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I panic for a second thinking something is wrong, but then I note the “please” and figure it must not be anything truly urgent or important. Come to think of it, nothing ever seems urgent or important to him. I actually think it’s something I like about him. It’s helping me feel less in a rush and less like I need everything to be planned right this second.
The girls get out of the car, but not before they shoot me a few wiggling eyebrows, make a few kissing noises and tell me to have fun. Eye roll again. I wait to make sure they get inside their apartment before I pull out of the complex.
I make the ten minute drive back to Dean’s, questioning myself the entire way. He told me to come in the first place but didn’t hang around at all. Now all of a sudden he misses me? I’m confused, but I want to see him more than anything. How could I not when I walk down the hill of his backyard and he turns around, a smile instantly lighting his face when he sees me? Seriously, the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. He doesn’t walk to meet me, but as soon as I get within reach of him, he pulls me into a tight hug. The earthy smell of his body wash fills the air around me, and I breathe into his chest until he lets me go.
“Where were you!” he exclaims, but then immediately turns to respond to something Aden said. I choose to ignore his question and sit on the log that has been turned into a makeshift bench in front of the fire. A minute later Dean realizes I’ve sat down and grabs my hand, pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go inside,” he says with a glimmer in his eyes.
Ooook, so that’s why he wanted me to come back.
A ton of people are still partying in his backyard, but even though everyone is drunk, it's pretty quiet. Quite a few people are chilling by the fire, or sitting in the camping chairs on the back porch. “Let’s get a drink instead.”
Without saying anything, he just smiles and leads the way to the porch. He man hugs his buddy when we make it up the hill–you know the adorable thing men do where they grab each other’s hand then pull together and reach their other hand around their friend’s back for a quick half-ass hug. I don’t get a drink because I didn’t actually want one. Whenever I’m around Dean, my mind is intoxicated enough. I’ve been confident about how each night will end with us for a while now, but we are in a new situation and with how hot and cold he is tonight, I don’t want to count on anything. I want to make sure I’m good to drive if I want to leave.
He introduces me to his friend, who is also a psychology major apparently. We start talking about the professor for the Psychology of Drugs class we’ve both taken because wow, did that lady seem like she was the one on drugs. His friend, whose name I’ve already forgotten, is telling me a story when I see Cassie, the girl Marcus pointed out earlier, approaching out of the corner of my eye. Ugh, what is that bitch still doing here? I’ve already decided I don’t like her even though we have never met. The last thing I want is competition for Dean’s attention. She takes advantage of the fact that he’s standing there, half listening to us, but not engaged in the conversation.
“Heeey, Dean,” she says in a flirty voice.
“Cassie,” he replies in a flat tone. “Have you met Maci?” His fingers brush against my arm to get my attention.
“No.” She glares for a split second before she plasters a fake smile on her face and reaches out to shake my hand. Rolling her eyes, she turns into Dean’s friend, leaning far into him like she’s trying to make a point, which is evident by the way she looks back to see if Dean is watching.
That quiet laugh escapes his lips right before he winks at me then pulls me into another hug. He whispers into my ear, “I’d choose you over her any day, babe.” It wasn't lost on me that he used the word “babe” for the first time, though not loud enough for anyone else to hear it. It’s like he was sensing and trying to ease my insecurity.
The back porch lighting is dim, but I can see Cassie glaring at me. He puts his hand on the small of my back–the place it tends to gravitate–and starts talking to no one in particular. “Well, we are headed in for the night, friends. Someone put the fire out when you leave!”
I don’t like what he’s implying to everyone by us going inside together, but the look on Cassie’s face is worth my uncomfortableness thanks to his public declaration.
When we get inside, he closes the door behind us, heading straight ahead to the kitchen sink to grab himself a glass of water. He stays quiet as he takes a sip, then sets his cup on the counter. I pick it up to take a drink too, keeping my eyes locked on him the whole time, searching for answers. I am seriously conflicted. Sometimes he has me questioning if he’s hiding something or being weird. But then other times it feels like that might all be in my head. More often than not when he’s with me he acts like he doesn’t care about anyone else in the room and isn’t afraid if they see that. I sigh and look away from him as I set the water down. He walks around to the side of the counter that I’m on–his hand finding my back again–and leads me to his room.
We sit on his bed, silence filling the space between us for a second. I have no idea what the hell to say to him right now.
“Where did you run off to earlier?” He seems genuinely curious.
“I was taking my friends home. They were convinced they needed pizza at that very moment.”
“Oh, so you’re not drunk?”
“No. I wasn’t sure when I would be driving home, so I didn't want to risk it. Why?”
“What do you mean? I invited you over. I don’t want you to leave. I never want you to leave.” There’s confusion in his eyes, like he doesn’t realize his actions contradict his words tonight.
“Were you drinking?” I question because I can’t really tell with him. He’s usually chill all the time. Although maybe it's that I don’t know him well enough to see the difference.
“Nah, wasn’t feeling it tonight,” he says with a nonchalant shrug as he leans in, his body pushing me backward until I'm flat against the mattress and he’s hovering over me. “I prefer something else as my drug of choice.” He leans down and kisses my neck softly, continuing up my neck, until he reaches my mouth. All of a sudden he pulls back, bringing his eyes to mine. “You know, you’re the only girl I’ve ever not used a condom with.” He says it quietly, but matter of factly, as if it was a sentence people say all the time. His lips crash back into mine, this time with much more intensity and urgency. I’m trying my best to not totally freeze and to participate in what’s happening, but what? I pull back to say the last part aloud, along with a nervous laugh. “What?” Surely he can see the confusion in my scrunched up face.
“Yeah…” His voice gets softer, like he realizes it was a weird thing to say but knows he can’t backtrack now. “When we were at Jameson’s…I didn’t plan on that happening. I usually think before I act. I’ve never followed through on something I was unprepared for like that, but I didn’t care about anything but being closer to you.”
He’s talking as if this is a big deal for him. As weird of a confession as it was, it felt genuine, and if it’s true–I don’t know why it wouldn’t be–he must be feeling a similar connection to the one I do. He runs his hand up my arm before it catches around the back of my neck. It shoots a tingle through my entire body. There’s no way he doesn’t feel something like this when he touches me. I mean, it’s nearly impossible to help myself around him. I swear I’m under some spell that’s created a current that’s constantly pulling me toward him.
“I really like you, Dean.” The truth tumbles out of me quietly as I look into his brown eyes. I can hear the nerves in my own voice at my confession.
“I know. Me too.” He hesitates, like he wants to say something else. Instead, he leans back down to kiss me. Once I give into it, there’s never any talking myself out of it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Avery:Hey, do you have a date with Dean this weekend?
Maci:We don’t really make plans in advance. Why, what’s up?
