The Score (Off-Campus #3)(67)

Bottom line, it was too much heartache and not enough reward. I like to think my mom would agree with me on that. Yes, she’d urged me to work hard at relationships, and yes, relationships do require effort, but they shouldn’t be hostile, right?

I can’t imagine what Sean could possibly say that would make me reconsider.

*

Sean has snagged us a table in the back of the busy coffee shop, half hidden behind a huge ceramic planter with a fake fern fanning out of it. I don’t quite understand the décor of this place. There are way too many plants—are they going for a jungle theme? Eh, I don’t care. I love the way it smells like freshly ground coffee beans, and I’m grateful for the privacy.

Sean slides a tall foam cup closer to me. “I got you coffee.” He smiles wryly. “Vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso.”

This time, my heart does react accordingly, clenching hard. Of course he knows my coffee order. He knows everything about me, and vice versa. I don’t need to peek in his cup to know he’s drinking a medium roast, one cream, no sugar. And that the paper bag on the table contains a blueberry muffin, which is the only type of muffin he eats. When we were together, I forced him to try every muffin and pastry behind the counter, but he insisted that blueberry is the only flavor that “enchants” his taste buds.

Fuck. Now I’m just sad.

“How’ve you been?” he asks quietly.

Oh no, we’re starting off with small talk? I wrap both hands around my cup to stop from fidgeting. “All right. You?”

“Not the greatest, but…” He shrugs.

I notice he looks tired. Is he not getting enough sleep? I bite back the question before it slips out. We’re not together anymore. His sleeping habits are no longer my concern.

“I miss you,” he mumbles.

I hastily sip my coffee. I don’t say it back, because the truth is…I don’t miss him. Right after we broke up, sure, of course I did. But since then, I’ve had other things on my mind. The play. Dean…

When I don’t respond, he continues with a dejected look. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you ended it. A lot of soul-searching.”

I finally find my voice. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

“I was thinking back to the last six months, and I realized how badly I screwed up. I was such an ass to you, Allie.” His expression is earnest. “But now I know why.”

My throat tightens. “Why?”

“Because I was scared.”

Aw shit. There’s vulnerability swimming in his eyes. I battle the overwhelming urge to reach across the table and squeeze his hand.

It’s not my job to take care of him anymore.

“You’ve had your entire future planned out since you were twelve. You knew exactly what you wanted to do, and that’s so f*cking rare. Not a lot of people can say that.” His tone grows rueful. “I sure as hell can’t. I didn’t grow up dreaming about working for my dad’s insurance company. But it’s a guaranteed job, and not a lot of people have that, especially coming out of college, but it’s not like I’ve been chomping at the bit to go back to Vermont.”

“You sure made it sound like you were,” I point out.

“Because it’s the only option I have.” He sounds frustrated. “I was trying to get myself excited about it. And…honestly, picturing you there with me made the idea of going home more bearable. An easier pill to swallow, I guess. But it wasn’t fair to you. I had no right to insist that you sacrifice the future you want just so I could feel better about the future I’m stuck with.”

I’m dumb-founded. Sean hadn’t given any indication that he didn’t want to be in Vermont, but I suppose that’s yet another sign of the communication breakdown between us.

“You told me on our very first date that you planned on moving to LA after graduation. You kept telling me that, up until the moment we broke up.” He shakes his head, shame-faced. “But this summer I decided not to hear it anymore. I convinced myself that I was the most important thing in your life and you’d go wherever you had to in order to be with me.”

“That’s not a fair expectation to have of anyone,” I say softly. “You can’t order someone to put your happiness ahead of their own.”

“I know, and I was wrong to give you an ultimatum. I told you, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.” He takes a breath. “I came to a few conclusions.”

My stomach drops when he sticks one hand in his jacket pocket. Oh dear God. Please don’t let him pull out a velvet jeweler’s box.

Is it crazy that I almost wish he’s going for a gun? That he plans on holding everyone hostage until I agree to get back together with him? For some screwed up reason, I think I’m better equipped to handle that than a proposal.

But his hand emerges with a narrow envelope. He sets it on the tabletop.

“What’s that?” I stare at the envelope as if it contains Anthrax.

“Open it,” he urges.

Fuckity f*ck.

“Please.”

The sincerity in his tone causes me to cave. I pick up the envelope. It’s sealed, but the flap is tucked in so I use my fingernail to pry it out. I peek inside and see a single sheet of paper, which I extract and unfold as I fight my growing trepidation.