The Score (Off-Campus #3)(59)

My reassurance has the opposite effect. Her eyes darken with displeasure. “So you’re going to tell him you had a random girl over?”

“Would you rather I said it was you?”

“No. But…” She bites her lip and says nothing.

I’ve been with a lot of women. I know women. And when they clam up like this? They’re not just working one thought over in their brains. Nope, they’re constructing a complicated web of scenarios and what ifs, each thread layering over another, thickening and twisting until suddenly they’re mad about something that never even occurred to you.

I stifle another sigh. “Spit it out, Allie-Cat.”

“Are you sleeping with anyone else?”

That catches me off guard. “No. Of course not.” Once again, the reassurance falls on deaf ears. She’s even warier now. “I’m not,” I say firmly.

She studies my face as if she’s playing Where’s Waldo, except she’s hunting for a lie instead of a weirdo in a hat. Then she lets out a breath. “We probably should’ve had this conversation before we had sex again. The whole are we or aren’t we exclusive.”

I suppose she’s right, though it’s not a discussion I have often. Everyone I hook up with already knows it’s not exclusive. On both sides, because it’s not like they’re staying true to me either. I f*cked a cute sophomore a few months ago who openly admitted she’d just come from a date with someone else.

With Allie, I just assumed it was exclusive. I wouldn’t dream of playing games with Wellsy’s best friend.

“We’re exclusive,” I tell her.

“You seriously haven’t been with anyone else?” She doesn’t even try to hide her surprise, and I don’t know if I should be insulted.

“Not since the first time you and I were together.”

She nods. “And you’re cool with that?”

“Are you?”

Another nod. “I want it to be exclusive. I mean, I understand that this is a fling, but I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of you sleeping with anyone else. Same goes for me—I won’t do it either.”

“Okay,” I say easily.

Allie remains unconvinced. “You’re being too agreeable about this.”

“Would you prefer I throw a tantrum and demand to f*ck other people?”

“No, but…” And there she goes, biting her bottom lip again. “You’re saying you’re perfectly content to just be with me for as long as this lasts? What if I get busy again like I was these past couple days? You won’t go out and jiggle down with someone else?”

I was good with this talk up until this point. Now I’m annoyed. “What, you don’t think I can keep my pants zipped for a couple measly days?”

“We didn’t see each other for three days, Dean, and you wouldn’t stop whining about how hard up you’ve been.”

“Just because I like having sex on the reg doesn’t mean I’m crawling the bars every second of the day looking to get my nut off.”

“Okay. Sorry,” she says ruefully. “But I had to ask.” She fidgets with the bottom of her towel. “Look…do me a favor, all right? If someone hits on you when you’re out and you’re dying to sleep with them, or if you just feel like, um, taking another lover…will you shoot me a text saying ‘fling over’ or something?”

“I will,” I promise her.

But honestly, I don’t envision that ever happening. I haven’t thought about anyone else since Allie bulldozed her way into my bed that first night. Which is disconcerting. I figured that if we hooked up enough times, I’d eventually get her out of my system, but this girl turns me on something fierce. Even now, in the midst of an awkward conversation about ‘taking other lovers’, my body is primed for a second round.

I’m starting to wonder if I’ll ever get her out of my system.

*

Allie

I went on my first casting call when I was twelve. I was super pumped about it, and although I didn’t get the part, I still had a blast reading for the casting director, who was the loveliest woman I’d ever met. She gave me valuable feedback I still remember to this day and advised me to keep at it because she saw “something” in me.

It wasn’t too long after that when I realized the audition process isn’t always kittens and rainbows. Doesn’t matter if you’re reading for commercial gigs or day player jobs or juicier roles—you’re bound to face this particular hurdle at least once: the difficult acting partner.

Yep, there’s one of those at every audition. The person who tries to sabotage you even though you’re reading for different parts. Or out-act you because they need to look better. Or behave like an unprofessional ass and forget all their lines, making you look bad in the process. Or sometimes they’re just jerks, and you’d rather boil every inch of skin off than be in the same room as them, let alone read a scene together.

I’ve encountered all types of scene partners over the years, and the best advice I ever got about how to handle it came from Jack Emery, the acting coach at the drama camp where I volunteered.

He told me to use the negative energy.

You can’t control how the other actor is going to behave. You can’t force them to remember their lines, or force yourself to make nice with someone who, frankly, doesn’t deserve the energy it takes for you to fake a smile. Jack instructed me to take that negative energy and channel it into my own performance. Sure, the advice doesn’t necessarily apply when you’re reading for a cereal commercial and you’re supposed to be happy-go-lucky, all smiles as you shovel sugar into your mouth.