“Shit,” Ben mutters, dejectedly sticking a cigarette behind his ear. Then he shakes his head. “They’ll never prove it was my ass. But don’t try to change the subject. What’s going on with you and Dean? I thought maybe you two had finally hooked up—but he’s not acting like he’s just been laid by the girl of his dreams.”
“I’m not the—what makes you say that?” I blurt out, my face warming uncomfortably.
“What? About you being the girl of his dreams? Come on, now. It’s obvious to anyone who’s paying attention that he’s got it bad for you.” When I stare at him in disbelief, he snorts. “Because Dean allows just anyone in his Pontiac, starts texting when he’s publically announced how much he hates it—and eats lunch in the cafeteria for the first time in the two years since I’ve known him. And he even smiles occasionally—I wasn’t even sure dude had teeth until you showed up.”
Ben looks back at me, eyebrows raised. I have no idea how to respond, so I stare down at my twisting hands like they’re the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Now what is the common factor responsible for all these atypical displays of behavior from my boy, Dean?” he continues rhetorically. “Or should I say, who?”
“It’s obvious, you say?” I mumble weakly, looking back up at him.
“As obvious as why he’s never made a move.”
“Johnny.” I sigh.
He forms his hand in the shape of a gun and points it at me with a clicking sound. “Which makes you one third of the second most epic love triangle in Leclare’s history—right after the Rigby/mother/daughter scandal of about two years ago.”
“Whoa—the what?” My entire body comes to attention. “Calvin Rigby—the loopy school psychologist?”
Ben smirks at that. “So you did meet him. Yup. He doesn’t seem capable of getting it on with one woman, let alone two, right? But rumor has it he was having himself an incestuous little three-way action right there in his office, when the ladies got into a huge screaming match, demanding that Rigby choose between them right then and there.”
“Ew,” I say profoundly—then repeat for good measure.
“Yeah. Disgusting,” Ben says dreamily, staring off into space.
Ugh, boys and their dirty little minds! What kind of perv-o would fantasize about a ménage a trois with relatives—?
Dean. Johnny. Me. The shower.
Oh. Never mind.
Clearing my throat, hoping I don’t look as red as I feel, I say, “So, uh, I take it the daughter was a student here? Wait, how is Mr. Rigby still employed—and not, like, in jail?”
“’Cause his mom is a Giroux. You know—of Giroux Diamonds?”
I make a face of recognition. “Oh. Really? Wow, I guess you can make anything go away, if you throw enough money at it.”
Ben grins at me. “Except for strippers. Not that I would know, of course.”
“Of course.”
“I bet Rigby had a lot of fond memories of his desk. Too bad it burned down.”
“Hm,” I muse. “So, who was the student who was supposedly having this family affair with him? Does she still go here?”
But he waves his hand in the air, like he’s waving away smoke. “There are rumors, but no one knows for sure,” he says, glancing away evasively. “Anyway, Yoko, who you gonna pick? Parker or Youngblood?”
“Neither.” I grunt in frustration, and glare at Ben. “Johnny and I aren’t getting back together—for the hundredth time. And I…I just don’t feel that way about Dean.”
“Do you know that when you lie, your right eyebrow shoots way up?” Ben cocks his head to look in my face.
I grab at the offending eyebrow. “It does not! And…which part do you think I’m lying about?”
He smiles mysteriously. “I like you, Juliet. If you had any money, you’d be the second person I’d call to bail me out of jail in the middle of the night. That’s why I’m going to tell you what Ajit told me—and I agree with him.” Ben turns serious. “Now I love Johnny like a brother, but he’s got a big ass self-destruction button right on his forehead, and he’s destined to destroy everything he cares about. That includes you.”
He looks me in the eye, making sure I’m absorbing what he’s saying. I sigh huffily. “I get that he’s bad for me,” I say. “I knew it when I met him. I still care about him, though.”
Ben gives a shrug. “Just sayin’. If you went back to him—a year down the line you’ll find yourself locked in a house, popping out babies, and trying to remember what color the sky was.”
There are several ways I could respond to that, but I swallow them all down. After a moment’s contemplation, I give him a sideways glance. “Why does this whole conversation feels like you’re Team Dean?”
“Nah, I’m Team Juliet,” Ben replies, making a little rah-rah motion with his fist. “You’re my friend, and you’re unhappy. Just trying to be there for you, kid.”
“Oh, well…thanks.” I give my head a sudden shake. “You know—even if I did like Dean, nothing could ever happen between us. Johnny would freak. It would totally ruin their relationship. I couldn’t do that to either of them.”
Ben checks his phone before responding. He gets to his feet then stretches like a cat. “Let Dean worry about that,” he advises. “Hell, we’re graduating in a few months. So you sneak around until then. Then it won’t matter as much. Not like y’all are headed to the same college, right?”
“Sneak around for a few months?” I repeat, screwing my face in disgust. “Is that what you’re doing with Katerinka? Ben, why don’t you just break it off with Arianna if you don’t want to be with her anymore?”
Ben’s dark eyes widen in mock horror. “Shit, no! That bitch is vindictive—she’d probably cut my balls off in my sleep. Also, if I break up with her, she won’t do that thing I like. She does this twisty thing with her—”
“Ah, shut up!” I cover both ears, and rapidly start walking away.
“Hey, no, it’s awesome! I could give you detailed instructions, and you could try it out on Dean. Just let him know who he has to thank for it!”
Before Ben can explain in graphic detail his girlfriend’s awesome sexual moves, I practically run back inside the building. My face is on fire because he put that thought in my head…about doing naughty things to—
“Dean!”
I let out an embarrassing little shriek, jumping backwards, and just barely avoiding crashing into Dean’s broad chest for the eighteenth time. How does he always appear out of nowhere—at the worst times?
He stands there silently, looking down at me with a wary expression. I suddenly realize that I’m probably staring at him like he’s a serial killer. I try for a smile, but it feels so weird on my face. I’m sure it looks hideous.
“Hey.” I clear my throat nervously. “I was just about to, uh, go that way.” I jab the air aimlessly.
Dean’s eyes lock with mine for a fleeting second. He gives a slight nod. “Okay.”
“See you later,” I mutter, and quickly shuffle away.
When I’m about to turn the corner, I risk a glance back. Dean is still standing there, hands stuffed into the pants pockets, and staring after me. I look away.
I am the worst person ever.
That night after work, I had quite possibly the longest shower in the history of showers. I came out with my skin beet red from the hot water, and uncomfortably prune-y. I slap on a ton of moisturizer, put on a baby blue cami and matching pajama pants, and throw myself into bed.
Seconds later, I jump out of bed, stick my feet into some flip flops, then I’m charging down the stairs and out the door. I make it to my car before I have to turn back for my keys and a hoodie.
I almost hit the side of a building, reminding me why it is that I don’t drive at night. Where am I going? I don’t even know until I find myself at Dean and Johnny’s house. As I park my car in front of the garages, I check for Johnny’s truck. It’s not here. I sigh in relief as I head for the front door.
<
br /> Jelena greets me like we’re old friends. She confirms for me that Dean is the only one home right now, and tells me to go on up. I wonder what she thinks of me being here for him when I was first introduced to her as Johnny’s girlfriend. Even though she’s nothing but kind, I feel the need to explain myself—but thankfully think better of it.
Okay, I’m standing in front of Dean’s room. Now what? “What am I even doing here?” I whisper to myself, clapping a clammy hand over my clammy forehead.
I raise my hand to knock on the door—drop it—raise it—drop it again. My heart is thudding out of my chest, cartoon style. This is a huge mistake. Oh, my god. I have to get out of here!
I turn abruptly, and start scurrying down the hall.
“Juliet?”
The deep rumbling voice stops me in my tracks. For reasons unknown, I pretend to be fascinated by a potted Ficus. Sensing Dean approach, I hastily turn to face him.
“Oh, hi—”
My greeting is cut off when I actually look at him in all his post-workout glory. I’m talking shirtless—naked muscles gleaming with sweat, black sweatpants hanging off slim, cut hips…short dark hair, damp and sexily mussed.
There is a t-shirt thrown over one broad shoulder. I wish he would put it on. He’s slightly out of breath, smooth bare chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares at me staring at him.
Okay, I am straight up ogling him. And it’s so wrong. I’m overcome by a sudden intense camaraderie with all the horny teenage boys of the world. My hand tingles with the need to slap the obvious lust off my face.
We stand there, facing each other. A lifetime passes before a word is spoken.
I let out a sigh that deflates my shoulders. “I don’t know why I’m here,” I admit, looking at him helplessly.
In that Dean way of his, he doesn’t say anything. He opens his bedroom door, and waits for me to go in. After a brief hesitation, I do—and as he moves behind me, I catch the scent of clean sweat and sandalwood. It makes my stomach muscles clench unexpectedly.
I am now standing in the middle of his bedroom, about as uncomfortable as I’ve ever been. My darting gaze lands on the aquarium, and I brighten in relief. Something to talk about!
“How’s the tank doing?” I ask a little too enthusiastically. “It doesn’t look like you lost any livestock. The water looks good, too.”
He’s doing that half-sitting/half-leaning thing against his desk. “Jelena’s been helping me with the upkeep,” he says with a shrug of those broad, heavily muscled shoulders.
I flush guiltily. I was supposed to be helping him.
“Dean, I’m sorry,” I say in a rush. “I’ve been such a jerk since—since Christmas. I’ve been avoiding you, and—and being really awkward when we talk. It’s just that…I don’t know what to say to you. I feel really bad about everything—and I don’t want it to be like this between us, because you’re so—you’re really great.”
I’ve been pacing back and forth while delivering my very un-eloquent speech, but I come to a stop right in front of him. I twist my fingers together anxiously, and peer up at him.
I take another deep breath. “I also realize that I’m the one making things weird between us, so I’m really going to try to get over this—this…weirdness. And—can you just say something? Anything?”
Dean crosses his arms over his chest, and I really try not to notice how the move displays his powerful arms. Shallow, Juliet. Really shallow.
“What do you want me to say?” he asks, and I can hear the shrug in his voice.
“I don’t know!” I bust out, throwing my hands in the air. “God, why is this so difficult?! Why did things have to change? Why can’t we just go back to the way we were?”
“Have things changed between us?” Dean asks softly. “I feel the same way I did before. The only difference is now you know.”
“Exactly!” I point a finger at him accusingly. “And ever since you told me, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat—and I can’t stop thinking about you!”
Big silence. Huge. I did not mean to say that. I didn’t even know that thought was there, lurking in my brain, waiting for its chance to jump ship the minute my giant mouth opened.
I want to die right now.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” I retract hastily while Dean just looks at me. “Even if I did feel something for you, other than friendship—obviously, nothing can happen between us.”
He runs a hand over his face before speaking hesitantly. “Are you saying you feel something for me other than friendship?”
“Nooo,” I draw out. “I said ‘if.’ Oh—maybe. I don’t know.”
I move to start pacing again, but Dean takes my hands, and gives a little tug. He spreads his legs a little and pulls me into the space between them. All systems go into hyper drive—bright and hot, and completely out of control at his touch.
Touch…holy shit, Dean is touching me—and it feels like every kind of forbidden pleasure.
He looks steadily into my eyes. “What are you trying to tell me, Juliet?”
Oh, my god, he smells so good. We’re standing so close, the heat radiating from his body is like a physical caress. I’m shaking. Is it guilt and nerves, or…something else? I don’t know!
“Say it,” he orders me, gaze dropping down to my mouth.
I am hypnotized by his proximity. “I feel something for you,” I whisper, lowering my eyes. “But this can’t happen. We can’t happen.”
“Because of Johnny.” Dean’s voice is flat, a statement, not a question.
I nod, trying to pull away, but he won’t let me go. “I’m not going to come between the two of you,” I say, frustrated. “You guys are brothers now. If anything were to happen between us, it would destroy that.”
A stubborn light suddenly comes into Dean’s eyes. “I’m willing to take that risk. It’s mine to take.”
“But I’m not.” Shaking my head, I attempt to create more space between us. “I’m not worth it, Dean. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to hurt Johnny. I’ve already…it just can’t happen.”
Before I know what I’m doing, I find myself shame-facedly confessing to him about that night with Nick. Though his eyes seem to darken when I get to the part about waking up naked in Nick’s bed, Dean doesn’t show any signs of judgment.
“See?” I say weakly, looking up at him. “I’ve done it once before. I can’t do it again.”
Dean shakes his head impatiently. “I don’t care about what happened in the past.”
“Well, I do!” I toss my head, agitated. “I feel like shit about it. First Johnny, then Nick…now you? Who’s next—Mack? I might as well make the rounds, right? Don’t want anybody feeling left out. Slut.”
“You’re not a slut.”
“You haven’t been in my head.”
I can tell Dean really wants to ask what I mean by that. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then looks away. “You made a mistake,” he says finally. “Forgive yourself, and get past it.”
“I’m working on it.” I look down at our joined hands. Mine look so tiny clasped in his big strong ones. It does something fluttery and scary to my chest to see us connected like that. “Let go of me, Dean. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” His squeezes my hands. “I want you here. Stay.”
My eyes widen at the pleading note in his tone. I stare at him in amazement. Is this the same Dean I once accused of being a cyborg? His face is full of emotion now, and that uncertain vulnerability in his eyes is killing me. I’m floored that it’s there because of me. Why me? I’m glad he’s got my hands trapped, because otherwise I’d be tempted to do something crazy with them. Like trace the scars on his bare chest with my fingertips.
I have to get out of here before I do something really stupid. “Please—I have to go. I told you—”
“You told me all the reasons why we can’t be together. Now let me tell you why we have to.”
I know
what he’s going to do, his intention is perfectly clear. Yet I’m powerless to stop him, caught in a deep trance that makes my limbs feel both heavy and languid. I could stop him—but I don’t want to. Dean lowers his head, and I turn my face up to him. Then his lips are on mine, and…oh, god…
A liquid dark heat pours into me, filling me up until I’m lost in a violent sea of sensations that threaten to drown me. I didn’t expect it to be like this. It’s too much.
That is my last coherent thought. Dean pulls back, slants his mouth over mine, changing the pressure, becoming more demanding. Everything in me opens up to him. My hands creep up to his chest, gliding across hard muscles. So smooth. I feel him shudder under my touch.
I want him.
Deans hands settle on my hips, and the heat from them scorch through the thin fabric of my pajama pants, and brand my skin. He pulls me closer—
“What. The. Fuck.”
******
Chapter 39
Dean and I are torn apart from each other by sound of that achingly familiar voice.
Oh, please, no…
What had moments ago felt like a beginnings of an amazing dream, is rapidly turning into my worst nightmare. Johnny stands in the doorway of Dean’s bedroom, looking both stunned and furious. He glares at us disbelievingly for the span of a few heartbeats—then he’s striding into the room, his azure eyes blazing with deadly intent.
In a flash, Dean is standing in front of me, so that all I can see is the fascinating planes and ridges of his back. I quickly dodge around him. I am not going to hide, damn it. Run, maybe.
“You know, I’ve spent weeks wracking my brain, trying to figure out who the mystery guy you banged was,” Johnny says, his tone biting and caustic. “Never once did I think it’d be my own brother.”
Dean’s eyes narrow in response. Before he can say anything, I jump in. “It wasn’t him. This—” I gesture wildly between us. “—just happened. I swear.”
Johnny’s glare unlocks from Dean and zeroes in on me again. “Yeah, right. And it was an accident, right? You tripped and fell?”
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