Page 36 of The Score

“Horny?” he supplies.

Yes. “Slutty.”

I don’t expect the flare of irritation I glimpse in his eyes. “You want some advice, babe? Erase that word from your vocabulary.”

I suddenly feel guilty again, but I’m not sure why. Very reluctantly, I join him on the couch, making sure to keep some distance between us.

“I mean it,” he continues. “Stop slut-shaming yourself. And fuck the word ‘slut.’ People should beable to have sex whenever they want, however many times they want, with however many partners they choose, and not get some shitty label slapped on them.”

He’s right, but… “The label is there whether we like it or not,” I point out.

“Yeah, and it was created by prudes and judgmental assholes and jealous pricks who wish they were getting laid on the regular but aren’t.” Dean shakes his head. “You need to stop thinking there’s something wrong with what we did. We had fun. We were safe. We didn’t hurt anyone. It’s nobody’s business what you or anyone else does in the privacy of their bedrooms, all right?”

Oddly enough, his words succeed in easing some of the shame that’s been trapped inside me since Friday night. But not all of it. “I told Sean,” I confess.

Dean frowns.

“Not about you,” I add hastily. “I just told him I had sex with someone else.”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” I moan. “I felt like I owed him the truth, but that’s crazy, right? I mean, we’re broken up.” Another moan slips out, this one more anguished than the first. “But we were together for so long. I’m so used to telling him everything.”

Dean absently rubs the cushion behind my head. The movement directs my gaze to his biceps, the delicious flex of muscle honed from years of physical activity. “Be honest,” he finally says. “Do you want to get back together with the guy?”

I slowly shake my head.

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I think about the nonstop argumentsSean and I had since the summer, and I feel even more confident in my decision to end it. All those spiteful comments he’d hurled my way…mocking me about my dreams…giving me ultimatums for the future…

Sean might have forgiven me for what I did after our breakup, but suddenly I’m not sure I’ve forgivenhimfor what he did before it.

“We weren’t right for each other anymore.” I swallow the pain in my throat. “If it was possible to stay in college forever, then yes, Sean and I would probably be together. But it’s time to grow up, and we want completely different things for the future. Or at least I think we do. This breakup is screwing with my head. I don’t even know what to think anymore.”

“That’s your problem. You think too much.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Gee, is that your advice? Stop thinking?”

“Stop obsessing.” Dean shrugs. “You broke up with the guy for a reason—a damn good reason, if you ask me—and now you’ve gotta follow through on it. Quit talking to him and quit second-guessing yourself.”

“You’re right,” I say grudgingly.

“Of course I am. I’m always right.” With an arrogant smile, he moves closer and rests one big hand on my knee. “Okay, so here’s our plan for tonight. First we’ll bone down to take the edge off. Then we’ll order a pizza and replenish our energy, and after that, round two. Sound good?”

Exasperation rises inside me. Every time I think there’s more to Dean than simply being a sex-obsessed horndog, he goes and proves me wrong. Or actually, he proves meright.

“Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist about your delusions?” I ask politely. “Because, sweetie, there’s no chance in hell of us boning tonight.”

“Fine. How about we go down on each other instead?”

“How about you leave?”

“Counter offer—I stay and we dry hump.”

God, this guy is incorrigible. “Counter offer—you can stay, but you’re not allowed to talk.”

He counters with, “I stay, I’m allowed to talk, but I won’t hit on you.”

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