The Score (Off-Campus #3)(90)
There’s a beat. “Morning,” Hannah answers.
Allie approaches the counter and picks up the coffee pot. When she leans on her tiptoes to grab a mug from the top cupboard, I can’t help but give her jutting ass a little smack.
Hannah glares at me.
Garrett shakes his head.
“What?” My expression is innocent.
Allie sips her coffee, then wraps both hands around the mug and addresses the room. “Okay. Real talk, guys.” She glances at Hannah. “Dean and I are together. There. It’s out in the open. You may now commence with the questions.”
Hannah’s mouth stays closed. For someone who’d had questions galore only minutes ago, her silence is surprising. Worrying. Her troubled green eyes tell me she’s not happy with this new arrangement.
“No? Nothing you want me to say?” Allie lifts the mug to her lips. “All righty then.”
I hide a smile and turn to Garrett. “Hunter and I have an hour of ice time today. Coach signed off on it. You want to come?”
He rubs a hand over his jaw, scratching the dark stubble there. “You still giving Davenport pointers? Working one-on-one?”
I nod. “He’s eager, works hard. But I think some tips from another forward will do him some good.”
Garrett nods back. “Sure, I’ll tag along. Wouldn’t mind working with him on penalty killing. He made too many mistakes during that Burlington power play yesterday.”
“At least we won the damn game.”
“True. Our record still blows, though.”
“It’s a fucking bummer, man. My Hurricanes have a better record, and they’re frickin’ middle-schoolers.”
“Your Hurricanes?” He grins. “Dude, admit it. You’re in love with those kidlets.”
“Fuck off. I just have fun coaching—”
“You both need to go!” Wellsy announces, a mix of annoyance and exasperation on her face.
Garrett is visibly hurt. “You’re kicking me out?”
“I’m sorry, babe. I love you with all my heart but it’s time for some girl talk, and last I checked, you don’t have a vagina. Therefore, you need to go.” She scowls at me. “You too, Dean.”
I know better than to argue with Hannah Wells when she’s set her mind to something. She wants us gone, then gone we shall be.
I drain the rest of my coffee, place the empty cup in the sink, and glance at Allie. “I’ll call you later?”
“Yep.” She walks up and gives me a chaste kiss on the cheek, but there’s no way I’m leaving without something a little more substantial. Capturing her chin in my hand, I tip her head back and press my mouth to hers. The kiss I give her is deep and hungry, involving a helluva lot of tongue, and lasting long enough to make Hannah squawk.
“Okay, enough!” she orders.
As Allie and I break apart, I toss a grin in Wellsy’s direction. “Oh, relax, baby doll. It’s just a little French kissing between me and my girl. Nobody died.”
Hannah’s mouth falls open. Then she points to the door and growls, “Out.”
*
Allie
“His girl?” Hannah says the moment Dean and Garrett are out the door. “Explain yourself, Allison. I mean it. Explain. Yourself.”
I swallow some more caffeine. I need to jumpstart my brain if we’re going to have this conversation right now. Though honestly, I’m not sure I can explain myself. I can’t make heads or tails of this Dean thing either.
I guess I’m his girl?
Which means he’s my guy?
Because we’re a couple now?
Bottom line: I did not expect last night to end the way it did. After the way Sean completely lost it and treated me like a clump of dog shit under his shoe, I should’ve been ready to swear off all men, and somehow I wound up with a boyfriend. Life is fascinating sometimes.
“When did this happen?” Hannah’s voice softens as she searches my face. “And why didn’t you tell me?”
I shrug awkwardly. “I was embarrassed.”
“Why would you be embarrassed?”
Sighing, I carry my coffee cup to the sofa and sink down on it. I tuck my legs under me and wait for Hannah to join me. “Because…because it’s Dean. Dean Di Laurentis, the biggest player we know.” I feel bad saying it, but I’ve always been honest with Hannah. “He’s annoying and ridiculous and totally not my type.”
Or at least that’s what I used to believe, before I got to know him. Sure, he’s still annoying and ridiculous more often than not, but there’s so much more to Dean than I ever could’ve imagined.
Hannah purses her lips. “All right. Start from the beginning. When did this happen?”
“When do you think?” I say wryly. “The night I stayed over at their house.”
Her face pales. “Oh God. So this is my fault? I did this to you?”
I burst out laughing. “No, I did it to myself. I got drunk and wound up in his bed. It’s all on me.”
“And now you guys are together?” She looks flabbergasted. “How is that even possible? You said so yourself—he’s the biggest player we know. Why would you ever agree to date him?”
“Because I like him,” I say simply.