Page 11 of Heartland

“No, I can’t drive. Too much booze and pot.” I’m barely tipsy, but I won’t risk it. I’m a fun guy, not a stupid one. “It’s a ten-minute walk at the max.” I put a hand on Chastity’s shoulder and guide her toward the door.

“They’restillhaving sex,” she breathes. “Does it usually last that long?”

Kaitlyn snorts, and Rickie chuckles. “Depends who you ask.”

There’s a reason that I’ve never invited Chastity to one of Rickie’s parties. You never know what you’re going to see. I open the front door and remind Chastity to watch the steps. “They’re steep.”

“I can handle a couple of stairs, Dyl,” she says with a sigh.

“It’s cold,” Kaitlyn complains.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” I point out. “The wind off the lake makes Burlington one of the coldest places in Vermont.” I remove my jacket and lift Chastity’s backpack off her shoulder. “Trade you.”

“Why?” she asks as I set the jacket onto her shoulders. “You don’t have to.”

“I’ve got a flannel shirt on. And I run hot. All you’ve got is…” I gesture toward her pretty silk shirt. And I kick myself a little for noticing how good she looks tonight. It’s not the first time I’ve snagged my eyeballs on Chastity’s cleavage. You’d have to be blind not to see how pretty Chastity is, or how stacked.

But it’s bad form to ogle your drunk friend. Luckily, Chastity accepts my jacket and buttons it, shielding that delicious cleavage from view.

We head down the street. It’s a crisp, fall night. The lamps inside all the antique homes give the rooms a yellow hue. The air smells like falling leaves and wood smoke, and I associate that smell with sadness.

Because I hate October.

Chastity stumbles on a sidewalk crack, and my hand shoots out to catch her. But she doesn’t actually go down, and she quickly shakes off my hand.

Beside me, Kaitlyn is silent and probably fuming. Good thing I know just how to cheer her up. You have to play to your own strengths.

I’m not the most reliable guy. But I am a good time. Sometimes it’s enough.

Four

Chastity

The walk homesobers me up a little. One of the loud songs from the party is still playing in my brain, and every few minutes I catch myself humming. Maybe I don’t know how to hold my rum, but I had a good time with Rickie. He’d been sillier tonight than I’d expected him to be.

And he didn’t treat me like a child, the way Dylan does. I don’t need to be walked home like a puppy. The only upside is that Kaitlyn is super annoyed right now.

I swear I’m usually a nice person, but she brings out the worst in me.

When we get to the dorm, I expect Dylan and Kaitlyn to wave goodbye from the door and return to the party. But that’s not what happens. They walk inside with me. I press the elevator button because my feet are a little clumsy, and I don’t feel like proving anyone’s point by stumbling on the stairs.

I have to hold tightly to the remaining shreds of my dignity. Not that there are very many.

Upstairs, Dylan watches me unlock the door with slow fingers. “How’s your stomach?” he asks.

“Fine,” I insist.

“That’s good. I’m going to find you some Advil. If you take it now, you might not feel so bad in the morning.”

“Good idea,” I mumble. I go into my room and find my flannel pajamas.

I’m just removing my bra when Dylan walks in. “Whoa!” He turns around in a hurry. “Brought you a glass of water, too,” he says, facing the wrong direction.

“Thanks.” Dylan is really so nice to me. He feeds me. He looks after me. Except in the way that I really want him to…

“If you still feel okay at breakfast, we can study some algebra,” he says.

“Oh, we’re totally studying algebra.” I don’t know why he thinks I’m going to be wrecked by a couple mugs of spiked cider. Rickie didn’t think it was a big deal.