The Score (Off-Campus #3)(115)

“But you’re planning on turning it down.”

I hesitate. Then nod.

It’s his turn to sigh. “I know why you’re doing it, babe, and I’m sorry, but I can’t let you.”

I blink and I’m off his lap, my butt hitting the mattress. Dean walks over to where he dropped his coat. He reaches inside one of the pockets and his hand emerges with an envelope.

Oh no. Stupid aliens are déjà vu’ing my brain again.

He slaps the envelope in my hand and says, “Open it.”

I open it without a word, and yep, I find the same f*cking thing that Sean tried to give me. Confirmation numbers for two flights to Los Angeles. For crying out loud. Do all guys share one brain or something? Like a collective consciousness that causes them to make the same bone-headed moves?

“You’re not coming to LA with me,” I inform Dean.

He looks startled.

“I’m not turning down the part because I don’t want be away from you. I’m—”

“The ticket isn’t for me.”

“—turning it down because—” I stop. “Wait, what?”

“It’s not for me,” he explains. “It’s for your dad. I know you don’t want to be away from him. So I figured instead of you giving up your dream to stay on the east coast with him, you keep the dream and he comes to the west coast with you.” Dean shrugs. “I already ran it by him and he’s on board. He said he’ll start looking for a place to rent once you give him the word.”

I’m…shocked. I can’t help but remember the day at the coffeehouse with Sean, when he insisted on coming with me. And now here’s Dean, insisting on me going without him.

My dad was wrong. And right. He was right and wrong. Dean fell apart, yes. But maybe he needed to fall apart in order to learn that life isn’t perfect, that bad things do happen and you can’t stop living when they do.

Smiling, I hand the envelope back to him. “I’m turning down the project.”

He looks annoyed. “Allie-Cat—”

“Not because of my dad,” I cut in, “although I’m glad to know he’s willing to relocate if I do end up working in LA. I’m turning it down because the project isn’t right for me. I don’t connect with the role. And the contract requires me to commit to seven seasons if the show takes off. I’m not signing away seven years of my life to play a part I can’t stand.”

“Oh. Well, f*ck. I guess I should’ve asked you before I bought these non-refundable tickets, huh?”

“You think?”

Chuckling, he yanks me back in his lap, and I wrap my legs around his hips and my arms around his neck. I try to kiss him, but he speaks before my lips can connect with his.

“I made some decisions too.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh really? Like that?” When his cheeks turn pink, I pounce immediately. “Holy shit, are you blushing? Okay, now I’m really curious. What’s going on?”

“I’m, ah…gonna be a gym teacher.”

My jaw falls open. “Seriously?”

He looks embarrassed. “I spoke to Coach Ellis about my options. Turns out private schools play it fast and loose with the requirements you need to teach there. I don’t need a degree in education, but it helps. And when I was in New York, I hopped on the phone with the admissions officers at NYU and Columbia. Both told me the same thing—I can upgrade my degree. It’s just an extra year of classes, kinesiology, health and wellness, that kind of stuff. But I’d be able to teach at the same time, depending on the school that hires me.” He shifts awkwardly. “I did something crappy.”

“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.