Heartland

by Sarina Bowen

  “You’re late,” the manager of the upscale food co-op says when I locate her in an office in back.

  “I know,” I say immediately. “My business partner is probably going to kill me. She’s the kind of person who is never late to anything. She made these candies by hand, but then couldn’t be here to meet with you.”

  “Why not?” the woman asks, frowning. “She was so nice on the phone, she said she’d pitch to me herself.”

  “Because I made her life difficult.” I swallow hard. She’s too busy crying to remember your appointment. “She’s probably inventing ways to kill me right now.”

  “Sounds like there’s a story there,” the woman says, lifting an eyebrow.

  “That’s what I said,” Rickie grumbles from somewhere behind me.

  I ignore him. “So could I possibly leave these with you and ask her to follow up?” I extend the boxes a little farther in her direction. And—thank goodness—she takes them.

  “Sure.” She cracks open the lid of the box on top. “These do look pretty fabulous. They’re handmade in Leah’s creamery?”

  “That’s right. Leah is Chastity’s cousin.” Distantly, anyway. Apparently everyone from the compound is related to everyone else by marriage if not blood.

  She plucks one out of the box and bites into it. “Okay, wow.” She chews happily for a minute. “These are delicious. And you’re ramping up for the holiday season?”

  “Right. Our first delivery is in two weeks. And here’s the order form with all the information and pricing.” I put it down on her desk before she can object. “I’ll let Chastity know you got your boxes.”

  “Okay, kid.” She shakes her head. “I hope you get your shit under control.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur. “You have a nice day.”

  I leave her office and find Rickie, who’s picking out a few different fancy cheeses. “These prices are pretty high,” he says.

  “Let’s go to our regular store, then.”

  “No way. You brought me to good cheese. I shall dine on good cheese. And you’re paying half.”

  “Okay.” If there’s one thing I’ve learned by now it’s that fucking things up is expensive. “They have fresh bagels.”

  “Ooh! Get some of those. And don’t forget the smoked salmon.”

  “It’s like fifteen bucks a pound!”

  “Just get a little,” he insists. “We’re going to eat really well while you tell me what stupid thing you’ve done now.”

  We do eat well. But the gourmet food doesn’t make it any easier to explain what happened. I begin by stumbling through an outline of what transpired between Chastity and me. Not that it’s easy to explain the way we went from arguing to…

  My pulse jumps when I picture Chastity naked and begging me to fuck her. Did that really happen?

  “I’m not half as surprised about the sex as you are.” Rickie snorts as I tear my napkin into little shreds. “That was just overdue.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but…” I don’t know how to explain it without being crude. “I wasn’t gentle. It was wild and—” I swallow hard. Use me, she’d said. And now I’m worried I did that exact thing. “And before I got a chance to talk to her and make sense of it, Kaitlyn turned up.”

  “Oh shit.” Rickie whistles under his breath.

  “I think she heard the whole thing. And she did not take it well.” I tell him every horrible thing she said.

  “Ouch,” Rickie says, getting up to pour water from the tea kettle into both our mugs. “So you're upset because Kaitlyn told the truth?”

  “No! Jesus H.” Was he even listening? “I’m upset because Kaitlyn twisted the truth. I never said Chastity was unattractive. And it’s not like we sat around discussing her.”

  “What did you say, then?”

  “I told Kaitlin that I wasn’t attracted to Chastity. It’s not the same thing at all.”

  Rickie carries the mugs back to the kitchen table. “It’s not exactly the same, no. But it still wouldn’t be that easy to hear from the guy you just handed your v-card to.”

  I let out a groan, because he’s right. “The only reason I ever denied my attraction to Chastity was that Kaitlyn wouldn’t shut up about it. We never would have had the conversation if she wasn't insane.”

  “Is she, though?”

  “Yes!”

  He drops tea bags into the mugs. “Are you attracted to Chastity?”

  “Of course I am!” I shout, jumping out of my kitchen chair. “We just about burned her bed down last night.”

  Rickie pretends to duck. “Well, now we're getting somewhere.” He pushes a mug of tea toward my side of the table. “Sit down, hothead. I’m only playing devil’s advocate. And in this case, the devil isn’t too hard to find.”

  “Fuck.” I collapse into the chair. “I’m the one who didn’t want to screw up our friendship. And now I’ve detonated it. But before it all went wrong, it was…” Hot? Amazing? Incredible? All those words sound flip.

  I’ve had a lot of sex before. I like adventure, because I’m easily bored. So I’ve basically tried everything. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been so intimate with someone, since I’ve had that kind of clawing, desperate sex where I’m so stuck in the moment that I hope it never ends.

  But they always do. And this one ended spectacularly badly. I don’t know how to come back from that. “What do I say to Chastity? If I can even get her to talk to me. Kaitlin was so harsh.”

  “Kaitlin is a bitch,” Rickie agrees. “But her feelings were hurt. And she thinks this validates her world view.”

  “What world view is that?”

  “That you were emotionally unavailable to her.”

  I make a noise of disgust. Her behavior today didn’t exactly make me wish I’d been more open. Good lord, the girl cannot be trusted.

  Rickie’s tea smells hot and spicy, and it soothes me. That’s the benefit of living with the campus eccentric. Good tea and constant conversation. He rarely leaves the house, and he’s never too busy to talk.

  “What are you going to do about Chastity?” he asks now.

  “Apologize a hundred more times.” Obviously.

  He clicks his tongue as if I’ve said the wrong thing. “But then what? More sex?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No way.”

  “But you’d like to.”

  I just shrug. What I’d like doesn’t really matter.

  “Does she want to?” he presses.

  “Doubt it. Would you? Maybe she wanted more before Kaitlyn made the whole thing seem like a tawdry lie.”

  “Did she enjoy herself?”

  “Absolutely,” I scoff. “But it was a terrible idea. I should have said no and saved us both the anguish.”

  “But you said yes. Why?”

  “Well, she was so—” I scramble for words. Raw. Needy. Real. “Honest,” is the one I settle on. “I didn’t know she’d ever want me. And it blew my feeble little mind. I was like a little kid on Christmas.”

  Rickie laughs.

  “But now I know why it's a bad idea to fuck your best friend.”

  “Which you’d been wanting to do for a long time.”

  “Fine. Sure. Does it matter if it’s true? It was a horrible idea. Chastity doesn’t need me. She needs a guy who—” I break off the sentence, because I don’t really want to imagine her having sex with someone else.

  “Who—?” Rickie prompts.

  “Doesn’t think with his dick,” I say, for lack of a better explanation.

  “She needs someone who loves her,” Rickie says.

  “Yes. Right.”

  Rickie smiles at me. “So you have two problems. The first is that you have to figure out what the hell you want out of this.”

  “I want our friendship back.” It’s not complicated.

  “Hmm,” he says. “That’s it?”

  “Of course. What else would I want?”

  He stirs his tea slowly. “A future together? It’s been done before.”


  “Not by me,” I say quickly. “I love Chastity as a friend. There’s nobody better. But I don’t do futures.”

  “Not easily,” he muses, sipping his tea. “Not with your abandonment issues.”

  “My what?” I sputter, and then burn my mouth on the tea. “How do you drink this stuff so hot?”

  “It’s my superpower. That and seeing through your bullshit.”

  “I don’t have bullshit. And I don’t have abandonment issues. That’s Kaitlyn’s problem.”

  “Oh, you have a matching set. Her father doesn’t care for her. And yours left you.”

  “He died.”

  “I’m aware. And you haven’t been the same since.”

  “Rickie,” I growl. “Don’t psychoanalyze me. You didn’t even know me before.”

  He shrugs, as if it’s just so obvious. “Look—you asked me what to do. The answer is that you have to decide if you’re brave enough to try out this thing with Chastity. Because a friendship can survive one night of ill-advised sex. But it can’t survive denial of feelings.”

  “Who’s doing the denying in this scenario?” I have to ask.

  “You are.” He laughs. “Chastity already knows her feelings.”

  “Do I want to hear them?”

  Rickie’s smile turns wry. “I don’t know if you’re ready.”

  I put my head in my hands. This conversation is getting too heavy. “You think she has a thing for me? Like really a thing?”

  “I don’t want to put words in her mouth,” he says quietly. “Maybe you can ask her yourself. But first you have to win back her trust.”

  “By apologizing.”

  “Maybe,” he hedges. “But here’s your real issue—you did lie. You pretended you weren’t attracted to her. You lied to Kaitlyn to save face. You made this mess, and her anger is entirely justified.”

  “Then I guess it’s time to grovel. I’ll call. Today.”

  “She won’t answer,” Rickie predicts.

  “I can’t apologize by email. That’s just cold.”

  “Flowers?”

  “Isn’t that a cliché? Chastity would prefer that I spent the money on something more useful. Like our business. She needs so many things.”

  “Like what?”

  “A computer. A phone. The right version of her textbooks.” I shake my head. “This is why I can't be casual with her. I know too much. She doesn’t deserve a guy who just wants to get a little drunk and screw around. She needs someone to take care of her.”

  “Don't we all, though?”

  “Can you just stop being the philosopher king for a second and tell me I'm not an asshole?”

  “You’re not an asshole... usually.”

  “Oh, for fuck's sake.”

  “In this case I think you've been an asshole to three people. Chastity, Kaitlyn, and yourself, too.”

  “Anyone else you want to add to the list?”

  “Nope, that will do.”

  I pull out my phone and try Chastity’s land line.

  It rings and rings with no answer.

  Twenty-One

  Chastity

  I spend the rest of Monday hiding in my room, feeling weepy and very sorry for myself. Every time I remember the things that Kaitlyn said, I just want to die.

  I know she was laying it on thick—she was intentionally cruel and trying her best to wound me. But it worked. She didn’t have to even try very hard, because the truth hurts. A lot.

  Did you ask him to tutor you? Did you think he’d fall in love?

  Check and check. I don’t know when she arrived home and began to overhear. But it really doesn’t matter. She saw right through me, probably from the first day we met.

  That’s how pathetic I really am. Because I really did imagine that sex with Dylan would make him return all my feelings. I hoped he’d fall in love with me. That’s all I ever wanted, since the first day I met him.

  And I’m obviously bad at hiding it. Given the choice, I’d hide in my room forever. Except I’d starve to death and fail my classes.

  So when dinnertime arrives, I finally pick myself up off the bed and tiptoe out into the hallway of our suite. It’s quiet, and Kaitlyn doesn’t seem to be here.

  Small mercies.

  In our bathroom, though, I find that my shampoo bottle has fallen off the tiny window ledge where we keep our products. Somehow, its top was loose, and now it’s spilled all over the tub. I pick it up, but most of the five-dollar bottle is already smeared everywhere.

  It could have been an accident. But it wasn’t.

  Worse yet, my toothbrush is in the wrong spot. And so is my toothpaste. I guess I’ll be replacing those, because only the lord knows what she did with them.

  And there goes another seven dollars I don’t have. I didn’t mean to make an enemy, but it looks like I have one.

  When I’m looking as presentable as possible, I run down the stairwell to Ellie’s door and knock.

  She opens it immediately, then gives me a giant metallic smile. “Hi! Need help with algebra?”

  I shake my head. “Not this time. I was just wondering if you were going to dinner at the dining hall.”

  Her smile widens, and I feel a little puff of optimism. I have never needed a friend as badly as I need one right now.

  “I’ll get my coat,” she says.

  “How was your weekend?” I ask, pushing macaroni around on my plate. It isn’t as good as Leah’s.

  “Not bad. I went home and made apple pie with my mother.”

  “Where’s home?”

  “Brattleboro.”

  “So that’s close?” I guess. I know it’s in Vermont, anyway.

  “Two hours, actually. And they have to drive me both ways. That’s why I don’t get away from here very often.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I set down my fork.

  “What’s bothering you?” she asks. “Is it the hot farmer boy again?”

  “Yes,” I say, because I obviously suck at lying.

  “Oh no. What happened?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but then close it again. I’m not ready to discuss it in detail. I don’t know if I ever will be. “I did some things. I took some chances. And I’m afraid I outed myself. Now he knows what a pathetic little fan girl I am.”

  “Oh no,” Ellie says, her giant eyes getting glassy. “I’d die.”

  “You wouldn’t die,” I say, because I know how this works. I’m a veteran of screwing up my own life and suffering through the consequences. “You’d just be embarrassed for the next hundred years.”

  “I’m sorry, Chastity.”

  “I’ll be okay.” At least this time nobody will beat me for my poor judgment. Unless it’s Kaitlyn, and she’d do it if given the chance. “I’ll just avoid Dylan for the rest of my three and a half years in college. No problem.”

  Ellie cracks up. “Does this mean you’ll need more algebra tutoring?”

  “Definitely.” And I should have thought of that before I charmed Dylan out of his underwear. “I think the financial aid office would hook me up with a paid tutor if I asked.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Ellie insists. “I’ll help you for nothing. It’s not like I get out very much.”

  “Why is that?” I ask.

  “Because I’m…” She murmurs the rest into her milk glass.

  “Sorry? You’re…?”

  “Seventeen.”

  I blink. “Years old?”

  “Yup.”

  “But I thought you said you were a junior?”

  “Oh I am. I started when I was fifteen.”

  “So you’re, like, a genius?” I squeak.

  “That’s a loaded word. We say ‘intellectually precocious’ instead.” Then she sighs. “I shouldn’t have told you, right? Nobody wants to be friends with the weirdo who isn’t even voting age and doesn’t have a driver’s license. I know all about particle physics. But I’ve never been kissed by a boy. Or a girl, for that matter.”

 
; “Ellie!” I shake my head. “If there was a weirdo contest here at this table, you might not win. I’m a twenty-one-year-old freshman who ran away from a cult two years ago. And everything I know about boys I learned in Seventeen magazine.”

  Her eyes widen. “You do have some weirdo cred.”

  “I know, right? And I don’t have any friends, except for the ones at home, and the one who has no idea what to say to me after last night.”

  She flinches on my behalf. “I can help you with the algebra. But not the heartache.”

  “That’s something,” I say as cheerfully as I can. “But in a few days I’ll have to figure out what to do about the little business venture Dylan and I started together. We’re supposed to make two hundred pounds of caramel over the next two weeks. While I put on a brave face and pretend that I’m just fine.”

  “Two hundred pounds?”

  “Or more. I don’t know what orders have come in.”

  “I can’t wait to try this candy.”

  “You can. There’s an extra box in the…” It hits me then. The co-op store meeting! A bolt of terror shoots through me. “Oh, no! I was supposed to deliver some samples to a Burlington store this morning. Dylan was going to take me there.”

  “Maybe he did it?” Ellie suggests.

  “God, I hope so.” But Dylan probably forgot, too. “I’ll guess I have to go to the library after this and check my email. I’ve been avoiding him.”

  Ellie pulls her backpack off the floor and unzips it. She pulls out a laptop and flips it open. Then she hands it to me. “Bite the bullet.”

  “Right now?” I yelp.

  “Get it over with,” she says.

  With a sigh, I take her computer. “Thank you for letting me use this.”

  “Anytime.”

  I log in to campus email. Sure enough, my inbox contains four messages. The first three are from Dylan, and the fourth is from Leah.

  Oh heck. Does Leah know that Dylan and I spent the night together? The subject line of her message is: this weekend. If he said anything to her, I’ll die of shame.

  I open the oldest email and find a picture of a puppy covering its face with its paws, saying I’m so sorry. And Dylan’s request to call him.