Never Been Nerdy(27)

“Because I’ve trained them that way. And for being my good boys, you all get a cookie,” Dean pronounces, going over to the kitchen pantry and rifling through for some dog treats. The dogs follow his movement with their dark eyes, and start panting.

I take a peek at Dean’s place, taking in the huge grey sectional in the living room, the flat screen mounted on the wall, enough of a decent size to watch a UFC fight on, or some NFL.

And the bookcases. Shit. He’s got four of them stacked side to side along the far wall. I mean, he could’ve put a painting there, or something, but the things are completely overcrowded with paperbacks and hardcovers. Even from this distance, the spines have been cracked many times over; he reads – a lot.

Oh boy, he’s changed completely, or I never even knew him at all.

Dean comes into the living room and hands each one a cookie; they all take it carefully from his fingers. I watch them chow-down with what looks like doggy delight. Then Dean looks at me with intense laser focus; the kind that destroys countries and eliminates cataracts.

I swallow whatever spit I have left in my mouth, then squaring my shoulders, I get down to business. “I want to apologize.”

I knew he looked familiar, but the beard, the long hair and the weight gain have completely changed his face. I never would’ve known it was him in a million years.

Dean shakes his head. “You apologized for that already. My head’s fine, and I’m not dizzy anymore. No harm done. Just watch where you’re going next time.”

I pull up the sleeves of my jacket, and plant my feet shoulder-width apart. The whole stance screams immovable object while my insides feel like a stack of teetering rocks. Be a grown up. Spell it out for him.

“I’m not talking about that, Dean.” He keeps frowning at me. Fucking asshole isn’t going to make this easy. I pull in a sharp breath. “I don’t know why you’re playing dumb and making this more difficult than it needs to be. I’m talking about high school.”

“High school?” he asks, and I’m ready to start throwing shit at his head.

Why is he being such an asshole now? Well, maybe DiNovro, it has something to do with what you did to him? Maybe he wants to see you work for it?

Ugh. “Yeah, high school, Dean. When we used to go out. Remember?” My arms flop about and my purse nearly decks him in the shoulder. If he wasn’t so tall, I would’ve beaned him in the kisser. Stop playing dumb. Stop it. Just fucking stop.

“Jesus Christ, dude, it was ten years ago! Eleventh grade? Am I jogging your memory now?”

Dean shakes his head, a look of utter puzzlement pasted on his adorable face. This isn’t going well, and my ship is sinking in flames without the possibility of Coast Guard rescue. His shoulders slump forward, and he looks tired, so tired. “I don’t-”

He’s doing this on purpose, I know he is. Fine. I’m not going to be humiliated.

“Oh, yeah?” I hiss, and drop my bag. I stomp towards him, eating the distance between us. Those eyebrows of his pop high again as I haul on his shirt and say against his mouth, “How could you forget about this?”

I kiss him like I’ve only ever kissed him - with everything I have.





Chapter 8




His big hands span across my waist, thumbs hitting me under my breastbone. No matter what I do, I can’t hide the steady, driving rhythm of my heart. Dean still affects me, even after all these years.

Just surrender to it. Let it happen. For once in your life, just let yourself enjoy the moment.

Just when I realize that his mouth isn’t moving under mine, a hesitant sweep of his tongue makes me shiver. His hands tighten around my waist, ten pulsing stars somehow burning me through my coat, through my sweater and t-shirt, somehow calling to my skin.

Holy Christ, he’s doing it to me again.

Ice twists into my heart, throbbing along my veins. Oh God, what am I doing? Why am I doing this with him? La brutta figura – keep your poker face up. Prove your point, and get the hell out of here.

I rock back down to serious-land, pulling away abruptly. My breathing is nowhere near normal, and when I lick my lips, I get nothing but Dean’s taste, pulling me back, back, back to high school when I was a completely different person. I never want to be that girl again.

Dean’s mouth glistens, and I watch him lick away my taste. It’s really fucking hot in here, I’m half-ready to start stripping.

I want Dean, I want him to kiss every inch of me, to nibble me in those places he found out ten years ago drive me wild. I want him to clutch at me because I’m slowly destroying his willpower; I need him to whisper my name as he spills inside of me.