Page 101 of Heartland
“I don’t like to talk about it,” she whispers. “It was the most humiliating day in my life. They took turns with the horse whip.”
My eyes slam shut against that image. Another wave of helpless disgust makes my guts roll. “Jesus. I’d really like ten minutes alone with whoever did that to you.”
“So would I,” she says softly. “No—that’s a lie. I never want to see them again. I just want to forget they even exist.”
I sift a hand through her damp hair, and wonder if that actually works. In my experience, the harder I try not to think about something, the worse it gets. “Good thing you don’t ever have to go back there.”
“Good thing,” she agrees.
“I can make you forget about them, you know.”
“Really? How?” She props herself up on an elbow.
“Like this.” I lean in for a kiss. It’s supposed to be a quick one. A joke. But Chastity tastes so sweet that I go in for seconds and thirds. Her smooth hands wrap around my body, and I tangle my legs in hers.
One kiss turns into an epic make-out session. As my lips become swollen with our kisses, it occurs to me that I might be in this a little deeper than I planned.
But kissing is my favorite thing ever, so I’m not going to worry about it too much. Not tonight anyway.
* * *
I don’t worry the next day, either. Or the one after that. Over the next few weeks, Chastity and I spend a lot of time together.
In the first place, we have an impressive amount of sex. It’s like when I become obsessed with playing a new song. I need to play it over and over again, and the melody becomes sweeter each time I hear it.
Many late-night hours are spent in my bed, kissing until Chastity’s lips are chafed and making love like we’ve just invented it. We sleep tangled up in each other and wake up needing more.
It’s magic.
The daylight always comes, though, and keeps us busy with other things. Exams loom. There are chemistry labs to complete and papers to write.
On the weekends, I go home to milk cows, press apples, and make caramels. Chastity and I sleep in separate houses and pretend not to crave each other as we work side by side in Leah’s kitchen.
The first time I tried to steal a kiss, though, we almost got caught. Chastity’s hearing must be better than mine, because she broke out of my embrace and made it halfway across the kitchen before Isaac walked through the door with two mugs of coffee for us.
Chastity thanked him sweetly. And there was no damage done, thank God. But after that, she instituted a zero tolerance policy about touching on the weekends.
“But you look hot when you’re stirring caramel,” I’d complained. “And I’m not good at delayed gratification. Can we make a batch of caramelsauce? I have some big ideas for it.”
“Back in your corner,” she’d said. Her eyes had flashed as she’d given my chest a shove. “We’re on a deadline.”
And we are. Chastity is running an entire small business from a spreadsheet on my laptop, and the orders are still coming in thick and fast.
In the bedroom, I’m the one who sets the pace. But in the kitchen, it’s all Chastity. “Measure that. Stir this. Pour it in here.”
The only thing I’m in charge of is the music selection. And I love this setup. I do what she tells me to, all the while admiring her flushed face and bright eyes.
We’ve soldsomany caramels. Griffin hasn’t said a bad word about the goats in weeks. And the payments are starting to pile up in Leah’s bank account.
Since our caramels are delivered by Leah on her cheese route, we’re free to drive back to Burlington on Sundays around noon. I speed along highway 89 with my hand on Chastity’s knee. And I don’t even bother with the pretense of asking Chastity if I should drop her off at the dorm.
We drive right back to my place, exchange a few words of greeting with Keith or Rickie, and then climb the stairs to my room. Our clothes come off immediately. And then I show her just howhardit is to spend forty-eight hours without touching her.
It’s a good life. And let’s face it. If it were any other girl, I’d probably already be feeling itchy about spending so much time together. Girls inevitably want things from me that I can’t deliver. They always seem to want to hear that they’re crucial to my very existence. And that’s where I always let them down. I’m twenty years old, and I don’t make promises. If I did, they’d sound cheap to my own ears.
I can’t do it. Who the fuck knows where I’ll be a year from now? Or five? It’s just silly to plan that far ahead. I’ve broken promises before, and it nearly broke me. So now I try not to make any. It’s simple.
But Chastity understands me. She always has. She doesn’t ask those big questions because she has a lot going on in her own life, too. There’s school, which is still hard for her. And she’s made new friends, too.
