I ge
t him to hang out at the rec a couple of times. Kids like him the way cats like people who are allergic to them. Some of the boys recognize him as Dean Youngblood, football star, and act like star struck little girls around him. The Jubilee kids love him because he talks to them like they’re adults. You can see the moment Dean lets his guard down, and starts having fun with them. Watching him laugh like the boy he used to be makes something in my chest ache. Sierra tells me, “Hey, that boy is cute!” I have to say, I agree wholeheartedly.
Dean is lying on the ground next to my bed, hands laced behind his head in a supremely comfortable position. It’s his turn to pick the music, and so we’re listening to that nightmare-inducing speed metal crap that he likes. When it’s my turn, I’m going to eighties monster ballads him to death.
I’ve never seen him look
this relaxed when we’re around other people. Part of me is sad for him, but the bigger part enjoys the privilege of being the only one to see this side of him. I roll over onto my stomach and stare holes into him.
“Quit pouting, Juliet,” he says without looking at me.
“I’m not,” I lie. I reach over to turn down the volume on his phone so he can hear me. “If you don’t want to lie on this soft comfortable bed with me, then I’m not going to force you to. I was actually wondering—do you like camping?”
“I do,” he says, turning his head to look at me. “But my idea of camping may not be the same as yours. I like driving to the middle of nowhere with just my truck and a gun.
”
“You own a gun?” I ask
, peering down at him.
“Several. My dad has a whole arsenal.”
“I can shoot a gun,” I tell him, resting my chin on my stacked hands. “When my uncle still lived here, he used to take me and my cousins shooting about every other weekend.”
Dean studies me thoughtfully. “I can’t even picture you holding a gun,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re too cute and delicate.”
“I’m a pretty good shot,” I huff at him. “Anyway…your version of camping is not camping—it’s a line from a country song. Where do you sleep if you don’t bring at least a tent?”
He looks amused at my indignation. “In the truck. It’
s warm, and comfortable. Once, I drove out to the Tonto National Forest in Arizona. Fell asleep in the truck—and when I woke up there were three mountain lions on the hood, staring through the windshield at me.”
“Like you were dinner?”
Dean flashes me a heart-stopping grin. “No, they were just curious. And I think they were more attracted to the heat from the engine than by fresh meat. It was pretty awesome.”
“It sounds pretty awesome.” I consider this
. “Let’s go camping—but at a campground. I like being close to nature, but I also like having access to indoor plumbing. There are some really nice places in Oregon that I know of. We should check it out someday.”
I sneak a glance over at him to see what he thinks of the idea, and to my relief, he’s still smiling.
“We could do that,” he says. “Anytime you want.”
I slide
off the bed, and land right on top of him. He makes a grunting noise as the air is forced from his lungs at my weight. If he’s not going to join me on the bed, there’s nothing to stop me from getting on the floor with him.
I move into a kneeling position next to Dean, and nudge him in the ribs
. “Wednesday’s Signing Day, huh? Are you nervous?”
Dean
rolls onto his side, facing me. “No,” he replies matter-of-factly.
“Even with the press conference?”
I continue, leaning forward.
“It’s not a big deal,” he replies distractedly. I realize he’s staring at my braless chest.
It always amazes me that I have the ability to turn him on when I know he’s been with girls whose porntastic bodies make my own look like a ten year old boy’s.
Turned-on Dean is soo hot.
I try to ignore the way his gaze lights fires in me that I’m certain only sex with him can put out. Wednesday. Right. “And you’re still going with LSU, right?”
“That depends,” he says, lightly running his fingers over my bare leg, sending shivers in their wake.
My eyes widen in surprise. “On what?”
“On you.”
When I just stare at him, confused, he suddenly sits up. “I can play ball anywhere. My only requirement is that you’re there, too.”
“Are you serious?!”
I can only gape at him. “You’d still want to be with me?”
Dean just looks at me. “Why do you think I keep asking you which colleges you’ve applied to?
Why do you think I’m here almost every night?”
Wow, okay. I blow out a nervous breath, then wrinkle my nose at him. “You’d really change schools for me?”
“Yes,” he says simply. And I believe him. Dean doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.
I stare down at my fingers twisting nervously together. “Well, it turns out, you may not have to. LSU happens to be one of the plac
es I’ve applied to,” I confess.
Dean’s eyes widen fractionally. “Is that a lucky coincidence?”
“Well, I told you, I don’t know where I want to go. You mentioned going there—and I decided to check it out online.” I shrug self-consciously. When I glance up and catch his smirk, I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t get all cocky about it! I only applied because I like the fact that it’s an hour and a half away from New Orleans. I’ve always wanted to live there.”
He turns into serious Dean again,
pulling me into his lap. “Pick LSU, Juliet,” he murmurs close to my ear.
And just like that, I’m almost panting. Hordes of butterflies start fluttering under my skin. Damn it, this isn’t good. I can see myself
agreeing to anything Dean asks, and I can’t remember why that’s a bad thing. Is it? Hm…
It bothers me that I want to give in so easily
—I’ve done it before, remember? I changed schools for Johnny, and look what that got me. Okay, actually it ended up working out pretty damn good so far—but that’s not the point. I seem to be the kind of girl whose one passion in life is the boy she’s dating. I don’t want to be that girl.
I wiggle off of Dean’s
lap, trying to create some space between us. “Why would I want to do that?” I ask, going for nonchalant.
When I stare
at him expectantly, he sighs and runs a hand through his short dark hair. “I’m not good at this,” he mutters.
“At what?”
I raise my eyebrows at him.
Dean makes a frustrated noise. “Telling you what you want to hear…how I feel about you.”
I scoot closer to him again. “You don’t have to,” I say softly. “I was just giving you a hard time.”
He keeps his head down for the span of several heartbeats. When he looks up again, I am utterly entranced by the lovely clarity of his almost translucent eyes
. “I don’t know any love poems, or anything,” he says, self-consciously rubbing a hand over his mouth.
“Dean.”
I roll my eyes at him. “You’re face is a love poem.”
Humor lights his eyes. “
I think that’s my line.”
“Yeah, right.
My
face is more like nursery rhyme.” I climb back into bed, and stare up at the ceiling.
The bed dips a little, and Dean’s face suddenly appears over
mine, bracing himself over me with his hands planted on either side of my head.
“I know what I want,” he says quietly, holding my gaze.
“I won’t change my mind, and I don’t cheat.”
Will I ever get used to that amazing face looking down at me with such intensity? I reach up to skim my fingers over his cheek, just to assure myself that he’s real.
“I’m scared,” I admit.
“Of me?” he asks, moving inches closer.
I don’t answer, because I don’t know. Besides, Dean’s lips are temptingly close. I raise up on my elbows, and close the short distance between us. Unable to help myself, I dive right into a full on R-rated kiss.
I love the way he
reacts when I touch him—like someone losing a battle with himself. He lowers himself over me, pinning my hands above my head, and so easily we become lost in each other. I could be sublimely happy if we were the only two people in the world right now.
I can tell by his taut muscles that he’s keeping himself on a tight leash. I don’t help matter
s when I arch up against him, clearly breaking the “don’t tempt Dean” rules. He makes a strangled noise, and tries to draw back.
“Juliet,” he growls warningly.
“Dean,” I reply, putting everything I’m offering in that one syllable.
But he’s shaking his head, trying to disentangle himself from me. “Not until you’re sure this is what you want.”
“I don’t know,” I say, agitated. “I mean, I really want to, but…”
“I know,” he says, holding himself off of me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling the rock hard tension in his body.
“Don’t be. I’d do anything for you,” Dean says fiercely, brushing my hair back from my face.
I reach up to wind my arms around his neck. “I would let you do anything to me,” I whisper recklessly.
I swear, something primal moves behind his eyes, and I half expect him to turn into a werewolf or something.
Breathing hard, he pushes himself off of me. “Don’t say that to me,” he says in a dangerously low voice. “You don’t know what I want to do to you.”
Okay, now I’m curious. “Is it something really kinky?”
He glances over his shoulder at me, smirking
. “Go to bed, Juliet.”
“Okay. Seriously
, dude…how kinky are we talking? Because I’m not down with pain.”
Dean’s already walking away.
He scoops up his workout bag before he leaves, so I assume he’s going for a run. “Good night,” he says without turning around.
I watch him disappear out the door. Well, damn. I roll onto my side to stare at Big Willow, who has the place of honor right next to my bed. “How am I suppose to sleep now?” I ask her.
It’s probably my imagination, but I swear she winks at me.
******
Chapter 43
I blink, and it’s Wednesday. Dean is going with LSU. I point out to him that
I won’t know where I’m accepted for two months—while he has to make a commitment, like, now. I want to reassure him that I’ll definitely pick LSU if I get in, but something is holding me back. The smart thing to do would be to not make any promises until the letters come in. That will give me time to think about things, and make sure I’m not making the wrong decisions here. Because no matter how I feel about Dean, there are other things to consider. Like…
Look at him. Then look at me. He’s a freaking super model star football player, and I’m—I look like the girl next door’s little sister.
What gonna happen when we get to college, where the girls are more supposedly more aggressive? What if he’s discovered by a big Hollywood director who takes him away and introduces him to a ton of glamorous actresses?
M
y fears are only intensified at the press conference. Dean’s dad shows up, acting like he’s his agent. Dean just ignores him, and handles the press with a stone face and a mature professionalism that impresses me. They fall all over him, as much for his looks as his talent—and everyone predicts he’ll have a rich future doing product endorsements. Mack is going to LSU, too, and the whole Aina family is there to celebrate—Mack is almost buried under a mountain of leis of flowers and candy. Lorena is there, and we sit next to each other, cheering wildly. I even cheer for Ryan and Jason, who are both signing letters of intent with East Carolina. Dean’s eyes meet mine after he signs, and something bright and hot flares between us. My face grows warm as Lorena elbows me in the ribs.
Of course, one person is conspicuously absent. Poor Johnny. I know he wanted to come to support his friends, but he didn’t want to deal with the reporters
and their insensitive questions. They have the nerve to ask Dean if it’s a bittersweet day for him, considering the fact that his stepbrother—who should be signing alongside him—is sitting at home with nothing but his crutches and broken dreams to keep him company. Dean just gives his blank cop face, admirably restraining from punching that particular reporter in the face. I feel like waiting around and tripping the guy if I get the chance.
The entire week is filled with drama. Mack is depressed because he and Lorena are fighting about—basically, about the same thing Dean and I are going through. I tell Mack he should give it some time to see where the relationship is going, and he likes that answer about as much as Dean does. Sloane is back from rehab, or wherever the hell she went. She doesn’t seem to notice the death glares I give her. Also, it really annoys me how good she and Dean look together. I hate that they’re friends, though I’m not about to say anything to him about it.