The Score (Off-Campus #3)(7)

“Sowing oats is fun,” he agrees solemnly. “One time I sowed this really hot oat who poured maple syrup all over my dick and then licked it off.”

“Ew.” I roll my eyes. “And actually, the oat sowing sucked. I went out with a few guys and they were all total sleazebags. It made me realize how good I had it with Sean.”

Dean blows another cloud of smoke. “Okay. But then you guys broke up again.”

“Yeah.” The memory evokes a rush of aggravation. “That time it was because he got insanely controlling. One of his frat brothers hit on me at a party, and Sean decided that nobody was ever allowed to look at me again. He started telling me how to dress, texting all the time asking where I was and who I was with. It was suffocating.”

It’s Dean’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the chick who got back together with him afterward.”

“He promised it would be different. And it was. He stopped being clingy, and he was so good to me after that.”

Dean seems unconvinced, but I don’t care. I don’t regret taking Sean back. After two and a half years with the guy, I knew we had something worth fighting for.

“Which brings us to breakup number four.” Dean slants his head curiously. “What happened?”

Discomfort squeezes my chest. “I told you. We were fighting a lot.”

“About what?”

The words spill out before I can stop them. Damn it. Did he lace this weed with truth serum or something? “Mostly about graduation and what we’re going to do after college. My plan was always to move to LA and focus on my acting career.”

Or New York… But I don’t mention that to Dean. I still haven’t made any decisions, and Dean is the last person I want to discuss deep, life-changing career moves with. The guy’s about as deep as a puddle.

“Sean was okay with it when we first started dating, but this summer he suddenly decided he doesn’t want me to go into acting. Actually, he doesn’t want me to work at all.” I frown. “He got it into his head that he’s going to work at his dad’s insurance firm in Vermont and I’m going to be the happy homemaker who has dinner waiting for him when he gets home.”

Dean shrugs. “Nothing wrong with being a homemaker.”

“Of course not, but I don’t want to be a homemaker,” I say in frustration. “I’ve spent almost four years working my ass off to earn this drama degree. I want to use it. I want to be an actress, and I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support me. He—” I stop, biting my lip.

“He what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” I snatch the joint from his hand and inhale deeply. Too deeply, because I start coughing like crazy on the exhale. My eyes water for a moment, and when my vision clears, I find serious green eyes watching me carefully.

“What did he do?” Dean demands in a low voice. “And how bad of a beat-down does he deserve? Me and Garrett can handle our own in a fight, but if you want some bone-crushing, we can unleash Logan on him.”

“Nobody is crushing anybody’s bones, dumbass. Sean didn’t do anything terrible, and I don’t need you to beat him up. The only thing I want you to do is take this stupid phone.” I shove my cell phone in Dean’s hand. “Keep it away from me this weekend, okay? Only give it back if my dad calls. Or Hannah and Stella. And Meg and—you know what? I’ll check it a few times a day under your supervision. That way you can slap me if I try to text Sean.”

Dean looks intrigued. “So I’m…what, your relationship sponsor? I’m the one who makes sure you don’t fall off the wagon?”

“Yep. Congratulations, you finally get to do something worthwhile with your time,” I say sarcastically.

He tips his head. “What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re helping someone other than yourself?”

“Naah. How about a BJ? I’ll do it for a BJ.”

I give him the finger. “You wish.”

“Fine, an HJ.”

“Don’t be a dick. Please. I have no willpower when it comes to Sean.”

As if on cue, the phone buzzes in Dean’s hand, and my first instinct is to try to grab it. He swiftly takes a step back, then glances at the screen. “It’s Sean.” His mouth quivers in amusement. “He misses the taste of your lips.”

My heart does a painful flip. “Another rule—you’re not allowed to tell me what he says.”

“You’re giving me a lot of responsibility here, baby doll. I don’t like responsibility.”

Shocker. “You can handle this, baby doll. I have faith in you.”

Dean takes one final drag of the joint, then snuffs it out in the ashtray and heads for the glass sliding door. God, even the way he walks is arrogant. And he looks good doing it. My gaze unwittingly rests on his taut ass and the way his sweatpants cling to it. Yep, I’m checking out his ass. I mean, it’s a spectacular ass, and I’m a woman—how could I not?

“You’re going about this the wrong way, you know. The best way to get over someone is to hook up with someone else. ASAP.”

His words jolt me out of my butt-ogling. “I’m not ready to be with anyone else yet.”

“Sure you are. Seriously, just find yourself a rebound.” Dean whips up his arm. “I volunteer as tribute.”