I stare back at him, wracking my brain for something that is even remotely Last Rites worthy. To be honest, I’m not all that interesting. I pay my taxes, I drive the speed limit, I don’t owe anybody any money. I’ve never cheated or stolen. And I always put the toilet paper roll in the ‘over’ position. “Fine. But I’m kind of boring, so you’ll have to go first. Maybe you’ll inspire something sordid and obscene buried deep in my subconscious.”

“Okay.” Dean’s expression turns more serious, the corners of his eyes creasing as he contemplates his confession.

His stubble has grown into scruff over the past week. The dark hair lines his chin and jaw, giving him a rougher appearance. Mandy didn’t like the scruffy look when he’d occasionally let a modest beard grow out. She said it made him look like a mountain man. I never paid much attention at the time, but now that his face is the only thing I have to look at, I have to say I disagree with my sister. It’s masculine. Rugged.

Maybe a little sexy if the face wasn’t attached to Dean Asher.

A few more minutes tick by and the suspense is killing me. He’s watching me like he’s questioning his truth bomb—possibly regretting the whole thing. “Any day now, Dean.”

A sigh escapes him. “All right. Fine.” His eyes look even bluer as they hold mine. “I had a thing for you first.”

What?

I choke on nothing. I start coughing and sputtering, and I have to force my eyes away from him. “What are you talking about?”

Dean bites his lip with another indifferent shrug. “Before I started dating Mandy. It was freshman year and you walked into Mr. Adilman’s class wearing that little denim skirt and purple blazer. Your hair was all long and gold and had some kind of flower clip in it. I thought you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”

My heart is doing the Macarena, and my jaw drops like a comical cartoon. I think I’m speechless, which is new for me, but words aren’t coming out and even my breathing has come to a screeching halt. Dean looks a little amused as he watches me from a few feet away, his eyes dancing over me while he awaits my response.

I don’t respond, though. I’m definitely speechless.

“Your turn,” Dean finally says, his voice soft and lilting.

I slow blink my thoughts into actual words, then shake my head. “It’s still your turn. It’s one-hundred percent still your turn. What are you even talking about? Was your turkey sandwich laced with all the drugs?”

Dean laughs, sliding his socks across the floor and stretching out his long legs. “I thought I was taking that one to the grave,” he admits with a grin. “But I couldn’t let you go on thinking I hated you. That’s so far from the truth.”

“You sure could have fooled me. You could have fooled everyone. Why were you such a jerk to me?”