Allie

DEAN AND I arrive back at campus at noon the next day. Since the team bus leaves at one o’clock for their game in Burlington, he should be hightailing it out of the parking lot if he wants to go home and change first. But he stays rooted in the driver’s seat.

“What’s wrong?” I can’t decipher his expression.

“Can I see you tonight?” His voice is husky, and there’s an inexplicable chord of…something…in it.

“I have rehearsal, so it depends on when Steven lets us out. Call me when you’re back from Vermont and we’ll see where I’m at?”

He nods. Still doesn’t move.

“Do you mind helping me with my suitcase?” Another nod.

I fight a pang of uneasiness as we get out of the car. There’s no one in the parking lot to see us unload my bag, but that isn’t what’s making me apprehensive. It’s the intensity Dean is radiating. It’s like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to broach the subject.

“Everything okay?” I ask lightly.

Those green eyes sweep over me so intently I feel self-conscious. I know my hair is a wavy mess, and I’m pretty sure there’s a tiny zit forming on my chin. I hope that’s not what he’s staring at.

“All good, baby doll,” he finally says, snapping out of whatever deep thoughts he’d been having. “C’mere and give me a good luck kiss. We desperately need to win this game today.”

My gaze flits around the lot. A slight frown touches Dean’s lips¸ and seeing it triggers a flash of guilt. We just spent three days together. We fooled around in front of Beau, for crying out loud, and I’m afraid to kiss him in an empty parking lot?

I bridge the distance and lean on my tiptoes to brush my lips over his. “Good luck,” I whisper. Then I slip him a little tongue and smile when his breath catches.

He groans softly. “Tease.”

My smile widens as I take a step back. “Thanks for the ride. And the night out.”

“And the dirty, dirty sex,” he reminds me.

“One dirty would’ve sufficed.” Except nope, I’m wrong. What we did this weekend requires at least two dirties. Four would probably be the right amount.

“You sure you can manage that thing?” he asks as I roll my overstuffed suitcase toward the path.

“I’m fine. It has wheels.” “What about the stairs?”

“It’s fine,” I insist. “Go, Dean, otherwise you’ll miss your bus.”

Just as I give him a gentle shove to spur his sexy ass into gear, a familiar voice echoes behind us.

“Hey, Allie.”

My hand freezes against Dean’s chest. I quickly let it drop to my side, then turn around to greet the approaching figure. It’s Jim Paulson, one of Sean’s frat brothers. My nerves flutter in my belly as I wonder how much he heard. And saw…

Shit. Did he see me kiss Dean?

“Hi,” I say, forcing a smile. “How was your Thanksgiving?” “It was all right.” Jim’s gaze flicks toward Dean. “Hey, man.” “Hey,” Dean says tightly.

“Where are you guys coming from?” His unmistakably suspicious gaze lands on my suitcase.

“New York,” I answer casually. “Dean’s from Manhattan and I’m from Brooklyn, so we carpooled. Go, environment!” I pretend to wave a little flag, but Jim doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Cool.” He continues to study me. “Uh, so yeah…nice seeing you.”

His parting smile is friendly enough, but as I watch him walk away, I can’t control the ball of dread that lodges in my throat. Fuck. I have a very, very bad feeling about this encounter. There’s no doubt in my mind that Jim

will tell Sean about it. A part of me doesn’t care, because Sean’s not my boyfriend anymore.

Even so, the anxiety eddying in my stomach refuses to go away, and I know I’m going to be worrying about this all fricking day. Waiting for the other shoe to drop.

*

THE SHOE DROPS at one in the morning. It drops hard. No, it drops loudly. As in, I’m rudely awakened from a deep sleep to noisy pounding on the door.

I sit up and frantically look around, because it takes my not-yet-alert brain a few seconds to comprehend what’s going on. Once it registers that the sounds are coming from the front door, I fly out of my bedroom and stagger into the common area. Two shadowy figures stumble out of Hannah’s room at the same time. My sleepy roommate and her boyfriend halt abruptly when they spot me.

Bang.

Bang bang bang.

“What the hell?” Garrett sounds groggy as he turns his head toward the noise.

My pulse speeds up when I hear Sean’s voice.

“Allie!” he shouts from behind the door. “I know you’re in there! Let me in, goddamn it!”

Just like that, Garrett is wide awake and marching to the door. I squeak in alarm, but he doesn’t open it—he simply pounds his fist against it a couple times. “Shut the hell up, asshole. You’re going to wake up everyone on the floor.”

“Like I give a shit!” comes Sean’s furious reply. “I need to talk to Allie.”

“Then pick up the phone and call her like a normal, sane person,” Garrett snaps. “And do it tomorrow morning. Allie’s asleep.”

Hannah moves beside me and rests a hand on my arm. My skin is ice cold and I know she feels it, because she gives a soft, comforting stroke. “Garrett will get rid of him,” she whispers.

But she’s underestimated Sean’s stubbornness. “She’s not asleep,” he snaps back. “I know my girlfriend—”

Ex-girlfriend! I almost yell.

“—and she’s standing right behind the fucking door, I know she is.” The pounding picks up again. Bang. Bang bang bang. “Allie! Open the door! We need to talk!”

I flinch. Hannah wraps one arm around my shoulders.

“Bang on this door one more time and I’m calling the fucking cops,” Garrett hisses out.

Bang bang bang.

My throat squeezes shut. Goddamn it. He won’t go away. I know he won’t, and I’m suddenly overcome with visions of campus security and a police brigade swarming Bristol House like a SWAT team taking out a bank robber. Which wouldn’t just be mortifying, but completely disruptive. From that point on, everyone in this dorm will think of me as the chick with the insane ex-boyfriend.

“Let him in,” I say weakly.

Garrett whirls around, his gray eyes blazing. “No fucking way, Allie.

He’s drunk.”

“I know, but he’ll calm down once he’s inside.” My shoulders droop unhappily. “He’ll stay out there all night, Garrett. Just let him in and I’ll talk him down. I can handle this, I promise.”

Hannah’s boyfriend remains skeptical. I don’t blame him. Sean is absolutely acting like a crazy person right now. But I spent four years with the guy, and I know he’s all bark and no bite. He would never hurt me in the physical sense.

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.”

“You know what? I’m glad you dumped me. I want nothing to do with you.” His voice rises, and I cringe because I know Hannah and Garrett must hear him even with her door closed. “I was a fucking idiot for trying to win

you back! Why the fuck would I want to get back together with a disease- ridden whore—”

“That’s enough!”

Garrett’s booming proclamation comes too little, too late. Sean’s last remark has already done its intended damage. I stumble backward as if he’d just slapped me. God, he might as well have. My cheeks are burning. My bottom lip quivers wildly, and I have to dig my teeth into it to make it stop. I have to fight the strangled sob that’s desperately trying to rip out of my throat.

I’m vaguely aware of Garrett grabbing my ex-boyfriend by the collar. Hauling him to the door. Hissing out a threat. But my face is on fire and my vision is fuzzy, making it difficult to focus on what’s going on.

I jerk when I feel a pair of soft arms wrap around me. It’s Hannah, hugging me tight. My head drops against her shoulder and I blink away the tears threatening to surface.

“Are you okay?” she asks urgently.

“No.” My response is muffled against her sleeve.

“Garrett went downstairs with him. He’s going to call a taxi and wait with Sean to make sure that fucker gets in the cab.” She rubs both hands between my shoulder blades. “Allie. Talk to me. I need to know that you’re all right, sweetie.”

For some reason, the sympathy in her voice blows apart the last thread of my control. The tears spill over and stream down my cheeks. A sob flies out as I shudder in her embrace. How could he have said all those awful, hurtful things? We were together for years. He loved me. He knows me. He knows I’m not a…I choke on another sob…a disease-ridden whore.

As shame floods my body, I push away from Hannah and hurry to my bedroom. I hear her footsteps behind me, reaching my door just as I collapse on my bed. I curl up and swipe at my tears with the sleeve of my T- shirt, but they keep falling faster, stinging my eyelids and sliding into my mouth.

“Allie,” Hannah says softly.

I ignore her, gulping through the sobs as I stick out a hand and fumble on the nightstand. I need…God, I need Dean. I need him to wrap his strong arms around me and give me that speech again, the one about erasing slut

from my vocabulary and not letting small-minded people convince me I’ve done anything wrong.

My fingers collide with my phone and I moan when I discover it’s dead. “Allie.” Hannah sounds exceedingly worried. “Talk to me.”

I inhale a wobbly breath. “Can you do something for me?”

“Anything,” she says instantly. “Just tell me what you need.”

“Can you…” I speak through the tight lump in my throat. “Can you call Dean and ask him to come over?”

I don’t check her face to gauge her reaction. I don’t need to, because I hear the bewilderment loud and clear in her voice.

“Dean?” She pauses. “Dean Di Laurentis?”

“Yes.” I curl up again, tucking my head against the pillow. “You want me to call Dean.”

“Yes.”

“Dean Di Laurentis?”

“Yes.” I lick my dry lips, which are salty from my tears. Tears that won’t fucking stop falling. “Please…just call him. I…” I feel my entire face collapsing again. “I need him.”