The Score (Off-Campus Book 3)

April

Graduation is looming. I’m kinda indifferent to it, if I’m being honest, but whatever, I’ll wear that cap and gown and throw my diploma up in the air, because I know it’ll make my parents happy. Me, I’m just happy in general, because I’m in love with the greatest girl in the world, and the greatest girl in the world is in love with me.

And even though the team didn’t make it to the playoffs, that doesn’t mean there isn’t any news on the hockey front. My man Logan was signed by the Providence Bruins, the farm team for the Boston Bruins, which means in a year or two? He might actually get called up to play for the pros. As for Garrett, his agent is working hard behind the scenes. Apparently several teams have shown interest in G, and I’m crossing my fingers that he ends up somewhere good.

I already know where I’m ending up—Manhattan. Last week, I interviewed for the teaching position at Parklane Academy. Yesterday morning, the headmaster called to tell me I got the job. It’s a two-year contract, the second year conditional upon whether I upgrade my degree.

And I guess my sister is on to something about her universe theory, because an hour after my call with Parklane Academy? Allie’s agent phoned with news that made her shriek so loud that Garrett heard her all the way from his shower and flew into my room buck-naked, armed with a hockey stick.

Once we assured him everything was okay—and commented on how pretty his dick looked—Allie revealed she’d been offered a role on a cable show being developed by hotshot director Brett Cavanaugh, who she did a play with last summer. No audition necessary—Cavanaugh liked working with her so much that he offered her the role outright. The best part? The show is being filmed in New York City.

Allie says she still wants to do theater too, when the show is on hiatus, or if it bombs, which I don’t think it will. But the most important thing to her is that she wasn’t cast as the ditzy airhead. This new role is serious and “meaty”, as she likes to say, and I know she’s looking forward to the challenge.

“What if I have to show my boobs?”

Her wry voice jolts me from my thoughts. We’re walking hand-in-hand on the path leading away from the drama building, where her monologue class just let out. There’s still a chill in the air, but everything is starting to look green again, and the snow has melted away, leaving a layer of slush on the cobblestone path.

“Did Ira say that?”

“No, but this is HBO. Chances are, they’ll ask me to do nudity. At least a topless scene.”

“Would you be okay with that?” I ask carefully.

She shrugs. “As long as it’s not gratuitous, then sure, I’d consider it.” There’s a pause. “Would you be okay with it?”

I cast her a devilish grin. “Babe, your tits are fan-fucking-tastic. I’d never deprive the world of them.”

“Be serious. Would you mind?”

I consider it, then shake my head. “I’m cool with it. It’s part of your job, and if you’re comfortable flashing some skin, then so am I.”

She leans in and smacks her lips against my cheek. “You’re awesome. You know that?”

“Of course I do. I hear it at least ten times a day.”

Her answering laugh is cut short when a familiar figure steps into view. My shoulders go rigid as Allie’s ex-boyfriend slowly approaches us.

Sean stares at our joined hands. I don’t need to look at Allie’s face to know what she’s feeling right now. I can tell by the way her fingers tighten around mine that she’s not happy to see him. That she hasn’t forgotten all the callous shit he said to her after Thanksgiving.

“Hey, Allie.” Sean looks miserable, but I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for him. “I thought about calling you.”

“Don’t,” I say brusquely. “You need to forget her number.”

Allie gives me a reassuring squeeze. “We already said everything we needed to say,” she tells her ex. Her tone is soft, but firm.

Sean clears his throat. “I owe you an apology.”

“Yep, and you’ve just made it and I accept. But we’re not friends and we won’t be.” She moves forward. I’m reluctant to do the same. I’m aching to punch that bastard in the face, but Allie is pulling me away from him, her fingers laced tightly through mine. “He’s not important,” she murmurs to me.

She’s right. He isn’t.

We’ve barely taken five steps before I spot another familiar face. This one belongs to a hot blond who smiles and waves as she passes us. “Looking good, Di Laurentis.”

I don’t return the compliment, because I like having balls and Allie will rip them off if I flirt with Michelle. Besides, I don’t want to flirt. Allie’s killed that desire. She’s the only one I want to flirt with. Plus I like having my balls attached to my body.

So I just say, “Nice to see you” and continue along.

“I guess this is the day of the exes, huh?” Allie says dryly.

I roll my eyes. “Michelle’s not an ex.”

“Right. She’s just someone you had a threesome with.”

“Almost had a threesome with. You cockblocked me, remember?”

“Yep.” She looks pleased with herself, and I pretend to pout. “Ha. Don’t act like I ruined your one chance for a threesome. I’m sure that wasn’t your first rodeo.”

I offer a little shrug.

“Fucking hell. How many threesomes have you had?”

This time I wink. “A few. You?”

“Tons.”

I stiffen. “Names and dates,” I growl. “I need to make a new Kill Bill list.”

Allie bursts out laughing. “Relax. You were there for all of them.”

A frown touches my lips. Uh, I think I’d remember being in a threesome with—

“You, me, and Winston,” she says happily.

I groan in exasperation. “That doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. DP was involved.”

Hell yeah it was.

*

An hour later, we’re back at my place. It’s Allie’s turn to pick a movie, which means I have time to take a shower, because it always takes her a ridiculously long time to decide what she wants to watch. I wander into the living room ten minutes later to find her snuggled under an afghan, fiddling on her phone.

Her mouth falls open when she sees me. “Oh my God, Dean. Why are you naked?”

“I don’t like shirts.”

“What about pants?” she squawks. “Got something against those too?”

I cross the room and drop my naked ass on the couch, then grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over my lower body. Allie watches me in amusement.

“What?” I say defensively.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s so anti-clothes. It’s so weird.”

I take her hand and bring it under the blanket. Placing it directly on my semi-hard dick. “Weird, or awesome?”

She rubs her thumb around the head of my cock, then sighs. “Awesome,” she amends.

“So what’d you pick?” I gesture to the TV screen, all the while enjoying the slow, lazy strokes beneath the blanket.

“Oh, you’ll like this one!” Her hand stills as she turns to beam at me. “It won an Oscar.”

A groan slips out. “No, baby doll. No. I refuse to watch another one of your ‘Oscar winners.’”

She clicks the remote with her free hand and my eyes widen in delight.

“The Exorcist?” I blurt out. “The fucking Exorcist?” The hand job I’m getting doesn’t even register anymore. I’m too pumped that she chose a horror movie, and Little Dean is paying the price for my non-sexual-based happiness.

“See what a good girlfriend I am? I’m all about the compromises.” She grins. “This relationship rocks.”

“Damn right it does.” I kiss her cheek, then suck in a breath when something occurs to me.

“What is it?” she says in concern.

I turn to her with even wider eyes. “Babe…are we boring?”

Allie hoots. “Did you really just ask that?”

“Yes, I fucking asked that.” I wave a hand around the room. “Look at us. It’s Friday night and we’re on the living room couch, talking about how great our relationship is. That’s the most boring thing we can be doing.” I sigh loudly. “Is this our life now? Doomed to stay in and cuddle every night? Is the excitement over?”

“The excitement isn’t over,” she assures me.

“Are you sure? Because it kinda feels like—”

“Hey.” Tucker’s voice cuts me off, and we both look up to see him standing in the doorway.

“Hey.” I wrinkle my brow. “I thought you were hanging out with Hollis tonight.”

“Plans changed.” He enters the room, taking in the sight of us under the blanket. “G and Logan around?”

I shake my head. “At the dorms.”

“Shit.” He drops his hand to his side. His strained expression is alarming. So is the way he keeps shifting his feet, like he can’t find the right position he wants to be in.

“Everything okay?” Allie asks lightly.

Tucker hesitates. “I… Fuck, I was hoping the others would be home so I could tell everyone at once.”

“Tell us what?” My uneasiness grows.

“I…uh…” He stops, closes his mouth. Opens his mouth. Stops again. Then he lets out a breath that sounds like it’s sucked right out of his soul. “I’m having a baby.”

Silence crashes over the room.

From the corner of my eye, I see the wide O of Allie’s mouth. Her shock is as palpable as mine.

Like an idiot, I stare at Tucker’s abdomen for a good ten seconds, before remembering that we don’t live in a world where Arnold Schwarzenegger can carry a child.

“You’re having a baby?” My mind continues to spin like a carousel, making it hard to speak without stuttering. “With…with who?”

Tucker meets my confused eyes and says, “Sabrina James.”

And beside me, Allie starts to laugh.

I swivel my head toward her, but her laughter keeps sputtering out, low and wheezy, until finally she catches her breath and gives me a wry look. “The excitement is over, huh?”

Well, fuck me.