up against the wall of an outdoor shower.
I don’t even get a chance to apologize. Leah drives her back to Burlington on Monday morning, because she was heading into the city for a doctor’s appointment.
Wednesday is our algebra day, though. So at least there’s that.
On Wednesday afternoon I’m buying a treat for Chastity at the bookstore—this time it’s a tiny box of two truffles from Lake Champlain Chocolates—when Rickie texts me. Chastity just called the house. She doesn’t need tutoring today.
Wait, what? That’s patently untrue. It’s going to take all we’ve got to get her through this class. That’s not mean; that’s just the truth.
Is she okay? I text back.
She sounded fine, he replies. Coffee shop with me instead?
Sure. Why not.
If I don’t have to coach Chastity in algebra, I might as well have cookies and gossip with Rickie.
The guy at the counter is waiting for me to hand over four dollars for the truffles in their tiny box. I give him the money and zip the box into a pocket of my book bag. I’m going to see Chastity soon, right?
I sure hope so. I hope I haven’t screwed up a really great friendship.
These are my thoughts as I walk to the coffee shop. I pull open the door and scan the room, looking for Rickie. He’s not here yet, and the good velvet sofa is taken by a couple of girls.
My gaze snags on a shiny head of hair bent over something on the coffee table. And I realize that the good velvet sofa has been taken by Chastity, of all people.
She doesn’t look up as I walk past on my way to the coffee line. She’s deep in conversation with another girl. This one is really young-looking, with braces and a girlish smile.
“That’s it!” Chastity’s friend exclaims. “Now reduce that fraction and you’ll have it done.”
I stiffen. They’re doing algebra. Without me.
The coffee line moves forward, and I stew on this while the barista makes change for my ten-dollar bill. I’ve been replaced. That’s what happens when you act like an asshole, I guess.
I don’t like it.
“Hey, little dinosaur. Why the long face?”
Rickie has appeared beside me. I don’t know how I missed him before. He’s wearing studded motorcycle boots, cut-up jeans and a bonkers red velvet jacket over his black T-shirt. “Hey. Nice jacket. But I think you’d clash with the purple velvet couch.”
“We can’t have it anyway.” He snickers, tilting his head towards Chastity. “Your girl is cheating on you.”
“Ouch, man. That’s a theme with me, I guess.”
“I’m kidding. But why would she do that? It makes no fucking sense. Is she still upset about finding that strange girl in your bed? That was kind of ugly.”
“Nah.” Funny thing is, I’d already forgotten about that. And Chastity had seemed to shrug it off. “The problem is I got sloshed Saturday night, too. That’s when I did the real damage.”
“Uh-oh.” Rickie flinches. “What happened?”
I’ve spent the week trying not to replay it in my head. “I accidentally kissed her.”
“Accidentally?” Rickie’s eyes narrow. “How does that work, exactly?”
I have to admit it’s a good question. “First you get skunk-drunk. Then you let your ex-hookup trick you into thinking you’re getting a blowjob behind the bunkhouse.”
Rickie laughs. “I’ve got to see this orchard someday.”
“You have a standing invitation.” Rickie has never taken me up on my offer of a weekend in Tuxbury. He doesn’t like to sleep anywhere except for his own bed.
“Finish the story,” he prompts.
“Well…” The trouble is that I can’t really understand how it happened. I grabbed Chastity, pushed her up against the wall like she was any hookup. That part was a misunderstanding. It’s just that I didn’t stop there. The moment my hands landed on her body, I knew who she was. And then I kissed her anyway. Several times. I just didn’t want to stop. “There’s no good explanation,” I admit as the barista hands me my coffee. “Except to point out that I was drunk, sad, and looking for trouble.”
“How much trouble did you get into?” Rickie asks. There’s an irritating smile playing on his lips.
“It was just a few sloppy kisses,” I grumble. “Then I came to my senses.” Sort of. It literally took an explosion to wake me up from the madness.
Rickie’s gaze flits over to Chastity on the sofa. “But what did you do afterward? If she’s mad at you, I’d start there.”
“I apologized.”
“How?” he asks, retrieving his own cup of coffee from the counter.
“I don’t really remember,”