Garrett points a finger at me. “If he tries anything, I’ll beat the shit out of him.”
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.”