Page 18 of The Score

“Absolutely nothing,” I say darkly.

“Bullshit. A chick doesn’t murder a guy with her eyes like that unless he screwed up bad. Did you hook up with her?”

Tucker snorts. “What do you think, kid? I mean,lookat her.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” I mutter.

My roommate cocks his head in challenge. “So you didn’t sleep with her?”

A sigh slides out. “No, I did. But it was a long time ago. I’m pretty sure hookups have expiration dates. Like after three years have gone by, it doesn’t count anymore.”

The guys laugh. “Let me guess,” Tucker says. “You didn’t call her afterward.”

“No,” I admit. “But in my defense, it’s hard tocall a chick when one, she doesn’t give you her number, and two, when you don’t remember it happened.”

Hunter’s jaw falls open. “How could you not rememberthat?” He’s damn near salivating as he checks out Sabrina again.

“We were both wasted. Trust me, she didn’t remember much either.”

“So that’s why she hates you?” Hunter presses.

I wave a hand. “Nah. The beef started over something else. Which I’m not going to fucking talk about right now, because Jesus Christ, it’s Saturday night and we should be partying.”

Tucker chuckles. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You guys need a refill?”

“I’m good,” Hunter says.

As Tuck heads for the counter, I pull out my phone and check the time. It’s nine-thirty. I scroll through my contacts while Hunter starts talking hockey to me again. I think I still have Allie’s number from when she was planning Hannah’s birthday this spring. She’d sent about a hundred mass texts outlining every mundane detail of the party.

Yup, it’s still in my phone. I saved her contact info asWellsy’s Blonde Friend. I should probably change that toBondage Girl.

I type a quick message.

Me: You make it back to the dorm ok?

It’s a dumb question, because she left our place this morning, so of course she made it back. Still, I’m surprised when she answers right away.

Her: Yep. Here now.

Me: Shitty weather tonite. Prolly good you’re staying in.

She doesn’t respond to that. I stare at the screen in frustration, then wonder why I care. I’m the king of casual hookups. I rarely ever want a repeat performance after I’ve slept with a girl, and if there’s one girl I shouldn’t sleep with again, it’s Allie.

Not too many things in this world make it on my Scared Shitless list, but Garrett’s girlfriend is solidly positioned in the top three. Wellsy won’t be happy if she finds out I slept with her best friend, and if Wellsy’s not happy, Garrett’s not happy, which means I’ll have to deal with G tsking at me all disappointed-like. Logan will follow his lead, and then Grace will jump on the Dean-is-an-ass bandwagon, and the next thing I know, I’ll be taking shit from all directions. That’s reason enough not to go there, but my sexed-up body is being a stubborn asshole.

I want her again.

One more time wouldn’t hurt, right? Shit, or maybe twice? I’m not entirely sure how many times it will take to get her out of my system. All I know is that every time I think about her, my dick gets impossibly hard.

Beside me, Hunter has transferred his attention to a group of girls at a nearby table, and I can’t help but be proud when one measly nod from him causes the trio to saunter over to us. My boy’s got game.

“Which one of you is going to buy us a round?” one of them teases. She’s tall and blond and rocking a minidress that stops mid-thigh.

As Hunter opens his mouth to respond, all the lights in the bar flicker ominously.

I frown and glance over at Tucker, who’s just rejoined the group. “Is it the Apocalypse out there or something?”

“It’s coming down pretty hard,” he admits.

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