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The Score (Off-Campus #3)(42)



“But she changed her mind?”

“Yup. It was subtle at first. She’d talk about something we were going to do in the future, I’d remind her it probably wouldn’t happen, and she’d laugh it off and say she forgot. But then she got…clingy. She’d call like ten times a day, and suddenly she was paranoid I was cheating on her. I wasn’t, by the way—I’ve never cheated on anyone I made a commitment to.”

“So you ended it? No, wait, first you had sex with her.”

I hear the accusation in Allie’s tone, and I can’t deny it hits its mark. “Yeah. I did.” My mouth runs dry. I try to swallow. “Miranda was with this other guy for two years before she went out with me. When we started dating, she told me she’d had sex before.”

“Oh no,” Allie murmurs. “I don’t like where this is going.”

“We were at a party, and she was acting all clingy again, not letting me talk to anyone, refusing to let go of my hand. She even followed me into the fucking bathroom. I was frustrated and angry, and I started pounding beers because it was the only way to pass the time. She didn’t want to leave, but she also wouldn’t leave my side. I was actually considering breaking up with her right then, and I guess she sensed it because next thing I know she’s dragging me upstairs.” Regret throbs inside me. “I was disgustingly wasted, not to mention seventeen and horny, so I wasn’t exactly fighting her off. We had sex. And then afterward, she admitted she was a virgin.”

“Shit.”

“If I’d known, I would have been more…I don’t know, careful? Gentler? I was sloppy drunk and she got a sloppy lay. For her first time, Allie. I felt like a total ass the next day, but Miranda wasn’t mad. She said she felt closer to me than ever, and after that, it was like DEFCON level clinginess. Suddenly she was planning college visits and saying how we should think about getting engaged, that a stronger commitment would make it easier to stay true to each other.” My stomach churns just thinking about it. I hadn’t even turned eighteen at that point.

“So like any teenage boy would, you freaked out and ended it.”

I nod.

She sighs. “I don’t blame you. I’m sure anyone would feel overwhelmed in that situation.”

“Maybe. But…Miranda didn’t handle the breakup too well,” I confess, fighting the nausea clawing at my gut. “Turns out she’d dealt with depression in the past, but she never told me about it. I never would’ve guessed either, because she was so happy and easygoing all the time. But I found out that’s because of the meds she was taking. The meds she stopped taking after I ended it.”

“Shit,” Allie says again.

“She changed completely. She was crying all the time, screaming at me in the halls, calling me in the middle of the night threatening to kill herself. I had no choice but to involve her dad, because I was terrified she might actually commit suicide. Frank pulled her out of school after that, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

Allie’s jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

“Frank wouldn’t allow it.” The frustration I felt back then rises again now. “He told me Miranda was back on her meds and getting professional help. Oh, and that if I ever tried to contact her again, he would rip my throat out. That didn’t stop me from worrying about her. I mean, I still cared about her even though we were broken up, so about a month after she left school, I cornered Coach in the parking lot and demanded to see Miranda.” My jaw twitches. “And he punched me in the face.”

“Oh my God. Did anyone see him do it?”

“No. It was late, and he was coming out of a staff meeting. Nobody else was around. But yeah, he clocked me good. That’s when I found out that Miranda told him we had sex. She also told him I was drunk out of my mind when it happened.”

“Well, that’s not cool,” Allie says angrily.

“None of it was cool. I shouldn’t have let her seduce me that night, absolutely.” Bitterness clogs my throat. “But she let her father believe I was some drunk asshole who took advantage of her, and that wasn’t fair either.” I force myself to relax my grip on the steering wheel. “Anyway, that’s why O’Shea can’t stand the sight of me. He thinks I played the long game with his daughter—spent a year trying to get into her pants, and then dumped her once I got what I wanted.”

“And you really have no idea how she’s doing now? You haven’t tried to contact her?”

“I sent her a Facebook friend request a while ago,” I admit. “She hasn’t accepted it. I think she’s doing well, though. Her profile said she goes to Duke.”

“I guess it makes sense that O’Shea was so overprotective of her,” Allie muses. “It must have been really hard for him, watching his daughter struggle with depression. Watching her get better, and then fall into that dark place again.”

Maybe, but I refuse to empathize with that bastard, not when he’s trying to make my last year at Briar so damn miserable.

“You make more sense to me too now,” she adds.

“How so?” I don’t like her thoughtful, probing gaze.

“This is why you’re always so upfront about sex, right? You’re making sure your hook-ups are on the same page as you?”

“I’m not misleading anyone ever again, that’s for sure. Or taking their agreement at face value. I don’t care if it makes me an ass, but I never, ever lie about my intentions. And I never date virgins,” I say as an afterthought. “Or freshmen, because they tend to be clingier.”

“The Life of Dean sure has a lot of rules.”

“Without those rules, there is no Life of Dean.”

“I suppose.” She pauses. “The virgin thing is tough, though. It’s easy for a girl to lie about that. I mean, horseback riding alone has probably broken fifty percent of hymens.”

I bark out a laugh. “Trust me, my virgin radar is infallible these days.”

“Oh yeah? How did you know I wasn’t a virgin?”

“Because Garrett stays at your dorm every other weekend and he heard you and Sean in the bone zone tons of times. He told me you were a screamer.”

She gasps. “He did not say that.”

“He totally did. Face it, babe, you’re a loud lay.” I chuckle at her stricken expression. “That’s not a bad thing. Vocal is good.” I think of her throaty moans and breathy Oh my Gods, and I’m semi-hard in a nanosecond. “Vocal is very good.”

“No, it’s embarrassing,” she mutters. Her cheeks are bright red.

“Hey, I’d way rather be in bed with a loud woman than a quiet one. Silent comers are the worst. I slept with this one chick who didn’t make a sound the entire time. Seriously, I had no idea if she was even enjoying herself, and then when it was over she turned to me and thanked me for the multiple orgasms.”

Allie lets out a hoot. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You…really don’t, huh? I’m starting to think you might be the most honest person I’ve ever met.”

“Another requirement in the Life of Dean. Say what you mean, mean what you say.”

“And do what you want.”

“And do what you want,” I echo.

“I think I really like the Life of Dean.”

I think I really like you, I almost blurt out.

Fortunately, I manage to tamp down the sentiment, because…what the hell? I like banging her. Allie is easy to talk to and fun to fuck—that’s all there is to it. And considering how adamant she is about this being nothing more than a fling, I know she agrees wholeheartedly with me on that.

But a few hours later, when I pull up in front of a three-story brownstone in Brooklyn Heights, Allie throws me a curveball.

“Do you want to come for dinner tomorrow?”

The invitation is alarming and unexpected.

And alarming.

Did I mention alarming?

My unease must be written all over my face, because Allie hurries on. “I won’t be insulted if you say no. Honestly, you can say no. I was just imagining you all alone in Manhattan for Thanksgiving while your family is scarfing down a tropical turkey in St. Bart’s, and it was such a lonely, depressing picture that I figured I’d extend the invite.”

“What…” I clear my throat. “What will you tell your dad?”

She shrugs. “I’ll say you’re a friend from school who didn’t have anywhere else to go. It won’t be a big deal, I promise. You guys will talk hockey, I’ll cook dinner, we’ll watch some football, and there’s a forty percent chance we all get food poisoning. Just a regular old Hayes family Thanksgiving.”

A laugh flies out. “Sounds like a blast.” I consider it. “Okay, I’m in. What time do you want me to show up?”

“Four should be good, but we probably won’t eat until five.”

I nod.

“Okay. Awesome.” She smiles ruefully. “Now help me get my suitcase out of the trunk, will you? I’m pretty sure I’ll break my back if I try to lift that thing myself.”





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