Page 56 of Heartland
“That’s beside the point!” I yelp. “I have the same dirty mind as everyone else. And I just want what everyone else has.”
Dylan pinches the bridge of his nose, as if he can’t quite believe what I’m saying. “So you lied about Fridays.”
“Yes,” I cry, raising myself up on an elbow. Now we’re nose to nose. “It was a bitchy thing to do. A real Kaitlyn maneuver. I’m not proud of it.” Even if she had it coming. “I don’t belong up on that pedestal where you always put me. But neither do you, you know.”
“Oh Iknowthat,” he grunts.
“You lied, too.”
His eyes narrow. “When do you mean?”
“What about last weekend when you said—” I have to swallow the lump in my throat before I can finish the sentence. “—‘I’m so drunk I don’t know what I’m doing.’ Because I think you totally knew.”
His eyes flare. And then he leans back against the wall so fast that his head makes a clunk against it. “Fine. Fair enough.”
“You totally knew,” I repeat.
“Yeah. I fucking did.” He won’t meet my gaze, though.
“And you enjoyed it. But then later you made a big deal about it, apologizing. Like it was some terrible indiscretion. As if I wasn’t supposed to like it.”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “Did you?”
My heart is pounding so hard now that I almost can’t hear myself over it. “You know I did. Drunk doesn’t cut it, Dylan. You’d have to bedeadnot to see that. Don’t you dare make me feel bad about it again.”
“I won’t. Jesus.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I—”
“Don’t besorry,” I gasp.
“—made a big deal about it,” he finishes, reaching across the distance between us and taking my hand in his. When he wraps his long fingers around mine, I stop breathing. “But you don’t want me, Chastity. I’m a fucking mess.”
The words would break my heart, if only I could really hear them. But I can’t, because Dylan is holding my hand. All I can do is stare at our joined hands. Everything I ever wanted is hovering here in this small space between us.
“Don’t tell me what I want,” I say quietly. “That’s not for you to decide. But I know how it works. Some girls are the kind you’re willing to tutor in algebra. And some are the pretty ones that you’re willing to tutor in sex. And I know which kind I am. I already know.”
“Hey.” His brow furrows. “It’s not that simple.”
“I think it is.”
I try to take my hand back, but he holds on. “It’s not like I never thought about it.”
“What?” All the air leaves my body. “Youdid?”
Now it’s his turn to wince. Like he said too much. “Well, sure. Because I’m twenty years old, and you have perfect breasts.”
I blink. “These old things?”
He gives me a wry grin. “Just…trust me. But that isn’t really the point. We’re friends.”
“I know that.”
“Yeah. Well, did you notice that all the girls I take to bed end up hating me?”
“No, they don’t.”
His eyebrows lift, as if to ask,Really?
“Okay, a lot of them do,” I admit. “But that’s on them.”
