He peers down at his pecs and considers for a moment. “Yeah. I am perfect. I need to remind myself of that more often.”
I snort. “Right. Because you’re not already conceited enough.”
“I’m confident,” he corrects.
“Conceited.”
“Confident.” He pops open the small tin box he grabbed from the kitchen, and I scowl when he extracts a neatly rolled joint and a Zippo.
“Why am I out here?” I grumble. “I don’t want to smoke weed.”
“Sure you do.” He lights up and takes a deep drag, then speaks through the escaping cloud of smoke. “You’re acting all jittery and weird. Trust me, you need this.”
“This is peer pressure, you know.”
He holds out the joint, one eyebrow raised. “Come on, baby,” he coaxes in a singsong voice. “Just one toke. All the cool kids are doing it.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Fuck off.”
“Suit yourself.” He exhales again, and the scent of marijuana surrounds me.
I can’t remember the last time I got high. I don’t do it often, but honestly? If any night merits some weed-induced serenity, it’s this one.
“Oh, fine. Give it to me.” I stick out my hand before I can second-guess myself.
Dean is beaming as he passes it over. “That’s my girl. But don’t tell Wellsy. She’ll kick my ass if she thinks I’m corrupting her best friend.”
I wrap my lips around the joint and draw the smoke into my lungs, trying not to laugh at the genuine apprehension on Dean’s face. He’s probably right to be afraid of Hannah. Girl’s got a sharp tongue and she isn’t afraid to use it. That’s why I love her.
We spend the next couple minutes passing the joint back and forth in silence like a couple of hooligans loitering behind a gas station. This is the first time we’ve spent any time alone together, and it feels weird hanging out in the backyard with a shirtless Dean Di Laurentis. If I’m being honest, I’ve never known what to make of the guy. He’s cocky, flirtatious…
Superficial.
I feel like an ass for thinking it, but I can’t deny that’s what comes to mind whenever I see Dean. Hannah told me he’s filthy rich, and it totally shows. Not in the pompous, watch-me-roll-around-in-my-money-vault sense, but in the way he struts around like the world is his oyster. I have a feeling he’s never experienced a second of hardship in his life. Looking at him, you just know this guy gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.
Huh. And apparently marijuana makes me both philosophical and judgmental.
“So you got dumped?” he finally asks, watching me take another hit.
I blow smoke right in his face. “I did not get dumped. I’m the one who ended it.”
“The same guy you’ve been with forever? The frat guy? Stan?”
“Sean. And yeah, we’ve been dating on and off since freshman year.”
“Jesus. That’s way too long to be screwing the same person. Was the sex really boring?”
“Why is everything with you always about sex?” I pass the joint back. “And FYI—the sex was fine.”
“Fine?” He snickers. “Wow, what a ringing endorsement.”
I’m already feeling the effects of the weed, my head light and my body relaxed, which is probably the only reason I keep talking. Normally, I wouldn’t dream of confiding in this guy.
“I guess it wasn’t the best by the end,” I admit. “But maybe that’s because we’ve pretty much been fighting since the summer.”
“But this isn’t the first breakup, right? Why’d you keep going back to him?”
“Because I love him.” I correct myself, “Loved him.” God, I don’t even know anymore. “The first couple times we broke up, it wasn’t because either of us did anything wrong. I thought we were getting too serious, too fast. It was freshman year, and it seemed like we should be sowing our wild oats and all that crap.”
“Sowing oats is fun,” he agrees solemnly. “One time I sowed this really hot oat who poured maple syrup all over my dick and then licked it off.”
“Ew.” I roll my eyes. “And actually, the oat sowing sucked. I went out with a few guys and they were all total sleazebags. It made me realize how good I had it with Sean.”
Dean blows another cloud of smoke. “Okay. But then you guys broke up again.”
“Yeah.” The memory evokes a rush of aggravation. “That time it was because he got insanely controlling. One of his frat brothers hit on me at a party, and Sean decided that nobody was ever allowed to look at me again. He started telling me how to dress, texting all the time asking where I was and who I was with. It was suffocating.”
It’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the chick who got back together with him afterward.”
“He promised it would be different. And it was. He stopped being clingy, and he was so good to me after that.”
Dean seems unconvinced, but I don’t care. I don’t regret taking Sean back. After two and a half years with the guy, I knew we had something worth fighting for.
“Which brings us to breakup number four.” Dean slants his head curiously. “What happened?”
Discomfort squeezes my chest. “I told you. We were fighting a lot.”
“About what?”
The words spill out before I can stop them. Damn it. Did he lace this weed with truth serum or something? “Mostly about graduation and what we’re going to do after college. My plan was always to move to LA and focus on my acting career.”
Or New York… But I don’t mention that to Dean. I still haven’t made any decisions, and Dean is the last person I want to discuss deep, life-changing career moves with. The guy’s about as deep as a puddle.
“Sean was okay with it when we first started dating, but this summer he suddenly decided he doesn’t want me to go into acting. Actually, he doesn’t want me to work at all.” I frown. “He got it into his head that he’s going to work at his dad’s insurance firm in Vermont and I’m going to be the happy homemaker who has dinner waiting for him when he gets home.”
Dean shrugs. “Nothing wrong with being a homemaker.”
“Of course not, but I don’t want to be a homemaker,” I say in frustration. “I’ve spent almost four years working my ass off to earn this drama degree. I want to use it. I want to be an actress, and I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support me. He—” I stop, biting my lip.
“He what?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” I snatch the joint from his hand and inhale deeply. Too deeply, because I start coughing like crazy on the exhale. My eyes water for a moment, and when my vision clears, I find serious green eyes watching me carefully.
“What did he do?” Dean demands in a low voice. “And how bad of a beat-down does he deserve? Me and Garrett can handle our own in a fight, but if you want some bone-crushing, we can unleash Logan on him.”
“Nobody is crushing anybody’s bones, dumbass. Sean didn’t do anything terrible, and I don’t need you to beat him up. The only thing I want you to do is take this stupid phone.” I shove my cell phone in Dean’s hand. “Keep it away from me this weekend, okay? Only give it back if my dad calls. Or Hannah and Stella. And Meg and—you know what? I’ll check it a few times a day under your supervision. That way you can slap me if I try to text Sean.”
Dean looks intrigued. “So I’m…what, your relationship sponsor? I’m the one who makes sure you don’t fall off the wagon?”
“Yep. Congratulations, you finally get to do something worthwhile with your time,” I say sarcastically.
He tips his head. “What do I get in return?”
“The satisfaction of knowing you’re helping someone other than yourself?”
“Naah. How about a BJ? I’ll do it for a BJ.”
I give him the finger. “You wish.”
“Fine, an HJ.”
“Don’t be a dick. Please. I have no willpower when it comes to Sean.”
As if on cue, the phone buzzes in Dean’s hand, and my first instinct is to try to grab it. He swiftly takes a step back, then glances at the screen. “It’s Sean.” His mouth quivers in amusement. “He misses the taste of your lips.”
My heart does a painful flip. “Another rule—you’re not allowed to tell me what he says.”
“You’re giving me a lot of responsibility here, baby doll. I don’t like responsibility.”
Shocker. “You can handle this, baby doll. I have faith in you.”
Dean takes one final drag of the joint, then snuffs it out in the ashtray and heads for the glass sliding door. God, even the way he walks is arrogant. And he looks good doing it. My gaze unwittingly rests on his taut ass and the way his sweatpants cling to it. Yep, I’m checking out his ass. I mean, it’s a spectacular ass, and I’m a woman—how could I not?
“You’re going about this the wrong way, you know. The best way to get over someone is to hook up with someone else. ASAP.”
His words jolt me out of my butt-ogling. “I’m not ready to be with anyone else yet.”