The Score (Off-Campus #3)(22)

Get over it, I order my dick when it yet again hardens at the thought of Allie.

It twitches in response. Taunting me.

“Goddamn it,” I growl. Then I fumble on the bed for my phone and bring up the number I’d dialed last night.

Allie picks up after four rings, her wary voice sliding into my ear. “Hey. What’s up?”

I let out a ragged breath. “I want to f*ck you again.”

“Is this a thing now? You’re going to call me every night and say that?”

“Maybe?” Shit. I’m cranky and horny and as confused as she is. “Say yes, baby doll. Just say yes and put me out of my misery.”

“I already told you, it was a one-time thing. I’m not into casual sex. We had fun, sure, but—shit, I’ve gotta go. Call one of your puck bunnies and I’m sure they’ll take care of you, okay?”

For the second time in two days, she hangs up on me.

*

Allie

“Who was that?”

I jump nearly two feet in the air at the sound of Hannah’s voice. I disconnected the call when I heard her footsteps in the hall, but I hadn’t expected her to appear in my doorway this fast.

“Uh, it was no one.” Brilliant answer.

She raises one dark eyebrow. “No one?”

“Telemarketer,” I amend. “Which is the equivalent of no one.”

She grumbles in annoyance as she heads for my bed. “How do they even get our cell phone numbers? When I signed up with my phone provider, they had this whole section in their policy about how they’ll never, ever give my number to a third party. Well, I call bullshit, because guess what? I get daily calls from airlines and clothing stores and all these companies telling me about their awesome sales and saying I won some bogus prize. Oh my God, and the worst one? This stupid cruise ship promotion that starts the call with an automated foghorn! It’s awful.”

Hannah’s tangent lasts for several minutes, and I’m grateful for it because it means she’s too riled up to figure out I lied to her. And she’s so caught up in her rant that she doesn’t notice when I discreetly check the text message that pops up on my phone.

Dean: U really need to stop hanging up on me.

I text back, U really need to stop propositioning me. I know I’m a great lay, but get over it already.

Him: I can’t. Trust me, I’ve tried.

Me: Try harder.

Him: C’mon, baby doll. Just 1 more time. Think of how good it will be…

Of course it’ll be good. He’s a sex champion. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not comfortable with casual sex.

Me: Go away. I’m running lines w/ Hannah.

Him: Text me when ur done and I’ll sneak into your dorm. Wellsy won’t even know I’m there.

I’m startled to feel a sharp ache between my legs. The idea of Dean sneaking in and f*cking me while Hannah sleeps obliviously in the next room is a turn-on I didn’t expect.

I ignore the unwelcome response and type, Goodnight, Dean.

Then I turn to Hannah and say, “Are we done bashing telemarketers? Because this script isn’t going to read itself, babe.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it—I hear the word telemarketer and I turn into a ball of rage.” She sits cross-legged on the center of my bed and catches the script I toss at her.

I remain standing. The opening scene requires my character to pace, and I want to get a feel for how talking while marching back and forth will affect my breath control.

Hannah thumbs through the intro pages. “All right. Who am I? Jeannette or Caroline?”

“Caroline. Her defining traits are petty and insensitive.”

My best friend grins widely. “So I get to play the bitch? Nice.”

Honestly, I wish I was playing the bitch. My character is a young widow who lost her husband in Afghanistan, which is the more emotionally draining role. Thanks to this breakup with Sean, my emotion well is dangerously close to depleted, and I’m scared I won’t be able to tap into it and do this role justice.

My fear isn’t off base. We’re only five pages in and I’m already drained, so I call for a quick break.

“Wow,” Hannah remarks as she skims the next few scenes. “This play is intense. Everyone in the audience is going to be bawling the entire time.”

I collapse next to her and stretch out on my back. “I’m going to be bawling the entire time.” Literally, because my character weeps in every other scene.

Hannah falls back on her elbows and a comfortable silence falls between us. I like it, because I don’t have this with many people. Even with Megan and Stella, who I consider close friends, one of us is always trying to fill the silence with conversation. I think it takes a certain level of trust to sit next to someone and not feel the pressing urge to babble away.

My dad once told me that the way a person responds to silence reveals a lot about them. I always figured he was talking out of his ass, because Dad has a habit of coming up with insightful-sounding adages and insisting there’s wisdom in them, when half the time I know he’s bullshitting me.

But right now, I see the truth in his words. When I think of the silences I’ve shared with my other friends, I realize they really are incredibly telling.

Meg breaks a silence with jokes, doing her damndest to fill the lull with laughter. For as long as I’ve known her, she’s resorted to humor whenever shit gets too serious for her.