The Score

by Elle Kennedy

  I nod.

  Cursing under his breath, he flicks the lock and eases the door open. I half expect Sean to barrel inside and do a somersault before popping to his feet, like an army commando on a mission. But he enters with slow, labored steps that match his ragged breathing. His brown eyes instantly seek me out.

  “We need to talk,” he mutters.

  Garrett has glued himself to Sean’s side. Hannah has glued herself to mine.

  I gulp nervously, easing myself out of my best friend’s grip. “Can you guys give us a minute?”

  “Absolutely not.” Garrett’s expression is awash with disbelief.

  “Please. It’s okay. We’re just going to talk.” I shoot Sean a pointed look. “Right?”

  His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Right. Just wanna talk.”

  Several seconds drag by. Then Garrett swears again and scowls at Sean. “Don’t do anything stupid, man. You so much as look at her the wrong way and the only thing you’ll be talking to is my fist.”

  Sean’s head dips in another nod. Hannah’s boyfriend has about five inches and fifty pounds on him, and it’s obvious Sean takes the threat seriously.

  Hannah squeezes my arm. “We’ll be in my room. Shout if you need us.”

  I don’t think it’ll reach that point. Sean seems to have calmed down, his breathing steady, his gaze no longer burning with malice. The moment Hannah’s door closes, he sinks onto the couch and makes a low, agonized noise.

  “Dean Di Laurentis?” he moans, and the hurt and betrayal flashing in his eyes cuts into me like a dull blade. “Are you kidding me, Allie?”

  My pulse races as I step closer. I don’t sit beside him. I stand in front of him, knees locked, arms crossed tight to my chest, because my whole body is shaking so hard it’s the only way to stop from swaying on my feet. I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

  “Are you together?” His voice suddenly drips with icy revulsion.

  I swallow, unable to form any words. Why does he still have this kind of power over me? He always knows exactly which buttons to push, exactly how much disgust and disapproval to inject into his tone in order to make me feel guilty, to make me feel awkward, to make me feel awful.

  “Are you?” he demands.

  I force my vocal cords to cooperate. “Yes and no. We’re not a couple. We’re…”

  “Sleeping together,” Sean finishes tersely.

  I nod, which brings another flash to his eyes.

  “So he’s just your fuck buddy, is that it?” A hiss escapes his mouth. “You don’t have fuck buddies! You’re not like that.”

  My skin tightens with offense. “Like what?”

  “The kind of girl who sleeps around. We waited four months before we slept together for the first time. Since when do you hop into bed with someone after a few days? Or was it hours? How fast did you jump on Di Laurentis’s dick?”

  I wince as if he’s struck me. I can tell he’s drunk because of his ruddy cheeks and hazy eyes, but he’s not slurring his words, and each one fires out like a bullet, hitting its mark and reigniting the discomfort I’ve always felt toward casual sex.

  “And of all the guys you could’ve chosen, you chose him? Do you realize how many bitches he’s stuck his dick in? He fucking lives in the campus health center, with all the STD meds he has to take!”

  I stiffen. “Stop it. You’re acting like a total ass right now.”

  But Sean’s not even close to being done. “Did you screw him when we were together?” he demands.

  My jaw drops. “No. Of course not.”

  “And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” He bolts to his feet. I take an instinctive step back, but he doesn’t advance on me. He starts pacing the hardwood floor instead, raking his hands through his hair like he’s trying to tear it out from the roots. “So now I fucking need to get tested? Is that it? I need an STD test because my girlfriend cheated on me with a dirty fucker like Di Laurentis?”

  Anger rises in my throat. “I didn’t cheat on you,” I bite out. “And you’re being ridiculous right now! You don’t have an STD—”

  “But you might,” he cuts in, and then he starts to laugh, low and harsh. “You’re sleeping with a slut. You’re a slut.”

  I recoil at the cruel indictment, but somehow I manage to keep my breathing under control. Somehow I manage not to lunge at him and smack him in the face. “I’m not a slut,” I say coldly. “And I didn’t cheat on you. And now it’s time for you to go.”

  “You know what? I’m glad you dumped me. I want nothing to do with you.” His voice rises, and I cringe because I know Hannah and Garrett must hear him even with her door closed. “I was a fucking idiot for trying to win you back! Why the fuck would I want to get back together with a disease-ridden whore—”

  “That’s enough!”

  Garrett’s booming proclamation comes too little, too late. Sean’s last remark has already done its intended damage. I stumble backward as if he’d just slapped me. God, he might as well have. My cheeks are burning. My bottom lip quivers wildly, and I have to dig my teeth into it to make it stop. I have to fight the strangled sob that’s desperately trying to rip out of my throat.

  I’m vaguely aware of Garrett grabbing my ex-boyfriend by the collar. Hauling him to the door. Hissing out a threat. But my face is on fire and my vision is fuzzy, making it difficult to focus on what’s going on.

  I jerk when I feel a pair of soft arms wrap around me. It’s Hannah, hugging me tight. My head drops against her shoulder and I blink away the tears threatening to surface.

  “Are you okay?” she asks urgently.

  “No.” My response is muffled against her sleeve.

  “Garrett went downstairs with him. He’s going to call a taxi and wait with Sean to make sure that fucker gets in the cab.” She rubs both hands between my shoulder blades. “Allie. Talk to me. I need to know that you’re all right, sweetie.”

  For some reason, the sympathy in her voice blows apart the last thread of my control. The tears spill over and stream down my cheeks. A sob flies out as I shudder in her embrace. How could he have said all those awful, hurtful things? We were together for years. He loved me. He knows me. He knows I’m not a…I choke on another sob…a disease-ridden whore.

  As shame floods my body, I push away from Hannah and hurry to my bedroom. I hear her footsteps behind me, reaching my door just as I collapse on my bed. I curl up and swipe at my tears with the sleeve of my T-shirt, but they keep falling faster, stinging my eyelids and sliding into my mouth.

  “Allie,” Hannah says softly.

  I ignore her, gulping through the sobs as I stick out a hand and fumble on the nightstand. I need…God, I need Dean. I need him to wrap his strong arms around me and give me that speech again, the one about erasing slut from my vocabulary and not letting small-minded people convince me I’ve done anything wrong.

  My fingers collide with my phone and I moan when I discover it’s dead.

  “Allie.” Hannah sounds exceedingly worried. “Talk to me.”

  I inhale a wobbly breath. “Can you do something for me?”

  “Anything,” she says instantly. “Just tell me what you need.”

  “Can you…” I speak through the tight lump in my throat. “Can you call Dean and ask him to come over?”

  I don’t check her face to gauge her reaction. I don’t need to, because I hear the bewilderment loud and clear in her voice.

  “Dean?” She pauses. “Dean Di Laurentis?”

  “Yes.” I curl up again, tucking my head against the pillow.

  “You want me to call Dean.”

  “Yes.”

  “Dean Di Laurentis?”

  “Yes.” I lick my dry lips, which are salty from my tears. Tears that won’t fucking stop falling. “Please…just call him. I…” I feel my entire face collapsing again. “I need him.”

  25

  Dean

  “Where is she?” I muscle my way past Garrett before he can even fully op
en the door. My gaze darts around the common room, but Allie isn’t in here. Wellsy is, and she immediately shoots to her feet when she sees me.

  “She’s in her room—”

  I charge forward, only to be intercepted by the petite brunette. “Hold on a second,” Hannah orders, planting her palm against my chest. “You’re not seeing her until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “You tell me,” I snap impatiently. “You’re the one who called me at one a.m. and told me to come over because Allie needs me. What happened?”

  “Sean showed up,” Garrett says grimly. “Drunk and pounding on the door and demanding to talk to her. I let him in—”

  “You let him in?” I roar.

  “She told me to,” he mutters. “Said she could handle him.”

  Hannah speaks up angrily. “You should’ve heard the way he was shouting her. Calling her a slut and saying she has STDs—”

  What the fuck?

  Fury sizzles up my spine, ripped from my throat in the form of a menacing growl. “Get out of my way,” I tell Hannah.

  “Dean,” she protests as I sprint toward the short hallway. “What are you even doing here—”

  The thump of my footsteps drowns out the rest of that sentence. I burst into Allie’s bedroom, then skid to a stop when I find her curled up on the bed. She lifts her head at my entrance, and the desolate look in her big blue eyes shreds my heart to pieces.

  “Baby,” I say softly.

  A startled gasp sounds from the door. Gritting my teeth, I spin on my heel and proceed to slam the door in Hannah and Garrett’s astonished faces. They don’t exist to me right now. Only Allie does, and I’m on the bed before she can blink, drawing her into my arms and cocooning her in them. She buries her face against my chest, and I can feel her trembling.

  “What happened?”

  “Sean was here.” The answer is muffled against my hoodie.

  “I know, G told me. But why was he here?” A curse slips out when I remember our run-in with Paulson this morning. “His frat brother… Paulson told him he saw us together?”

  Her nod bumps her head on my collarbone.

  “Asshole,” I mutter. Then I take a breath and smooth my hand over her silky hair. “I take it Sean was pissed?”

  “He…” Her voice cracks. “He called me a disease-ridden whore.”

  Red-hot fury slams into me like a crosscheck to the chest. It takes every ounce of strength to push it away, to banish it from my body. I want to kill the bastard for saying that to her.

  “You…are not…” I take another breath “…a disease-ridden whore. Do you hear me, baby? You are not that. Ever. I don’t know why that son of a bitch would even—”

  “Because of you,” she whispers.

  My hands clench into fists against her shoulders. “What?”

  “He thinks you’re riddled with STDs because you…have an active sex life—”

  “I’m clean,” I interrupt. My voice is low, rippling with anxiety. Fuck, I really hope she believes me right now. “I’ve never had unprotected sex in my life, Allie. I got tested before the season started, but I can do it again if you—” I stop. Fuck that. I’ll do it even if she doesn’t ask me to, just to squash any seed of doubt that piece of shit Sean might have planted in her head.

  “I trust you, Dean. I know you’re safe, okay? It wasn’t the disease part that upset me. It was the other part. The way he looked at me…” Her small body shudders. “He was so disgusted. It’s like in that moment, he truly saw me as a whore and he hated me for it.”

  The fissure in my heart cracks wide open, sending jagged shards to my gut. Sean should be thanking his lucky stars he’s not here right now. I want to wrap my fingers around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

  “Baby…” I swallow my rage. “Baby, look at me.”

  She slowly raises her eyes to mine.

  “I don’t give a shit what Sean says, or what he thinks—you didn’t do a goddamn thing to deserve his verbal attack, you got it? You’re not a whore. You’re…” Perfect, I almost say, but I don’t get the chance, because she’s trembling again.

  “Then why do I feel like one?” She blinks rapidly, as if she’s trying not to cry. “God. I hate this. I told you, I’m not cut out for casual sex.”

  My palms grow damp. I don’t want her to continue. I’m too terrified of what she’s going to say.

  “I’m not sure I can do this anymore.”

  Fuck.

  “It’s too confusing…sleeping with you when we’re not actually together—”

  “We’re together,” I bite out.

  She startles. “What?”

  It feels like someone jammed a handful of gravel in my throat. I gulp through it. “We’re together,” I repeat.

  She looks baffled. “We…why?”

  “Because we are.” A nonsensical response, but it’s all I’ve got. I don’t want this to end. I can’t explain why, but I just know I don’t want this to fucking end.

  “You want…” The groove in her forehead deepens. “You want to be with me?”

  My heartbeat grows erratic. I haven’t had a conversation like this with a girl in years. Not since Miranda. But Allie isn’t Miranda. Allie is…she’s…fuck, I can’t make sense of my jumbled thoughts. Except for one. The bone-deep certainty that I can’t let this end.

  “Dean?”

  I tighten my hold on her, burying my face in the crook of her neck. “I want to be with you,” I mumble. “So that means we’re fucking together, okay?”

  Shaky laughter tickles my cheek. “You’re freaking me out right now.”

  “I’m freaking myself out.” Groaning, I lift my head and cup her delicate chin with both hands. “Why did you ask Wellsy to call me?”

  Allie falters. “Because…” She bites her lip. “Because I wanted you to tell me that Sean is wrong. Because I needed…” She stumbles again, as if she’s as freaked out by this as I am. Her uncertainty only makes me more certain.

  I rub my thumb along the seam of her lips, soothing the tiny indentation she made with her teeth. “You want it too. To be with me?”

  She’s quiet for so long that I’m nervous again. Then she nods.

  “Tell me why,” I say gruffly. “I need to know it’s not just because casual sex makes you feel slutty. That it’s not just because you’re insecure about everything Sean said.”

  Allie slowly runs one hand over my cheek. “It’s not.” Her fingertips scrape the bristles of stubble on my jaw. “I want to be with you because it feels right.”

  The tension in my chest dissipates, replaced by a strange rush of warmth I couldn’t explain if I tried. We don’t speak after that. Which is equally strange, this long inexplicable silence that doesn’t need to be filled. I release her only so I can peel my sweater off, kick away my jeans. I reach out and click the bedside lamp.

  Darkness falls over us. Allie gets under the covers. Without a word, she shifts over so there’s room for me.

  I slide in behind her, curling one arm around her slender body and drawing her closer. She makes a contented noise and snuggles her ass to my groin, her back to my chest. Her hair tickles my chin. I fall asleep to the sound of her soft breathing and the steady beating of her heart beneath my palm.

  *

  Hannah and Garrett are in the small kitchenette when I emerge from Allie’s room the next morning. They’re holding the most ridiculous pink mugs—Wellsy’s has “ALLIE’S BFF!” scrawled on the front in a purple script font. Garrett’s says “HAN-HAN’S BFF!”

  I smother a laugh. Why do I get the feeling the custom mugs were Allie’s doing?

  Since I expected a cross-examination, I’m not surprised when they attack the moment they notice me.

  “What kind of game are you playing with my best friend?”

  “I specifically told you to keep your dick away from her, man.”

  I follow the aroma of freshly brewed coffee to the narrow counter. It’s not even nine o’clock. I�
��m not awake enough to have this conversation yet.

  Unfortunately, my pointed effort to ignore them has no effect. They keep firing questions at me as I pour myself some coffee.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Why didn’t you fucking tell me?”

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “This is going to ruin our whole group dynamic, you know.”

  “You think so?” Hannah’s attention is on Garrett now. “If it’s just a fling, it probably won’t change anything.”

  “Your girl doesn’t do flings, babe. She’s a nester.”

  It’s the same observation I’d made about Allie on the drive to New York, but hearing Garrett dissect the sexual habits of the girl I’m dating raises my hackles.

  The girl I’m dating. Jesus. Never thought I’d be saying that. But it’s the way it is, and I’ve decided to roll with it.

  “Hey, I have an idea.” I lean against the counter and stare at them over the rim of my mug. “How ’bout you guys mind your own business?”

  Wellsy’s jaw drops.

  Garrett’s eyebrows soar.

  A choked laugh comes from the hallway. A moment later, Allie saunters into the main room. “Morning,” she says casually.

  There’s a beat. “Morning,” Hannah answers.

  Allie approaches the counter and picks up the coffee pot. When she leans on her tiptoes to grab a mug from the top cupboard, I can’t help but give her jutting ass a little smack.

  Hannah glares at me.

  Garrett shakes his head.

  “What?” My expression is innocent.

  Allie sips her coffee, then wraps both hands around the mug and addresses the room. “Okay. Real talk, guys.” She glances at Hannah. “Dean and I are together. There. It’s out in the open. You may now commence with the questions.”

  Hannah’s mouth stays closed. For someone who’d had questions galore only minutes ago, her silence is surprising. Worrying. Her troubled green eyes tell me she’s not happy with this new arrangement.

  “No? Nothing you want me to say?” Allie lifts the mug to her lips. “All righty then.”

  I hide a smile and turn to Garrett. “Hunter and I have an hour of ice time today. Coach signed off on it. You want to come?”