Waylaid (True North #8) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,83

and pray that one of them can see past my senior year transfer.”

He nods slowly. “Got a safety school picked out?”

“Sure. I could probably stay here in Vermont. My summer job—which will soon become my all-year job—means I can probably win over the Moo U crowd.”

Those gray eyes measure me. “But you don’t want to stay here.”

“I can’t stay here,” I say quickly. “I mean I could, but I just can’t.”

He cocks his head. “Come again?”

“Well, it’s just that I—” How to put this in a way that won’t make me sound like a snob or a bitch? Seconds tick by while I come to the realization that there isn’t a way. Maybe I am a snob and a bitch.

He waits.

“I’ve invested everything into this career path,” I say slowly. “Other girls had lots of fun. And other girls had boyfriends. I studied. I put all my chips on one thing, and that thing was an Ivy League education. My family invested in me, too. Dylan went part-time to school when I went full-time.”

“That was his choice,” Rickie points out.

“Yeah, mostly,” I concede. “But it kept costs down at home. And now he’s behind and trying to catch up so he can graduate and get back to taking care of business. I have to finish what I started. That means getting into a top program and getting great funding.”

“So this is about money?” He gives me the eyebrow quirk. “Burlington would cost more?”

“It’s unclear,” I admit. “But it’s not a top program.”

“What makes a top program a top program?” he asks.

“Um…” This is not a question I want to answer. “Bigger programs do more research. They have more connections. For later. Berkeley is a huge program.”

“I see,” he says calmly. But I hear something else in there. Like I’ve let him down somehow. “You like California?”

“I’ve never been,” I admit. “But it’s really far away from Harkness, Connecticut. And that’s the other reason I need to get into a top program. If I don’t, if I settle for second best, then he wins the battle.”

“Uh huh,” Rickie says flatly. “Course, if his actions send you five thousand miles away from people who love you, arguments could be made that he’s still driving this bus.”

My jaw drops. But before I can formulate a response, he opens the truck’s door, gets out, and delivers the first crate of liquor of the day.

I put my laptop away. And I’m simmering with irritation when he comes back to the truck. But I don’t say anything, because Rickie isn’t wrong. Everything I do is informed by My Biggest Mistake.

Not that it’s any of Rickie’s business.

And it’s not like I have a choice. My own mistakes got me here. All I can do is make the best of it. Berkeley, California would be the best of it.

Not that I really want to move five thousand miles away and start over making new friends. Again.

My thoughts fester as we make two more deliveries. And I’ve worked myself up into a Major Snit™ by the time Rickie pulls into a parking spot right in front of the School of Public Health.

I grab my backpack off the floor and reach for the door handle.

“Hey, Shipley, hold up.” He pulls the keys out of the ignition and turns to face me. “I’m gonna need a kiss before I go.”

Even though I’m a little annoyed at him, my stomach does the same swoopy thing it always does when he trains those perceptive eyes on me.

But a glance out the window shows me that Karim is standing right in front of the building, his phone to his ear. And I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself at work. “Make it quick, McFly,” I say. “My coworkers can see us.”

He reaches up and cups my face in his hand. “See, I don’t have a problem getting you all hot and flustered in public places. But that’s just me.”

I roll my eyes, even though his touch feels so nice. “Trying to be a professional here. Stop making it difficult.”

He chuckles. Then he leans in and kisses me softly. It’s quick, and leaves me hungry for more.

“Damn, Shipley. When you look at me like that, it’s tough to let you walk away.”

I swallow hard. But then I open the door and climb out.

“Daphne!” Karim calls out. He’s watching me now with a smile on his face. Oh boy. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” I say as Rickie climbs out of the other side of the

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