He ran a hand over his face, sighing before one side of his lips quirked up. “I left in a bit of a weird headspace, and I was concerned how it could’ve come across to you.”
That’s… unexpected. “You’re worried about what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah, exactly that.” His eyes warmed. “Take a pastry, please. They are for you.”
I grabbed one, my mind whirling with the notion he cared about my headspace. It was… sweet.
“So you’re not here to…” I pressed my lips together, too afraid to continue.
He tilted his head and adjusted his hat. His thick brown hair was in every direction, and my fingers twitched with the urge to touch it. I wanted to run my fingers through the strands, pull on the ends. Would he like it or not?
“I hoped to ask if you’re alright with everything we did.” He rested his elbows on the table, his stare intense. “We had a couple of drinks, and it’s important to me that you’re good. I planned to text, but this seems like an in-person conversation.”
“I’m okay with what happened. As you said, it’s all for the list.” I swallowed the ball of emotion in my throat. I didn’t wantit to bejust for the list.I wanted to burn the list but then I’d lose the competition, which was also terrible. It was a lose-lose situation for me, my least favorite situation of all situations.
“Yeah, about that.” He ran his hand over his jaw, the intensity somehow increasing in his gaze. “I have an idea.”
“For the list?”
“Kinda.” He smiled quickly and glanced inside. He wet the side of his lips, a dimple popping out for a second before he hit the table. “You want to live it up before senior year and life gets serious, right?”
Frowning, I nodded. “Yes. That was the goal.”
To have all the experiences I missed out on trying to prove a point.
“Yes. Just clarifying, stay with me here. I’ve been dealing with some things. They don’t matter. But hanging with you and doing these challenges? This has been fun as hell. I don’t have time for distractions once the summer is over, and you’ve expressed, you’re not trying to catch feelings.” He paused, arched a brow. “You feel me?”
“By feel you, the words make sense together. I still don’t understand.” My pulse raced, the constant thud under my skin like a rippling stream. Hope had me drawing some very unrealistic conclusions that I wouldn’t dare say aloud. If Dean was suggesting what I thought he was suggesting, he had to spell it out like I was a five-year-old. No offense to five-year-olds anywhere, but they knew what they were doing with simple, clear instructions.
“Here’s my idea. We explore this chemistry between us. You and me. All summer. Once classes begin, we go back to being friends. No strings, no feelings. Just fun as we work through your list.”
“Because we have chemistry,” I said, my voice sounding muffled.
He stared at my mouth. “Yes, Mackenzie. We both feel it.”
I ran my finger over the table, avoiding the split wood to not get a splinter as I let his suggestion wash over me. We were attracted to each other—this was news. I had always been attracted to him, so he was into menow.I could work with that. No feelings would be hard, but what a time to try it. This would be just another new thing for me to experience.
This felt heavy, scary even, to agree to this, but I’d regret it if I walked away. This was Dean Romano offering to be my Summer Playbook buddy.
“So,” I said, smirking and ready to push him. “Making out with three dudes in one night is off the table?”
“Yeah, no. You’re not making out with three dudes if we’re doing this together. Not a fan of that.” He shook his head, dismissing the idea with tight lines around his mouth. “You do the entire list with me. Only me.”
“You want to beexclusive?” I asked, my voice raising an octave. What was happening? What was this?
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “If you mean we agree to do the list together and not with others, then yes.”
“List-clusive?” I repeated, combining the words like a dumbass.
He nodded, his grin growing. “Definitely list-clusive. DAMPB—Dean and Mack’s Playbook Pact.”
“Wait.” I blinked. “You want to gostreakingwith me?” My voice was worse than a twelve-year-old boy going through puberty.
His gaze lit up. “I’d enjoy it very much.”
“And skinny dipping?”
“Wanna go now?” His gaze heated. “I’d love to see you underwater.”
