The Score (Off-Campus #3)(17)
“I was hoping you’d change your mind.” There’s no mistaking the sheer torment in his voice. “Fuck, baby. I miss you. I know it’s only been a couple days, but I miss you so much.”
My heart cracks in two.
“I messed up, okay? I see that now. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum, and I definitely shouldn’t have said your acting career isn’t going anywhere. I was upset and lashing out at you, and you didn’t deserve that. When I came to your opening night in Boston this summer, I was blown away. Seriously. You’re so talented, baby. I’m an ass for saying all that shit to you. I didn’t mean it.”
He’s practically pleading with me now, and another piece of my heart splinters off. “Sean—”
“You’re the most important person in my life,” he interrupts, his voice thick with emotion. “You mean the world to me, and I want to fucking strangle myself for driving you away. Please, baby, give me another chance.”
“Sean—”
“I know I can fix this. Just give me a chance to—”
“Sean.”
He stops. “Babe?” he says uncertainly.
My throat goes impossibly tight, almost like it’s trying to prevent me from saying my next words. But the guilt is eating me alive. I can’t just sit here and listen to him beg, not when I’m feeling this way. I swallow again and force my vocal cords to cooperate.
“I slept with someone last night.”
Deafening silence greets my ears. It seems to drag on forever, and with each second that ticks by, my stomach churns harder.
“Did you hear me?” I whisper.
There’s a choked noise. “Yeah…I heard you.”
We both fall silent. Pain and guilt continue to stab my insides. I involuntarily flash back to the day I met Sean. It was during freshman orientation, and I remember thinking he was the cutest boy I’d ever seen with his floppy brown hair that he’s since cropped, twinkling hazel eyes, and the cutest butt on the planet. Being the outspoken weirdo that I am, I commented on the cuteness of said butt, and his cheeks had turned redder than his Red Sox T-shirt.
We had dinner in one of the meal halls that night.
A week after that, we were a couple.
And now, three years later, we’re broken up, and I’ve just confessed to having sex with someone else. Where the hell had we gone wrong?
“Who?”
The strangled question startles me. “W-what?”
“Who was it?” Sean says flatly.
Discomfort tightens my chest. “It doesn’t matter who it was. I won’t be seeing him again. It was…” I take a breath. “It was a stupid mistake. But I thought you should know.”
He doesn’t answer.
“Sean?”
A ragged breath echoes through the line. “Thanks for telling me,” he mutters.
Then he hangs up.
It takes a while before I move the phone away from my ear. My hand shakes uncontrollably as I rake it through my hair.
God. That was…brutal. A part of me wonders why I even told him. It’s not like I cheated on him. I didn’t have to tell him. In fact, I could have spared him the pain he must be feeling right now if I’d simply kept my mouth shut. But I’ve always been honest with Sean, and some stupid, guilty part of me insisted he deserved to know.
An anguished groan flies out of my mouth. My heart hurts again. The guilt is even worse now, a tight, crushing knot in my stomach.
Rather than pick up my script, I grab my iPod instead and shove in my earbuds. Then I yank the blanket up to my neck and put Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” on repeat because it pretty much sums up how I feel right now.
Wrecked.
*
Dean
“Awww, look at him, G, he’s so precious when he’s sleeping.”
“Like an angel.”
“A really slutty angel.”
“Wait—do angels even get laid? And if so, are heaven orgasms a million times better than earth orgasms? I bet yes.”
“Uh-doy. Where do you think rainbows come from? Whenever you see a rainbow, that means an angel just came.”
“Ah. Makes sense. Sort of like how whenever a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.”
“Exactly like that.”
I crank one eye open and direct it toward the doorway. “I can hear you, you know.”
My annoyed voice puts an end to the most bizarre conversation I’ve ever heard. “Oh good, you’re up,” Logan says.
“Of course I’m up,” I grumble, rubbing my eyes. “How am I supposed to sleep when you two fucktards are standing at the foot of my bed talking about angels blowing their loads?”
Garrett snickers. “Like I’m the first one to ever wonder about that.”
“Trust me, you are. When’d you guys get back?”
Logan props one massive shoulder against my doorframe. “About an hour ago. Gracie needed to be back early because she has a show to produce tonight.”
I nod. Logan’s girlfriend works as a producer at the campus radio station. Which reminds me… “You planning on calling in and professing your love again?” I ask mockingly.
He sighs. “You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?”
“Nope.” Though I wish someone had recorded that radio segment so I could pull some quotes from it and torture him with them. After screwing up and nearly losing Grace last weekend, Logan had won her back by calling the advice show she produces and saying the sappiest shit imaginable. I worry about him sometimes.