“Uh-oh. What did you do?”
“I used the Di Laurentis name with those admissions officers.”
I fight a laugh. “Oh sweetie, that’s okay. It’s for the greater good, right?” Because Dean working with kids is good, damn it. He could really make a difference. He could help those kids build confidence, become better athletes, better people.
“And then I spoke to the new hockey coach at my prep school and asked him to let me know if there are any openings in the private school sector, either for a PE teacher or a coach.” He sounds excited now. “There’s an opening for both at a school in Manhattan, grades one to eight. The job would start in the fall. Phys. Ed classes for all grades, and coaching the girls’ hockey team.”
“Girls?” I grin. “That should be fun.”
“I think I might interview for it.”
“Damn right you will. If this is what you want to do with your life, then it’s what you need to do.” I pause as something occurs to me. “Wait. Does that mean you’re not going to law school? Did you tell your parents?”
“Yes and yes. That’s why I went to New York this weekend. I sat down with my dad and we talked for hours. Did the same thing with Nick later, before you called me to check on your dad. They were both really supportive.”
I’m not surprised. Dean’s family is awesome. “I’m proud of you,” I announce.
“I’m proud of me too.” He nuzzles my cheek before planting kisses along my jaw. Then he sucks on my neck and pleasure ignites between my legs.
Oh sweet Moses. It’s been way too long since we had sex. Almost a month. Or maybe more than a month? God, I can’t remember. The feel of his warm, wet lips traveling along my throat is turning me on beyond belief.
“Dean,” I murmur.
“Mmm?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.” He licks the shell of my ear.
“But I don’t want you right now.”
His head jerks up, his expression beyond insulted. “Can you repeat that please?”
“I don’t want you.” I flash an impish grin. “I want Little Dean.”
My boyfriend throws his head back and laughs. Then he unzips his pants and gives me exactly what I want.
35
Dean
April
Graduation is looming. I’m kinda indifferent to it, if I’m being honest, but whatever, I’ll wear that cap and gown and throw my diploma up in the air, because I know it’ll make my parents happy. Me, I’m just happy in general, because I’m in love with the greatest girl in the world, and the greatest girl in the world is in love with me.
And even though the team didn’t make it to the playoffs, that doesn’t mean there isn’t any news on the hockey front. My man Logan was signed by the Providence Bruins, the farm team for the Boston Bruins, which means in a year or two? He might actually get called up to play for the pros. As for Garrett, his agent is working hard behind the scenes. Apparently several teams have shown interest in G, and I’m crossing my fingers that he ends up somewhere good.
I already know where I’m ending up—Manhattan. Last week, I interviewed for the teaching position at Parklane Academy. Yesterday morning, the headmaster called to tell me I got the job. It’s a two-year contract, the second year conditional upon whether I upgrade my degree.
And I guess my sister is on to something about her universe theory, because an hour after my call with Parklane Academy? Allie’s agent phoned with news that made her shriek so loud that Garrett heard her all the way from his shower and flew into my room buck-naked, armed with a hockey stick.
Once we assured him everything was okay—and commented on how pretty his dick looked—Allie revealed she’d been offered a role on a cable show being developed by hotshot director Brett Cavanaugh, who she did a play with last summer. No audition necessary—Cavanaugh liked working with her so much that he offered her the role outright. The best part? The show is being filmed in New York City.
Allie says she still wants to do theater too, when the show is on hiatus, or if it bombs, which I don’t think it will. But the most important thing to her is that she wasn’t cast as the ditzy airhead. This new role is serious and “meaty”， as she likes to say, and I know she’s looking forward to the challenge.
“What if I have to show my boobs?”
Her wry voice jolts me from my thoughts. We’re walking hand-in-hand on the path leading away from the drama building, where her monologue class just let out. There’s still a chill in the air, but everything is starting to look green again, and the snow has melted away, leaving a layer of slush on the cobblestone path.