermesointentlyIfeelself-conscious.Iknowmyhairisawavymess,andI’mprettysurethere’satinyzitformingonmychin.Ihopethat’snotwhathe’sstaringat.
“Allgood,babydoll,”hefinallysays,snappingoutofwhateverdeepthoughtshe’dbeenhaving.“C’mereandgivemeagoodluckkiss.Wedesperatelyneedtowinthisgametoday.”
Mygazeflitsaroundthelot.AslightfrowntouchesDean’slips?andseeingittriggersaflashofguilt.Wejustspentthreedaystogether.WefooledaroundinfrontofBeau,forcryingoutloud,andI’mafraidtokisshiminanemptyparkinglot?
Ibridgethedistanceandleanonmytiptoestobrushmylipsoverhis.“Goodluck,”Iwhisper.ThenIsliphimalittletongueandsmilewhenhisbreathcatches.
Hegroanssoftly.“Tease.”
MysmilewidensasItakeastepback.“Thanksfortheride.Andthenightout.”
“Andthedirty,dirtysex,”heremindsme.
“Onedirtywould’vesufficed.”Exceptnope,I’mwrong.Whatwedidthisweekendrequiresatleasttwodirties.Fourwouldprobablybetherightamount.
“Yousureyoucanmanagethatthing?”heasksasIrollmyoverstuffedsuitcasetowardthepath.
“I’mfine.Ithaswheels.”
“Whataboutthestairs?”
“It’sfine,”Iinsist.“Go,Dean,otherwiseyou’llmissyourbus.”
JustasIgivehimagentleshovetospurhissexyassintogear,afamiliarvoiceechoesbehindus.
“Hey,Allie.”
MyhandfreezesagainstDean’schest.Iquicklyletitdroptomyside,thenturnaroundtogreettheapproachingfigure.It’sJimPaulson,oneofSean’sfratbrothers.MynervesflutterinmybellyasIwonderhowmuchheheard.Andsaw…
Shit.DidheseemekissDean?
“Hi,”Isay,forcingasmile.“HowwasyourThanksgiving?”
“Itwasallright.”Jim’sgazeflickstowardDean.“Hey,man.”
“Hey,”Deansaystightly.
“Whereareyouguyscomingfrom?”Hisunmistakablysuspiciousgazelandsonmysuitcase.
“NewYork,”Ianswercasually.“Dean’sfromManhattanandI’mfromBrooklyn,sowecarpooled.Go,environment!”Ipretendtowavealittleflag,butJimdoesn’tevencrackasmile.
“Cool.”Hecontinuestostudyme.“Uh,soyeah…niceseeingyou.”
Hispartingsmileisfriendlyenough,butasIwatchhimwalkaway,Ican’tcontroltheballofdreadthatlodgesinmythroat.Fuck.Ihaveavery,verybadfeelingaboutthisencounter.There’snodoubtinmymindthatJimwilltellSeanaboutit.Apartofmedoesn’tcare,becauseSean’snotmyboyfriendanymore
Evenso,theanxietyeddyinginmystomachrefusestogoaway,andIknowI’mgoingtobeworryingaboutthisallfrickingday.Waitingfortheothershoetodrop.
*
Theshoedropsatoneinthemorning.Itdropshard.No,itdropsloudly.Asin,I’mrudelyawakenedfromadeepsleeptonoisypoundingonthedoor.
Isitupandfranticallylookaround,becauseittakesmynot-yet-alertbrainafewsecondstocomprehendwhat’sgoingon.Onceitregistersthatthesoundsarecomingfromthefrontdoor,Iflyoutofmybedroomandstaggerintothecommonarea.TwoshadowyfiguresstumbleoutofHannah’sroomatthesametime.Mysleepyroommateandherboyfriendhaltabruptlywhentheyspotme.
Bang.
Bangbangbang.
“Whatthehell?”Garrettsoundsgroggyasheturnshisheadtowardthenoise.
MypulsespeedsupwhenIhearSean’svoice.
“Allie!”heshoutsfrombehindthedoor.“Iknowyou’reinthere!Letmein,goddamnit!”
Justlikethat,Garrettiswideawakeandmarchingtothedoor.Isqueakinalarm,buthedoesn’topenit—hesimplypoundshisfistagainstitacoupletimes.“Shutthehellup,asshole.You’regoingtowakeupeveryoneonthefloor.”
“LikeIgiveashit!”comesSean’sfuriousreply.“IneedtotalktoAllie.”
“Thenpickupthephoneandcallherlikeanormal,saneperson,”Garrettsnaps.“Anddoittomorrowmorning.Allie’sasleep.”
Hannahmovesbesidemeandrestsahandonmyarm.MyskinisicecoldandIknowshefeelsit,becauseshegivesasoft,comfortingstroke.“Garrettwillgetridofhim,”shewhispers.
Butshe’sunderestimatedSean’sstubbornness.“She’snotasleep,”hesnapsback.“Iknowmygirlfriend—”
Ex-girlfriend!Ialmostyell.
“—andshe’sstandingrightbehindthefuckingdoor,Iknowsheis.”Thepoundingpicksupagain.Bang.Bangbangbang.“Allie!Openthedoor!Weneedtotalk!”
Iflinch.Hannahwrapsonearmaroundmyshoulders.
“BangonthisdooronemoretimeandI’mcallingthefuckingcops,”Garretthissesout.
Bangbangbang.
Mythroatsqueezesshut.Goddamnit.Hewon’tgoaway.Iknowhewon’t,andI’msuddenlyovercomewithvisionsofcampussecurityandapolicebrigadeswarmingBristolHouselikeaSWATteamtakingoutabankrobber.Whichwouldn’tjustbemortifying,butcompletelydisruptive.Fromthatpointon,everyoneinthisdormwillthinkofmeasthechickwiththeinsaneex-boyfriend.
“Lethimin,”Isayweakly.
Garrettwhirlsaround,hisgrayeyesblazing.“Nofuckingway,Allie.He’sdrunk.”
“Iknow,buthe’llcalmdownoncehe’sinside.”Myshouldersdroopunhappily.“He’llstayoutthereallnight,Garrett.JustlethiminandI’lltalkhimdown.Icanhandlethis,Ipromise.”
Hannah’sboyfriendremainsskeptical.Idon’tblamehim.Seanisabsolutelyactinglikeacrazypersonrightnow.ButIspentfouryearswiththeguy,andIknowhe’sallbarkandnobite.Hewouldneverhurtmeinthephysicalsense.
Garrettpointsafingeratme.“Ifhetriesanything,I’llbeattheshitoutofhim.”
Inod.
Cursingunderhisbreath,heflicksthelockandeasesthedooropen.IhalfexpectSeantobarrelinsideanddoasomersaultbeforepoppingtohisfeet,likeanarmycommandoonamission.Butheenterswithslow,laboredstepsthatmatchhisraggedbreathing.Hisbrowneyesinstantlyseekmeout.
“Weneedtotalk,”hemutters.
GarretthasgluedhimselftoSean’sside.Hannahhasgluedherselftomine.
Igulpnervously,easingmyselfoutofmybestfriend’sgrip.“Canyouguysgiveusaminute?”
“Absolutelynot.”Garrett’sexpressionisawashwithdisbelief.
“Please.It’sokay.We’rejustgoingtotalk.”IshootSeanapointedlook.“Right?”
Hisjawtightens,buthenods.“Right.Justwannatalk.”
Severalsecondsdragby.ThenGarrettswearsagainandscowlsatSean.“Don’tdoanythingstupid,man.Yousomuchaslookatherthewrongwayandtheonlythingyou’llbetalkingtoismyfist.”
Sean’sheaddipsinanothernod.Hannah’sboyfriendhasaboutfiveinchesandfiftypoundsonhim,andit’sobviousSeantakesthethreatseriously.
Hannahsqueezesmyarm.“We’llbeinmyroom.Shoutifyouneedus.”
Idon’tthinkit’llreachthatpoint.Seanseemstohavecalmeddown,hisbreathingsteady,hisgazenolongerburningwithmalice.ThemomentHannah’sdoorcloses,hesinksontothecouchandmakesalow,agonizednoise.
“DeanDiLaurentis?”hemoans,andthehurtandbetrayalflashinginhiseyescutsintomelikeadullblade.“Areyoukiddingme,Allie?”
MypulseracesasIstepcloser.Idon’tsitbesidehim.Istandinfrontofhim,kneeslocked,armscrossedtighttomychest,becausemywholebodyisshakingsohardit’stheonlywaytostopfromswayingonmyfeet.Idon’tknowwhattosay,soIsaynothing.
“Areyoutogether?”Hisvoicesuddenlydripswithicyrevulsion.
Iswallow,unabletoformanywords.Whydoeshestillhavethiskindofpoweroverme?Healwaysknowsexactlywhichbuttonstopush,exactlyhowmuchdisgustanddisapprovaltoinjectintohistoneinordertomakemefeelguilty,tomakemefeelawkward,tomakemefeelawful.
“Areyou?”hedemands.
Iforcemyvocalcordstocooperate.“Yesandno.We’renotacouple.We’re…”
“Sleepingtogether,”Seanfinishestersely.
Inod,whichbringsanotherflashtohiseyes.
“Sohe’sjustyourfuckbuddy,isthatit?”Ahissescapeshismouth.“Youdon’thavefuckbuddies!You’renotlikethat.”
Myskintightenswithoffense.“Likewhat?”
“Thekindofgirlwhosleepsaround.Wewaitedfourmonthsbeforeweslepttogetherforthefirsttime.Sincewhendoyouhopintobedwithsomeoneafterafewdays?Orwasithours?HowfastdidyoujumponDiLaurentis’sdick?”
Iwinceasifhe’sstruckme.Icantellhe’sdrunkbecauseofhisruddycheeksandhazyeyes,buthe’snotslurringhiswords,andeachonefiresoutlikeabullet,hittingitsmarkandreignitingthediscomfortI’vealwaysfelttowardcasualsex.
“Andofalltheguysyoucould’vechosen,youchosehim?Doyourealizehowmanybitcheshe’sstuckhisdickin?Hefuckinglivesinthecampushealthcenter,withalltheSTDmedshehastotake!”
Istiffen.“Stopit.You’reactinglikeatotalassrightnow.”
ButSean’snotevenclosetobeingdone.“Didyouscrewhimwhenweweretogether?”hedemands.
Myjawdrops.“No.Ofcoursenot.”
“AndI’mjustsupposedtotakeyourwordforit?”Heboltstohisfeet.Itakeaninstinctivestepback,buthedoesn’tadvanceonme.Hestartspacingthehardwoodfloorinstead,rakinghishandsthroughhishairlikehe’stryingtotearitoutfromtheroots.“SonowIfuckingneedtogettested?Isthatit?IneedanSTDtestbecausemygirlfriendcheatedonmewithadirtyfuckerlikeDiLaurentis?”
Angerrisesinmythroat.“Ididn’tcheatonyou,”Ibiteout.“Andyou’rebeingridiculousrightnow!Youdon’thaveanSTD—”
“Butyoumight,”hecutsin,andthenhestartstolaugh,lowandharsh.“You’resleepingwithaslut.You’reaslut.”
Irecoilatthecruelindictment,butsomehowImanagetokeepmybreathingundercontrol.SomehowImanagenottolungeathimandsmackhimintheface.“I’mnotaslut,”Isaycoldly.“AndIdidn’tcheatonyou.Andnowit’stimeforyoutogo.”
“Youknowwhat?I’mgladyoudumpedme.Iwantnothingtodowithyou.”Hisvoicerises,andIcringebecauseIknowHannahandGarrettmusthearhimevenwithherdoorclosed.“Iwasafuckingidiotfortryingtowinyouback!WhythefuckwouldIwanttogetbacktogetherwithadisease-riddenwhore—”
“That’senough!”
Garrett’sboomingproclamationcomestoolittle,toolate.Sean’slastremarkhasalreadydoneitsintendeddamage.Istumblebackwardasifhe’djustslappedme.God,hemightaswellhave.Mycheeksareburning.Mybottomlipquiverswildly,andIhavetodigmyteethintoittomakeitstop.Ihavetofightthestrangledsobthat’sdesperatelytryingtoripoutofmythroat.
I’mvaguelyawareofGarrettgrabbingmyex-boyfriendbythecollar.Haulinghimtothedoor.Hissingoutathreat.Butmyfaceisonfireandmyvisionisfuzzy,makingitdifficulttofocusonwhat’sgoingon.
IjerkwhenIfeelapairofsoftarmswraparoundme.It’sHannah,huggingmetight.MyheaddropsagainsthershoulderandIblinkawaythetearsthreateningtosurface.
“Areyouokay?”sheasksurgently.
“No.”Myresponseismuffledagainsthersleeve.
“Garrettwentdownstairswithhim.He’sgoingtocallataxiandwaitwithSeantomakesurethatfuckergetsinthecab.”Sherubsbothhandsbetweenmyshoulderblades.“Allie.Talktome.Ineedtoknowthatyou’reallright,sweetie.”
Forsomereason,thesympathyinhervoiceblowsapartthelastthreadofmycontrol.Thetearsspilloverandstreamdownmycheeks.AsobfliesoutasIshudderinherembrace.Howcouldhehavesaidallthoseawful,hurtfulthings?Weweretogetherforyears.Helovedme.Heknowsme.HeknowsI’mnota…Ichokeonanothersob…adisease-riddenwhore
Asshamefloodsmybody,IpushawayfromHannahandhurrytomybedroom.Ihearherfootstepsbehindme,reachingmydoorjustasIcollapseonmybed.IcurlupandswipeatmytearswiththesleeveofmyT-shirt,buttheykeepfallingfaster,stingingmyeyelidsandslidingintomymouth.
“Allie,”Hannahsayssoftly.
Iignoreher,gulpingthroughthesobsasIstickoutahandandfumbleonthenightstand.Ineed…God,IneedDean.Ineedhimtowraphisstrongarmsaroundmeandgivemethatspeechagain,theoneabouterasingslutfrommyvocabularyandnotlettingsmall-mindedpeopleconvincemeI’vedoneanythingwrong.
MyfingerscollidewithmyphoneandImoanwhenIdiscoverit’sdead.
“Allie.”Hannahsoundsexceedinglyworried.“Talktome.”
Iinhaleawobblybreath.“Canyoudosomethingforme?”
“Anything,”shesaysinstantly.“Justtellmewhatyouneed.”
“Canyou…”Ispeakthroughthetightlumpinmythroat.“CanyoucallDeanandaskhimtocomeover?”
Idon’tcheckherfacetogaugeherreaction.Idon’tneedto,becauseIhearthebewildermentloudandclearinhervoice.
“Dean?”Shepauses.“DeanDiLaurentis?”
“Yes.”Icurlupagain,tuckingmyheadagainstthepillow.
“YouwantmetocallDean.”
“Yes.”
“DeanDiLaurentis?”
“Yes.”Ilickmydrylips,whicharesaltyfrommytears.Tearsthatwon’tfuckingstopfalling.“Please…justcallhim.I…”Ifeelmyentirefacecollapsingagain.“Ineedhim.”25
Dean
“Whereisshe?”ImusclemywaypastGarrettbeforehecanevenfullyopenthedoor.Mygazedartsaroundthecommonroom,butAllieisn’tinhere.Wellsyis,andsheimmediatelyshootstoherfeetwhensheseesme.
“She’sinherroom—”
Ichargeforward,onlytobeinterceptedbythepetitebrunette.“Holdonasecond,”Hannahorders,plantingherpalmagainstmychest.“You’renotseeingheruntilyoutellmewhatthehellisgoingon.”
“Youtellme,”Isnapimpatiently.“You’retheonewhocalledmeatonea.m.andtoldmetocomeoverbecauseAllieneedsme.Whathappened?”
“Seanshowedup,”Garrettsaysgrimly.“Drunkandpoundingonthedooranddemandingtotalktoher.Ilethimin—”
“Youlethimin?”Iroar.
“Shetoldmeto,”hemutters.“Saidshecouldhandlehim.”
Hannahspeaksupangrily.“Youshould’veheardthewayhewasshoutingher.CallingheraslutandsayingshehasSTDs—”
Whatthefuck?
Furysizzlesupmyspine,rippedfrommythroatintheformofamenacinggrowl.“Getoutofmyway,”ItellHannah.
“Dean,”sheprotestsasIsprinttowardtheshorthallway.“Whatareyouevendoinghere—”
Thethumpofmyfootstepsdrownsouttherestofthatsentence.IburstintoAllie’sbedroom,thenskidtoastopwhenIfindhercurleduponthebed.Sheliftsherheadatmyentrance,andthedesolatelookinherbigblueeyesshredsmyhearttopieces.
“Baby,”Isaysoftly.
Astartledgaspsoundsfromthedoor.Grittingmyteeth,IspinonmyheelandproceedtoslamthedoorinHannahandGarrett’sastonishedfaces.Theydon’texisttomerightnow.OnlyAlliedoes,andI’monthebedbeforeshecanblink,drawingherintomyarmsandcocooningherinthem.Sheburiesherfaceagainstmychest,andIcanfeelhertrembling.
“Whathappened?”
“Seanwashere.”Theanswerismuffledagainstmyhoodie.
“Iknow,Gtoldme.Butwhywashehere?”AcurseslipsoutwhenIrememberourrun-inwithPaulsonthismorning.“Hisfratbrother…Paulsontoldhimhesawustogether?”
Hernodbumpsherheadonmycollarbone.
“Asshole,”Imutter.ThenItakeabreathandsmoothmyhandoverhersilkyhair.“ItakeitSeanwaspissed?”
“He…”Hervoicecracks.“Hecalledmeadisease-riddenwhore.”
Red-hotfuryslamsintomelikeacrosschecktothechest.Ittakeseveryounceofstrengthtopushitaway,tobanishitfrommybody.Iwanttokillthebastardforsayingthattoher.
“You…arenot…”Itakeanotherbreath“…adisease-riddenwhore.Doyouhearme,baby?Youarenotthat.Ever.Idon’tknowwhythatsonofabitchwouldeven—”
“Becauseofyou,”shewhispers.
Myhandsclenchintofistsagainsthershoulders.“What?”
“Hethinksyou’reriddledwithSTDsbecauseyou…haveanactivesexlife—”
“I’mclean,”Iinterrupt.Myvoiceislow,ripplingwithanxiety.Fuck,Ireallyhopeshebelievesmerightnow.“I’veneverhadunprotectedsexinmylife,Allie.Igottestedbeforetheseasonstarted,butIcandoitagainifyou—”Istop.Fuckthat.I’lldoitevenifshedoesn’taskmeto,justtosquashanyseedofdoubtthatpieceofshitSeanmighthaveplantedinherhead.
“Itrustyou,Dean.Iknowyou’resafe,okay?Itwasn’tthediseasepartthatupsetme.Itwastheotherpart.Thewayhelookedatme…”Hersmallbodyshudders.“Hewassodisgusted.It’slikeinthatmoment,hetrulysawmeasawhoreandhehatedmeforit.”
Thefissureinmyheartcrackswideopen,sendingjaggedshardstomygut.Seanshouldbethankinghisluckystarshe’snothererightnow.Iwanttowrapmyfingersaroundhisthroatandsqueezethelifeoutofhim.
“Baby…”Iswallowmyrage.“Baby,lookatme.”
Sheslowlyraiseshereyestomine.
“Idon’tgiveashitwhatSeansays,orwhathethinks—youdidn’tdoagoddamnthingtodeservehisverbalattack,yougotit?You’renotawhore.You’re…”Perfect,Ialmostsay,butIdon’tgetthechance,becauseshe’stremblingagain.
“ThenwhydoIfeellikeone?”Sheblinksrapidly,asifshe’stryingnottocry.“God.Ihatethis.Itoldyou,I’mnotcutoutforcasualsex.”
Mypalmsgrowdamp.Idon’twanthertocontinue.I’mtooterrifiedofwhatshe’sgoingtosay.
“I’mnotsureIcandothisanymore.”
Fuck.
“It’stooconfusing…sleepingwithyouwhenwe’renotactuallytogether—”
“We’retogether,”Ibiteout.
Shestartles.“What?”
Itfeelslikesomeonejammedahandfulofgravelinmythroat.Igulpthroughit.“We’retogether,”Irepeat.
Shelooksbaffled.“We…why?”
“Becauseweare.”Anonsensicalresponse,butit’sallI’vegot.Idon’twantthistoend.Ican’texplainwhy,butIjustknowIdon’twantthistofuckingend.
“Youwant…”Thegrooveinherforeheaddeepens.“Youwanttobewithme?”
Myheartbeatgrowserratic.Ihaven’thadaconversationlikethiswithagirlinyears.NotsinceMiranda.ButAllieisn’tMiranda.Allieis…she’s…fuck,Ican’tmakesenseofmyjumbledthoughts.Exceptforone.Thebone-deepcertaintythatIcan’tletthisend.
“Dean?”
Itightenmyholdonher,buryingmyfaceinthecrookofherneck.“Iwanttobewithyou,”Imumble.“Sothatmeanswe’refuckingtogether,okay?”
Shakylaughterticklesmycheek.“You’refreakingmeoutrightnow.”
“I’mfreakingmyselfout.”Groaning,Iliftmyheadandcupherdelicatechinwithbothhands.“WhydidyouaskWellsytocallme?”
Alliefalters.“Because…”Shebitesherlip.“BecauseIwantedyoutotellmethatSeaniswrong.BecauseIneeded…”Shestumblesagain,asifshe’sasfreakedoutbythisasIam.Heruncertaintyonlymakesmemorecertain.
Irubmythumbalongtheseamofherlips,soothingthetinyindentationshemadewithherteeth.“Youwantittoo.Tobewithme?”
She’squietforsolongthatI’mnervousagain.Thenshenods.
“Tellmewhy,”Isaygruffly.“Ineedtoknowit’snotjustbecausecasualsexmakesyoufeelslutty.Thatit’snotjustbecauseyou’reinsecureabouteverythingSeansaid.”
Allieslowlyrunsonehandovermycheek.“It’snot.”Herfingertipsscrapethebristlesofstubbleonmyjaw.“Iwanttobewithyoubecauseitfeelsright.”
Thetensioninmychestdissipates,replacedbyastrangerushofwarmthIcouldn’texplainifItried.Wedon’tspeakafterthat.Whichisequallystrange,thislonginexplicablesilencethatdoesn’tneedtobefilled.IreleaseheronlysoIcanpeelmysweateroff,kickawaymyjeans.Ireachoutandclickthebedsidelamp.
Darknessfallsoverus.Alliegetsunderthecovers.Withoutaword,sheshiftsoversothere’sroomforme.
Islideinbehindher,curlingonearmaroundherslenderbodyanddrawinghercloser.Shemakesacontentednoiseandsnugglesherasstomygroin,herbacktomychest.Herhairticklesmychin.Ifallasleeptothesoundofhersoftbreathingandthesteadybeatingofherheartbeneathmypalm.
*
HannahandGarrettareinthesmallkitchenettewhenIemergefromAllie’sroomthenextmorning.They’reholdingthemostridiculouspinkmugs—Wellsy’shas“ALLIE’SBFF!”scrawledonthefrontinapurplescriptfont.Garrett’ssays“HAN-HAN’SBFF!”
Ismotheralaugh.WhydoIgetthefeelingthecustommugswereAllie’sdoing?
SinceIexpectedacross-examination,I’mnotsurprisedwhentheyattackthemomenttheynoticeme.
“Whatkindofgameareyouplayingwithmybestfriend?”
“Ispecificallytoldyoutokeepyourdickawayfromher,man.”
Ifollowthearomaoffreshlybrewedcoffeetothenarrowcounter.It’snotevennineo’clock.I’mnotawakeenoughtohavethisconversationyet.
Unfortunately,mypointedefforttoignorethemhasnoeffect.TheykeepfiringquestionsatmeasIpourmyselfsomecoffee.
“Howlonghasthisbeengoingon?”
“Whydidn’tyoufuckingtellme?”
“Whydidn’tshetellme?”
“Thisisgoingtoruinourwholegroupdynamic,youknow.”
“Youthinkso?”Hannah’sattentionisonGarrettnow.“Ifit’sjustafling,itprobablywon’tchangeanything.”
“Yourgirldoesn’tdoflings,babe.She’sanester.”
It’sthesameobservationI’dmadeaboutAllieonthedrivetoNewYork,buthearingGarrettdissectthesexualhabitsofthegirlI’mdatingraisesmyhackles.
ThegirlI’mdating.Jesus.NeverthoughtI’dbesayingthat.Butit’sthewayitis,andI’vedecidedtorollwithit.
“Hey,Ihaveanidea.”Ileanagainstthecounterandstareatthemovertherimofmymug.“How’boutyouguysmindyourownbusiness?”
Wellsy’sjawdrops.
Garrett’seyebrowssoar.
Achokedlaughcomesfromthehallway.Amomentlater,Alliesauntersintothemainroom.“Morning,”shesayscasually.
There’sabeat.“Morning,”Hannahanswers.
Allieapproachesthecounterandpicksupthecoffeepot.Whensheleansonhertiptoestograbamugfromthetopcupboard,Ican’thelpbutgiveherjuttingassalittlesmack.
Hannahglaresatme.
Garrettshakeshishead.
“What?”Myexpressionisinnocent.
Alliesipshercoffee,thenwrapsbothhandsaroundthemugandaddressestheroom.“Okay.Realtalk,guys.”SheglancesatHannah.“DeanandIaretogether.There.It’soutintheopen.Youmaynowcommencewiththequestions.”
Hannah’smouthstaysclosed.Forsomeonewho’dhadquestionsgaloreonlyminutesago,hersilenceissurprising.Worrying.Hertroubledgreeneyestellmeshe’snothappywiththisnewarrangement.
“No?Nothingyouwantmetosay?”Allieliftsthemugtoherlips.“Allrightythen.”
IhideasmileandturntoGarrett.“HunterandIhaveanhouroficetimetoday.Coachsignedoffonit.Youwanttocome?”
Herubsahandoverhisjaw,scratchingthedarkstubblethere.“YoustillgivingDavenportpointers?Workingone-on-one?”
Inod.“He’seager,workshard.ButIthinksometipsfromanotherforwardwilldohimsomegood.”
Garrettnodsback.“Sure,I’lltagalong.Wouldn’tmindworkingwithhimonpenaltykilling.HemadetoomanymistakesduringthatBurlingtonpowerplayyesterday.”
“Atleastwewonthedamngame.”
“True.Ourrecordstillblows,though.”
“It’safuckingbummer,man.MyHurricaneshaveabetterrecord,andthey’refrickin’middle-schoolers.”
“YourHurricanes?”Hegrins.“Dude,admitit.You’reinlovewiththosekidlets.”
“Fuckoff.Ijusthavefuncoaching—”
“Youbothneedtogo!”Wellsyannounces,amixofannoyanceandexasperationonherface.
Garrettisvisiblyhurt.“You’rekickingmeout?”
“I’msorry,babe.Iloveyouwithallmyheartbutit’stimeforsomegirltalk,andlastIchecked,youdon’thaveavagina.Therefore,youneedtogo.”Shescowlsatme.“Youtoo,Dean.”
IknowbetterthantoarguewithHannahWellswhenshe’ssethermindtosomething.Shewantsusgone,thengoneweshallbe.
Idraintherestofmycoffee,placetheemptycupinthesink,andglanceatAllie.“I’llcallyoulater?”
“Yep.”Shewalksupandgivesmeachastekissonthecheek,butthere’snowayI’mleavingwithoutsomethingalittlemoresubstantial.Capturingherchininmyhand,Itipherheadbackandpressmymouthtohers.ThekissIgiveherisdeepandhungry,involvingahelluvalotoftongue,andlastinglongenoughtomakeHannahsquawk.
“Okay,enough!”sheorders.
AsAllieandIbreakapart,ItossagrininWellsy’sdirection.“Oh,relax,babydoll.It’sjustalittleFrenchkissingbetweenmeandmygirl.Nobodydied.”
Hannah’smouthfallsopen.Thenshepointstothedoorandgrowls,“Out.”
*
Allie
“Hisgirl?”HannahsaysthemomentDeanandGarrettareoutthedoor.“Explainyourself,Allison.Imeanit.Explain.Yourself.”
Iswallowsomemorecaffeine.Ineedtojumpstartmybrainifwe’regoingtohavethisconversationrightnow.Thoughhonestly,I’mnotsureIcanexplainmyself.Ican’tmakeheadsortailsofthisDeanthingeither.
IguessI’mhisgirl?
Whichmeanshe’smyguy?
Becausewe’reacouplenow?
Bottomline:Ididnotexpectlastnighttoendthewayitdid.AfterthewaySeancompletelylostitandtreatedmelikeaclumpofdogshitunderhisshoe,Ishould’vebeenreadytoswearoffallmen,andsomehowIwoundupwithaboyfriend.Lifeisfascinatingsometimes.
“Whendidthishappen?”Hannah’svoicesoftensasshesearchesmyface.“Andwhydidn’tyoutellme?”
Ishrugawkwardly.“Iwasembarrassed.”
“Whywouldyoubeembarrassed?”
Sighing,Icarrymycoffeecuptothesofaandsinkdownonit.ItuckmylegsundermeandwaitforHannahtojoinme.“Because…becauseit’sDean.DeanDiLaurentis,thebiggestplayerweknow.”Ifeelbadsayingit,butI’vealwaysbeenhonestwithHannah.“He’sannoyingandridiculousandtotallynotmytype.”
Oratleastthat’swhatIusedtobelieve,beforeIgottoknowhim.Sure,he’sstillannoyingandridiculousmoreoftenthannot,butthere’ssomuchmoretoDeanthanIevercould’veimagined.
Hannahpursesherlips.“Allright.Startfromthebeginning.Whendidthishappen?”
“Whendoyouthink?”Isaywryly.“ThenightIstayedoverattheirhouse.”
Herfacepales.“OhGod.Sothisismyfault?Ididthistoyou?”
Iburstoutlaughing.“No,Ididittomyself.Igotdrunkandwoundupinhisbed.It’sallonme.”
“Andnowyouguysaretogether?”Shelooksflabbergasted.“Howisthatevenpossible?Yousaidsoyourself—he’sthebiggestplayerweknow.Whywouldyoueveragreetodatehim?”
“BecauseIlikehim,”Isaysimply.
“Areyousurewe’renotdealingwithareboundsituationhere?”
Ishrug.“Itmighthavestartedasone.Ican’tdenythatDean’sattentionmademefeelgood.Itwas…differentthanSean’sattention.SeanalwaysneededmebutinwaysthatIcouldneversatisfy.NothingIdidwasgoodenoughforhim.Iwasalwaysmakinghimangryanddisappointinghim,andapartofmeknewweweren’trightforeachother,but…Ilikebeinginarelationship.”Thoselastwordshangbetweenuslikeagiantanvil.Idon’tevenhavetolookatHannahtoanticipatehernextquestion.
“Yousureyouaren’trushingintoarelationshipbecauseyouneedtobeinone?”Herskepticismisdiggingaholeintowhatfeltrightlastnight,whatevenfeltrightthismorning.
Stricken,Ilookather.“Idon’tknow.ItriedtotellDeanno.Afterthefirstnightwehadsex”—mindblowing,unforgettable,can’t-stop-thinking-about-itsex—“hekeptcallingandtextingbeggingforroundtwoandIkeptputtinghimoffuntilitseemedstupid.Iwantedhimandhewantedme,sowhynot?”
“Butyoucouldn’tkeepitjustsex?”
Igroan.“Itried,Ireallydid,butI’mnotwiredthatway,Han-Han.AndIdon’tknowhowithappened,butIstartedenjoyingmorethanjusthismagicaldick.”Shesnickers,butIkeepgoing.“He’sgoodtome.He’sagreatlistener.He’sfuntobearound.Thesexisoff-the-chartsamazing.”
Wait,didIjustputsexfourthonthatlist?Apparentlyso.Butthat’sbecause…well,becausesexisn’tthefirstthingIthinkofanymorewhenIthinkofDean.We’vecomealongwayfromjustbeingtwosweatybodiesonanorgasmquest.We’vewatchedaFrenchsoapoperawhere,betweenus,weonlyunderstandeverythirdword.We’vedancedtogether.We’vehungout.Hemetmyhighschoolfriend.Hemetmydad—
“Andhe’sthefirstpersonyouwanttotalktowhenyou’reupset,”Hannahaddsshrewdly.
Ipressmylipstogether.EvenifIwantedto,Icouldn’tdenywhathappenedlastnight.MyfirstinstinctwastogetDean’sarmsaroundme,asifhewastheonlypersonwhocouldmakeitallbetter.Andhedid.Hesoothedmyhurtpride,mywoundedfeelings,andheldmeallnightlong.Iwouldn’thavesleptaminutelastnightifhehadn’tcomeover.
“Areyouworriedhe’sgoingtohurtme?”Iaskwithasigh.
Hannahrubstherimofhercoffeecupafewtimesbeforeanswering.“No.IthinkImayneedtoworryaboutDean.He’sneverrushedtoanyone’ssidebefore.I’mnotsayinghe’sselfish.He’sagoodfriend,butIknowGarrettwouldcallLoganbeforehe’dcallDean.”
“Idon’tknowwhy,”Isayirritably.“Deanwouldgiveanyonetheshirtoffhisback.Noquestionsasked.”
“Logan’sreliable.”
“AndDeanisn’t?Justbecausehe’salittlesex-obsesseddoesn’tmakehimunreliable!”AfewlukewarmdropsofcoffeespilloutasIslamthecuponthetable.
Hannahburstsoutlaughing,herunwelcomesoundsfollowingmeintothekitchenwhereIgrabafewpapertowelstocleanupmymess.
“What’ssofunny?”Idemand,tossingthedamptowelsinthetrash.
“YouandyourneedlessdefenseofDean.”Sherisesfromthesofaandjoinsmeinthekitchen,givingmyshoulderasmallsqueeze.“Look,ifyouwanttobewithDean,thenbewithDean.I’mjustworriedbecauseyoudon’tsleepwithguysjustforfunsies.I’mnotsayingthatsleepingwithhimrightafterbreakingupwithSeaniswrongordishonorableinanyway.It’sjustnotyou.”
Isagagainstthecounter.“Iknowit’snotme.Ikeeptellingmyselfthat,but…Ireallylikebeingwithhim,damnit.”
“Areyouinlovewithhim?”
“No.Idon’thavethatsquishyfeelingwhenitcomestohim.NotlikeIhadwith…”Itrailoff.IwasgoingtosaynotlikeIhadwithSeanbutIcan’trememberthelasttimeIfeltsoftandwarmtowardSean.TheonlyfeelingsIrememberhavingareonesofrestraint,irritation,impatience,and,lastnight,hurt.
Hannahshovesanewcupofcoffeeinmyhand.“Stopoverthinkingitandjustseewhereitgoes.26
Allie
Overthenextweek,ItakeHannah’sadviceandtrytoturnoffmybrain.DeanandIstartgoingouttogetherasacouple.Nothingexplicitissaid.Wedon’twearlittlebadges,butourinteractionsmakeitobvious.
Whenwe’reout,he’salwaystouchingme,butnotinawaythatmakesmefeellikehe’stryingtomarkhisterritoryorshowoff.He’sjustsuperphysical.IfI’mnearhim,hishandissomewhereonmybody.Usuallyhispalmisgluedtothetopofmyass,butsometimeshebrushesmyhairbackordangleshisfingersovermyshoulder.Hekissesmytempleandcheek.NotoncedoIfeellikehe’sholdingmeback.
Ofallofourfriends,Garrettisthemostconcerned.HannahwantsmetobehappyandaslongasI’msmiling,she’ssmiling.Garrett,ontheotherhand,wafflesbetweenworryandwaryacceptance.He’sconvincedthatDeanisgoingtobreakmyheart,whichwillthereforecreateariftbetweenhisgirlfriendandoneofhisbestfriends.
I’vetriedtoreassurehimthatI’mallgrownupandcanhandleanyheartbreakthatcomesmyway,butthentheconversationwindsitswaybacktoSean,whoIjustwanttoforget.Deanmakesthatprettyeasy.
Anytimehe’snotinclassorontheice,he’swithme.Sometimeshe’sreadingabookwhileIrehearsemylines,sometimeshehelpsmeoutbyreadingapartwithme.Hishigh-pitchedfakefemalevoicehasmedyingwithlaughtersoitusuallytakesafewtriestogetthroughanentirescene,andbythetimewe’redonehe’shorny.Frommylaughter,hesays.AlthoughIgettheimpressionthatIcoulddojustaboutanythingandDeanwouldbereadytogo.
Themostimportantthingisthatwe’rehappy—wayhappierthanI’vefeltinalongtime.Whichisfuckingmind-boggling.IfsomeonehadtoldmesixweeksagothatDeanDiLaurentisandIwouldnotonlybedating,buthappilydating?Iwould’velaughedmyassoff.
“Whatdoyouhavegoingonafterrehearsaltonight?”Deanasksfromthebed.He’slyingagainstthepillows,hairtousled,lookinglikethesexgodthatheis.IrefocusmyeyesbacktothemirrorandawayfromhimsoIdon’taccidentallystabmyselfwiththemascarawand.
“Nothing.I’llprobablyjustgrabdinnerinoneofthemealhalls.Why?Whatareyouupto?”
“I’vegotanerrandtorunandthenIrentedsomeicetimefortheHurricanes.”
Mystomachfallsalittle.Notseehimtonight?Iforcemyselfnottoshowanydisappointment.Justbecausewe’retogetherdoesn’tmeanweneedtobejoinedatthehip.
“Wanttomeetfordinnerafter?”headds.
Myheartflipsover.“Sure.”
“Cool.Canyoucometothearena?There’sthisrestaurantnearbythatIthinkyou’dlike.It’sanItalianplace,butit’sgotallthisfunold-timemoviememorabilia.”Hishandwandersunderneaththeblankets,whicharepulleddowntohiswaist.
Ipokemyselfintheeye.“Wouldyoustoptouchingyourself?”IdropthemascaratubeonthetableandpickupatissuetowipethesmearofblackIjustmadeattheinsidecornerofmyeyelidbecauseIcan’tkeepmyfrickingeyesoffDean.
“What’swrong,baby?Youjealous?Iwasthinkingofhowhotyoulook.”Herollstohisside.“Youmakealittlecirclewithyourmouthwhenyouputyoureyemakeupon.It’sbasicallybeggingmetostickmydickinthere.”
Nope,there’snothingwarmandsquishyaboutmyrelationshipwiththisguy.Ishoothimadisbelievingglance.“Wejustgotdonehavingmorningsex,”Iremindhim.IapplytwoquickswipesofthemascarabeforeDean’shandcandomoredamageunderthebedsheets.
“Thatwasthirtyminutesago.Sincethen,you’veshowered,wavedyourtitsandbareassinfrontofmegettingdressed,andthenmadelittleblowjobcircleswithyourmouth.Soyeah,I’mhornyagain.Sueme.”
Ithrowmycoatonandleanakneeonthemattresstokisshimgoodbye.“You’llhavetojerkoffthenbecauseIhaveclassandIdon’twanttobelate.”
Hecurlsupandkissesmyneckfirst,thenmylips.“I’mgoingtoruboneoffnowsothatIcanlastlongertonight.”
Damnit.NowI’mhorny.
*
DeanisontheicewhenIarriveatthesmallarenaacrossfromHastingsElementary.Ialwaysthoughtcoachessatonthesidelinesandbarkedoutorders,buthe’sinthemiddleoftherink,hisattentionfixedononeslightfigurewearingpinkskatesPink?IthoughttheHurricaneswereaboys’league.
“You’regettingtoohigh.Staylowsoyourweightisbetterdistributed.”Hecroucheslowenoughthathisownheadisbarelyhigherthantheminiatureplayerandhisbuttisskimmingtheice.
Iwatchinamazementasheactuallyskatesafewyardsbeforestretchingoutalegandspinningaround.Hissmoothnessontheiceisprettyamazing.
“Comeon.Giveitanothertry.”
Theskaterwobblesforward.
“Remember,whenyou’reperfectlystraight,you’reactuallystandingontheinnerandouteredgeofyourblade.Themiddleofthebladeisscoopedout.”Deanmakesanupsidedownu-shapewithhisfinger.“Youwanttouseyouredgestokeepyourlegsfromspreadingtoofarout.ItfeelsweirdatfirstbutIpromiseyou’llgetthehangofit.”
Onepinkskatepushesforwardtentatively,followedbytheoppositeone,andthewholemotionisrepeatedagainuntilthefigureglidespastthecrouchingDean.
“Isthisokay?”alittlegirl’svoicecallsout.“AmIdoingitright?”
“Yousureare.”Hewatchesherintentlyasshefloatsalongtheice.“You’reanatural,Koty.”
“Who’sKoty?”sheasks.
“You’reKoty.Orwait,maybe…Dakota-y?Everyoneneedsanickname.”
“What’syours?”Dakotaputshertinyfistsonhernon-existenthips.
“Awesome.I’mawesome.”Hewinksatherandthenpullsherhandsintohis,andthetwoofthemskatetogether.OrIshouldsayDeanskatesbackwardsandDakotaclingstohim.Hereyesarefixedonhisface,twoadoringspotssavoringhiseverymovement.
Despitethechillyairinthearena,I’mcompletelywarm.Dean’spatiencetowardthisyounggirlismakingmyovariesexplode.ThisisasideofhimI’veneverseenbefore,neverthoughtIevencaredabout.
Sweetnessunfurlsinsideofme,fillinginthecracksandholesIdidn’trealizeexisted,takingmecompletelybysurprise.
“Areyouinlovewithhim?”
“No.Idon’thavethatsquishyfeeling…”
IthinkbacktomyconversationwithHannah,and…fuck.WhatamIfeelingthen?Howisitthateverythinghedoesmakesmesmile?WhywashethefirstoneIturnedtowhenIwasdesperatelyupset?Why—
Anear-piercingwhistlecutsoffmysillythoughts,andI’mgratefulfortheinterruption.Thesoundofwhatseemslikeahundredstickspoundingagainsttheicefillsthearena.Inoticealineofpint-sizedhockeyplayersontheotherendoftherink.
Deangesturesforthemtoskateforwardandtheyallracetodohisbidding,sendingupawallofshavedicewhentheystopatthecenterline.
“WhileDakotapracticesherskating,Iwantyoutobreakintotwogroups.Thefirstgroupwillcarrythepuck,headupfromthebluelineandbackagain.Thesecondgroupstandsinthemiddleoftheice.Noreachingortryingtostealorchecking.Juststandthere.Oncethefirstgroupreturnstotheblueline,switch.Mostimportantpartofthisdrilliskeepingyourheadup.”
Deanarrangestheboyswhoserveastheobstaclesatvaryingpointsalongtheiceandthenremainsinthemiddleoftheactionastheteamsplitsintotwoandstartsracingupanddowntheice,swervingneatlytoavoidtheirteammates.
“He’sdoingagreatgoodjobwiththem,”adeepmalevoicetellsme.Iturntofindanoldermanjoiningmeonthebleachers.
“Dean?”Iask.Themannods.“Yeah,helookslikehe’senjoyinghimself.”
“Heis.I’mDougEllis.”
Weshakehands.“AllieHayes.FriendofDean’s.HewasbraggingabouthowwelltheHurricanesaredoingthisyear.Betterthanhisteam.”
Ellischuckleswryly.“Briar’snotgoingtogetanotherFrozenFourappearancethisyear,whichistoobad.How’sDeantakingit?”
“Allright,Iguess.Hewantstowin,but…Idon’tthinkhockeyishislife.Heplanstogotolawschoolnextyear.”Deanhasn’tspokenoftheprosatall,notthewayGarrettdoes.FromwhatIcantell,helovesthegamebutthegamedoesn’tdefinehim,whichIappreciate.SometimesGarrett’shockeytalkgetsreallytiresome.I’mnotsurehowHannahhandlesit,butIguesswhenyou’reinloveyouoverlookthingslikethat.
Besideme,Ellissighs.“Seemslikeadamnedshame,thislawschoolthing.He’sgotteacherwrittenalloverhim.”
Wewatchtheplayersruntheirdrill,whileDeantakesthetimetospeaktoafewoftheskaterswhoaren’tasfastorassmoothastheirteammates.Hedoesn’traisehisvoice,butthekidslistenintently.Hepatsthemontheheadorbackbeforeheletsthemgo.
“Doyouhaveakidoutthere?”Idipmyheadtowardtheice.
“Notanymore.IhaveasonwhoplayedontheHurricanesbuthe’sinhighschoolnow.OneoftheotherPEteachersofferedtotakeoverformeafterWyattmovedon,butIwouldn’tgiveupthiscoachingpostforanything.Kidsatthisagearespecial.They’rehungrytolearn,stillthinkanauthorityfigureistheretohelpthem,notholdthemback,andjustthethreatofdisciplineworksaseffectivelyastheactualactofpunishment.”
“It’salldownhillfromthere,Itakeit?”
“Youhavenoidea.”Heshakeshisheadinmockdismay.“Theoldertheyget,themoretheythinktheyknow.Dean,though,he’sgotthetouch.I’vehadolderkidshangaroundjusttolistentohimtalktotheHurricanes.Anditisn’tjusttheboysthataredrawntohim.”EllispointstoDakota.“Thatlittlegirllooksathimlikehehungthemoon,andshelookedthatwayevenbeforehegaveherthepinkskates.He’spatientandspeakstothekidslikethey’reimportant.Youdon’tseethatinalotofcollegestudents.Hell,youdon’tseethatkindofbehaviorinmostadults.”Ellisshrugs.“IfDeantookaninterestincoaching,he’dbegreatatit,butIguessspendingyourdayswithmiddle-schoolersisn’taglamorousjoblikebeingalawyer.”
“Deandidn’tpicklawbecauseit’sglamorous,”Iobject,feelingtheneedtodefendhimagain.
“Thenyoushouldtalktohimaboutteaching,orcoaching,anythingthatletshimworkwithkids.He’smadeforit.”EllisstartstogetupbutIstophim.
“Whyareyoutellingmethis?”
“Becauseyoualsolookathimlikehehungthemoon.AndIgetthesensehefeelsthesameaboutyou.”Ellistipshisheadandthenhe’sgone,skatingovertojoinDeanandtheboysontheice.
*
Dean
“WhatwereyouandDouglookingallseriousabout?”Itease,linkingmyfingersthroughAllie’saswecrosstheparkinglottowardmycar.Iclickthekeyfob.“Pleasedon’ttellmehewashittingonyou.”
Sheblanches.“Oh,Godno.Infrontofchildren?Thatwouldbesoinappropriate.”
Ican’thelpbutlaugh.Forsomeonewho’ssuchadirtygirlinbed,herobsessionwithproprietyandlabelsiskindaridiculous.“Sowhatdidhewant?”
Weslideintothecar.Alliestillhasn’tansweredthequestion,whichbringsafrowntomylips.Okay,nowI’mstartingtothinksheliedtome,andCoachElliswashittingonher.Butsheopenshermouthandstartlesmebysaying,“Hethinksyoushouldbeateacher.”
Myeyebrowsflyup.“Hesaidthat?”
Shenods.“Ateacher,oracoach,oranythingthatletsyouworkwithkids.Thosewerehiswords.Personally,IthinkyoushouldconsiderbeingaPhysEdteacher.Thenyougettoblowawhistleandwearthosetinygymshorts.Yourasswouldlookgreatinthem.”Aslightsmiletugsatthecornersofhermouth.“Anyway,IguessEllissawyoursomething.”
“Mysomething?”
“That’swhathappenedtomewhenIwastwelve,”sheexplains.“Iwentonmyfirstcastingcallandthecastingdirectortoldmeshesaw‘something’inme.It’swhatconvincedmetokeepauditioningandpursueactingasacareer.”
Iscoff.“Yeah,butyouweretalentedtobeginwith,babe.AllIdidtodaywasgiveakidaskatinglessonandrunsomehockeydrillswiththeboys.”
Whichwasalotoffun,Ican’tdenythat.Buttheideaofmakingacareeroutofrunningaroundagymnasiumandblowingawhistleatlittlekidsis…crazy.It’scrazy,right?
“Idon’tknow…”Alliesaysteasingly.“Maybedodgeballgamesareyourdestiny.Orcoaching,atleast.You’dbeamazingatthat.Youloveworkingwiththoseboys.”
True.But…oh,forchrissake,whyisthisevenatopicofdiscussion?I’mheadedtolawschoolnextfall.
Istartthecarandreverseoutoftheparkingspace,changingthesubjectbeforeAlliecanteasemeagain.“How’drehearsalgo?”
“Good,actually.Mallorymemorizedthefinalact,soStevenishappy.ButI’mstillatadworried.”
“Howcome?”
“We’retakingathree-weekhiatusfortheholidays.Whatifshefallsintoaneggnogcomaandforgetsallherlines?”
Ichuckle.“I’msureit’llbeokay.Whenisopeningnight?”
“FirstweekofFebruary.”Shepauses.“BythenI’llprobablyknowifIgotthatFoxpilot,too.”
There’snoenthusiasminhervoice,andIglanceoverwithafrown.Shetoldmeshe’dsentanauditiontapetotheproducersinLA,butotherthanthat,shehasn’tmentionedtherole,andIdon’tthinkshe’sevencalledheragentforanupdate.
Butsheoughttobeclamoringforanupdate,right?Idon’tknowmuchaboutshowbiz,butaFoxpilotfeelslikeaprettybigdealtome.
“Doyouwantthepart?”Iaskslowly.
Herhesitationismoretellingthananythingelseshecould’vesaid.
Ipressmyfootonthebrakesasweneararedlight.“Talktome,babe.What’sbuggingyouaboutthisproject?”
Allieshrugs.“I’mjustnotinlovewiththerole.And…well,latelyI’vebeenthinkingImightwanttostayawayfromcomediesandfindmoredramaticroles.Ormaybestagework.MaybeinNewYork.”
Theconfessionstartlesme,butwhenIstoptothinkaboutit,itbecomesobviouswhereitstemsfrom.“Youwanttostayclosetoyourdad.”
Sheturnstomewithsadblueeyes.“That’sdefinitelypartofit.He’sgettingworse,andI’mnotcrazyabouttheideaoflivingontheoppositeendofthecountryfromhim.Whatifsomethinghappensandheneedsme?I’dhavetosignacontract—Ican’texactlywalkuptotheproducersandsay,sorry,gottagotoNewYorkforafewweeks.Shootaroundme.”
“Whatabouthiringanurse?”Isuggest.
“God,no.He’dneverbecoolwiththat.Iactuallybroughtuptheidealastyear.Itwasn’tsomethingheneededatthetime—wewerejustdiscussingoptionsforthefuture—buthefreakedthefuckout.Hesaidhecouldtakecareofhimself,thankyouverymuch.”
Ifightasmile,becauseIcanalmosthearJoeHayes’crotchetyvoiceinmyheadutteringthosewords.
Shebitesherlip.“It’strue,rightnowhecantakecareofhimself.Butthenumbnessinhislegsissomuchworsethanitwaslastyear.Soishisvision.He’susingthecanefornow,butwhatifeventuallyheneedsawheelchair?Whatifwe’relookingatparalysis?Blindness?Ifthathappens,hewillneedsomeone.Maybenotround-the-clockcare,butIdon’tliketheideaofhimbeingallaloneinBrooklyn.”
Ireachoverthecenterconsoletosqueezeherhand.It’scold.Trembling.She’sscared,Irealize.Scaredoflosingherfather,thewayshe’dalreadylosthermother.I’mnotsurewhattosaytomakeherfeelbetter,becausetruthis,shehaseveryrighttobescared.
Bothmyparentsarehealthyandactive,soIdon’tspendmuchtimeworryingtheymightdie.WhenI’mwiththem,Idon’tseeathundercloudofdoomhoveringabovetheirheads.
ButMr.Hayesissufferingfromadiseasethat’sslowlyeatingawayathisnervoussystem.He’sdealtwithitforyears,whilehisdaughterstoodonthesidelineswatchingitprogress,helplesstostopit.
Jesus.I’msuddenlyflooredbyherstrength.Ihadn’tunderstood,notuntilthisverymoment,howdifficultthismustbeforAllie.
“Let’snottalkaboutthisanymore.I’mbummingmyselfout.”Hervoicewobblesbeforesteadying.“Tellmemoreaboutthisrestaurantyou’retakingmeto.”
*
Afterdinner,wedrivetomyhouse.LastnightIstayedwithAllieinthedorms,sotonightit’sherturntosleepover.We’vegotanice,fairarrangementgoing,exceptforthetimeswhenAllieplaysthevaginacard,inwhichcasethearrangementbecomesdowhatyourgirlfriendwants
Mygirlfriend.Fuckme.Itstillbogglesmymind.Iain’tcomplaining,though.AllieandIhaveablasttogether.Wealsohavewild,sweatysexontheregular.SoI’mtryingtofocusonthatandnotreadtoomuchintotherestofit.
Toobadmyfriendscan’tdothesame.GarrettisconvincedI’lldosomethingtoscrewuptherelationshipandthatit’llendinamassivefireballthatblowsupinallofourfaces.SometimesIwishhegavememorecredit.
Saysthemanwhoalmostdrovesomeonetosuicide
Thepainfulmemorygripsmyheart,conjuringuptheimageofMiranda,andhertears,andtheharrowinglate-nightphonecallswhereshethreatenedtokillherselfandaccusedmeofruiningherlife.
Christ.IfeelsickeverytimeIallowmyselftothinkaboutit,soIshovetheunwelcomeremindersaside.Sheneveracceptedmyfriendrequest,Irealize.Iguessthat’snotmuchofasurprise.
AllieandIwalkintothecrampedfronthallofthetownhouse,whichsmellsalmostasgoodastherestaurantwejustcamefrom.Tuckermustbehome.
“Tuck?Whereyouat?”
“Kitchen,”ishisfaintreply.
Ishrugoutofmycoatandtossitononeofthehooksinthewall.Alliedoesthesamebeforebendingovertounzipherleatherboots.Ismackherass,thengrinwhenshescowlsatme.“Whatchamaking?”IcallouttoTucker.
“Soup,”hecallsback.“Andbakingsomebread.”
Isigh.“SometimesIworryabouthim,”ItellAllie.“Themoredomestichegets,thebiggertheriskofhispenisfallingoff.”
Shetsksindisapproval.“Sexistbastard.”
“Ithinkyoumeansexybastard,”Isayhelpfully.
“No,Igotitrightthefirsttime.”
Wemovetowardthelivingroomjustasthefrontdoorswingsopenbehindus.Iturnaround,andIliterallyhaveonesecondtoreactbeforeablondtornadofliestowardmeandlaunchesherselfatme.
“Surprise!”thetornadoshouts,flingingbotharmsaroundmyneck.“Guesswho’sspendingtheweekend!”
I’msodazedandtakenabackthatIreturnthehugoninstinct.Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseeAllie’smouthtwistinadeepfrown.Shit.Iknowtheconclusionshe’sjumpingtorightnow,andIneedtosquashit,pronto.
WhenAllieclearsherthroatpurposefully,theintruderswivelsherheadandsays,“Oh.Hi.Andyouare?”
“Dean’sgirlfriend,”Allierepliestightly.“Whoareyou?”
Ratherthanrespond,Summerwhirlstowardmeagain.“Youhaveagirlfriend?Whatthehell,Dicky!WhyamIalwaysthelastonetoknowthesethings?”
Alliemakesanoise.Ithinkitmightbeagrowl.“DidyoujustcallmyboyfriendDicky?”
“Yeah,sowhat?”Summerchallenges.
Iquicklyintervenebeforeacatfightbreaksout.Imean,catfightsingeneralarehotasfuck,butnotwhenI’mrelatedtooneofthepussycats.“Summer,thisisAllie.Allie,Summer.”Isigh.“Mylittlesister.”27
Allie
I’mannoyedwithmyselffornotrealizingitsooner.Ofcoursethisstunning,vibrantgirlisDean’ssister.Nowthatmyclawshaveretracted,Icanclearlyseetheresemblance—
Summer’shairisthesameshadeofblond,hereyesthesamevividgreen.She’salotshorterthanDean,butfartallerthanIam.Atleastfive-nine,ifIhadtoguess.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Deandirectsthedemandathissister,whoisn’tputoffintheslightest.
“ItoldyouIwascomingtovisit,remember?”
“No,youtoldmeyouwantedtovisit.”Hemakesanaggravatednoise.“Youcan’tjustshowupatpeople’shouseswithoutgivingthemanywarning,Summer.WhatifIwasn’thome?”
“Butyouwere.”Shebeams.“AndnowI’mhere.See?Theuniversealwaysgetsshitright.”
Hearchesabrow.“AnddidtheuniversehappentomentionthatIhaveanawaygametomorrow?Andthatthebusleavesateightinthemorning?AndthatIprobablywon’tgetbackuntilmidnight?”
DisappointmentfillsSummer’seyes.“Fuck.AndI’mleavingearlyonSundaymorning.”Shegoesquietforamoment,andthenherexpressionbrightens.“That’sfine.Itjustmeansweneedtodoallourcatchinguptonight.WhereshouldIputmybag?”
Ipressmyknucklestomymouthtosmotheralaugh.Igetthefeelingthere’snothingonGod’sgreenplanetthatcanbringSummerDiLaurentisdown.Sheseemslikethekindofchickwhofallsasleepwearingasmile.
Deanspeaksinastrainedvoice,asifheviewshissister’ssurprisevisitasamajorinconvenience.“Ikindahadplanstonight,boogers.”
Boogers?
“Planschange?”shesaysflippantly.“Andyourplansnowincludeme.”Hergreeneyesflickinmydirection.“You’recoolwithmehangingoutwithyouandDickytonight,right,girlfriend?”
ThelaughIwastryingtoholdinpopsout.Actually,it’smoreofahowl,becauseohmyGod,whydoesshecallhimDicky?
“Idon’tmindatall,”Iassureher.ImeetDean’sirritatedgazeandadd,“Areyougoingtoexplainthenickname,orshouldIcreatemyownbackstoryforit?”
Summergrinsatme.“It’soneofmyleastinterestinganecdotes,actually.Icouldn’tpronouncehisnamewhenIwaslittle.AndourolderbrotherNick,IcalledNicky,soIjustreplacedthefirstletterandvoila—Dicky.”Shewinksconspiratorially.“Hehatesit.”
Idon’tblamehim.IcanseeaminxlikeSummerhavingwaytoomuchfuntormentingherbigbrotherwithanembarrassingnicknamelikethat.
“Sowhatarewedoingtonight?”Summeraskseagerly.Shetossesherlongblondhairoveroneshoulderanddoesalittletwirl.SweetJesus.Thisgirlisfartooenergetic.“Isthereaclubanywherearoundhere?Abar?IhavemyfakeIDwithme,so—”
“Thenyou’dbetterhanditover,”Deaninterrupts.“Becausethere’snowayI’maidingandabettingaminor.”
Hissistersnorts.“Don’tgivemethatshit.Youweregettingdrunkwhenyouwerethirteen.”
“Iwasverymatureformyage.”
“You’renotmatureforyouragenow.”
“AtleastIdidn’tgetkickedoutofBrownforsettingtogasonfire.”
“Ididn’tgetkickedoutofBrown,andIdidnotsetanythingonfire.”
“HowwouldIknow?Ihavenoideawhatyouevendidtogetkickedout,becausenobodyinthefamilywillfuckingtellme.”
“Ididn’tgetkickedout!”
Myheadisspinningfrommovingbackandforthbetweenthem.Isthiswhatallsiblingsarelike?Ifso,IfeelfortunatethatI’manonlychild.Allthisbickeringseemslikeitwouldbeexhausting.
“Andifyouquityellingatme,”Summerisgrumbling,“thenmaybewecansitdownlikeadultsandI’lltellyouwhyI’monprobation.”Shewavesamanicuredhand.“Butlet’ssavethatforlater.I’minthemoodforaparty.Youthinkoneofthefratsishostingonetonight?Wait,whatamIsaying?Ofcoursethere’llbeapartyonGreekRow.It’stheonlywaythosepervosevergetlaid,right?”
Ichokeonanotherlaugh.
DeanismoreonedgethanI’veeverseenhim,hisfistsballedagainsthissidesasifhe’stryingnottothrottlehissister.“We’renotgoingtoapartytonight.Ialreadytoldyou,I’vegottabeupearlytomeetthebus.Whichmeanswe’restayingin.Anice,quietnightin,”hesaysfirmly.
Ofcourse,hesaysthisrightasthefrontdooropensagainandfourhockeyplayerstrudgeinside.Ormaybethreeplayersandacivilian,becausewhileIknowLogan,FitzyandHollis,Idon’trecognizethefourthguy.Hehasdarkspikyhairandlookstoosmalltobeahockeyplayer.
“Hey.”Logannodsingreetingandshrugsoutofhisjacket.Thehallwayisn’tbigenoughtoaccommodatesomanypeople,andIfindmyselfbeingsquashedupagainstthewallastheguyspushtheirwayinside.
“Thisismysister,”Deansaysinaresignedtonethatmakesmehideasmile.
Theguysnodandsayhello,butthey’reinabighurrytogettothelivingroom.Loganglancesatusoverhisshoulder.“MorrisgothishandsonademoversionofthelatestMobBoss.Hasn’tevenhitthemarketyet.We’llprobablybeuplate.”
Besideme,Summerbreaksoutinabroadsmile.
“Don’tmakeittoolate.Busleavesateighttomorrow,”Deanremindshisroommate.
Loganshrugs.“I’llsleeponthebus.”Thenhedisappearsintothelivingroom.
Summerispracticallyvibratingwithexcitementnow.Shesidlesclosetomeandhisses,“Whowasthat?”
Iwrinklemyforehead.“YoumeanLogan?Heliveshere.Butdon’tgetanyideas.Hehasagirlfriend.”
“No,nothim.”Herhandfluttersdismissively.“Thebigguywiththetats.Ididn’tcatchhisname.”
“Oh.Fitzy.ColinFitzgerald,”Iclarify.“Oneofyourbrother’steammates.”
Summer’sgreeneyestwinkle.Sheflipsherhairagainandannounces,“Iwanthim.”
“Summer!”Deansaysinexasperation,whileIdesperatelytrynottolaugh.
“What?I’mjustbeinghonest.”Hissisterblinksinnocently.“Behonestorbeajerk—that’swhatyoutaughtmewhenIwastwelve,remember?AfterIstoleyourfavoriteshirtandthenaccidentallydroppeditinthesewer?”
“Howdoyouaccidentallydropashirtinthesewer?”Iblurtout.
“Iwasn’twearingit.Itfelloutofmybackpack.”ShesmirksatDean.“AndthenIliedaboutwhathappenedandyougavemeaspeechabouthonesty,remember?Well,congratulations,Dicky.I’msuperduperhonestnow.”Shepointsherfingeratthelivingroomdoorway.“ThatwasthehottestpieceofmanmeatIhaveeverseen.AndIwanthim.”
“I’mgoingtomurderyouinyoursleeponeday,”Deantellshissister.“SweartoGod.”
Hersmileistheepitomeofsweetness.“Aw,Dicky,youwouldnever,everdothat.Wannaknowwhy?”
“Why?”hegrumbles.
“Becauseyouloveme.”
Honestly?IthinkIloveher,too.
*
Dean
IamterrifiedofwhatI’llfindwhenIgethometonight.I’llonlybegoneforsixteenhours,butSummerHeyward-DiLaurentisiscapableofdoingearthquake-leveldamageinsixteenminutes
Whenshewasthirteen,NickandIwerehomealonewithher.Weturnedourbacksfortwentyminutes,tops,andwhenwewalkedintothelivingroom,theliquorcabinetwasoverturned,brokenglasswaseverywhere,andSummergrinnedatusandsaid,“Oops.”
Shesaidshe’dwantedatasteofalcoholtoseewhatallthefusswasabout.Destroyingthousandsofdollars’worthofliquorintheprocess.
Granted,she’stwentynow.ButdoItrusther?Absolutelynot.I’mjusthopingAlliecanfindawaytocontrolher.Andyes,Irecruitedmygirlfriendintobabysittingmysistertoday.NowaywasIlettingSummerlooseoncampuswithoutachaperone.
Duringthefive-hourbusridetoScranton,Alliesendsmeupdatesabouttheirday,alongwithrunningcommentaryabouthowgreatmysisteris,andOMGs!everytimeSummerrevealsanembarrassingdetailfrommychildhood.
Havingbreakfastatthediner.
OMG—yourfirstwordwas‘booby’?Whydoesthisnotsurpriseme??
TakingStothesalon.Shewantsamani.
You’rescaredoftattooneedles??Sjusttoldmeualmostgotatatwhenuwere18buthadtoleaveb/cuwerescared.Bwahahahahaha.
Ifuckinghatemysister.
Myphonestaysinthevisitingteam’slockerroomduringthegame,andnotevenO’Shea’scoldglaresandsnarledcriticismcanbringmedowntoday,becauseweskateofftheiceafterthirdperiodwithanactualWunderourbelts.
Mygoodmoodfollowsmeoutofthearenaandontothebus,andIsettleinforthelongride,relievedbythelatestbatchofmessagesIfind.
Driving2Bostonforlunch.Swantstodosomeshopping.
Awesomelunch.Headinghomenow.
Ooohit’ssnowing!SandIaretakingawalk.
Home.Chillingandgirltalk.TellTuckhistomatosoupisdabomb.
Sawontwitteruwonthegame!FUCKYEAH!
Moviemarathon.Puttingphoneonsilent.Seeuwhenugetback.
Thelastmessagecameinaroundeighto’clock.Good.IhopethatmeansAllieandSummeraretuckedunderablanketinthelivingroomwatchingamovieandnotoutcausingtrouble.
Huh.AndAlliewasright.Itissnowing.OncethebuscrossesthestatelineintoMassachusetts,therearesuddenlywhiteflakesdancingoutsidemywindow.Ilovewinter,soIwhollyapproveofthesight.
It’sclosetomidnightwhenwearriveatourownarena.IridehomeintheBeemerwithTuck,whileGarrettandLoganheadforthedormstospendthenightwiththeirgirlfriends.
Tenminuteslater,Ipullintoourdriveway.Notasinglelightflickersinanyofthewindows,butIcatchflashesfromthetelevisionflickeringbehindthelivingroomcurtains.
Thefronthallispitch-blackwhenwestepinside.IwalkaheadofTucker,kickingoffmyshoesasIfumbleforthelightswitch.
Idon’tgetthechancetoflickit,becauseabloodcurdlingshrieksuddenlyslicesthroughthesilence.
BeforeIcanreact,I’mshoweredfromheadtotoewithwhatfeelslikeatidalwaveoflukewarmliquid.Anotherscreamshattersmyeardrums,andI’mstillstrugglingtofigureoutwhatthefuckisgoingonwhensomethinghardconnectswithmylefttemple.
Crack
Painswimsinmyhead,andIhitthefloorlikeasackofpotatoes.28
Dean
Fact#1:theHastingspolicedepartmenthasabouteightofficersonstaff.
Fact#2:Ithinkeverysingleoneofthemisatmyfuckinghouserightnow.
“Doyouwanttopresscharges?”TheofficerinchargehoversoverAllielikeaprotectivebear,asneeronhisfaceasheglaresaccusinglyinmydirection.
Frommyperchonthebottomstepofthestaircase,Iglarerightbackathim.TheEMTwho’sexaminingmytemplemakesareprimandingsoundwhenIswivelmyheadintheoppositedirection,butIignorehim.Becausewhat’shappeningrightnowisgoddamnludicrous.
“Ifanyoneshouldbepressingcharges,it’sme,”Isayindisbelief.
Thecopholdsupahandtosilenceme.“We’respeakingtoMissHayes,sir.”
Ohyes.MissHayes.Thecrazymaniacwhohappenstobemygirlfriend.Thekung-fumasterwhoknockedmeoutwithaWayneGretzkypaperweight.
Buthey,atleastthelightsareon.Thiswayeveryoneandtheirfuckingmotherscanwitnessmydisgrace.
“You’respeakingtothewrongperson,”Imutterthroughclenchedteeth.“I’mtheonewhowasattacked.”
Oneofthefemaledeputiesnarrowshereyesatme.“Fromwhatwecansee,sir,theyoungladiesarethevictimshere.”Shewavesherhandatthefloor.“Wewalkedintofindyoulyinginapoolofblood—”
“Itwassoup!Tomatosoup!”
“—andshoutingobscenitiesatMissHayesandMissDiLaurentis.”
“Becausetheyknockedmeout.”
“Clearlytheyfeltyouwereathreatiftheytookmeasurestoincapacitateyou,”anotherofficersayscoolly.Hepurseshislips,andthesexualpredatormustachehe’srockingbushesup.
OhmyfuckingGod.I’mgoingtostranglethem.Themomentthesecopsleave,I’mgoingtofuckingstranglethem.
“Sir,we’reconductinganinterview,”theleadofficersnaps.“Pleaserefrainfromspeakingunlessaddressed.”
Tucker,who’sleaningagainstthewallafewfeetaway,lookslikehe’sabouttopeehispantslaughing.Hislaughterisofthesilentvariety,vibratinginhisbroadshouldersandstaininghischeeksbrightred.
AtleastAlliehasthedecencytolooksheepish.Summerjustlooksbored.
“Ioverreacted,”Allieconfesses.
“Talkusthroughwhathappened,”theladycopurgesgently.
IgrindmymolarsasAllietakesabreath.Meanwhile,theparamedicatmysideisgropingthebackofmyheadlikehe’stryingtogetmeoff.
“Ijustfinishedheatingupabowlofsoupinthekitchen.Well,itwasn’ttoohot,becauseIprefermysouptobelukewarm,otherwiseitburnstheroofofmymouthandIhateitwhenthathappens.”Shesighs.“Sorry,irrelevant.Anyway,Iwasonmywaytothelivingroom.Allthelightswereoffbecausewewerewatchingamovie.Iheardfootstepsoutsidethefrontdoorandsuddenlysomeonejustwalkedinliketheylivehere—”
“Idolivehere,”Igrowl.
Allieavoidsmyfuriousgaze.“Ithoughtitwasanintruder.”
“Anintruderwithakeytothehouse?”Isaysarcastically.
Thecopsglareatmeagain.Iclosemymouth.
“IthrewthebowlathisheadandgrabbedthefirstweaponIcouldfind.”ShepointstotheGretzkypaperweightweusetoholddownthemailonthehalltablesoitdoesn’tflyawaywheneversomeoneopensthefrontdoor.Nowit’sonthehardwoodfloornexttoamassivepuddleoftomatosoup.I’msurprisedthecopsdidn’tputlittleevidenceflagsaroundit.
“Itwasn’tDean’sfault,”Allieinsists.“Seriously,it’sallonme.Ifreakedoutfornoreason.”Shefinallylooksoveratme.“See?ThisiswhyIdon’tlikehorrormovies!Youwatchonescarymoviewhenyou’reakidandsuddenlyeveryonewhocomestoyourdoorisaserialkiller.”
“Areyoukiddingmerightnow?You’llwatchahorrormoviewithmysisterbutnotme?Wehavetowatchthecancermovie?”
“Dicky,”Summerchides.“You’rebeinggrumpy.”
Iglareatmysisterwithenoughforcetomakeherwince.“Notonewordoutofyou,”Isnap.“Anddon’tthinkIdidn’tfeelyoukickmerightbeforeIpassedout.Whodoesthat,Summer?Whokicksamanwhenhe’sdown?”
Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseeTuckersinktothefloor.Heburieshisfaceinhishands,shakingwithlaughter.
TheEMTblocksmylineofsightbysquattinginfrontofme.“Ineedtoexamineyouforaconcussion.”
Ohforfuck’ssake.
Hewhipsoutapenlightandblindsmewithit.Allieappearsbehindhim,worryetchedintoherforehead.“Ohno.Doeshehaveaconcussion?”Shekneelsdownandtouchesmyarm.“Doweneedtocallyourcoach?”
Herquestioncapturestheattentionofthecopincharge.“Yourcoach?Shit.You’reoneofJensen’sboys?”
Igiveanirritablenod.Istillwanttothrowdownwiththeseassholesfortreatingmelikeasuspectinsteadofthevictim.
“What’syournameagain?”
“DeanDiLaurentis.”
“Ohyeah,Irecognizeyounow.”Hesoundsexcited.“ThatwassomeFrozenFourwinlastseason,kid.Youplayedagoodgame.”
MustacheCopstridesup.“Theteam’snotlookingtoogoodthesedays.What’sgoingonoverthere?”
“ButthatDavenportkidisfast,”anothercopraves.“AnychanceJensenwillputhimonGraham’sline?”
Forthenexttenminutes,thecopsbadgermeabouttheteamandourchancesforanothernationaltitle,whiletheparamedicforcesmetoendurehisunnecessaryconcussionprotocoluntilfinallydeterminingIdon’tneedtogototheER.Hegathersuphissupplies,andthenheandthecopsfileoutofthehouse.Themomentthey’regone,Ishoottomyfeet.
Mywetsockssquishuncomfortablywitheachstep.Myentiretorsoisstainedred,andtomatosoupdripsfrommyhairasIadvanceonthegirls.Well,namelyAllie,thepersonwho’dwieldedtheweaponthatknockedmeout.
“I’mtakingashower,”Iannounce.“AndwhenIgetout,youandIaregoingtohavealittletalkabouthowfuckingcrazyyouare.”
Hercheeksredden.“I’msorry,okay?IalreadyadmittedIoverreacted.”
“Youthink?”Ihopononefoot,thentheother,topeeloffmydisgustingsocks.“I’mserious.I’mnotdonebeingangryatyou,soyoubetterbewaitingformeinmyroomwhenI’moutoftheshower.”
“Whatareyougoingtodo,spankme?”
Igrowl.“Don’tfuckingtemptme,babe.”
“Gross,”Summerpipesup.“Pleasedon’tdiscussyourBDSMsexgamesinfrontofyoursister.”
Ipointmyfingerather.“Not.Another.Word.”IglanceatTucker,thetraitorwhowasgettingsomuchjoyoutofmymisery.“PleaseescortSummertoGarrett’sroomandfigureoutawaytolockherinsideit.”
Tucksnickers.Buthereachesouthishandtoher.“Comeon,littlesis,let’sleavethepoormanalone.He’salreadytakenenoughofabeatingtonight.”
*
Allie
I’mnottooproudtoadmitwhenI’vescrewedup.
Tonight?Iscreweduproyally.NotonlydidIattackmyboyfriendwithapaperweight,Ithenproceededtocallthepolice,becauseforasecondthereIwasgenuinelyworriedImighthavekilledhim.
Ifeelawful.AwfulenoughthatI’mwillingtoletDeanyellatmeforaslongashewants,whichiswhyI’msittingattheedgeofhisbedjustlikehe’dordered.
“Lookatthat—shelistens,”Deanmocksasheentersthebedroom.
Hedropshistowelandwalkstowardthedresser.Asheputsonapairofblackboxer-briefs,Idutifullywaitforalecturethatdoesn’tcome.
“Ithoughtyouweregoingtoyellatme,”Iremindhim.
Herubsthesideofhishead,groaningsoftly.“Ichangedmymind.Myheadiskillingme.”
Alarmshootsthroughme.“That’snotgood.Shouldwegototheemergencyroom?”
“Naah.I’mfine,Allie-Cat.”GuiltcontinuestotwistinmystomachasIwatchhimrubhistemple.“Ihaven’tbeenhitthathardinyearsandIplayhockey,”hegrumbles.“You’refreakishlystrong,youknowthat?”
“Iknow.”Iofferasheepishlook.“Itoldyou,mydadmadesureIknewself-defense.”
“Well,kudostoyourdadformakingsureyoucouldprotectyourself.Followedbyafuckyoutoyourdadforturningyouintoadeadlyweapon.”Hegroansagain.“Jesus.Ican’tbelieveyougotthedroponmelikethat.You’reluckyIloveyou,babe.Ifanyothergirlhaddonethistome—”
“Youloveme?”Iblurtout.
Deanhaltsmid-sentence.Forasecond,helooksgenuinelyconfused,asifhedoesn’tknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.Asifhedoesn’trealizewhathe’dsaid.
ButIheardit.Loudandclear.Myheartskipsabeat.Hejusttoldmehelovedme.
“Youjustsaidit,”Itellhim,fightingthehugesmilethat’sthreateningtosurface.
“I…”Heclearshisthroat.“Well,damn.IguessIdid.”
“Didyoumeanit?”Whenhenods,mylipsstarttwitchinguncontrollably.God,Iwanttosmilesofuckingbadrightnow.“Iwanttohearitagain,”Ibeg.
Hescrubshisfistoverhischin,lookingadorablyuncomfortable.“Awshit,babe.Don’tmakemesayitagain.It’sbadenoughthatIsaiditfirst.That’sneverhappenedtomebefore.”
Thesmilebreaksfree.Itstretchesmyfacefromeartoear.Iflyoffthebedandintohisarms,toogiddytokisshimlikeagrown-up.MykissesaresloppyandoverlyeagerandDeanislaughinglikecrazyasImaulhimwithmymouth.
Iabruptlypullback.“Areyousureyourheaddoesn’thurt?”
“It’sfine,”heinsists,andadeeprumbleofdelightleaveshisthroatwhenIsmacksomemorekissesalloverhisface.
“Okay,good,becauseIthinkweshouldhavesexnow.”Ipushhimtowardthebedandreachforhiswaistband.
He’shighlyamused.“Weshould?Andwhy’sthat?”
“Becauseyoutoldmeyouloveme,andIloveyoutoo,andyouknowhowturnedonIgetbyallthisemotionalstuff.”I’malreadyrippingmyshirtoff.“YouhavenoideahowwetIamrightnow,sweetie.”
Thehumorinhiseyesisreplacedwithsmokydesire.“Showme,”heorders.
Ieasemyyogapantsoffmyhips.Undies,too.Ikickthemawayandmovecloser.ThenItakeDean’shandandbringitbetweenmylegs.Heinstantlycurlsitoverme,andIcoverhisknuckleswithmypalm,grindingbothourhandsagainstmydampcore.
Deangroans,andthistimenotinpain.Ormaybeit’sadifferentkindofpain.Hiserectiontentsinhisboxer-briefs,ahard,longridgeofarousalthatI’mdyingtofeelinsideme.
“Allie…”Hisvoiceishusky.
“Mmmm?”Irockmyhipsagainstourhands.
“Iloveyou.”
Thosethreesyllablessendajoltofheattomycore.Imoan.Sodoeshe.Iknowhefeltthewaymythighsclenchedandtherushofmoisturethatmusthavecoatedhispalm.
“Jesus,”hechokesout.“Thislovethingreallydoesmakeyouwet.”
“Toldyou.”Igivehimanothershoveandhehitsthemattress,fallingbackonhiselbows.“I’mgoingtobecomingalloveryou.Like,explodingovariesandmultipleorgasmskindofcoming.”
Deanreachesintoadrawerforacondom,andI’montopofhimbeforeheevenhashisdickout.“Loveyou,”hewhispers,thenpresseshismouthtomine.
Thekississweetandgentle,sendingfluttersofpleasurethroughmybody.Hishandtremblesasheputsthecondomon,andourmouthsarestilllockedwhenherollsmeoverandpushesjustthetipofhiscockinsideme.
Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisshouldersandcantmyhips,tryingtodrawhimindeeper.Itworks.Withasoftgroan,heslipsinanotherinch,thenanotherone,untilfinallyhe’sallthewayin,stretchingme,fillingme.
Oureyeslockinahazystareashestartstomove.Ifeelsofuckingfull.It’sincredible.Deanpushesastrandofhairoffmyforeheadandstrokesmycheek,makinglovetomeinalazy,blissfultempothathasmytoescurling.
“Loveyou,”hesaysagain,anddamnedifmyentirebodydoesn’tsingwithjoy
Iholdhimtighteragainstme,welcomingeachslowthrust.Heslideshishandsundermyassandliftsmeupsothathispubicbonepressesintomycliteverytimehedrivesdeep.Itbringsstarstomyeyes.MakesmegaspandmoanandwritheuntilmywholeworldcentersonDean.Whenmyorgasmripplesthroughme,Ihavethewords“Iloveyou”onmylips.
Hisgreeneyesburnwithemotion.Heletsoutahuskygroanandsagsontopofme,thrustingdeeponelasttime.Thenhesays,“Iloveyoutoo”ashetrembleswithrelease.29
Allie
TherestofDecemberfliesby.BeforeIknowit,theholidaysareuponus,andI’mrewardedwiththreeweeksofdowntime,familytime,andstuffing-my-face-full-of-holiday-treatstime.
I’mspendingthebreakwithmydad,butI’llbeinConnecticutwithDeanforthefirsttwodays.HisfamilyisheadingtoSt.Bart’sforacoupleofweeks,sothisismyonlychancetoseehimuntilhegetsback,atwhichpointhe’lljoinmeinNewYorkforourlastthreedaysoffreedom.
Deanhadaskedmetogototheislandwithhim,butasmuchasIhateturningdownafreetriptoparadise,I’dratherbeinBrooklyn.WhoknowswhereI’llendupafterIgraduate—IneedtotakeadvantageofeverysecondIhavewithmydad.
Still,Ican’tsayI’mnotbummedwhenIhavetoleaveConnecticut.AlthoughDeanhadtoldmehisparentswerecool,laidbackpeeps,apartofmehaddoubtedit.Imean,they’refilthy-richlawyerswhoownthreehouses.Hell,maybemorethanthree.Deandoesn’thaveabraggingboneinhisbody,soforallIknow,hisfamilyhasahouseineverycountryontheglobe.
You’dneverknowitjustbylookingatthem,though.Dean’smomworejeansandaflannelshirtthewholetimeIwasinGreenwich,confessingtomethatherfavoritethingabouthavingtimeoffisditchingthebusinessattireshewearstothefirm.HernameisLori,andapparentlyshekepthermaidennameandpracticeslawasLoriHeyward.
Dean’sdad,Peter,isequallyeasygoing.Hedidsomepaperworkinhisofficeeverymorning,butforthemostpart,hespentallhistimewithhiskids,goingskiingwithSummer,playingtwo-on-onehockeywithhissonsontheoutdoorrinkbehindtheirmansion.Yep,theyhavetheirownskatingrink.
Dean’sbrotherNickisoneofthenicestmenI’veevermet.Hebroughthisnewgirlfriend,alawyeratanotherfirm,andthoughshewasuptightatfirst,shewassweetonceIgottoknowher.
AndSummer…well,she’sjustSummer.Nofilters,largerthanlife,contagiouslaughter.SometimesIthinkIloveDean’ssistermorethanIlovehim.
AssadasIamtosaygoodbyetotheHeyward-DiLaurentises,I’mexcitedtoseemydad.IdecidetosplurgeandtakeacabfromGreenwichtoBrooklyn,andit’slateafternoonwhenIrollmyhugesuitcaseintothefrontentrywayandcalloutformyfather.
Ifindhiminthelivingroom,wearingsweatsandreadingabookcalledThePhysicsofHockey.Hegreetsmewithanindulgentsmile,thenfussesandgripesasIkisshischeekandhammerhimwithquestionsabouthowhe’sfeeling.HefinallycutsmeofftoaskaboutmyvisittoConnecticut.WhenIrevealwhatanamazingtimeitwas,helooksslightlydisappointed,whichmakesmefrown.
Wespeakonthephoneacoupletimesaweek,sohe’salreadyawareI’mdatingDean,buthe’sbeensurprisinglytight-lippedaboutit.AfterItoldhim,hesimplygruntedandhasn’tcommentedontherelationshipsince.
Hecommentsnow.
“He’snotlong-term,AJ,”Dadsayswithatiredsigh.“Ihopeyouknowthat.”
Thebluntwordssting.Imean,it’snotlikeDeanandIareplanningtomailoutsave-the-datesnextweek,butIdon’tenvisionusbreakingupanytimesoon.We’retwenty-two.We’reinlove.Goingforwardmightbetough,whatwithmeinLAorNewYork,andDeaninCambridgeforthenexttwoyears,butI’mcertainwecanmakeitworkifwetryhardatit.AndonceDeanfinisheslawschool,he’llbeabletopracticelawwhereverhewants.WhereverIam.Wehaven’tdiscussedit,butDeanhasn’tgivenmeanyindicationhewantstobreakupaftergraduation.
“Hecouldbe,”Isayquietly.“Long-term,Imean.”
Dadgivesanadamantshakeofhishead.“He’snot.”Hisvoicelosessomeofitshardedges.“DoyouwanttoknowthemostimportantthingIlearnedaftereighteenyearswithyourmom?”
Isitonthecouchbesidehimandwaitforhimtocontinue.
“Relationshipsareafuckingpainintheasssometimes.”
Ihavetolaugh.“Momtoldmethesamething.”ThethoughtofthelastconversationIhadwithmymotherbringsanachetomyheart.“Shetoldmeyouguyshadproblemsatonepointinyourmarriage,”Iconfess.I’veneverdiscussedthiswithhimbefore.Momhadbeenopenabouttheirstruggles,though.Notindetail,butshedidmakesureIknewhowhardthey’dworkedontheirmarriage.
“Wedid,”heconfirmsinapainedvoice.“Itwasthetraveling.Evagaveupmodelingafteryouwereborn,soshewasalwaysathome.AndIwasalwaysontheroad.”Hegivesmeafiercelook.“Inevertouchedanotherwoman,AJ.That’snotwhatourissueswereabout.”
“Iknow.”
“Itwasgoddamnhard.Thelongseparations.Thebriefphonecalls.I’dcomehomeandwe’dfeellikestrangers,havetogettoknoweachotheralloveragain.Ittookalotofefforttoworkthroughthat.”Agonyflashesinhiseyes.“Thenshegotsick,anditgotevenharder.”
Alumpformsinmythroat.Iwastwelvewhenshewasdiagnosedwithlungcancer.IrememberbeggingtogowiththemwheneverDaddrovehertochemo.Theyneverletme,andonthedayswherethesideeffectsweretoodebilitating,whenherskinwasgrayerthanashandshewasvomitingsoviolentlyshe’dcrackedarib,theywouldsendmetomyauntinQueens.Theyhadn’twantedmetoseeherlikethat.ButIsawenough.
“Dean…”Myfatherclearshisthroat,shiftingthesubjectagain.“Iknowmenlikehim.Theyaren’tequippedtohandlethebigstuff.Thelife-changingsetbacks.Thegame-changers.Ifyou—Godforbid—gotsick?Orinjured?Orifarecessiondescendsonthiscountryandbankruptsyourman’sempire?”Adisdainfulnotebitesintohistone.“He’dfallapartlikeacheaptent.”
“That’snottrue,”Iprotest.“Deanisagoodman.Andhe’sgoodtome.Goodforme.”
“You’refoolingyourself,AJ.Yes,he’sgoodtoyou—now.Helivesaperfectlife.Hepaysotherpeopletocleanuphismesses.Andaslongaseverythingkeepsgoinghisway,he’llbethebestthingthateverhappenedtoyou.Butifshitgoessouth?He’llbegone.Hewon’tstandbyyou,becausethatwouldentailsteppingoutofhisperfectbubble,lettingtheuglystuffin.Thatboydoesn’tdougly.”
“You’rewrong,”Iwhisper.
Hecurses.“Christ,itmakesmesicktosaythistoyou,sweetheart.YouthinkIlikeseeingthathurtlookonyourface?Ripsmeapart,AJ.ButIwantyoutobepreparedforwhenithappens.”Dadletsoutaresignedbreath.“Markmywords.Youwon’tbeabletocountonhim.Betterwrapyourheadaroundthatnow,beforeit’stoolate.”
*
Idon’tallowmyfather’swarning—andhiscompletelyunjustifiedopinionofDean—toruintheholidayforus.Igetit.He’sworried.Hedoesn’twantmetosufferanotherbrokenheart.AndIcan’tevengetpissedaboutthebluntwayhe’dpresentedhiscase,becausebluntismydad’smiddlename.
Buthe’swrong.DeanwouldbethereformeifIneededhim.Healreadyhas,rushingtomydormthenightSean’sverbalattackrippedmetoshreds.SoI’mchoosingnottosecond-guesstherelationshipI’mreceivingsomuchjoyfrom,andforcingmyselftoenjoytherestofthebreak.
IspendChristmasEve,whichalsohappenstobemybirthday,athomewithmydad.WewatchIt’saWonderfulLife,aswealwaysdo,andIbawlmyeyesout,asIalwaysdo.Thenwedrinkhotchocolateandhegivesmethesamepresenthealwaysdoes—threehundredbucks,withascribblednotetellingmetobuymyselfsomethingpretty.Dadsucksatgiftgiving.Idon’tcare,becauseIalreadygottheonlygiftIwanted:myfather,ashealthyashecanbeatthemoment,aliveandherewithme.
Afewdayslater,DeanisbackfromSt.Bart’s,lookingtannedandrelaxedashepicksmeupatthebrownstone.I’msurprisedhechosetodrive,sinceitwould’vebeeneasierformetohopthetrainandmeethiminthecity,butwhenIquestionhim,hejustgrinsandsays,“We’renotgoingtoManhattan.Ihaveabirthdaysurpriseforyou.”
“Youalreadygavemeabirthdaysurprise,”Iremindhim.Hetotallyhadtoo—acallfromSt.Bart’sandthehottestphonesexI’veeverhadinmylife.ImadesomuchnoisewhenIwascomingIhadtothankmyluckystarsthatmydadisaheavysleeper.
“Thisoneisevenbetter,”Deanpromises,andthenheplantsaquickkissonmylipsandpullsawayfromthecurb.“Imissedyou.”
Ican’tfightagoofysmile.“Imissedyou.”
Winking,hereachesformyhandandplacesitdirectlyonhiscrotch.Whichissportinganoticeablesemi.“LittleDeanmissedyoutoo.”
“Icanseethat.”
Irubthegrowingbulge,andhegroans.“KeepdoingthatandI’llshootinmypants,”hewarns.
Mysmilewidens.“Isthatachallenge?”
Idragdownhiszipperandslidemyhandinside,curlingmyfingersaroundhishard,pulsingshaft.Jeez,hewasn’tkidding.Lessthanaminuteofstroking,andhegroansagain,clutchingthesteeringwheelinadeathgripashechokesoutoneword.“Coming.”
Idon’tlethimruinhispants,becausethey’reprobablymoreexpensivethanmycollegetuition.Instead,Ilowermyheadandswallowuphisrelease,moaningashissalty,masculineflavorcoatsmytongue.
“SweetJesus,”hemumbles,thenreachesouttotenderlystrokemycheek.“Ifuckingloveyou,baby.”
“Naah,youjustloveroadhead.”
“You.”Hestubbornlyshakeshishead.“Iloveyou.”
Damnedifmyheartdoesn’tsoar.Isettlebackinmyseat,gazingoutthewindowaswecrossthebridgetowardNewJersey.Idon’tknowwheretheheckhe’stakingme,butI’mhappytolethim.I’dfollowDeanDiLaurentistotheendsoftheearth.Tothebowelsofavolcano,ifheaskedmetobetheMegRyantohisTomHanks.TofuckingMordor,ifheaskedmetobetheSamtohisFrodo.To—
“We’rehere,”heannounces.
I’mjoltedoutofthemostridiculoustrainofthoughtI’veeverridden.DeanparkstheBMWinfrontofasmallbuildinginwhatseemstobeanindustrialareainNewark.Ipeerthroughthewindshieldtoreadthesign.ThenIgasp.
Myheadwhirlstowardhim.He’sgrinning.
“OhmyGod.Really?!”
“Yup.”Hehopsoutofthecarandroundsthefrontbumpertoopenmydoor.Itakethehandheholdsout,andI’mpracticallyskippingallthewaytotheglassdoubledoors.Excitementbubblesinsideme.Mychestfeelshotandgooey,andthethicklayerofemotionclingingtomythroatmakesitdifficulttogetasinglewordout.
Ilookaroundthefrontlobbyofthedancestudio,thenmeetDean’stwinklingeyes.“Ithoughtyousaidyoudidn’twanttosalsadance.AndDeanDiLaurentisonlydoeswhathewants,remember?”
Heshrugs.“IamdoingwhatIwant.”
MyeyebrowsknittogetherasIwaitforhimtoclarify.
“I’mmakingyouhappy.”
Squish.That’sthenoisemyheartmakes.Becauseit’ssofuckingfullofloveitcannolongercontainitall.
*
Dean
Reallifeisbeckoning.Iwanttoshooitawayandtellittobothermelater,butthat’snotthewaytheworldworks.AsmuchasIlovedlyingonthebeachwithmyfolks,andcatchingupwithmysiblings,andputtingasmileonmygirlfriend’sfacebysurprisingherwithdancelessons,it’stimetosnapoutofholidaymodeandintolifemode.
Myfirstweekbackatcampusisbusierthanever,ashockeypractice,classes,andcoachingtheHurricaneseatupmostofmytime.Luckily,Allieisbusywithrehearsalsagain,soshedoesn’tcomplainthatoursexlifeisprettymuchaseriesofquickiesthisweek.
OnSaturday,theteamlosesanotherhomegame.Nobodyisevensayingtheword“playoffs”anymore,becauseweallknowitain’thappening.Despitethat,Ikeepworkingone-on-onewithHunter.Nomatterwhathappensthisseason(spoileralert:nothingwillhappen),HunterwillstillbeplayingforBriarnextyear,andhopefullyservingasateamleaderfortheothers.
CoachO’Shea,who’sbeenshockinglypleasantlately,signsoffonanhourofextraicetimeforusonSundaynight,whichHunterandImakegooduseof.Thesolosessiongoeswell,andIdrivehomefromthearenainagoodmood.SinceIdon’thaveanearlypracticetomorrow,Allie’sspendingthenightandIcan’twaittofuckmygirlfriend.Reallyfuckher.I’mtalkingthreestraighthoursofballsdeepheaven,insteadofthehurriedtripstothebonezonewe’vebeentakingallweek.
MyheadisdownasIwanderintothekitchen.I’msofocusedonthetaskofcheckingifAllietextedthatittakesasecondtoregisterthatmyroommatesaresittingaroundthetable.EvenTucker,who’sbeenAWOLsincethenewsemesterstarted.Idon’tevenbotherteasinghimaboutitanymore.It’sobvioushehasagirlfriend.Ormaybeaboyfriend?Fuck,he’ssosecretivethesedaysthatnothingwouldsurpriseme.
“What’sup?”Iaskabsently.
Nobodysaysaword.
Ituckmyphoneinmypocketandglancearoundthetable.Theirstrickenexpressionsmakemyheartbeatfaster.
ThemoistureIglimpseinLogan’seyesmakesitstopbeatingaltogether.
“What’sgoingon?”Idemand.
Theeeriesilencedragson.Loganscrubshisfistoverhiseyes.
Fuckinghell.NowI’mworried.No,nowI’mscared
“Seriously,ifsomeonedoesn’ttellmewhat’sgoingonrightthisfuckingsecond—”
“Coachcalled,”Garrettinterrupts.Hisvoiceislow.Somber.
Iwaitforhimtocontinue.Myhandsfeelliketwoblocksofice.Andnowthey’restartingtoshake.
“HejustgotoffthephonewithPatrickDeluca,and,uh…”
Okay,thisismovinginadirectionIdidn’texpect.PatDelucaisthecoachofthefootballteam.WhatthehellwouldhehavetosaytoCoachJensen?
Garrettseesmyconfusionandkeepstalking.“IguessDelucacalledhimbecauseheknowswe’refriendswithBeau—”
Beau?“ThisisaboutMaxwell?”Icutin.“Whatabouthim?”
Loganavertshisgaze.
SodoesTucker.
TheonlyonewiththeballstomeetmyeyesisGarrett,whoexhalesinaslow,unsteadyrushbeforespeaking.
“He…ah…died.”30
Dean
MybrotherandItraveledaroundEuropethesummerafterIgraduatedhighschool.France,Italy,Spain,andwefinishedthetripinGermanyandAustria.ThelatterishometoamassiveicecavethatNickinsistedonseeing.I’lladmit,itwasprettyfuckingcool.Thetouronlyletsyouwalkthefirstmileorso,whichiscoveredinice.Beyondthat,theinterlockingchambersandendlesspassagewayswereformedoflimestone.NickandIweren’tinterestedinonemeaslymile,sobadassesthatweare,webroketherulesandsnuckawayfromthetourgroup.
Wegotlost.Hopelesslyfuckinglost,andtothisdayIstillrememberthesuffocatingfeelingthatcameoverme.Theechoofourvoicesbouncingofftheimpossiblyhighwalls.Thecoldbreezeblowingthroughthecave.Thefootstepsofthetourguidewhocametoourrescue—wecouldhearthosefootsteps,clearasday,butitwasimpossibletofigureoutwhichdirectiontheywerecomingfrom.Theechoesfuckedwithourears.
That’showIfeelnow.IhearGarretttalking,butIcan’tseehimandIcan’tbesureofwhathe’ssaying.Hisvoiceisanecho.Bouncingoffthewallsandoffmyearsandjustkinda…swirlingaroundaimlessly.
Mybrainstillcan’tcomprehendthefirstthinghesaid.
Beaudied.
Asin,he’sdead?
Beauisdead?
BeauMaxwell?
MyfriendBeauMaxwell?
“…onimpact.”
Myheadsnapsup.It’slikeGarrett’swordsarespitballsthathe’sfiringatthewall,andthelasttwofinallystick.
“What?”Iaskstupidly.
Hisgrayeyesarelinedwithsadness.“Isaidhediedonimpact.Hedidn’tsuffer.”
Iblink.Repeatedly.“Canyoutellittomeagain?Whathappened,Imean.”
Hecurses.“Goddamnit,why?”
BecauseIdidn’thearawordyousaid!Ialmostroar.Itakeabreathandsay,“BecauseIneedtohearitagain.”
Garrettnods,albeitreluctantly.“Okay.”
Istaggertothecounterandopenthetopcupboard.Good.There’sabottleofJackinit.Itwistoffthecapandtakeadeepswig,thenjoinmyroommatesatthetable.IsitnexttoTuck,andtheJackDaniel’sgetspassedaroundasGarrettstartstalkingagain.
It’snotaverylongstory.
Butit’sagut-wrenchingone.
BeauflewtoWisconsinthisweekendforhisgrandmother’sbirthday.Ialreadyknewthis—hecalledmebeforeheleft.WemadeplanstograbbeersonTuesdaynight.
Lastnight,theMaxwellscelebratedGrandma’sninetiethatarestaurantinhersmalltown.Theroadswereicy.Theytooktwocars—Beauwaswithhisdad.Hisdadwasdriving.
JoannatoldCoachDelucathatdinnerwasatonoffun.
Onthedriveback,Beau’sfatherswervedtoavoidhittingadeerthatdartedoutinfrontoftheircar.
Thecarhitapatchofblackice.Itflewofftheroad,flippingovertwice.
Thenitslammedintoatree.
Beau’snecksnappedonimpact.
Hisfatherdidn’thaveascratchon’im.
Iswallowanothermouthfulofwhiskey.Itburnsmythroatandsetsmyinsidesonfire.Myeyesareonfiretoo.They’rehotandstinging,andwhenGarrettfinishesspeaking,Iscrapemychairbackandpickupthebottle.
“Goingupstairs,”Imumble.
“Dean—”It’sTucker,hisvoiceripplingwithsorrow.
TuckbarelyknewBeau.NeitherdidGarrett,asidefromchillingwithhimatparties.Loganwasclosetohim,Iguess.IknowhewentovertoBeau’splacetohangout.Butme…IwasoneofMaxwell’sbestfriends.Hewasoneofmine
Somehow,Imakeitupthestairswithoutfallingover.MyhandshakessobadlyInearlydropthewhiskeybottlehalfadozentimesbeforeIstumbleintomyroom.Icollapseonthebedandtipthebottle,pouringastreamofamberliquidintomymouth.Itsplashesmyneckandsoaksintothecollarofmyshirt.Idon’tcare.Ijustdrinkmore.
SoIguessBeau’sdead.
Hewastwenty-three.
Idrinkmore.Andsomemore.Andthensomemore,untilmyvisionisnothingbutafuzzygrayhaze.
I’mwastednow.No,I’mbeyondwasted.Mybraindon’tworksogoodanymore.Hands?Working?Fuggedaboutit.Itrytosetthebottleonthenightstandanditcrashestothefloor.Forsomereason,thatmakesmelaugh.
Ithinktimepasses.Ormaybeitdoesn’t.Maybeit’sstandingfuckingstillbecauseBeauMaxwell’snecksnappedlikeatwigandnowhe’sdead.Dead.Dunzo.Dun-zo.
“Dean…?”
Avoicewhispersmynamefromfar,faraway.Jeez.MaybeI’minthecaveagain.MaybeIneverleftit—howfuckedupwouldthatbe?IfIdiedinsomecaveinAustriabutdidn’tknowit?IfthelifeI’vebeenleadingeversincethatEuropetripisreallyafigmentofmyimagination,andmydeadbodyisactuallydecomposinginanicecaverightnow?
“That’sfuckingtrippy,”Islur.
“Dean.”Warmhandscupmycheeks.There’sasoftcurse.“Jesus.You’redrunkoutofyourmind.”
I’mbouncing.No,themattressis.It’sshakingbecausesomeoneisclimbingonthebedwithme,andmystomachstartstofeelqueasy.Nauseastickstomythroat.Iswallow.Ibreathedeeply.Icansmellthewhiskey,butthere’sanotherfragranceintheroomtoo.Allie’smysteriousscent.
“Baby.”Ifeelmyheadmoving.She’stuggingitintoherlap,threadingherfingersthroughmydamphair.I’msweatingbullets.Whyisitsohotinhere?“Loganjusttoldmewhathappened.I…”Herhandtremblesinmyhair.“I’msosorry,sweetie.”
“Broke…hisneck.”Myvoicesoundsfaraway,too.Itdoesn’tevensoundlikemyvoice,actually.Jesus,I’msodrunk.Disgustingly,pathetically,lost-in-obliviondrunk.
“Iknow,”Alliewhispers.“AndI’mso,sosorry.Iknowyou’rehurtingrightnow.I…”Shestrokesmyhotforehead.“I’mhere,okay?I’mhereandI’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Idrawaraggedbreath.“Babe,”Imumble.
“Whatisit?”
“I’mgonna…”Iliftmyhead,butthesimpleactofdoingsoincitestheverythingIwastryingtowarnherabout.
ThenauseaspiralstothesurfaceandIthrowuponmygirlfriend’slap.
*
Allie
ThememorialserviceforBeauisheldinthefootballstadium.Theentireteamisthere,alongwiththecoachingstaff,hisfriends,hisfamily,hundredsofalumni,andthousandsofpeoplewhoprobablyneverevenmethim.
Onenotableabsence?
Dean.
BeforeIleftthehouse,hewasupstairsinhisroom,wearingablacksuitandasomberexpression.HetoldmetogoonaheadwithHannahandGarrett,andthathe’dmeetmeatthememorial.
WhenIgetbacktothehouse,he’sstillinhisroom,stillwearingtheblacksuitandthesomberexpression.Exceptnowhe’sclutchingavodkabottleandhischeeksareflushed.
He’sdrunk.
He’sbeendrunkeverydaythisweek.Well,eitherthatorhigh.Twonightsago,Iwatchedhimsmokefourjoints,oneaftertheother,beforepassingoutonthelivingroomcouch.Loganhadtohaulhimoverhisshoulderandcarryhimupstairs,andthetwoofushadstoodinthedoorway,lookingatDeanpassedoutandspread-eagledonthebed.“Peoplegrieveindifferentways,”Loganhadmumbled.
Igetthat.Believeme,Igetit.WhenIlostmymom,Iwentthroughthevariousstagesofgrief.Denialanddepressionmostly,untileventuallyIlearnedtoacceptthatshewasreallygone.Ittookawhiletoreachthatacceptance,butIgotthere.Deanwillgettheretoo,Iknowhewill.Butit’sbeenpainful—no,unbearable—towatchhimturntoalcoholandweedthisweekwhenhecould’vebeenturningtome.
“Couldn’tdoit,”hemutterswhenheseesmeinthedoorway.He’dtakenoffhisjacketandtie,andthecollarofhiswhitedressshirtisaskew.Hisblondhairismussedup,asifhe’sbeenrunninghisfingersthroughitrepeatedly.
Ientertheroomwithtimidstrides,stillwearingthesimple,high-neckedblackdressIchoseforthememorial.
“Justcouldn’tstomachit,baby.”It’sawhisper.Ringingwithmisery.“Ikeptpicturinghisparents…andJoanna…seeingtheirfaces…”Deansetsthevodkabottleonthedresserandslowlysinkstotheedgeofthebed.
Takingabreath,Isitbesidehimandrestmyheadonhisshoulder.“Shesang.”
“What?”
“Joanna,”Isayquietly.“Therewasastagesetupwithapiano.Shesang‘LetItBe’.Itwasbeautiful.Andsad.”Iblinkthroughanonslaughtoftears.“Itwassadandbeautiful.”
Deanmakesachokednoise.
Istrokehischeekwiththepadsofmyfingers.Hisskinishot,buthedoesn’tseemasinebriatedashewaslastnight.Heleansintomytouch,hisunsteadybreathspuffingagainstmyhand.“Icouldn’tdoit,”hesaysagain.
“Iknow.It’sokay,sweetie.”
Isit,though?Heshould’vebeenthere,damnit.Beau’sfamilywasthere.Iftheywereableto‘stomachit’,thensoshouldDean.
Theharshrecriminationsparksaflutterofguilt.WhoamItodecidewhatsomeoneshouldorshouldn’tdo?Peopleskipfuneralsandmemorialsallthetime,forallsortsofreasons.Maybetheywanttogrievefortheirlovedonesinprivate.Maybeit’stoohardforthem.Maybetheyjustdon’tbelieveinfunerals.It’snotmyplacetojudge,andIforcemyselftorememberthatasIgentlyrunmypalmoverDean’scheek.
“Ican’tbelieveBeauisdead,”Deansaysdully.
I’mmomentarilystartledbecausethisisthefirsttimehe’ssaidBeau’snamesinceithappened.I’mevenmorestartledwhenItipmyheadandglimpsetheunshedtearsinDean’seyes.Heblinks,andacoupledropsspillover,slidingdowntowheremyfingersarestrokinghisjaw.
Histearstriggermine,inthewayyawnsaresaidtobecontagious.Suddenlywe’rebothcrying,Deanburyinghisfaceagainstmybreastsashiswholebodyshuddersinsilentsobs.Idon’tknowwhokisseswhofirst.Orwhoundresseswho.Orhowwewinduptangledtogetheronthebed,naked,gasping,stickingourtonguesineachother’sthroatsandfranticallytouchingeachother’sbodies.Megantoldmesomecrazystatisticonceabouthoweightypercentofpeoplewhowereinterviewedforagriefsurveyadmittedtohavingsexrightbefore,during,ordirectlyafterafuneral.
Iguessitmakessenseifyouthinkaboutit.Celebratinglifeinthefaceofdeath.Needingsomeonetoholdonto,atangibleconnectiontoanotherliving,breathingperson.
Wereleasesimultaneousgroanswhenheslidesinsideme.Nocondom,butwehaven’tbeenusingthemsincethenewsemesterstarted.Webothgottestedbeforethebreak,andIwasalreadyonthepill.
Iwelcomehisthick,pulsingcockintomybody,archingmyhipstomeethisdesperatethrusts.Theorgasmthatsweepsthroughmestunsmewithitsforce.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossibletofeelthiskindofpleasure,raw,all-consuming,whenI’msoovercomewithsadness.
Deanmakesadeep,torturednoiseashecomes,tremblingviolentlyashepulsesandspillsinsideme.Hisbreathinglowandshallow,hecollapsesontopofme,thenshiftsusoversomysweatybackisplasteredtohissweatychest.Ifeelmoistureonthebackofmyneck.Notperspiration,buttears.Allthetearshewould’vebeentryingtoholdinifhe’dgonetoBeau’smemorial.
Irolltowardhim,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisbroadshouldersashecriesforthefriendhelost.Idon’tknowhowlongwestayinthatposition,buteventuallyDeangoesstillandfallsasleepwithhischeekpressedupagainstmine.Forthefirsttimeinsevendays,Ifeelatinyflickerofhope.Hopethattheemotionalreleasehe’djustexperiencedwilleasesomeofhisgrief,leadhimclosertotheroadofacceptance.
Theworstthingabouthope,though?
Moreoftenthannot,itleadstodisappointment.31
Allie
Overthenexttwoweeks,allIcandoisstandidlybyandwatchDeanspiral.Hehasanewroutine.Hewakesupinthemorning.Hegoestoclass.Hegoestopractice.Thenhecomeshomeanddrinksorsmokeshimselfintoastupor.
Amazinglyenough,hestillfinisheshiscoursereadingsandturnsinassignments.WhenIsneakapeekatoneofthepapershe’swritten,Idiscoverthatit’sgood.It’slikehehandedthereinsovertotheintelligentbrainhedoesn’tlikepeopleknowingabout,andisnowoperatingonautopilot.He’sdoingitontheice,too.Justlettinghisstrong,athleticbodyandhisyearsoftrainingtakeoveranddothejobforhim.Hisheart—hell,hisconsciousness,I’mstartingtothink—doesn’tplayarole.
Neitherdoeshislibido.That’sgone,too.Well,no,notquite.Itrearsupatacertainthresholdofhisfucked-up-ness,somewherebetweenbuzzedandunconscious.ButIturnhimdowneverytime,becausetheguywho’sflashingmethosecockygrins?Who’swhisperingdirtythingsinmyearandwhoseskillfulhandsareattemptingtoworkundermyshirtorintomypants?It’snotmyboyfriend.
Myboyfrienddoesn’twanttofuckmeonlywhenhe’sdrunk,andmyboyfriend’scarefreegrinsaren’tdrugoralcoholinduced.
DeanDiLaurentisfucksbecausehelovestofuck,andhesmilesbecausehegoddamnlovestosmile.
Thisdrunk,stonedDeanisaninterloper.Hedoesn’tevencarewhenItellhimI’mnotinthemood,becauseheisn’tinthemoodeither—thesubstancessurgingthroughhisbloodarejustmakinghisbodythinkheis.
He’sgrieving.Irepeatthesewordstomyselfahundredtimesaday.IremindmyselfthatBeauMaxwellisdead,andthatDeanmisseshimdesperately.Ichidemyselfforgettingangryoverthefactthathe’shandlingBeau’sdeathinadifferentwaythanIwould.
But…damnit,Idon’tknowhowtohandlethewayhe’shandlingit.WhatamIsupposedtodo,takehimtorehab?He’snotanalcoholic.He’snotadrugaddict.Andtheworstpartis,theboozeandweedhavenoeffectonhisacademicorhockeylife.Hejustrollsoutofbedinthemorningandskateslikeachampionoracesatest.
There’sonethingmissingfromhisroutine,however—theHurricanes.AfterthenewsofBeau’sdeathbrokeout,timekindofstoodstillforaweek.DeanandLoganwereexcusedfromhockeypracticebecausetheywereclosewithBeau,andDeanbailedonthemiddleschoolpracticestoo.Ithoughtitwasatemporaryhiatus.Griefleave,ifyouwill.ButnowthreeweekshavepassedandDeanstillrefusestogoback.Iurgedhimtoreconsider,butallthatgotmewasanemphaticno.Heflatoutsaidhedoesn’twanttoworkwiththekidsanymore.
Isuspectit’sbecauseworkingwiththembringshimjoy.Andrightnow,hedoesn’twanttofeeljoy.Hedoesn’twanttofeelanything.
Me,I’mfeelingplentyofthings.Sorrow.Frustration.Anger,whichthenleadstoguilt,becausehelosthisbestfriend,forfuck’ssake.I’mnotallowedtobeangrywithhim.
Today,I’mfeelingdetermined.I’vedecidedthatDeancan’twallowingriefforever.Atsomepoint,he’llfindawaytopulloutofthistailspinhe’scaughtin,andwhenthathappens,Idon’twanthimlookingaroundanddiscoveringthathelostsomethingimportanttohim.
TheHurricanesareimportanttohim.
IparkDean’scarinfrontofthearenaandkilltheengine.HewasalreadyonhisfourthbeerwhenIleftthehouse,whereI’vebeenstayingeversinceBeaudied.ItoldhimIneededtoborrowhiscarsoIcouldbuytampons.Lifehack:ifyoudon’twantsomeoneaskingyouquestions,saythewordtampon?andtheconversationends.
Ienterthesmallbuildingandwalkdownthehall,pastthevendingmachinesandtowardthedoubledoorsleadingtotherink.AchillhitsmyfaceasIpushthroughthedoors.Ontheice,theboysareinthemiddleofafast-paceddrillthatinvolvesskatingsuperfastandthenstoppingsuperhard.Idon’treallygetit,butsure.
Turningmyhead,Icatchsightofalonefigureinthebleachers.Dakota.Herfacelightsupwhenshespotsme.Iwaveather,thenholduponefingertoindicateI’llbeaminute.
IapproachthelowwallnearthehometeambenchjustasDougEllisskatesup.“Allie.Hi.”Hepeersattheentrance.“Deanwithyou?”
Ishakemyhead,andhelooksdisappointed.Sodotheboys,whoclearlyrecognizemefromthehandfuloftimesImetDeanheresowecouldgofordinner.Ithinktheyassociatemyfacewiththeassistantcoachthey’didolized.
Ellistellsthekidstheyhavefiveminutesoffreeskate,thenturnstomeandlistenswithoutcommentasIapologizeforDean’sabsenceandassurehimthatDeanwillbecomingbacksoon.“He’sgoingthrougharoughpatchrightnow,”Isayquietly.
Ellisnods.“Hetoldmeabouthisbuddy.Itwasalloverthelocalpaperstoo.Thefootballquarterback,huh?”
Inodback.“BeauMaxwell.He…”IpictureBeau’ssparklingblueeyesandroguegrin,andmyheartclenches.“Hewasareallygreatguy.”Iswallowalumpofsadness.“HeandDeanwereclose,and…yeah…it’sbeenhard.ButDeanwantedmetotellyouhe’llbebacktoworkwiththekidsverysoon.”
“No,hedidn’t,”Ellissays.
Iavoidhisshrewdgaze.
“Hedidn’tsendyouheretotalktome,honey.Andhedidn’tsayhewascomingback.”Ellisshrugs.“Butyouwanthimto.”
Mythroatclosesup.“Yes,Iwanthimto.”Igulpagain.“Iwantedtomakesureyou’llstillhavehimif—whenthetimecomes.”
“OfcourseIwill.”Henodstowardtheice.“Questionis,willthey?Kidsdon’ttakewelltobeingabandoned.”
“Butthey’realsoquickertoforgive,”Ipointout.
Althoughmaybenotallofthem.WhenIjoinDakotaonthebleachersafewminuteslater,it’sevidentthatforgivenessisthelastthingonhermind.
“Deandoesn’tlikemeanymore,”shetellsmeinaflatvoice.“AndIdon’tlikehim.”
Istifleasigh.“That’snottrue,sweetie.Youbothlikeeachotherjustfine.”
“Wedonot.Ifhelikesme,thenwhyisn’theteachingmeskatinganymore?Andhedoesn’thelpRobbieanymoretoo!Hehasn’tbeenhereinyears.”
Threeweeks.ButIguesstoaten-year-oldthatmightfeellikeaneternity.
“IshemadbecauseIdidn’twanttoweartheboyskates?”Herbottomlipquivers.“Mymomsaiditwasrudeformetomakehimbuymegirlskates.Isthatwhyhehatesme?Becausehepaidmoneyforgirlskates?”
Andthenshestartstocry.
OhGod.Idon’tknowwhattodointhissituation.I’mnotrelatedtoherandI’mnotoneofherteachers—amIallowedtohugher?WillIgetintroubleifIdo?
Fuckit.Idon’tcareifit’sinappropriate.Dakotaisbawlinginearnestnow,andsheneedscomfort.
Iwraponearmaroundherandhughertightly.Andthen,asmyheartthrobsuncontrollably,Ispendthenexttwentyminutesreassuringasadlittlegirlthatmyboyfrienddoesn’thateher.
*
Myfather’sgruffvoiceplaysonaloopinmyheadduringthedrivebacktoDean’shouse.
Iknowmenlikehim.Theyaren’tequippedtohandlethebigstuff.Thelife-changingsetbacks.Thegame-changers
He’dfallapartlikeacheaptent
I’mterrifiedthatmydadisright.Buthecan’tbe.Deanisjustinpain.He’smourningthelossofafriend.
Helivesaperfectlife
Hepaysotherpeopletocleanuphismesses
Achillfliesupmyspineassomethingoccurstome.Fuck.IsthatwhatI’mdoingrightnow?CleaningupDean’smessbytryingtoensurethathispositionatthemiddleschoolissecure?Bybeggingaten-year-oldtoforgivehimfordesertingher?
God,I’msotired.Thesepastthreeweeks,I’vebeenfocusedsolelyonDean.Tryingtomakehimfeelbetter,tryingtogethimthroughthis.I’mslackingonmyschoolwork.Ishowuptorehearsalsbleary-eyedandexhaustedbecauseIspendallmytimetendingtomydrunkenboyfriend.Dressrehearsalsstarttomorrow,damnit.Openingnightisinfivedays.Ishouldbeconcentratingontheperformance,butIcanbarelyrememberwhatthisgoddamnplayisabout.
MyfrustrationonlyintensifieswhenIwalkthroughthedoorfifteenminuteslaterandamgreetedbyablastofdeafeningmusic—Nirvana’s“DrainYou”isblaringthroughthehouse.Wonderful.
IfindDeanonthelivingroomcouch,holdingabeerbottleinonehandandair-drummingwiththeother.He’sshirtless,butnoteventhesightofhisspectacularchestcansoothemyjaggednerves.
“Dean!”Ishoutoverthemusic.
Hepaysmenoattention.
Igrabtheremotefromthecoffeetableandstopthemusic.Silencefallsovertheroom,andhisblondheadjerksoverinsurprise.“Hey,babe.Ididn’tseeyouthere.”
“Hey.”
Isitontheedgeofthecouchandgentlyprythebottleoutofhishand.Tomysurprise,hedoesn’tprotest.AndIthinkhe’smorebuzzedthandrunkrightnow,becausehedoesn’tslurhiswordswhenhesays,“Yougotrehearsaltonight?”
Ishakemyhead.“No,butdressrehearsalsstarttomorrow.”
“Shit.Already?”
“OpeningnightisonFriday,”Iremindhim.
“Oh.Right.”
Heactsasifhe’dknownthat,butI’mprettysuremyplayhasn’tcrossedhismindinweeks.Hehasn’tshownanyinterestinwhatI’mdoing.Inwhatanyoneisdoing.It’slikehe’sfrozeninplace,stuckinthatharrowingmomentwhenhefoundoutBeauwasdead.
Everyoneelseiscontinuingtolivetheirlives.IncludingBeau’sfamily.JoannaisstillperformingonBroadway.We’vebeenemailingsincethememorial,andshetoldmebothherparentswentbacktoworklastweek.
Deanistheonlyonerefusingtomoveforward.
“Baby…”Mythroatsqueezes,worryandfearformingaknotinmywindpipe.“You’llbethereonopeningnight,right?”
Hisgreeneyesflare.“Whywouldyouevenaskmethat?”
Becauseyouweren’tthereforBeau’smemorial
Ibitebacktheaccusationanddrawadeepbreath.“I’mjustmakingsure,that’sall.”
“OfcourseI’llbethere.”Forthefirsttimeinweeks,Iglimpsegenuineemotioninhiseyes.Honest-to-godwarmth.“WhereelsewouldIbe?”
*
He’snothere.
Widowopenstoapackedauditoriumandclosestoastandingovation.ThetearsswimminginmyeyeswhenMalloryandItakeourbowshavenothingtodowiththeoverwhelmingresponsewereceivedfromtheaudience.
Thespotlightmakesitdifficulttoseeasinglefacebeyondthefirstthreerows,butthesecondrowisallIneedtosee,becausethat’swheremyfriendsaresitting.Well,standing,becausethey’reontheirfeetapplaudingalongwitheveryoneelse.
Hannah.Garrett.Megan.Stella.Justin.Grace.Logan.
HystericallaughterthreatenstospilloutasIscanthefamiliarfacesandexperienceaWizardofOzmoment.Andyouwerethereandyouwerethereandyouwerethere—andyouknowwhowasn’tfuckingthere?ThemanIlove.Themanwhopromisedhe’dbehere.
Backstage,Idutifullyaccepthugsandaccoladesfromeveryonewhowasinvolvedintheproduction.Steven.Thestudentproducers.Ourfacultyadvisor.Theartstudentswhocreatedthesets.Thelightingcrew.Theseniorwhoplayedmydeadhusbandliftsmeoffmyfeetandspinsmearound.Malloryhugsmetightenoughtostealthebreathfrommylungs,thenspendsfiveminutesapologizingprofuselyforbeingsuchaflakeatthebeginningoftheproject.
Ibarelyhearawordshesays.Tearsstainmycheeks,butIthinkeveryoneassumesthey’rehappytears.
Everyoneassumeswrong.
There’sanafterpartyforthecast,crewandfriendsatSteven’soff-campusapartmenttonight,andIassuremydirectorthatI’llbethere.ButIwon’t.Atleastnotrightaway.IhavesomewhereelseIneedtobefirst,andwhenHannahtextstofindoutifwe’remeetingoutsidetheauditoriumorintheparkinglot,I’malreadybehindthewheelofDean’sBMW,myshakyfootpressingdownonthegaspedal.
WhenIpullupinfrontofthehouse,I’mstartledbytheamountofvehiclesparkedonthestreet.Andtherearefourunfamiliarcarsinthedriveway,soI’mforcedtoparkonthecurb.
IhearthemusicbeforeIevenreachthefrontdoor,whichisunlocked.Angerfloodsmystomach,bubblingandsimmeringandreachingaboilwhenIenterthelivingroom.
It’sfullofmonsters—manmonsters,withafewpetitewomeninthemix.Becauseoftheirsheersize,Ideterminethattheguysloungingonthecouchandarmchairsandleaningagainstthewallmustbefootballplayers.Thegirls,whoknows.ButI’mgratifiedtoseethey’redrapedoverthefootballdudesandnotmyboyfriend.Deanisalone,sprawledinanarmchairwithhiseyesclosed.
Asifhesensesmypresence,hiseyelidspopopen,andhisfacelightsupwhenhespotsmeinthedoorway.Hishappinessisshort-lived,though.I’mstillintheginghamhousedressthatmycharacterworetonight.I’vestillgotmystagemakeupon.Myhairisstillpulledbackinaharried,messybun.I’mnotAllierightnow.I’mJeannette.AndDean’seyeswideninpanicwhenherealizeswhatthatsignifies.
“Allie.”Hisvoiceisdrownedoutbythemusic.
Itakeonelastlookatthepartygoingoninthelivingroom,thenspinonmyheelandhurrytowardthestaircase.
Thetearswellupagain,andmythroatissotightIcanscarcelybreathe.Thisiswhyhecouldn’tbebotheredtoshowupforopeningnight?Becausehewaspartyingwithabunchoffootballplayers?
Iburstintohisroomandracetothedresser,yankingopenthetopdrawerwhereI’vebeenkeepingtheclothesIbroughtoverfromthedorm.IusurpedhalfofDean’sclosettoo,andthat’smynextstop—pullingclothesoffhangersandtossingtheminmysuitcase.
“Awbaby,don’tdothat.”Deanappearsinthedoorway.
Iignorehimandcontinuepacking.
“Allie,please.”Hecomesupbehindme,andIswallowasobwhenhisstrongarmsencircleme.Foronebriefmoment,Iallowmyselftosagagainsthim.Toleanintohiswarm,sturdychestandfeelhisstubblescrapemyskinasherubshischeekovermine.“I’msorry,baby.Ifuckedup.Itotallyforgotyourplaywastonight.”
Iremindedyoutentimes!Iwanttoshout.
“IpromiseI’llbetherefortomorrow’sperformance.”Hishandsrunupanddownmywaist,caressmystomach,skimmyass.“Yousaidthere’sthreeshows,right?”
Myvoicecomesoutterse.“Yes.Butdon’tbothercomingtomorrownight.Idon’twantyouthere.”
Henuzzlesmyshoulderwithhischin.“Don’tsaythat.Iknowyou’repissed,butI’llmakeituptoyou.Iwillbetheretomorrow.”
“Iwantedyoutheretonight,Dean.”Istillcan’tbringmyselftoturnaroundandlookathim.AndIdon’tknowwhyI’mlettinghimrubupagainstmelikethis.Cometothinkofit,whyisherubbingagainstme?Icanfeelhiserection,harderthanstone,diggingintomyass.Howisheturnedonrightnow?
Thebizarreresponseofhisbodyiswhatpromptsmetospinaround.Frowning,Icarefullystudyhisface,catalogingeverydetail.He’snotdrunk,Irealize.Hischeeksareflushed,buthiseyesaretoobright.Whichmeanshe’snotstonedeither,becausehiseyesusuallygetfuzzyafterhe’ssmokedweed.Rightnowthey’reshining.Sparklingwithpleasureandhappinessthatheabsolutelyshouldnotbefeeling,notwhenI’mstandinghereintears.
Iinhaleslowly.“Whatareyouon?”
Helooksconfusedbythequestion.
“Whatareyouon,Dean?”Isnap“Whatdidyoutake?”
Heblinks,thensays,“Oh.Justsomemolly.”
Forfuck’ssake.
Withoutanotherword,Ishovepasthimandzipupmysuitcase.
“Whereareyougoing?”Hesoundshurt.
“Bristol,”Ispitout.“I’mnotstayinghereanymore.”
“Why?”
“Why?Youblewoffmyopeningnighttothrowapartyanddodrugs!You’rehoppeduponMDMA,rubbingyourdickallovermewhenI’mfuckingcrying!Andyou’reseriouslyaskingmewhyI’mleaving?”
Hiseyescloudover.“Ididn’tthrowaparty.OllieandRodriguezcalled,askedifIwantedtochill,reminisceaboutBeau.So,what,I’msupposedtosaynotothat?”
Myjawdrops.“Don’tyoudareuseBeauasanexcuseforgettinghigh!”
Heflinches,butwhenhespeaksagain,histoneisdefensive.“Bigdeal,babe.Itooksomemolly.It’snotlikeIdoitonaregularbasis.Lasttimewasmorethanayearago.”
“That’snotthepoint!”I’mstrugglingtobreatheagain.There’snouseinarguingwithhimrightnow.Hecan’thearme,notwhenhe’sondrugs.Iexhale,andtheairseepsoutinaweakpuff.“Mydadwasright.Ican’tcountonyouatall.”
“Areyoufuckingkiddingme?I’vebeenthereforyoufromthestart!”Hegrowls.“Mybestfriendfuckingdied,Allie.Sogee,I’msorryifI’vebeenataddistractedlately.I’vehadalotonmymind.”
Hissarcasmisn’tappreciated.“Distracted?Youhaven’tbeendistracted.You’vebeendrunk!Andnowyou’regoddamnhigh!”Resentmentburnsapathupmythroatandpricksatmyeyes.“Guesswhat,Dean?Peopledie!ItwrecksmethatBeauisgone.It.Fucking.Wrecks.Me.Butyoucan’tjustdrinkallthepainaway.”
Hisfaceturnsred.
“Igetit,theLifeofDeanisallsunshineandroses—”It’smyturntodishoutthesarcasm“—butreallifeisn’tlikethat.Inreallife,badthingshappen,andyouneedtodealwiththem.”
Ipickupmysuitcaseandmarchtothedoor.Istopabruptly,spinningtowardhimagain.I’msomadandhurtIcan’tthinkstraight.
“Lifeisn’tperfect,Dean,andyouneedtogrowthefuckupandacceptthat.I’vebeentryingtohelpyou,butyouwon’tletme.I’vespentalmostamonthwatchingyoudrinkyourselfstupid.Watchingyoupusheveryoneaway,watchingyoudisappointeveryonearoundyou.”
Hestilldoesn’tsayaword,andthatmakesmeangrier.
“IwenttoCoachEllisonyourbehalf!”Ishout.“Iconvincedhimtogiveyouanothershotforwhenyoudecidetocomebacktocoachtheteam.”Thetearsfallfaster,soakingmycheeks.“IsatwithDakotawhileshecriedhereyesout!Shethinksyouhateherbecauseshedidn’twanttoweargoddamnboyskates!”Igaspforair.“Well,I’mnotholdingyourhandanymoreorcleaningupyourmesses.I’mdone,Dean.”
Hisbreathsucksin.Finally,somethingIsaygetshisattention.“You’renotdone.”
“Yes,Iam.”MyhandisquakingsowildlyIalmostdropthesuitcaseonmyfoot.“Doyouthinkyou’retheonlyonewho’slostsomeone?Iwatchedmymotherdieofcancer.Iliterallywatchedherwitherawayanddie.”
“Allie—”
“Youneedtofindawaytodealwithyourgrief.ButIcan’tbethereanymoretohelpyou.I’mnotgoingtostandbyandwatchyoustickyourheadinabottlebecauseyou’retooafraidtofacethepain.I’mdone.”
Istormoutofthebedroom,leavinghimstaringaftermeinshock.32
Dean
I’mawakenedbyaloud,agonizedgroan.Christ,itsoundslikesomeoneisdying,andittakesaminutetocomprehendthatthetorturednoisehadcomefromme.I’mgroaning,becausemyheadhurts.No,myeyehurts.Whydoesmyeyehurt?
Isitupandgingerlytouchmyface.Mylefteyeisswollenshut.AndmymouthisdrierthantheSahara.Shit.I’msogoddamnthirsty.Andweary—justtheactofliftingmyhandtomyfacehasdrainedmeofenergy.
Themolly,Irealize.LasttimeItooksome,italsoleftmefeelingdrainedandachythenextmorning.
IslideoutofbedanddiscoverIfellasleepfullyclothed.Staggeringtothecloset,Iopenthedoorandstudythemirrorbehindit.SweetJesus.Myeyeispurpleborderingonblack,andasIstudymyreflection,alltheeventsoflastnightcomecrashingback.
MissingAllie’splay.
Alliedumpingme.
Garrettcominghomeandyellingatme.Whatwasheyellingabout…Istraintoremember.Right,aboutmissingAllie’splay.Oh,andbecauseI’dinvitedhalfthefootballteamovertothehouseandthey…yup,afewofthelinebackersweresnortingcokeinthekitchen.Fuck.That’swhenGarrettpulledmeasideandstartedrailingintome.Imusthavesaidsomethinghedidn’tlike,because…well,blackeye.
Iturnawayfromthemirrorandsinkontheedgeofthebed,conductingamentaltallyofwhatI’mdealingwithrightnow.
Ihaveablackeye.
Ihaveanangryroommatewhogavemetheblackeye.
Ihaveanex-girlfriend.
AndImadealittlegirlcry.
IsatwithDakotawhileshecriedhereyesout!Shethinksyouhateherbecauseshedidn’twanttoweargoddamnboyskates!
Allie’sangrywordsblarelikeatrumpetinmyhead,makingmytemplesthrobandmystomachchurn.Ibarelymakeittothebathroomintime,gaggingonthebileinmythroatbeforeIevenreachthetoilet.Idrapemyselfovertheporcelainbowlanddryheaveforwhatfeelslikehours.Ididn’teatanythinglastnight,sothere’snothingtothrowup,butmystomachkeepstwistingandclenchingandIcan’tstopheaving.
Whenthenauseafinallysettles,Ibrushmyteethatthesink,thendroptothetiledfloorandsitthereforawhile,thinkingaboutwhatI’vedone.WhatI’velost.
Allie.
Beau.
GoddamnBeau.Whythefuckdidhehavetogoanddie?
Thethoughtissoabsurdittriggersawaveoflaughter.Loudanduncontrollable,untilmyeyesarewateringandI’mhiccupping.
There’saknockonthedoor.“Dean…youinthere?”
IcringeatthesoundofGarrett’svoice.Hedoesn’tsoundpissed,though.Justtired.
WhenIopenthedoor,Ifindapairofseriousgrayeyespeeringbackatme.“Youokay?”Garrettsaysgruffly.
Ilaughagain.“Notintheslightest.”
Guiltpassesthroughhisexpression.“I’msorryabouttheshiner.”Hecurses.“Butgoddamnit,man,youhaditcoming.Youshouldseethemessthoseguysleft.Thehouseistrashed.”
Idragaweakhandovermyscalp.“I’llcleanit.Anddon’tworryabouttheshiner.Ideservedit.I’msurprisedAlliedidn’tgivemeamatchingone.”
Justsayinghernameisbrutal.Itfeelslikesomeonecutmychestopenwithaskateandisstabbingthebladeintomyheart,slicingittoribbons.
Ican’timaginehowshe’lleverforgiveme.Iwasn’tthereforheropeningnight.Hell,Iwasn’tthereforherevenbeforethat.ForthreeweeksI’vebeenwalkingaroundinafog,doingmydamnedesttotrytoforgetthatBeauisdead.Wheneverhecrossedmythoughts,I’dcrackopenanotherbeerorrollanotherjoint,becauseitwasthefastest,easiestwaytoshutdownmybrain.
Allie’sdadhadsaidhedidn’ttrustmetotakecareofher.Andhewasright.Ican’teventakecareofmyself,apparently.
“Wellsyispissedatyou,”Garrettsays.
“I’mpissedatmyself.”Igroan,stillthinkingaboutthesheermagnitudeofmyscrew-up.“I…”Mythroathurts.“ImissMaxwell.”
Garrettmurmurs,“Iknow.”
“ItwrecksmetothinkIwon’teverseehimagain.”
“Iknow.”
There’sabeat,andthenGarrettsurprisesmebyhaulingmeinforahug.Notamachosidehugorquickchestbump,butarealhug,withbothhisarmsaroundme,grippingmetight.
Ihughimback.“I’msorry,man.Aboutthehouse.Thedrinking.Justeverything.”
“Iknow,”hesaysforthethirdtime.
Adoorcreaksopen.“Isthisaprivatehomoeroticmoment?Orcananyonejoinin?”
IlaughweaklyasLoganlumberstowardus.Garrettreleasesme,andLogantakeshisplace.Hishugisbriefer,butnolesscomforting.
Loganslapsmybackandsays,“Youupforpracticetoday?”Hisgazecarefullystudiesmylefteye.
“Idon’thavemuchofachoice,”Ianswerwithasigh.“I’lljustgoinandletCoachdecideifhewantsmeontheice.Withthisshiner,he’llprobablybanishmetotheweightroom.”
IwishIdidn’thavetogo,though.AllIwanttodothismorningisdrivetoBristolHouseandseeAllie.Throwmyselfatherfeetandbeghertotakemeback
“We’lltellhimwewereactingoutascenefromFightClub,”Garrettjokes,beforehisexpressiongoesseriousagain.“Hedoesn’thavetoknowwhatreallywentdown.Theparty…thedrugs…”
Inodgratefully.“Thanks.”
Andotherthanmyeye,there’sreallynoothersignthatanythinguntowardhappenedlastnight.Thegoodthingaboutmypartying—notthatanythinginmylifecanbedescribedasgoodrightnow—isthatIpossessthescaryabilitytobouncebacklikenothinghappened.Idrinklikeafish?Nohangover.Ismokeweed?Myheadisclearerthantheblueskiesthenextday.Today,I’mabitslowertomove,butthat’sbecauseofthecrushingweightpressingdownonmyheart.
Ipushedawaythemostimportantpersoninmylifelastnight.Itfloorsme,howinthreeshortmonths,that’swhatAllieHayeshasbecome.She’severythingtome.
Tuckerhasbreakfastwaitingforusdownstairs.Weeat,thenbookittothearena,whereGarrettswipeshisIDatthedoorandleadsthewaytothelockerroom.
Thefourofushaltthesecondweentertheroom.CoachJensenandO’Sheaarecongregatedinthecorneroftheroom,chattingwithalanky,bespectacledmanwho’swearingablazerandcarryingabriefcase.Afewofourteammatesareloiteringaround,butnobodysaysaword.Hollisnodsatus.Fitzydoesadoubletakewhenhenoticesmyshiner.
“Morning,Coach,”Garrettcallsoutwarily.“What’sgoingon?”
“Drugtesting,”isthetersereply.
Myheartdrops.Splat.Itjusthitsthefloor.Thenausea?Well,thatrises.Soarsuptomythroatandclampsitshut.
MygazeshiftstoO’Shea.Hegazesback,utterlyexpressionless,butIgetthesickeningfeelingthathe’sresponsibleforthis.Randomdrugtestingisn’taonce-in-a-blue-moonoccurrence—ithappensallthetimeincollegesports.Butourseasonisalmostover.Hell,ourseasonisinthetoilet,withzerochanceofgoingtotheplayoffs.There’snoreasontospringaspotdrugtestonus.
Myqueasinessgetsworseandworseasotherplayersfileintotheroom.IcanfeelO’Shea’sdarkeyesboringintome,butmygazestaysgluedtomyboots.I’minastateofpanic,livingoutmyveryownTell-TaleHeart,exceptinsteadofhearingadeadman’sheartbeatunderthefloorboards,I’mexcruciatinglyawareofthebloodinmyveins.Thesteadyflowofit,surging,pulsing,taintedwiththemollyItooklastnight.
Asmypulsedrumsinmyears,Idrawinashakybreath,exhaleslowly,andmakemywayovertoCoachJensen.
“Coach…canIspeaktoyouinprivate?”Imutter,andjustlikethat,hegetsthelook.TheonethattellsmeheknowsexactlywhatI’mgoingtosay,andthathe’dratherslithisownwriststhanhearmesayit.
“Sure,”heanswersafteralong,strainedbeat.
Heleadsmetohisoffice.Wedon’tsit.Idon’tspeak.
Hewaits,butIcan’tbringmyselftovoicetheconfession.Christ.I’msodisgustedwithmyselfrightnow.Sofuckingashamed.
Coachsighs.“You’regonnamakemeaskyou,isthatit?Fine,I’llask.”Hepauses.“What’sgoingtohappenwhenyoupissinthatcup,Dean?”
TheshamebuildsinsidemeuntilIcanpracticallytasteitwhenIgulp.
“Whataretheresultsgoingtoshow?”hepushes,hisexpressionunbearablyresigned.“Marijuana?Cocaine?”
“MDMA,”Imumble.
Hecloseshiseyesbriefly.Thenheopensthem.“Allright.Thanksforlettingmeknow.”
Ileavehisofficefeelinglikeamanondeathrow.
Twodayslater,Igetkickedofftheteam.33
Allie
ThreedaysafterIstormoutofDean’shouseinsistingI’mdone,ImeethimattheCoffeeHutoncampus.Everygirlintheroomturnstoadmirehimwhenhewalksthroughthedoor.Idotoo,because…God,helooksliketheDeanIfellinlovewith.Greeneyesdancingplayfullyasheordersacoffeeatthecounter,blondhairsmoothedawayfromhischiseledface,cargopantsclingingtohisperfectass.
AllIhavetodoislookathisfacetoknowhehasn’tbeendrinkingtoday.Maybenotforafewdays,actually.HannahtoldmelastnightthatDeanfailedadrugtestandwaskickedofftheteam.Ican’tdenymyheartbrokewhenIheardthat,becauseIknowhowimportanthockeyistohim,butthenewshadn’tsurprisedme,either.Youcan’tdrinkexcessivelyandtakedrugswithoutfacingtheconsequences.Attheratehewasgoing,thepartyingwasboundtocatchuptohim.
Surprisingly,hedoesn’tseemupsetwhenIraisethesubject,whichisthefirstthingwetackleafterheslidesintotheseatacrossfromme.Hesimplyshrugs.“Ihaditcoming.”Withapainedexpression,headds,“ButIdidn’tcomeheretotalkabouttheteam.Iwantedtoapologizetoyou.”
Inod.It’swhatIfiguredwhenIgothistextinvitation,butholydéjàvubecausethisisthesecondtimeinthreemonthsI’vebeeninthisposition.LasttimeitwasmeandSean.Sittinginthisverycoffeehouse,havingthisverysameconversation.Butthistime,theacheinmyheartisamilliontimesworse,becauseI’mstillinlovewithDean.Hopelessly,desperatelyinlovewithhim.
“I’msosorry,baby.Ifuckedup.”Hislong,gracefulfingersencirclehiscoffeecup.“Ididn’thandleBeau’sdeathtoowell.Tobehonest,I’mnotsureI’mhandlingitnow,buthey,atleastI’msober.”
Inodagain.
“I’msorryImissedyourplay.AndI’msofuckingsorryIputyouinthepositionwhereyouhadtomakeexcusesforme.WithCoachEllisand—”hisvoicecracks“—Dakota.Iplanonapologizingtothemtooandbeggingtheirforgiveness.ButIwantedtoseeyoufirst.”
Iknowhehad.He’sbeencallingandtextingforthreedays,butIhadn’tagreedtomeethimuntilnow.Myemotionsweretooraw.
Deangulpshiscoffee.Whenhespeaksagain,hisvoiceisthickwithshame.“Canyoufinditinyourhearttoforgiveme?”
Myheart?God,myheartisravagedrightnow.Itfeelslikeitjustweatheredahurricane.HurricaneDean.Istillcan’teraseFridaynightfrommymind.StandingonstageandlookingintothecrowdandnotseeingDean.Cominghometofindhimhighasakite.
CanIforgivehim,though?
Fuck,ofcourseIcan.Idon’tholdgrudges.Life’stooshortforthat.
“OfcourseIcanforgiveyou.”Idon’tmissthesparkofhopeinhiseyes,anditkillsmetoextinguishit.“Butthisisn’taboutforgiveness.”
“What’sitaboutthen?”
“Youtellme.Didyouaskmeheretogetbacktogether?”
Henodsslowly.Hisentirefacesoftens.“Iloveyou,”hesayshoarsely.“Idon’twanttobeapartfromyou.”
Painspiralsinsideme.Idon’twanttobeapartfromhimeither.But…IthinkIneedtobe.
“I…can’tbewithyou,”Iwhisper.
Hemakesananguishedsound.
“Atleastnotrightnow.”Igripmyfoamcoffeecupinbothhands,desperatelyneedingthewarmthit’sradiating.“I’veneverbeenalone,Dean.Ever.It’salwaysbeenonerelationshipaftertheotherwithme.I’mnotsureIevenknowhowtobealone,andIthinkthismightbeagoodtimetofigureitout.Yousaidsoyourself—you’restilldealingwithyourloss.Youstillhaveotherpeopleyouneedtomakeamendswith.Sowhileyou’redealingwithyourstuff,Icandealwithmine.”
Hisjawtightens.Iexpecthimtoargue.Iwaitforhimtoargue.BecausethisisDeanHeyward-DiLaurentis,themanwhoalwaysgetswhathewants.Themanwhopushesandpushesuntilhedoes.Buthesurprisesme.“Howlong?”heasksgruffly.
Ibitemylip.“Idon’tknow.Afewweeks?Amonth?Idon’thaveatimeline.IjustknowIneedtobeonmyownrightnow.Noboyfriend.Justme.”
Helookssad.“Okay.”
Icanseethequestionsinhiseyes.Isthisjustabreakorarewereallyover?DidIruinthisforus?Doyoustillloveme?Buthedoesn’tvoicethem.Henodsandmurmurs,“Takeasmuchtimeasyouneed,baby.”
*
Dean
IexpectedAllietosayoneoftwothings—I’mdonewithyou,DeanorIforgiveyou,Dean.Iexpectedabreakuporatearfulreunion,notthisgut-wrenchingstateoflimbo.
It’sfine,though.Justaminorsetback,right?Ifsheneedstobealonerightnow,thenI’llleaveheralone.ButIwasencouragedbythefactthatsheletmekissherbeforewepartedwaysattheCoffeeHut.AndwhenItuckedastrandofhairbehindherear,sheleanedintomytouchandrubbedhercheekagainstmyfingers.
Shestilllovesme.Iholdthatcomfortingcertaintyclosetomyheartoverthenextfewdays.IneedthereminderthatsomeonestilllovesmeasIgoonanapologyspreethatleavesmedrained.I’marmedwithaKillBilllistofpeople—well,peopletoapologizeto,notmurderwithsamuraiswords.Iwrotethenamesdownonanactualpieceofpaper,becauseIcouldn’tkeeptrackofalloftheminmyhead.
Thefirstfewnamesareeasytocheckoffthelist.
Hannahisstillpissedatmeforhurtingherbestfriend,butIwinherforgivenessbyspendinganentirehourrecitingeverythingIloveaboutAllieandeverythingI’mgoingtodoif—no,when,damnit—whenshe’sreadytoseemeagain.Hannahismollified.
WELLSY?
Next,Iapologizetomyteammatesforlettingthemdown.Technically,Ididn’tgetkickedofftheteam—I’msuspendeduntilnextseason.ButI’mgraduatinginthespring,sothereisnonextseason.
Theguysaresurprisinglycoolwiththescrew-upthattookmeoutofhockeycommission.Honestly,Ithinkthey’vegivenupontheseason.Garrettassuresmetheguysarestillbringingithardontheice,butIthinkeveryoneisreadytowashtheirhandsofthisdisastrousyearandstartfreshinthefall.Hunter,especially.He’stheoneIapologizetothemost,promisingI’llmakeituptohimforbailingonourprivatesessions.
THETEAM?
Butthat’snotmyonlyteam,andmyheartisheavyasIdrivetothearenainHastings.Again,I’mtakenbysurprise,becauseittakesverylittleefforttomakeamendswithCoachEllis.BeforeIcandeliverthelongspeechIprepared,heclapsmeontheshoulderandsays,“Saveitfortheboys.Goodtohaveyouback.”
COACHELLIS?
Theboys?Alsoeasytowinover.ThistimeImanagetogethalfwaythroughmypreparedspeech,whichincludesapromisetotakethemalloutforpizza.WhenItrytokeepgoingafterthat,Robbieinterruptsmebyshouting,“Dude,youhadusatpizza!”
THEHURRICANES?
Istaytohelpoutwithpractice.Myheartisnolongerheavy.It’ssoaring,becauseAlliewasright—Ilovethis.Skatingwiththekids,givingthemtipsabouthowtopositiontheirbodies,whentotaketheirshot.Afterthefinalwhistleblows,IhelpEllisputawaytheequipmentandwespendtenminutesdiscussingoptionsIneverevenrealizedwereavailabletome.
MyanxietyresurfaceswhenIclimbthebleachers.
Dakotahasherpinknotebookinherlap,pencilpoisedonablankpage.ShetenseswhenIsitbesideher.Shedoesn’tsayhello,andIclearlyseethehurtflickeringinherhugeblueeyes.
“SowhatdidtheevilMrs.Kleinassignforustoday?”Iaskgruffly.
Sheignoresme.
“Ifyou’resupposedtowriteaparagraphaboutyourhero,I’msureIdon’tqualify.Butifit’sadescriptionofthepersonyouhatethemost?Ibetyoucanwritetenpagesonme,easy.”
Shegiggles,thencovershermouthinhorror,asifshe’stryingtoshovethehigh-pitchedsoundbackinside.
“Dakota,”Isigh.
Shefinallylooksatme.Fiercely.“I’mmadatyou.”
“Iknowyouare,kid.”Iswallowalumpofshame.I’msuchanasshole.Ibailedonourskatinglessons,didn’tcomebytoexplain.Ijustdisappearedfromherlife.
DakotaandRobbiearebeingraisedbyasinglemother.Dakotatalksaboutheroften,andsheadmittedthatherdadwalkedoutthedooronedayandnevercameback.ItmakesmesicktomystomachthatImighthavebroughtbackthosepainfulmemoriesforher.
“Myfrienddied—”Istopabruptly,becauseIcan’tthinkaboutBeauwithoutfeelingashootingpaininmyheart.Fuck,Imissthatbigoaf.Imisstalkingtohim,justshootingtheshitwithhim.WhoelsecanIdiscussTwilightwithandnotfeeljudged?
“Ididn’thandleitverywell,”ItellDakota.“I’veneverlostanyonebefore.Well,GrampsKendrick,buthediedwhenIwasfive.MaybeIwasmoreresilientasakid?”
She’swatchingmewarily.
“I’msorry,Koty.I’mreallyfu—fudgingsorryfordisappearingwithoutaword.Igiveyoupermissiontopunchmeinthefaceashardasyoucan.Butquick,doitnow,whenCoachEllisisn’tlooking.”
Shegigglesagain.Then,provingthatkidsreallyaremoreresilient,shereachesoverandpatsmyarm.“Stopbeingsuchagirl,Dean.Ilikeyouagain.”
Ichokedownalaugh.“Youdo?”
“Uh-huh.”Sheblowsabubblewithhergum,thenpointstohernotebook.“IhavetowriteonepageaboutmyfavoritemovieandwhyIlikeit.”
“Gotcha.What’syourfavoritemovie?”
“ThePrincessDiaries.”
Ofcourseitis.
“Okaythen.”IcrackmyknucklesasifI’mpreparingtothrowdown.“Let’sdothisthing.”
DAKOTA?
IcallJoannaMaxwellwhenIgethome,luckilycatchingheronherdinnerbreakatthetheater.Iapologizefornotcomingtothememorial.Sheforgivesme.WetalkaboutBeauforalmostanhourbeforeshereluctantlysaysshehastorehearse.Wepromisetokeepintouch,andthere’sadullacheinmyheartasIhangup.I’mnotbreakingthatpromise,though.Beauwasimportanttome.Joannaishisbigsister.I’mkeepinginfuckingtouch.
JOANNA?
Ihaveonemorephonecalltomake,andI’mnotlookingforwardtoit.Afewdaysago,IaskedFitzytotrackdownMirandaO’Sheaforme.Fitzillegallygetshishandsonvideogamesallthetimewithoutbuyingthem,soIfiguredhemighthavetheskillstotrackdownaphonenumber.TurnsoutIwasright.Ihavenoideahowhedidit,andIdon’tplanonaskingbecauseI’drathernotgotojail.
Idialthenumber,thenwait.Ihaven’tseenorspokentoMirandainyears.Idon’thavefeelingsforheranymore,buthooboy,there’sdefinitelyunresolvedshitbetweenus.AndtherewasonethingInevergottosaytoher.Ihopetochangethattoday.
Ifshepicksupthedamnphone.Itringsandrings,andI’mabouttodisconnectwhenaharriedvoicecomesovertheline.
“Hello?”
Itakeabreath.“Miranda?”
“Yes.Who’sthis?”
“It’s…ah,Dean.”Ipause.“DeanDiLaurentis.”
Shockedsilencefillstheline.
“IknowI’mcallingyouout-of-the-blue—”
“Howdidyougetmynumber?”sheinterrupts,buthervoiceissoft,notangry.“Mydad?”
“No.Afriendofminetrackeditdown.”
There’sanawkwardpauseonbothourends.
“Iwon’tkeepyoulong,”Itellher.“Ijusthadsomethingtosaytoyou.SomethingInevergottosaybackthenbecauseyourdadpulledyououtofschool.”Iexhaleinarush.“I’msorry.”
Sheexhalestoo,sharply.
“I’msorryforeverythingthatwentdownbetweenus,”Icontinue.“ForthepartIplayedinyour…uh…”
“Breakdown?”shefinisheswryly.“Itwasn’tyourfault,Dean.Iwasdealingwithdepressionlongbeforewewentout.”
“Iknow.But…wehadsex…andafterward…”Jesus,thisisuncomfortable.Andthiswholeconversationfeels…clinical.Likewe’restrangersdiscussingsomeoneelse’ssexlifeinsteadofourown.
“WehadsexbecauseIseducedyouwhenyouweredrunk.”Shesoundsdeeplyashamed.“AndthenItriedtoguiltyouintostayingtogetherwhenIknewyouweren’thappywithme.YouhavenoideahowguiltyIfeltaboutitafterward.Iwantedtocallyou,butIwastooembarrassed.Andmydadtoldmehe’dshipmetoSiberiaifIeverspoketoyouagain.SoIsaidnothing.Ifiguredyou’dforgetaboutmeeventually.”There’sapause.“Obviouslyyoudidn’t.”
“No,Ididn’t.”
Anotherpause.
“Anyway.”Iclearmythroat.“That’sallIwantedtosay.I’msorryifIdidorsaidanythingtocontributetowhatyouweregoingthrough,ortoexacerbateit.Inevermeanttohurtyou.”
“Inevermeanttohurtyoueither.”
Igulp.“So…you’redoingokaynow?GraduatingfromDukethisspring,huh?”
“Yes!”Excitementechoesovertheline.“AndIgotintomedschool!”
Thenewsstartlesme,becauseshealwaystalkedaboutwantingtobeasocialworker,notadoctor.Iguesspeoplechange,though.GodknowsIhave.Wespendafewbriefminutescatchingup,andI’mrelievedwhenthecallends.Mirandawasanimportantchapterinmylife,butitfeelsgoodtocloseit.
MIRANDAO’SHEA?
Ididn’tbotheraddingMiranda’sfathertomylist.Noamountofapologizingwillmakethatbastardlikeme,andtruthbetold,Idon’towehimanymoreapologies.TheonlycrimeI’mguiltyofisbreakingupwithhisdaughter.Ididn’tdeservetobepunchedinthefaceandtreatedlikedirtforit.
Frankcanworkthroughhisissuesonhisown.
I’mworkingthroughmine.
*
Anotherweekpasses.AllieisstilldoingAllie.I’mstilldoingme.We’vetextedafewtimes,justbriefhow-ya-doingsandnotmuchelse.I’mdyingtoseeher.Holdher.Kissher.Makelovetoher.ButIpromisedtobepatient,soIkeepmydistance.
Ido,however,pokeHannahforinformationeverychanceIget.IknowthatAllieacedherscreenwritingcourse.Iknowshegothernailsdoneatthesalonintown.Brightgreen,Wellsyhadrevealed,anditmademesmile.
ThenexttimeIpesterherforanupdate,HannahrevealsthatAllieflewtoLA.Myheartimmediatelydrops,becauseIthinksheleftforgood,butHannahisquicktoreassureme.TurnsoutthepeopleatFoxwantedAllietocomeinandreadfortheminperson.They’dlovedherauditiontape,butwantedtotestherchemistrywiththetwoactressesshe’dbeworkingwith.
MyheartdamnnearexplodeswithpridewhenIhearthat,andIsendheracongratulatorytext.Idon’thearbackfromheruntilseveralhourslater.Shesaysshe’sabouttoboardtheflighthomeandthatwe’lltalksoon.
IboardmyownflightonSaturdaymorningoutofLoganAirport.I’mmakingaquicktriptoNewYork,becausethere’sonefinalitemIneedtocrossoffmylist.34
Allie
“Youcan’tturndownthepart.”HannahlooksoutragedthatIcouldevensuggestsuchablasphemouscourseofaction.
“Whynot?”
“Becauseit’saleadroleonasitcom!Whatiftheshow’sahugehit?YoucouldwinanEmmy!”
Ishrugandsipmycoffee.IknowI’mtalkingcrazyrightnow.Believeme,Iraalreadydishedouthisowndoseofdisbeliefearlier,beggingmetoacceptthejob.Butwhenitcomestomycareer,Ialwaysgowithmygut,andmygutistellingmethisisnottheroleforme.
“Ihaven’tmademyfinaldecisionyet,”ItellHannah.“TheygavemeuntilWednesday.”It’sSaturdaynight.Thatmeansfourwholedaystothinkitover.
Mygutinsiststhere’snothingtothinkabout.
I’mtemptedtocallDeanandaskforhisadvice,butIforcemyselfnotto.I’msousedtorunningmydecisionsbymyboyfriend.IdiditwithFletch,Sean,Dean.Butnobodyelsecanmakethisdecisionforme.It’sallonme.
Honestly,I’veenjoyedbeingonmyownthesepastcoupleweeks.It’snicetojustthinkaboutmyselfforonce.ButImissDean.Ireally,reallydo.Iknowhe’sdoingwell,becauseI’vebeenharassingHannahforstatusreports.Shesaidhe’sworkingwiththeHurricanesagain.He’sgoneouttoMalone’swiththeguysafewtimes,butonlyhadafewbeers,asfarasHannahknows.
Therearen’tanypicturesofhimonInstagramorFacebookmakingoutwithothergirls,butapartofmestillworriesaboutit.DeanisthemostsexualguyI’veevermet.I’mprayinghe’sjerkingoffalot,becauseIdon’tknowwhatI’lldoifIfindouthesleptwithsomeoneelse.Ididn’tbringupthesubjectatthecoffeehousebecauseIjustassumedhe’dkeephispantszippedwhileItookthistimetoclearmyhead.
Thatwasselfishofme,maybe.ButIlovehim,andifIhearthatsomechicktriedtoputherhandsonhim,I’llbeathersenseless.He’smine.AndI’mfinallyreadytoclaimhim.Thetimeapartsucceededincenteringme,butnowit’stimetogetmymanback.
Theonlyproblem?DeanisinNewYorkvisitinghisparentsforthenight.Hannahmentioneditearlier,whichtriggeredaflashofconcern,becauseit’sweirdthathewouldflytoManhattanforonlyonenight.
Myringingphoneinterruptsourcoffeechat,andI’mevenmoreconcernedwhenIseemydad’snumber.
Asecondlater,hisvoicerumblesovertheline.“Idon’twantyoutoworry,”ishowhestarts,andohmyGod,whosaysthat?NowI’mworried!
Islammymugonthekitchenettetableandstumbletomyfeet.Hannaheyesmeinalarm.
“What’swrong?”Idemand.“Whathappened?Areyouokay?”
“Ijusttoldyounottoworry,didn’tI?”God,sometimesIreallywanttokillmyfather.“Itookalittlespillthisafternoon,that’sall.ThoughtImighthavebrokenmyarm,soIcalledanambulance.”
Fearpummelsintome.“Ohmygosh.Areyouallright?”
“I’mfine,”hesaysfirmly.“It’sjustasprainedwrist.Nobrokenbones,Ipromise.”Asarcasticnotecreepsin.“IcanaskthehospitaltosendyoucopiesofmyX-raysifyou’dlike.”
Iclenchmyteeth.“Don’tbeajerk,Daddy.”
Hesighsheavilyinmyear.“I’msorry.Ijustknewyou’doverreactwhenItoldyou.Ipromiseyou,sweetheart,I’mfine.Mywristisalittlesore,butIhavemypainmeds.”
“Howdidyougethomefromthehospital?”
“Taxi.AndnowI’mlyingonthecouchwatchingtheHawkeyesgame.”
Iinhaleaslow,calmingbreath.“Okay.Don’twalkaround.Don’ttrytoliftanythingheavy.Please,Dad,justtakeiteasyforacoupledays.”
“Iwill.Loveyou,AJ.”
“Loveyoutoo.”IhangupandturntoHannah,whoinstantlyasks,“Isyourdadokay?”
Inod.“Sohesays.”ButDadwasahockeyplayer.Hockeyplayersalwayssaythey’reokay,evenwhenthey’rebleedingfromtheirearsandspittingtheirbrokenteethatyourfeet.
Itakeanotherdeepbreath.ThenIpullupDean’snumberandpresssend
*
Dean
JoeHayesanswersthedoorwiththebiggest,meanestscowlI’veeverseenonanotherhumanmale.
“You’vegottobekiddingme!Shesentyouovertocheckonme?”
Igentlytouchhisshouldertomovehimoutoftheway.Godknowshewon’tbeinvitingmein.“Yup,”Iconfirm.ThenIwalkinsideandlookaround.
Fortunately,nothingseemsamiss.Iglanceatthestairs—AllietoldmeoverthephonethatJoehadtakena“spill”.There’snobloodonthehardwood,nobrokenfloorboards.That’sgood.Andhe’snotsportinganybruisesorvisibleinjuries.He’susingthecane,buthelookssteadieronhisfeetthanthelasttimeIsawhim.
“Pleasedon’ttellmeyougotonaplaneandflewallthewayherejusttogivemetheonceover,”hemutters.
“No.Iwasalreadyinthecityvisitingmyfolksandbrother.”
Mr.Hayessettlesonthesofaandproceedstoignoreme.
Itakeoffmyjacketanddrapeitoverthebackofthearmchair.ThenIsitdown
Hebalks.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Gettingcomfortable.”Iraiseabrow.“Didn’tImention?I’mspendingthenight.”
“Likehellyouare!”
Hisoutragemakesmechuckle.“Comeon,sir.Ithoughtwealreadyestablishedthatarguingwithyourdaughterispointless.Sheaskedmetostaythenightandkeepaneyeonyou,sothat’swhatI’mdoing.”BecauseIwilldoanythingthatwomanasks.I’dsellmysoultothedevilhimselfifAllietoldmetodoit.
“Idon’tlikethis,”Mr.Hayesgrumbles.
“Idon’tcare,”Isaycheerfully.
Andthat’showIwindupwatchingcollegefootballwithJoeHayesforthenexthour.It’salmostnineo’clocknow,andmystomachisgrumbling.Ihadn’teatendinner,andMr.Hayesdoesn’tobjectwhenIorderapizza.“Sausageandbaconokay?”IaskhimasIplacetheorder.
Hegrunts.Iguessthatmeansyes.
Anotherhourpasses.Wedon’ttalk.Wescarfdownpizza,drinkbeer,andswitchfromfootballtohockey.TheBruinsareplayingtonight.Everytimeweshoutatthescreenorcheerforagoal,weglanceateachotherwarilyafterward,asifrememberingwhowe’rewith.
BetweenthesecondandthirdperiodIputdownmybeerandsay,“Iloveyourdaughter,sir.”
Andhesays,“Iknowyoudo,prettyboy.”
Idon’tknowifthat’sacceptance,orifit’sa‘yeahyouloveherbutIstillhateyou.’Idecidetotreatitastheformer.
Aroundeleven,Ihelphimupthestairsandwaitoutsidehisbedroomdoor,listeningtohimwanderaroundandchangeforbed.ThenIknock.“Youallrightinthere?”Icallout.
“I’mfuckingfine.Gotobed.”
Chucklingtomyself,IduckintoAllie’schildhoodroom,whereJoesaidIcouldcrashintonight.FirstthingInotice?Thescent.Holyshit,it’sthescent.Themysteriousfragrancethat’salwayssurroundingAllieandthatIcanneverplace.
Iwanderovertoherdresserandpickupasmallvialofperfume.OratleastIthinkit’sperfume.Thelabelispale-blueandreads“Allie”inaprettyscriptfont.Whatthefuck?
“Evahaditmadeforher.”
Ijumpinsurprise,turningtofindMr.Hayesstandinginthedoorwaywearingnothingbutplaidboxers.Ican’thelpbutgapeathischest.Dude’sinhislatefortiesandsufferingfromMS,andhe’srockingasix-pack.I’mimpressed.IguessthatexplainshowhelandedAllie’ssmokin’hotmodelmom.Shit,anditsuddenlyoccurstomethatifthisishowAllie’sdadlooksnow,she’sgotexpectations.I’mgoingtohavetolookforwardtoworkingoutfortherestofmylife.
Atmyblanklook,hegesturestotheperfumebottleinmyhand.“Mywife…AJ’smom…shehadafriendinFrance,thisfruity-tootyfashiondesignersheworkedwithonce.Heknewaperfumer—isthatwhatyoucall’em?Perfumers?”
“Ihavenoidea,sir.”
“Anyway,Eva’sfriendgaveherperfumeoneyear,ascentmadeespeciallyforEva.AJwasgreenwithenvy,soforhertwelfthbirthday,Evatoldhershewasgettingaspecialperfumeforhertoo.Mywifewassickatthatpoint,realsick,soshewasdoingeverythingshecouldtomakeAJhappy.SheaskedAJwhatscentshewanted,andAJsays—”hesnortsinamusement“—strawberriesandroses.”
Ilaughtoo,becausenowitmakestotalsensewhyIcouldneverfigureitout.Rosesandstrawberries.Twocompletelydifferentfragrances,yetsomehow,whencombined,theywork.They’reAllie
“Shegotsixvialsmade.IthinkAJmightbedowntothree?I’mnotsure.She’sverystingywiththatshit.Doesn’twantittorunout,Iguess.”
“SoAlliehasaFrenchperfumethatwascreatedjustforher?That’skindabadass.”
Heshrugs.“EvaspentalotoftimeinFrance.SpokeFrenchfluentlytoo.ShealwayswantedAJtolearnit,butAJwasn’tinterested.”
Myheartsqueezes.“She’sinterestedinitnow.”
Helookssurprised.“Yeah?”
Inod.“She’stryingtoteachittoherselfbywatchingaFrenchsoapopera.”
Mr.Hayesgrins.
“I’vewatchedtwoseasonswithher.”Isighruefully.“Itain’thalfbad.”
Thatgetsmeafull-blownlaugh.Itcomesfromdeepinhisthroat,lightinguphisblueeyes.“Youain’thalfbadeither,prettyboy,”hesays,andthenhewalksoutoftheroom.
*
Allie
I’mwaitingforDeaninhisroomwhenhewalksinonSundaynight.Iwould’vepickedhimupfromtheairport,buthelefthiscarintheshort-termparking,sohedrovebackfromBostonhimself.
Hisgreeneyessoftenwhenheseesme.“Hi.”
“Hi.”Ihastilystandup,butneitherofusmakesamovetowardeachother.We’restandingfivefeetapart.
Thedistanceisunbearable.
Withastranglednoise,Ithrowmyselfinhisarmsandhecatchesmeeasily,hisbighandssettlingaroundmywaistandpullingmeclose.Iburymyfaceagainsthischestandwhisper,“Thankyouforcheckingonhim.”
“You’rewelcome.”Ifeelhisfingersthreadthroughmyhair.Hetipsmyheadback,forcingmetolookathim.“He’sfine,babe.Ipromise.Ithinkhejustcalledtheambulanceasaprecaution.Hiswristisalittlesore,butthat’sit.He’stotally,completelyfine.”
I’dalreadyheardallthisoverthephone,frombothhimandmyfather.ButthereassuranceandcertaintyinDean’seyesiswhatIneededtosee.Ihughimtighterasreliefpoursthroughme.
Hislipsbrushmytemple.Thenheinhalesdeeply,asifhe’ssmellingmyhair.“Imissedyou,”hemurmurs.
“Imissedyoutoo.”Swallowing,Ieaseoutofthehugandmeethisgaze.“Idon’tneedanymorealonetime.”
Aslowsmilecurveshislips.“Thankfuck.”Heflopsontheedgeofthebedandtugsmeintohislap.“I’vebeengoingcrazywithoutyouthesepastfewweeks.”
“Iknow.Butthetimeapartwasgoodforme.Ineededtotakealookatmylife,andtotakealookatmyself,justme,andnotthemethat’salwaysinarelationship.IneededtoknowIcouldbealone.”
“Andcanyou?”
“Yes.”Iscrapemyfingersoverthedarkblondstubbleonhismovie-starjaw.“ButIdon’twanttobealone.Iwanttobewithyou.”
Hekissesme.Softandsweet,notongue.Justhislipsbrushingmine,overandoveragainuntilI’mwhimperingformore.JustwhenIpartmylipstoinvitehistongue,hepullsaway.
“Wellsysaidyou’rethinkingofturningdowntheFoxpilot.”There’sachidingnoteinhisvoice.
“Argh.Whyiseveryonegivingmeshitaboutthis?”Isigh.“Ihaven’tmademydecisionyet.”
“Butyou’replanningonturningitdown.”
Ihesitate.Thennod.
It’shisturntosigh.“Iknowwhyyou’redoingit,babe,andI’msorry,butIcan’tletyou.”
IblinkandI’moffhislap,mybutthittingthemattress.Deanwalksovertowherehedroppedhiscoat.Hereachesinsideoneofthepocketsandhishandemergeswithanenvelope.
Ohno.Stupidaliensaredéjàvu’ingmybrainagain.
Heslapstheenvelopeinmyhandandsays,“Openit.”
Iopenitwithoutaword,andyep,IfindthesamefuckingthingthatSeantriedtogiveme.ConfirmationnumbersfortwoflightstoLosAngeles.Forcryingoutloud.Doallguysshareonebrainorsomething?Likeacollectiveconsciousnessthatcausesthemtomakethesamebone-headedmoves?
“You’renotcomingtoLAwithme,”IinformDean.
Helooksstartled.
“I’mnotturningdownthepartbecauseIdon’twantbeawayfromyou.I’m—”
“Theticketisn’tforme.”
“—turningitdownbecause—”Istop.“Wait,what?”
“It’snotforme,”heexplains.“It’sforyourdad.Iknowyoudon’twanttobeawayfromhim.SoIfiguredinsteadofyougivingupyourdreamtostayontheeastcoastwithhim,youkeepthedreamandhecomestothewestcoastwithyou.”Deanshrugs.“Ialreadyranitbyhimandhe’sonboard.Hesaidhe’llstartlookingforaplacetorentonceyougivehimtheword.”
I’m…shocked.Ican’thelpbutrememberthedayatthecoffeehousewithSean,whenheinsistedoncomingwithme.Andnowhere’sDean,insistingonmegoingwithouthim.
Mydadwaswrong.Andright.Hewasrightandwrong.Deanfellapart,yes.Butmaybeheneededtofallapartinordertolearnthatlifeisn’tperfect,thatbadthingsdohappenandyoucan’tstoplivingwhentheydo.
Smiling,Ihandtheenvelopebacktohim.“I’mturningdowntheproject.”
Helooksannoyed.“Allie-Cat—”
“Notbecauseofmydad,”Icutin,“althoughI’mgladtoknowhe’swillingtorelocateifIdoendupworkinginLA.I’mturningitdownbecausetheprojectisn’trightforme.Idon’tconnectwiththerole.Andthecontractrequiresmetocommittosevenseasonsiftheshowtakesoff.I’mnotsigningawaysevenyearsofmylifetoplayapartIcan’tstand.”
“Oh.Well,fuck.IguessIshould’veaskedyoubeforeIboughtthesenon-refundabletickets,huh?”
“Youthink?”
Chuckling,heyanksmebackinhislap,andIwrapmylegsaroundhishipsandmyarmsaroundhisneck.Itrytokisshim,buthespeaksbeforemylipscanconnectwithhis.
“Imadesomedecisionstoo.”
Iraisemyeyebrows.“Ohreally?Likethat?”Whenhischeeksturnpink,Ipounceimmediately.“Holyshit,areyoublushing?Okay,nowI’mreallycurious.What’sgoingon?”
“I’m,ah…gonnabeagymteacher.”
Myjawfallsopen.“Seriously?”
Helooksembarrassed.“IspoketoCoachEllisaboutmyoptions.Turnsoutprivateschoolsplayitfastandloosewiththerequirementsyouneedtoteachthere.Idon’tneedadegreeineducation,butithelps.AndwhenIwasinNewYork,IhoppedonthephonewiththeadmissionsofficersatNYUandColumbia.Bothtoldmethesamething—Icanupgrademydegree.It’sjustanextrayearofclasses,kinesiology,healthandwellness,thatkindofstuff.ButI’dbeabletoteachatthesametime,dependingontheschoolthathiresme.”Heshiftsawkwardly.“Ididsomethingcrappy.”
“Uh-oh.Whatdidyoudo?”
“IusedtheDiLaurentisnamewiththoseadmissionsofficers.”
Ifightalaugh.“Ohsweetie,that’sokay.It’sforthegreatergood,right?”BecauseDeanworkingwithkidsisgood,damnit.Hecouldreallymakeadifference.Hecouldhelpthosekidsbuildconfidence,becomebetterathletes,betterpeople.
“AndthenIspoketothenewhockeycoachatmyprepschoolandaskedhimtoletmeknowifthereareanyopeningsintheprivateschoolsector,eitherforaPEteacheroracoach.”Hesoundsexcitednow.“There’sanopeningforbothataschoolinManhattan,gradesonetoeight.Thejobwouldstartinthefall.Phys.Edclassesforallgrades,andcoachingthegirls’hockeyteam.”
“Girls?”Igrin.“Thatshouldbefun.”
“IthinkImightinterviewforit.”
“Damnrightyouwill.Ifthisiswhatyouwanttodowithyourlife,thenit’swhatyouneedtodo.”Ipauseassomethingoccurstome.“Wait.Doesthatmeanyou’renotgoingtolawschool?Didyoutellyourparents?”
“Yesandyes.That’swhyIwenttoNewYorkthisweekend.Isatdownwithmydadandwetalkedforhours.DidthesamethingwithNicklater,beforeyoucalledmetocheckonyourdad.Theywerebothreallysupportive.”
I’mnotsurprised.Dean’sfamilyisawesome.“I’mproudofyou,”Iannounce
“I’mproudofmetoo.”Henuzzlesmycheekbeforeplantingkissesalongmyjaw.Thenhesucksonmyneckandpleasureignitesbetweenmylegs.
OhsweetMoses.It’sbeenwaytoolongsincewehadsex.Almostamonth.Ormaybemorethanamonth?God,Ican’tremember.Thefeelofhiswarm,wetlipstravelingalongmythroatisturningmeonbeyondbelief.
“Dean,”Imurmur.
“Mmm?”
“Iloveyou.”
“Iloveyoutoo.”Helickstheshellofmyear.
“ButIdon’twantyourightnow.”
Hisheadjerksup,hisexpressionbeyondinsulted.“Canyourepeatthatplease?”
“Idon’twantyou.”Iflashanimpishgrin.“IwantLittleDean.”
Myboyfriendthrowshisheadbackandlaughs.ThenheunzipshispantsandgivesmeexactlywhatIwant.35
Dean
April
Graduationislooming.I’mkindaindifferenttoit,ifI’mbeinghonest,butwhatever,I’llwearthatcapandgownandthrowmydiplomaupintheair,becauseIknowit’llmakemyparentshappy.Me,I’mjusthappyingeneral,becauseI’minlovewiththegreatestgirlintheworld,andthegreatestgirlintheworldisinlovewithme
Andeventhoughtheteamdidn’tmakeittotheplayoffs,thatdoesn’tmeanthereisn’tanynewsonthehockeyfront.MymanLoganwassignedbytheProvidenceBruins,thefarmteamfortheBostonBruins,whichmeansinayearortwo?Hemightactuallygetcalleduptoplayforthepros.AsforGarrett,hisagentisworkinghardbehindthescenes.ApparentlyseveralteamshaveshowninterestinG,andI’mcrossingmyfingersthatheendsupsomewheregood.
IalreadyknowwhereI’mendingup—Manhattan.Lastweek,IinterviewedfortheteachingpositionatParklaneAcademy.Yesterdaymorning,theheadmastercalledtotellmeIgotthejob.It’satwo-yearcontract,thesecondyearconditionaluponwhetherIupgrademydegree.
AndIguessmysisterisontosomethingaboutheruniversetheory,becauseanhouraftermycallwithParklaneAcademy?Allie’sagentphonedwithnewsthatmadehershrieksoloudthatGarrettheardherallthewayfromhisshowerandflewintomyroombuck-naked,armedwithahockeystick.
Onceweassuredhimeverythingwasokay—andcommentedonhowprettyhisdicklooked—Allierevealedshe’dbeenofferedaroleonacableshowbeingdevelopedbyhotshotdirectorBrettCavanaugh,whoshedidaplaywithlastsummer.Noauditionnecessary—Cavanaughlikedworkingwithhersomuchthatheofferedhertheroleoutright.Thebestpart?TheshowisbeingfilmedinNewYorkCity.
Alliesaysshestillwantstodotheatertoo,whentheshowisonhiatus,orifitbombs,whichIdon’tthinkitwill.Butthemostimportantthingtoheristhatshewasn’tcastastheditzyairhead.Thisnewroleisseriousand“meaty”,asshelikestosay,andIknowshe’slookingforwardtothechallenge.
“WhatifIhavetoshowmyboobs?”
Herwryvoicejoltsmefrommythoughts.We’rewalkinghand-in-handonthepathleadingawayfromthedramabuilding,wherehermonologueclassjustletout.There’sstillachillintheair,buteverythingisstartingtolookgreenagain,andthesnowhasmeltedaway,leavingalayerofslushonthecobblestonepath
“DidIrasaythat?”
“No,butthisisHBO.Chancesare,they’llaskmetodonudity.Atleastatoplessscene.”
“Wouldyoubeokaywiththat?”Iaskcarefully.
Sheshrugs.“Aslongasit’snotgratuitous,thensure,I’dconsiderit.”There’sapause.“Wouldyoubeokaywithit?”
Icastheradevilishgrin.“Babe,yourtitsarefan-fucking-tastic.I’dneverdeprivetheworldofthem.”
“Beserious.Wouldyoumind?”
Iconsiderit,thenshakemyhead.“I’mcoolwithit.It’spartofyourjob,andifyou’recomfortableflashingsomeskin,thensoamI.”
Sheleansinandsmacksherlipsagainstmycheek.“You’reawesome.Youknowthat?”
“OfcourseIdo.Ihearitatleasttentimesaday.”
Heransweringlaughiscutshortwhenafamiliarfigurestepsintoview.MyshouldersgorigidasAllie’sex-boyfriendslowlyapproachesus.
Seanstaresatourjoinedhands.Idon’tneedtolookatAllie’sfacetoknowwhatshe’sfeelingrightnow.Icantellbythewayherfingerstightenaroundminethatshe’snothappytoseehim.Thatshehasn’tforgottenallthecallousshithesaidtoherafterThanksgiving.
“Hey,Allie.”Seanlooksmiserable,butIdon’thaveanounceofsympathyforhim.“Ithoughtaboutcallingyou.”
“Don’t,”Isaybrusquely.“Youneedtoforgethernumber.”
Alliegivesmeareassuringsqueeze.“Wealreadysaideverythingweneededtosay,”shetellsherex.Hertoneissoft,butfirm.
Seanclearshisthroat.“Ioweyouanapology.”
“Yep,andyou’vejustmadeitandIaccept.Butwe’renotfriendsandwewon’tbe.”Shemovesforward.I’mreluctanttodothesame.I’machingtopunchthatbastardintheface,butAllieispullingmeawayfromhim,herfingerslacedtightlythroughmine.“He’snotimportant,”shemurmurstome.
She’sright.Heisn’t.
We’vebarelytakenfivestepsbeforeIspotanotherfamiliarface.Thisonebelongstoahotblondwhosmilesandwavesasshepassesus.“Lookinggood,DiLaurentis.”
Idon’treturnthecompliment,becauseIlikehavingballsandAlliewillripthemoffifIflirtwithMichelle.Besides,Idon’twanttoflirt.Allie’skilledthatdesire.She’stheonlyoneIwanttoflirtwith.PlusIlikehavingmyballsattachedtomybody.
SoIjustsay,“Nicetoseeyou”andcontinuealong.
“Iguessthisisthedayoftheexes,huh?”Alliesaysdryly.
Irollmyeyes.“Michelle’snotanex.”
“Right.She’sjustsomeoneyouhadathreesomewith.”
“Almosthadathreesomewith.Youcockblockedme,remember?”
“Yep.”Shelookspleasedwithherself,andIpretendtopout.“Ha.Don’tactlikeIruinedyouronechanceforathreesome.I’msurethatwasn’tyourfirstrodeo.”
Iofferalittleshrug.
“Fuckinghell.Howmanythreesomeshaveyouhad?”
ThistimeIwink.“Afew.You?”
“Tons.”
Istiffen.“Namesanddates,”Igrowl.“IneedtomakeanewKillBilllist.”
Allieburstsoutlaughing.“Relax.Youwerethereforallofthem.”
Afrowntouchesmylips.Uh,IthinkI’drememberbeinginathreesomewith—
“You,me,andWinston,”shesayshappily.
Igroaninexasperation.“Thatdoesn’tcount.”
“Sureitdoes.DPwasinvolved.”
Hellyeahitwas.
*
Anhourlater,we’rebackatmyplace.It’sAllie’sturntopickamovie,whichmeansIhavetimetotakeashower,becauseitalwaystakesheraridiculouslylongtimetodecidewhatshewantstowatch.Iwanderintothelivingroomtenminuteslatertofindhersnuggledunderanafghan,fiddlingonherphone.
Hermouthfallsopenwhensheseesme.“OhmyGod,Dean.Whyareyounaked?”
“Idon’tlikeshirts.”
“Whataboutpants?”shesquawks.“Gotsomethingagainstthosetoo?”
Icrosstheroomanddropmynakedassonthecouch,thengrabtheedgeoftheblanketandthrowitovermylowerbody.Alliewatchesmeinamusement.
“What?”Isaydefensively.
“I’venevermetanyonewho’ssoanti-clothes.It’ssoweird.”
Itakeherhandandbringitundertheblanket.Placingitdirectlyonmysemi-harddick.“Weird,orawesome?”
Sherubsherthumbaroundtheheadofmycock,thensighs.“Awesome,”sheamends.
“Sowhat’dyoupick?”IgesturetotheTVscreen,allthewhileenjoyingtheslow,lazystrokesbeneaththeblanket.
“Oh,you’lllikethisone!”Herhandstillsassheturnstobeamatme.“ItwonanOscar.”
Agroanslipsout.“No,babydoll.No.Irefusetowatchanotheroneofyour‘Oscarwinners.’”
Sheclickstheremotewithherfreehandandmyeyeswidenindelight.
“TheExorcist?”Iblurtout.“ThefuckingExorcist?”ThehandjobI’mgettingdoesn’tevenregisteranymore.I’mtoopumpedthatshechoseahorrormovie,andLittleDeanispayingthepriceformynon-sexual-basedhappiness.
“SeewhatagoodgirlfriendIam?I’mallaboutthecompromises.”Shegrins.“Thisrelationshiprocks.”
“Damnrightitdoes.”Ikisshercheek,thensuckinabreathwhensomethingoccurstome.
“Whatisit?”shesaysinconcern.
Iturntoherwithevenwidereyes.“Babe…areweboring?”
Alliehoots.“Didyoureallyjustaskthat?”
“Yes,Ifuckingaskedthat.”Iwaveahandaroundtheroom.“Lookatus.It’sFridaynightandwe’reonthelivingroomcouch,talkingabouthowgreatourrelationshipis.That’sthemostboringthingwecanbedoing.”Isighloudly.“Isthisourlifenow?Doomedtostayinandcuddleeverynight?Istheexcitementover?”
“Theexcitementisn’tover,”sheassuresme.
“Areyousure?Becauseitkindafeelslike—”
“Hey.”Tucker’svoicecutsmeoff,andwebothlookuptoseehimstandinginthedoorway.
“Hey.”Iwrinklemybrow.“IthoughtyouwerehangingoutwithHollistonight.”
“Planschanged.”Heenterstheroom,takinginthesightofusundertheblanket.“GandLoganaround?”
Ishakemyhead.“Atthedorms.”
“Shit.”Hedropshishandtohisside.Hisstrainedexpressionisalarming.Soisthewayhekeepsshiftinghisfeet,likehecan’tfindtherightpositionhewantstobein.
“Everythingokay?”Allieaskslightly.
Tuckerhesitates.“I…Fuck,IwashopingtheotherswouldbehomesoIcouldtelleveryoneatonce.”
“Telluswhat?”Myuneasinessgrows.
“I…uh…”Hestops,closeshismouth.Openshismouth.Stopsagain.Thenheletsoutabreaththatsoundslikeit’ssuckedrightoutofhissoul.“I’mhavingababy.”
Silencecrashesovertheroom.
Fromthecornerofmyeye,IseethewideOofAllie’smouth.Hershockisaspalpableasmine.
Likeanidiot,IstareatTucker’sabdomenforagoodtenseconds,beforerememberingthatwedon’tliveinaworldwhereArnoldSchwarzeneggercancarryachild.
“You’rehavingababy?”Mymindcontinuestospinlikeacarousel,makingithardtospeakwithoutstuttering.“With…withwho?”
Tuckermeetsmyconfusedeyesandsays,“SabrinaJames.”
Andbesideme,Alliestartstolaugh.
Iswivelmyheadtowardher,butherlaughterkeepssputteringout,lowandwheezy,untilfinallyshecatchesherbreathandgivesmeawrylook.“Theexcitementisover,huh?”
Well,fuckme.OtherTitlesbyElleKennedy
IfyouenjoyedDean’sstory,makesuretocheckouttheothertitlesintheOff-Campusseries:
TheDeal(Garrett’sbook)
TheMistake(Logan’sbook)
TheScore(Dean’sbook)
TheGoal(Tucker’sbook,coming2016)
Forotherretailerlinksandinformationaboutprintoraudioversionsofthesetitles,visittheseriespagesonmywebsite.Signedpaperbacks(US/Canadaonly)alsoavailableonthesite.
Anddon’tforgettosignupformynewslettertoreceiveupdatesandexclusiveexcerptsfromtheOff-Campusserieswhentheybecomeavailable.
*
Forallthem/mfansoutthere,checkoutHIM,myNewAdulthockeyromanceco-writtenwiththefabulousSarinaBowen
Ifyou’reinterestedinmyeroticcontemporaryromanceand/orromanticsuspensetitles,checkoutthesebestsellingseries:
KillerInstincts
Outlaws
OutofUniform
AfterHours
DreamMakers(withVivianArend)
MoretitlesalsoavailableonmywebsiteAuthor’sNote
I’vebeendyingtotackleDean’sbooksinceIfirstintroducedhimasGarrett’sroommateinTheDeal.Icouldn’tfrickin’wait,becauseIjustKNEWhewasgoingtobesomuchfuntowrite—andhedidnotletmedown.Ihadablastwiththisstory,andI’msothrilledyouguystookthetimetoreadit!
Note:Ifudgedthetiminginregardstothehockeyteam’sholidayschedule.MostDivisionIteamsplaythroughDecemberandJanuary,butIwantedDeantohavealongerstretchoftimeoff,soIcheatedwiththetimingofit.ButIlovedeverysecondthatDeanandAlliespenttogetherinNewYork.So…Iregretnothing!Nothing,Itellya!
Asalways,Iwanttothankmyearlyreaders/cheerleaders/bestiesforhelpingmewhipthisbookintoshape:Viv,Jen,Sarina,Katy,Monica,Nicole,andSophie.Iloveyouguys.
Onthebusinessend,Icouldn’tsurvivewithoutNicandNatasha(friendsandassistantsextraordinaire!)Gwen(don’teverleaveme!),Sharon(westillneedtoplanthewedding)andthepersonwhokeepsmesane:NinaBocci.
SpecialthankstoSarahHansen(OkayCreations)forthegorgeouscover.
Toallthebloggersandreviewerswhohelpedwithcoverreveals,postedreviews,andprettymuchtalkeduptheseriestoanyonewhowouldlisten—youarerockstars.Rock.Stars.
Andtoallmyreaders—youhavenoideahowhonoredIamthatyoucontinuetosupport/love/gushoverthisseries.Youguysareawesomesaucetothedegreeofamazeballs!AbouttheAuthor
ANewYorkTimes,USATodayandWallStreetJournalbestsellingauthor,ElleKennedygrewupinthesuburbsofToronto,Ontario,andholdsaBAinEnglishfromYorkUniversity.Fromanearlyage,sheknewshewantedtobeawriterandactivelybeganpursuingthatdreamwhenshewasateenager.Shelovesstrongheroinesandsexyalphaheroes,andjustenoughheatanddangertokeepthingsinteresting!
Ellelovestohearfromherreaders.Visitherwebsitewww.ellekennedy.comorsignupforhernewslettertoreceiveupdatesaboutupcomingbooksandexclusiveexcerpts.YoucanalsofindheronFacebookorfollowheronTwitter(@ElleKennedy).Copyright
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously.Anyresemblancetopersons,livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.
TheScore:AnOff-CampusNovel
Copyright?2016byElleKennedy
KoboEdition
EditedbyGwenHayes
ProofedbySharonMuha
CoverArt?SarahHansen,OkayCreations
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmayreproduced,scannedordistributedinanymannerwhatsoeverwithoutwrittenpermissionfromtheauthorexceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedinarticlesorreviews.