Page 37 of The Save

“I’m not dating Melody.”

“Well. You met her after.”

Chase gave me an amused look. “Yeah.”

My heart sped. I leaned over to pull my binder out of my bag, then flipped to my literature section. “It doesn’t matter, I already explained what was happening there, so I just wanted you to know. That’s why I got weird.” I grabbed a pen and flipped to the poem handed out in our last lecture.

The Fire SermonfromThe Waste Landby T.S. Elliot. Barf.

“Because of the biology thing.”

I glanced up. Chase stood next to my table. Pen between his teeth. Papers and calculator in his hand. He kicked out a chair and sat, spreading his work out next to mine.

“Right. But I’m working on that.” I looked back at the poem, the words blurring in front of me.

“How?”

I chewed my lower lip. That was an excellent question. “By acknowledging it and saying it out loud.”

“And that gets rid of it?”

Hell, no.I was starting to sweat. “Mmhmm.”

“Huh. Well that’s good to know.”

I underlined the title on my page.

“Should’ve used that in high school.”

I snorted. “Whatever. You got whoever you wanted. You didn’t need to make anything less awkward.”

Chase didn’t answer right away. I moved on to underlining the poem, hoping he’d gone back to his work.

“Maybe I was looking for proof, too,” he murmured.

The rush in my veins slowed to a deep, rhythmic pulse. I drew a breath and looked up. Chase’s brow was furrowed. He was reading my poem.

“Don’t—”

“This is about sex.”

I pursed my lips, heat flashing up my neck. “Yep.”

Chase made a face. “Terrible sex.”

I laughed, then felt a swoop in my stomach when I realized that probably meant he knew the difference. What had Shar said that night she slept at my house? Good sex happened when you could talk about anything?

I stared down at the page.

“‘The time is now propitious, as he guesses,

The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,

Endeavours to engage her in caresses

Which still are unreproved, if undesired,’” Chase read aloud. “So . . . the guy’s a creep.”

I nodded, my eyes still glued to the page. It was the next lines that did me in.His vanity requires no response . . . one final patronizing kiss . . . Well, now that’s done, and I’m glad it’s over.

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