as if he's thinking deeply. Then, in a rough, almost hoarse voice, he speaks. "I wouldn't touch Kate fucking Coleman again even if I were riddled with disease and she was the only cure," he spits out, sounding furious—with me or himself, I'm not sure. Dean stops and turns his head, his eyes finding mine over his shoulder. It looks like he wants to say more, but instead, his eyes turn to the floor of my open closet door. "While you're getting dressed, you should pack a bag too. spring break starts tomorrow."
Startled by the abrupt shift in conversation, I gape at him. "Why the fuck would I pack a bag?"
He smirks, turning sideways as he steps out of the room, leaving the door hanging open. "Because unless you've cleared it with your dorm manager you can't stay in Havers over break."
My jaw drops. No one had fucking told me that. "You're lying!"
A barked laugh escapes his mouth. "No, I'm not."
I take two steps forward, curling my fingers around the edge of the door frame as I glare up at him. "Then I guess I'll just have to clear it with her," I snap. Because there's no way I'll be going back to Plexton.
Dean's lids lower as he smiles down at me. "You might find that a little difficult," he says with a wink. "After all, I did tell you that I can get whatever I want, baby."
Down the hall, the bathroom door opens and Rylie appears, pink-faced and scrubbed clean, carrying her caddy. She stops when she sees that Dean's still here and her mouth twists down in an irritated scowl. I can fully relate to what she's likely feeling right now.
I lift onto my toes until I'm as close to Dean's height as I can get. "Well," I say quietly, letting my eyes drift down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more, "you're not getting me."
Dean tilts his head to the side and I watch as that silver barbell I'd noticed before flashes behind his teeth. "We'll see, Avalon," he says, before taking a step back. "We'll see."
41
Avalon
When the sun rises the next day, I’m unceremoniously booted from the Havers dorm just like Dean had predicted. Rylie steps out onto the front steps alongside me and sighs, casting a look my way without turning her head like she doesn’t want me to know.
“Don’t say it,” I warn her, sliding my cheap ass shades over my face and looking up into the clear sky. It’s going to be a scorcher and the heat only makes my scowl deepen.
“Maybe you should call—”
“There’s no need,” I say, cutting her off as I readjust my backpack. And I’m proven right when, after a minute the low, thumping sound of rock blasting through classic speakers comes around the corner and a cherry red Mustang pulls up in front of us. Dean is such a fucking enigma sometimes, and yet so predictable at others, it drives me insane, but at least this time I’m right. I glance back at Rylie and arch a brow. “Wanna come along?”
She scrunches her face up and takes a step back, the sunlight glinting off her hair and making it appear more blonde than lavender. It’s been a while since she’s given it a touch up, and it’s fading back to its original color. “Not a chance in hell,” she says with a firm shake of her head. “You might be crazy enough to spend a week with the Sick Boys, but I’ll take my chances with where I’m heading.”
The passenger side door opens and Dean steps out, aviators centered on the bridge of his nose as he leans against the back of the car with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches us from several feet away, waiting for me to make my move—and I will … in a moment.
“Where are you heading?” I ask, cutting a look to Rylie.
Her shoulders stiffen and she hefts her bag up further on her shoulder. “I don’t ask about your time with him,” she says, nodding to the man currently watching and waiting for me. “You don’t ask me about what I do on my own.”
I purse my lips, but she’s got a point. “Alright, well…” I head down the front steps. “See you in a week,” I call over my shoulder.
“If they don’t kill you!” she calls back.
I laugh. As if that would happen…
My legs carry me towards the Mustang and Braxton grins from the back,