Heartland (True North #7) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,28
bathrobe. His ever-present teacup is in one hand, and his other holds a volume by Goethe. In German. He lifts his big eyes, peering at me from beneath his mop of hair. Rickie has the good looks of a European model who doesn’t take good care of himself.
“Sorry, dude,” he says. “You know I’m not her biggest fan, but I thought you should know.”
“Of course I should know.” Jesus. I don’t need people to tiptoe around me. I’m not fragile like that.
I carry my duffel bag over to the counter and pull out some food that my mother sent home with me. Frozen chili and a ham casserole. She thinks I eat junk in Burlington.
She’s right.
“Sit a minute,” Rickie says after I close the freezer.
I hesitate. I shouldn’t stew over Kaitlyn. I should run upstairs and write my econ paper.
But I pull out the chair opposite him anyway. Even though sitting “a minute” with Rickie often involves starting a seemingly trivial conversation and then glancing at the clock on the oven to find that it’s four a.m.
The chair creaks when I sit down, because it’s from 1953. Rickie collects mid-century furniture, but not the fancy stuff. The chair is an ugly metal number with a plastic cushion printed with daisies.
He carefully marks his place in the book and then closes it. “What are you going to do about her?”
“I’m going to call her out,” I say immediately. “I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”
Rickie gives me a sly smile. “You actually could.”
“No, I can’t. I held up my end of our bargain. I’m never exclusive with anyone. She knows this.”
“She does,” Rickie agrees. “That’s why she demanded that in the first place.”
“Just to bend me to her will.”
“Yes. Now you’re getting it.” He smiles like this is fun. “But you didn’t bend far enough. You deserted her on Friday night, so she punished you on Saturday.”
And now I feel stabby. So it’s probably a mistake to take out my phone and tap Kaitlin’s number, but I do it anyway.
She answers immediately. “Hey, you home?”
“Yep,” I say, quietly seething. “Just sitting here, catching up with Rickie.”
There’s a silence on her end.
“Did you see him last night?” I ask. “At the multicultural house?” I don’t even know where that is, come to think of it.
“I did happen to notice him at one point. Yes.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly. “Did you also happen to notice that you were hooking up with a guy who wasn’t me?”
“Dylan.” She sighs. “I was hoping you’d let this go.”
“Would you?” I demand. “The only reason we’re exclusive is because you wanted it that way.”
“Yeah, but it was just a stupid night. I missed you, and I was bored. So I went out looking for trouble.”
Trouble. It’s a strange choice of words. Although I’m definitely troubled. “Well, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Really? Who did you spend your weekend with? Oh wait—Chastity.”
Christ, not this again. “I didn’t fool around with Chastity. Do you get that there’s a difference?” My voice squeaks in anger.
“You want to, though! You can’t keep your eyes off her.”
“She’s a friend, Kait. I’m not attracted to her. Stop putting words in my mouth just to make yourself feel better about this.”
“Dylan,” she says softly. “I didn’t even let him fuck me. Let’s not fight.”
“We won’t have to,” I snap. “We’re finished. I’ll drop your stuff off at the dorm’s front desk tomorrow.”
I end the call just like that. Because there’s nothing left to say.
Rickie sets down his teacup and gives me a slow clap. “Well done. Clean break. You know I never liked her.”
“Yeah, but I did.” I feel like punching Rickie right now. And for what? Cluing me in? None of this is his fault.
“What did you like about her?” he asks.
“What does it matter now? This is why I don’t date.”
He gives me a pitying look. The tea kettle whistles, and I get up to pour myself a cup. “Did you really take the stage at the poetry slam?” I ask suddenly. That would have been fun to watch.
“Yes and no. I was too stoned to make something up, so I read ‘she being Brand’ by e.e. Cummings. That guy was a fucking genius.”
“I see what you did there.” We both laugh, because that poem is a thinly veiled description of sex. It was definitely the most shocking thing ever assigned in my high school English class.
After refilling both our mugs with hot water, I sit back down at the table with a