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The Score (Off-Campus #3)(112)

Author:Elle Kennedy

His sister snorts. “Don’t give me that shit. You were getting drunk when you were thirteen.”

“I was very mature for my age.”

“You’re not mature for your age now.”

“At least I didn’t get kicked out of Brown for setting togas on fire.”

“I didn’t get kicked out of Brown, and I did not set anything on fire.”

“How would I know? I have no idea what you even did to get kicked out, because nobody in the family will fucking tell me.”

“I didn’t get kicked out!”

My head is spinning from moving back and forth between them. Is this what all siblings are like? If so, I feel fortunate that I’m an only child. All this bickering seems like it would be exhausting.

“And if you quit yelling at me,” Summer is grumbling, “then maybe we can sit down like adults and I’ll tell you why I’m on probation.” She waves a manicured hand. “But let’s save that for later. I’m in the mood for a party. You think one of the frats is hosting one tonight? Wait, what am I saying? Of course there’ll be a party on Greek Row. It’s the only way those pervos ever get laid, right?”

I choke on another laugh.

Dean is more on edge than I’ve ever seen him, his fists balled against his sides as if he’s trying not to throttle his sister. “We’re not going to a party tonight. I already told you, I’ve gotta be up early to meet the bus. Which means we’re staying in. A nice, quiet night in,” he says firmly.

Of course, he says this right as the front door opens again and four hockey players trudge inside. Or maybe three players and a civilian, because while I know Logan, Fitzy and Hollis, I don’t recognize the fourth guy. He has dark spiky hair and looks too small to be a hockey player.

“Hey.” Logan nods in greeting and shrugs out of his jacket. The hallway isn’t big enough to accommodate so many people, and I find myself being squashed up against the wall as the guys push their way inside.

“This is my sister,” Dean says in a resigned tone that makes me hide a smile.

The guys nod and say hello, but they’re in a big hurry to get to the living room. Logan glances at us over his shoulder. “Morris got his hands on a demo version of the latest Mob Boss. Hasn’t even hit the market yet. We’ll probably be up late.”

Beside me, Summer breaks out in a broad smile.

“Don’t make it too late. Bus leaves at eight tomorrow,” Dean reminds his roommate.

Logan shrugs. “I’ll sleep on the bus.” Then he disappears into the living room.

Summer is practically vibrating with excitement now. She sidles close to me and hisses, “Who was that?”

I wrinkle my forehead. “You mean Logan? He lives here. But don’t get any ideas. He has a girlfriend.”

“No, not him.” Her hand flutters dismissively. “The big guy with the tats. I didn’t catch his name.”

“Oh. Fitzy. Colin Fitzgerald,” I clarify. “One of your brother’s teammates.”

Summer’s green eyes twinkle. She flips her hair again and announces, “I want him.”

“Summer!” Dean says in exasperation, while I desperately try not to laugh.

“What? I’m just being honest.” His sister blinks innocently. “Be honest or be a jerk—that’s what you taught me when I was twelve, remember? After I stole your favorite shirt and then accidentally dropped it in the sewer?”

“How do you accidentally drop a shirt in the sewer?” I blurt out.

“I wasn’t wearing it. It fell out of my backpack.” She smirks at Dean. “And then I lied about what happened and you gave me a speech about honesty, remember? Well, congratulations, Dicky. I’m super duper honest now.” She points her finger at the living room doorway. “That was the hottest piece of man meat I have ever seen. And I want him.”

“I’m going to murder you in your sleep one day,” Dean tells his sister. “Swear to God.”

Her smile is the epitome of sweetness. “Aw, Dicky, you would never, ever do that. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” he grumbles.

“Because you love me.”

Honestly? I think I love her, too.

*

Dean

I am terrified of what I’ll find when I get home tonight. I’ll only be gone for sixteen hours, but Summer Heyward-Di Laurentis is capable of doing earthquake-level damage in sixteen minutes.

When she was thirteen, Nick and I were home alone with her. We turned our backs for twenty minutes, tops, and when we walked into the living room, the liquor cabinet was overturned, broken glass was everywhere, and Summer grinned at us and said, “Oops.”