The Score (Off-Campus #3)(64)

“Go away,” I tell him.

His nostrils flare. “No.”

“Fine, then stay out here. I’m going home.” I fumble with the clasp of my clutch. I need to call a cab and tell Hannah I’m leaving. Dean snatches the purse from my hand, summoning an irritated expletive. “Can I please I have my purse back?” I demand.

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re pissed at me.”

I don’t answer.

“Stop acting like a brat and f*cking talk to me,” he orders.

“Why don’t you go find Penelope?” I suggest. “I’m sure she’d be happy to talk to you. If you’re lucky, she might even stick her tongue down your throat again.”

He’s momentarily startled. Then he starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of Penelope?”

“I’m not jealous,” I answer coolly. “I just don’t appreciate being lied to.”

Dean’s jaw falls open. “When did I lie to you?”

My cheeks heat up. Damn it. Damn him. And damn me for giving him the power to make me feel so…so…God, I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now.

“You promised to let me know if you were going to hook up with someone else,” I accuse.

“I didn’t hook up with her.”

“Hannah said you were kissing her.”

“No, she was kissing me. Or trying to, at least. I told her I wasn’t interested.”

“You did?” Some of my indignation falters, but I force myself not to soften. It doesn’t matter what Dean did or didn’t do. I still allowed this fling to veer in a direction I’m not comfortable with, and now it’s time to get back on the right path.

“Yes, I did,” he retorts, “because contrary to what you believe, I’m a man of my word. I told you I wouldn’t screw around with anyone else.”

“Fine. I believe you.” I swallow. “Can I go now?” I try to grab my purse but he keeps it out of my reach.

“You’re still pissed,” he says flatly.

“I’m not.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, baby doll,” he snaps.

“Are you saying your she-kissed-me story is bullshit?” I snap back.

“No, what I’m saying is—” He spits out a frazzled curse. Then exhales slowly. “I’m saying you’re not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong. And FYI? If anyone should be pissed right now, it’s me.”

My jaw drops. “How so?”

“I’ve been getting shit for two days thanks to your Houdini act in the bathtub,” Dean says darkly. “I found a bottle of lube under my pillow last night with a note from Garrett saying ‘For your ass’. Logan bought a carton of pink lemonade and keeps giving me a thumbs up every time he drinks a glass. Grace can’t look me in the eye without giggling. And now I’m getting shit from you, and you won’t even do me the courtesy of telling me why?”

“I’m…I’m…argh, I’m done with this.” The words burst out before I can stop them. “We’re not flinging anymore, okay? It’s done.”

Dean’s shoulders set in a severe line. “Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“And I don’t get a say in it?”

“No.”

“Bullshit,” he says again. “You can’t just call it off without giving me a good reason.”

A powerless feeling rises in my throat, because I don’t have a good reason.

“I had a bad day and you were the first person I called.”

That sounds insane if I say it out loud. But I know myself. I can feel myself falling into the boyfriend bear-trap, and I need to step out of it before the damn thing snaps shut and mangles my poor helpless heart.

“Are you telling me you’re not attracted to me anymore? Is that it?”

“No, that’s not it. You know I am. But—”

“But nothing.” He edges closer, and my breath gets trapped in my lungs. His eyes are on fire, his chiseled features twisted in a feral look. I’ve never seen Dean angry before. It’s hot as hell. “How about we recap what happened tonight? How does that sound?”

Before I can blink, I’m against the brick wall, and his mouth is inches from mine. We’re half hidden between a stack of milk crates and a dumpster that is blessedly empty. Not that it matters, because even if it were overflowing with garbage, I still wouldn’t be able to smell anything other than Dean’s spicy, masculine scent. Every time I inhale, the addictive fragrance makes my brain foggier and foggier.

“You heard I was at the bar with another chick, and you got jealous. How am I doing so far?”

I clench my jaw.

“Then you freaked out because you got jealous, right? Am I still nailing this?” When I don’t answer, he locks my chin in his hand. “What’s going on in that gorgeous head of yours? You think this means you’re going to fall for me? That because you want me all to yourself, it means we’re on the track to marriage and babies?”

His mocking tone grates. “Don’t be an ass.”

He ignores me. “Well, it doesn’t mean anything, baby doll. So you were jealous. Big deal. Do you know how f*cking jealous I am right now? Do you think I like seeing every guy in the bar drooling over your tits and shoving their hands in their pockets to rearrange the stiffys you gave them showing up in that getup? I want to rip their eyes out just for looking at you.”