“Ha. I’m going to post it all over the Internet. Guess what, folks—Dean Sebastian Kendrick Heyward-Di Laurentis is over at my place right now watching soaps and drinking girly drinks.” She sticks her tongue out at me. “You’ll never get laid again.”
She’s right about that. “Can you at least add that the night ended with a blowjob?” I grumble. “Because then everyone will be like, oh, he suffered through all that so he could get his pole waxed.”
“Your pole waxed? That’s such a gross description.” But her eyes are bright and she’s laughing as she says it.
Christ, she’s so pretty. And sexy…so goddamn sexy. I wonder why I never noticed it before, but I guess it’s because every time I saw her prior to Friday night, she was glued to her boyfriend’s side.
The moment I think about Allie’s ex, her phone buzzes. Speak of the devil.
“What does he want now?” I have trouble hiding my irritation, but she’s too distracted by the text message to notice.
She tilts the screen toward me, and my annoyance grows. So can we meet up 4 coffee? it says. I really need 2 talk 2 u.
“Say no,” I advise.
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip. “It’s…hard.”
“You have no problem saying no to me.”
“I didn’t date you for three years,” she points out.
I gently take the phone from her hand and set it on the table. “Okay. You ready for some real talk?”
She nods shakily.
“Sean is going to keep texting you. He’s going to keep emailing and calling and doing everything in his power to win you back. You want to know why? Because you’re smart and funny and smoking hot, and he knows he’s a total idiot for letting you go.”
Surprise fills her eyes.
“He’s going to keep at it. Which means you need to learn to ignore it.” I study her face. “That is, if you’re serious about moving on.”
She nods again, resolute this time. “I am.”
“Then move the fuck on, babe. You can’t run to your friend’s boyfriend’s house or hide out in the dorm every night. Tell the guy you don’t want to talk to him, and then go out and find yourself some distractions. I can help you, if you want.”
“Let me guess,” she says dryly “You volunteer as sexual tribute?”
“Nope. For once, I’m not talking about sex.”
“What do you suggest then?”
I grin. “I think you need to live the Life of Dean.”
“Huh. Okay. So I should throw on some hockey pads, let a bunch of behemoths smash me into the boards every night, and reward myself with a never-ending string of casual sexual encounters. Got it.”
I lean in and tug a strand of her hair. “Don’t be an ass.”
“My apologies.” She smiles. “Please, tell me more about the Life of Dean.”
My hand travels across her smooth cheek to grasp her chin. “Look at me, Allie-Cat. Does it look like I have many problems? Are you ever going to find me moping in my room or stressing out about trivial bullshit?”
“No,” she says slowly.
“I’m an overall happy person, right?”
Her suspicious gaze locks with mine. “Yes. But how is that even possible? Nobody is happy all the time.”
“It’s absolutely possible.” I rub my thumb over her lower lip. Her lips are so fucking soft. I’m dying to kiss them again. “You want to know my secret?”
“Mmmm?” She sounds distracted. I stroke her lips again, and I’m gratified when her breath hitches.
“I do what I want, when I want it. And I don’t give a shit what other people think about me.”
That gets her attention. “Sounds nice, being able to do what you want all the time. Sadly, that’s not how life works.”
“You make life work for you, babe.” My fingers travel down her slender throat, skimming over her pulse point. “What do you want, Allie? Tell me one thing you’ve been dying to do but haven’t gotten around to doing.”
Her forehead furrows as she thinks it over. “Well. I’ve been wanting to start a new cleanse, but I keep putting it off.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“I go on these juice cleanses a couple times a year,” she explains. “It sucks, because you’re stuck on a liquid diet for two whole weeks, but you feel so much better afterward.”
“You’re a fucking weirdo. Pick something else. Something normal.”
She pauses, deep in thought again, and then her expression brightens. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to salsa dance.”
Fuck. That’s such a chick thing to say. “Then do it,” I tell her.
She chews on her lip again. “I don’t know… I mentioned it to Sean once but he didn’t want to take lessons with me, and I was too embarrassed to go alone. I looked into it and found out that if you show up alone, they pair you up with a random partner.”
“So what? It’s an opportunity to make some new friends.” I shrug. “I think you should sign up.”
“Are you offering to take salsa dancing lessons with me?” Her expression is hopeful.
I snort. “No way. I only do what I want, remember? And I do not want to salsa dance. But I think you should.”
“Maybe I will,” she says thoughtfully.
“That’s the spirit.” I give her chin a teasing pinch. “Stick with me, kid, and your entire life will change for the better. That’s the Di Laurentis guarantee.”
Allie heaves out a sigh.
“What?” I demand.
“I can’t decide if you’re being sincere or if you’re trying to get in my pants again.”
I waggle my eyebrows. “Who says it can’t be both?” When that gets me another sigh, my voice becomes gruff. “I’m being sincere.”
“Wow. I think you actually mean that.”
For some reason, her careful scrutiny has me shifting uneasily. And I’m suddenly wholly aware of the fact that I’m not wearing a shirt. She is too, because those big blue eyes drift lower, focusing on my abs before she wrenches her gaze away. The air between us seems to crackle. Allie’s pupils are dilated, and there’s no mistaking the rapid flutter of her pulse in the center of her throat.