Page 90 of The Score

Allie retaliates by putting on Madonna’s greatest hits.

Instead of punishing her, I decide to reward myself and switch from hip-hop to country. Yup, rich boy likes Tim McGraw. So sue me.

We’re still on the highway with about two hours left to go when Allie pulls out her phone and starts typing.

Keeping my eyes on the road, I ask, “Who you texting?”

“Dillon…a friend from high school. She goes to college in Florida, but I’m hoping she’s coming home for the break. Ooh, and I should check if Fletch is around.”

“Fletch?”

“Kyle Fletcher, but I call him Fletch,” she says absently. “Ex-boyfriend.”

My head swivels toward her. “You’re making plans with your ex-boyfriend?”

“Retract those claws, missy. Fletch is still a good friend of mine.”

I can’t fight my curiosity. “How long were you together?”

“Three years.”

I whistle softly. “And then three and a half more with Sean…You’re a nester, huh?”

“No I’m not,” she protests.

“Babe, that’s almost seven years of your life spent in a serious relationship. And you’re only twenty-two.”

“Twenty-one. I’m a Christmas baby.”

“For real? Your birthday’s the twenty-fifth?”

“The twenty-fourth. I guess that makes me a Christmas Eve baby. Sorry.”

“You better be sorry. How dare you mislead me like that?”

She rolls her eyes. “Anyway, fine. You’re right.Thatisa long time.” She pauses. “What’s your longest relationship?”

“A little over a year.” I answer without moving my gaze from the dark highway.

“Really?” she says in surprise. “That’s a lot longer than I expected. High school?”

I nod.

“Why’d you break up?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Because we were in high school.”

“So? What if she was your soulmate?” Allie challenges. “You don’t believe high school sweethearts can make it?”

“Nope. I don’t think you’re capable of knowing what you want or need from a relationship at that age. When you’re in high school, you have no concept of real life. You don’t realize how much growing up you still have to do. I’m definitely not the same person now that I was in my teens. Hell, I’m not the same person I was lastsemester.”

“Sure you are.” She smiles sweetly. “You were a manwhore last semester and you’re a manwhore this semester.”

“True,” I say with a snicker.

Allie drops her phone in the cup holder and shifts around in her seat so she can see me better. “Do you still talk to your high school girlfriend?”

Tension slices into my bones. “No.”

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