Heartland
Page 29
Griffin and Audrey start dancing, too, leaving Rickie and I standing against the wall. “T minus two minutes,” he says, checking his phone.
“Are you sure this will work?”
“Baby, I was born for mischief.” He swats me on the backside. “Go on. Count to sixty and then get into position, okay?”
“Sure.” My heart does a little flop, though, because if we get into trouble in the middle of Dylan’s performance, it’s going to be embarrassing.
“I’m going,” he says.
I start counting as I watch him head for the exit, where he stops to talk to the bouncer. The other man puts a stamp on Rickie’s hand, probably to make it clear that he already paid the cover charge.
When I get to sixty, I head for the ladies’ room. Since the music just started up, it’s almost empty. There’s only one woman standing at the mirror, putting on lipstick.
And that woman is Kaitlyn.
“Hi,” I say, startled.
“Hi,” she says without turning her face. She’s busy. “You need something?”
“Well…” This is going to be awkward. “Not really.” I look up at the window that’s five feet off the ground. Rickie has already opened it. A hand appears on the sill. Then another one.
Ellie’s face pops into the opening. “Hey there! Maybe I should be feet first?”
“Oh definitely,” Kaitlyn says. “You are both a couple of amateurs.” She sets her lipstick on the sink. Then she removes the plastic bag from the trash can that’s standing beside the sink. She flips it over and points at it. “Feet first. We’ll guide you onto this.”
The other end of Ellie appears a moment later. I can hear Rickie grunt on the other side of the wall as Kaitlyn reaches for Ellie’s ankles.
I’m almost too startled to help, but then I snap out of it and help lower my friend to the trash can, where she stabilizes herself and then eases her upper body through the window.
She hops down a second later and hugs me hello. “Thanks, girls! What did I miss?”
“Just one song, I think,” Kaitlyn says, tossing her lipstick into her bag. “Put the trash back together, would you? And close that window.” She gives an exaggerated shiver and strides out of the bathroom.
I will never really understand Kaitlyn, but she’s a little nicer to me now. I give credit to her hockey player, who seems to be sticking around.
“Let’s dance!” Ellie says, hurrying me toward the door. “This is my first time at a bar.”
“You can’t get wasted,” I beg. “I don’t need to hold your hair while you puke on Valentine’s Day.”
She laughs. “Fine. One cider. That’s all I ask.”
When we step out of the ladies’ room, Dylan is playing a slow, romantic tune. His eyes are closed as he plays, and shivers climb up my spine as the melody swells.
This happens a lot, actually. I look at him and think, How did I get so lucky?
But he says the same thing to me sometimes just before we fall asleep. So I guess I’m not the only one.
“Here.” Rickie is already waiting with a beer for himself and a cider for Ellie and me. “Told you it would work.”
“Thank you, Rickie,” Ellie says with a smile. She looks older since her braces came off over Christmas break. “You’re my hero. I expect a dance after we finish our drinks.”
He scowls, but we both know she’ll talk him into it.
“This next song starts fast and then gets faster,” Dylan says into the microphone. “So pace yourselves, ladies!” He puts his violin on his chin.
“The not-a-kid sounds great!” Griffin, says, applauding. “This is fun, baby. Thank you for making me come out tonight.”
“Any time, you big grump.” Audrey hugs him from behind. “Now dance with me.”
Rickie and Ellie dance. We switch it up a couple of times, but the truth is that I prefer to stand still and watch. I'll always love watching Dylan play.
It’s getting towards the end of the set when I hear Dylan announce, “This next song is for someone special.” He smiles right at me, and my heart nearly bursts with joy.
Ellie lets out the perfect little fan-girl shriek.
“I wasn't able to take my girlfriend out somewhere alone tonight. Because I'm here with you all.”
The girls in the audience all make a collective noise that sounds like Awwww.
“First we were friends,” Dylan says, tuning up his new electric violin as he talks. “…and then we spent a lot of time together making gourmet caramel candies. So I think this whole Valentine's Day thing isn't a scam after all, you know? Because after we made all that candy together it became clear to me that I was in love for the first time in my life.”
The Awwww is louder this time.
“That’s the sound of other hearts breaking,” Rickie quips.
Keith is picking up another guitar. I don't have any idea what they're about to play, but I can feel my cheeks flushing already.
“So I hope you're ready to rock, because my love song here isn't a slow one. I don’t know what the songwriter was saying when he wrote this. But I think this song is about caramels and love. Let’s do this!”
Keith kicks into a fast guitar riff. I don’t recognize it, but then Dylan adds a riff, and it starts to sound familiar.
My pop-culture knowledge is still pretty shaky, so I have to shout a question at Ellie and Rickie. “What is it?”
“An eighties tune called ‘I’ll Stop The World And Melt With You’!” Rickie says. Then he cracks up. “Good one, Dyl!”
And then? Dylan lifts his chin from his fiddle and sings the lyrics. To me. Right here in this crowded room. Keith sings, too. It’s magical.
The first two lines makes me blush like crazy. But, yowza. It’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not ashamed to say that I get tears in my eyes.
After each verse, Dylan lights up his electric fiddle. It’s a super-cool cover. And the best Valentine’s Day gift ever.
It’s over too soon, and then the concert ends, too.
“I guess I was wrong,” Kaitlyn says, filing past me on her way out. She has her boyfriend’s hand in hers. “You did it.”
It takes me a second to realize she’s talking to me. “Did what?” I call after her.
She merely lifts her chin toward the stage. And I realize she means that I made Dylan fall in love with me.
I didn’t, though. Nobody ever could.
All I did was lead Dylan to the kitchen where—for hours—we stirred goat’s milk together with sugar.
It was just heat and patience. Those were the only ingredients.
We end up back at the house on Spruce Street, eating exquisite chocolates and drinking a bottle of champagne Rickie bought. “Because that seems right for V-day,” he’d said.
Griff and the rest of the Tuxbury crew leave first. I hug Leah goodbye and promise to come home next weekend. And they’re going to drop Ellie off on their way out of town.
That leaves me and Dylan and Keith and Rickie in the living room, where a fire crackles in the old fireplace.
Dylan pulls out his phone for the first time all evening. “I have a message from Daphne.”
“Oh do tell,” Rickie says, wiggling his eyebrows. “How is that hottie doing?”
Dylan gives him a weary glance. “I know you do that just to bug me. But it won’t work. I don’t buy it for a second.”
“Daphne is hot as blazes, dude,” he says with a shrug. “I don’t care if you believe me.”
“Uh-huh.” Dylan snorts. “I just read this message four times. And it sounds like she’s asking me to help her find somewhere cheap to live next year. In Burlington.”
“Why?” I gasp. “She has two more years at Harkness.” Daphne is a junior, but she’s so smart that she’s earning a bachelors and a masters together at the same time.
“Fuck if I know. She says, ‘I have to leave Harkness. This place isn’t right for me anymore.’ Whatever that means.” He puts his
phone away. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. She’s not going to tell me, though.”
“Can we talk about housing for a minute?” Rickie asks.
“Sure,” Dylan says, pulling me closer to him on the sofa. “Something wrong?”
“Not a thing. But you know how I don’t charge you guys much rent?”
“We did, uh, notice,” Keith says.
“Thing is—I have an offer to rent out the house over the summer,” Rickie says. “There’s some sports superstar who runs a clinic in the summertime. He wants the whole place. It pays enough money that I could make a whole year’s taxes at once.”
“Oh,” Dylan says slowly. “You should do it. Do we need to clear out by a certain date?”
Rickie waves a careless hand. “That part is easy. The trick is that I don’t have anywhere to go for the summer. Unless I turn up on your doorstep and pick apples.”
Dylan hoots. “Sure man. Why not? You can have my room. Chastity and I are keeping the front bedroom in the bunkhouse.” He gives me a squeeze. “We like it out there.”
This was my idea. I’ll be staying with the Shipleys this summer, but I’d wanted the privacy of the bunkhouse.
“I’ll do a good job,” Rickie says. “Just because I look like a lazy fuck, doesn’t mean I don’t know how to work.”
“Of course,” Dylan says. “We’re always short-handed. And we’ll have a great time.”
“I appreciate it,” Rickie says, crossing his legs onto the coffee table. “As a result, I can do this rental. And also your sister can live here next year if she wants to. So can Chastity, by the way. Everybody’s rent will be only a hundred bucks a month, to cover heat, utilities, internet, and maintenance supplies.”
“A hundred bucks?” I gasp. “That’s nothing.”
“You can have the other upstairs bedroom,” Rickie points in the general direction of that room. “And Daphne can take the third floor if she doesn’t mind living with her brother.”
“Why so cheap, man?” Keith asks. “I don’t get it. You could be earning a lot more rent. Or else keep the place to yourself.”
“Nope,” Rickie says as he gets to his feet. “Being alone is the very last thing I need. And if I had a lot more cash, I’d probably just smoke it all.” He shrugs. “Night guys. See you in the morning.”
He walks out of the room, and the rest of us just kind of stare at each other for a moment.
“A hundred bucks,” Dylan breathes. “We’re going to save so much money. This is great.”
“Plus, it will be a fun summer,” Keith points out. “We’ll introduce Rickie to Friday nights at the Goat.” He also gets to his feet. “Night guys. Good gig, Dyl. You know I’m going to ask you to do another one.”
“Night!”
We’re quiet for a second. “Do you think Daphne is okay?” I ask.
“God, I hope so. Because there probably isn’t much I can do if she’s not.” He yawns. “Come to bed with me, Chass.”
My tummy flips like it always does.
He takes my hand as we slowly turn out the lights and head upstairs.
“I loved the song, Dyl,” I say quietly.
“I’m pretty sure it was written to mean something dark. But I don’t hear it that way anymore. I hear it and think of caramel and nakedness.” He kisses me on the temple. “Come to bed, and I’ll show you what I think about that song.”
I do. And he does, too.
T H E
E N D
Thank you, reader!
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Also by Sarina Bowen
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