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.”
21
Dean
Allie’s father hates me on sight.
I’m sure if I mentioned it to Allie, she’d wave off my concerns and say things like “he’s just grumpy” or “oh, that’s just how he is with everyone”。 But she’d be wrong.