“Kaitlyn?” he prompts.

“Why not?” She sniffs. “I have to, right? So long as I’m at Moo U, I guess I’ll drink the cider and wear a beanie and always use the pronoun of your choice.”

“You should be so lucky,” Rickie says cheerfully. “Just don’t burn your tongue. You’re probably gonna need that later.” He ladles cider into a row of mugs on the counter. “Here, Chastity. Hey—nice top. Vavoom! Love the fall-themed cleavage.”

My face heats instantly. I take a big sniff of the cider to cover my embarrassment. “Smells great, thanks.”

Dylan is already microwaving the soup and grabbing bowls from the cupboard. “Soup? Rickie? Kait?”

“Too carby,” Kaitlyn says.

“Cider is carby,” Dylan points out.

“But I can pour rum into it,” she says, taking a mug.

“More for me.” Dylan shrugs. “Have a seat, Chastity. Ooh, guacamole.” He grabs the serving bowl and plops it onto the table with a bag of chips.

Dylan and I take opposite seats at the table. Rickie parks his hip against the kitchen counter and sips his cider, while Kaitlyn circles, visibly humming with impatience that Dylan seems not to notice.

I will never get over the two of them as a couple. Never. According to his friends and gossipy family members (never underestimate Grandpa Shipley’s powers of observation), Dylan has always been a ride-or-die single guy. Until Kaitlyn ensnared him, that is.

Dylan is the kind of guy who sees the best in people. So while it’s obvious to me that she’s a shrew, he only sees her shiny hair. And her shiny lip gloss. And her skinny little body clad in expensive clothes.

That’s the best explanation I can come up with. Not for lack of trying. And I’m not supposed to care.

Whoops.

“Chass, can we maybe do algebra at breakfast tomorrow?” he asks me now. “I don't have class until ten.”

“Sure. Okay. At the dining hall?” Kaitlyn never goes to breakfast, so I won’t have to deal with her. It’s hard enough looking stupid in front of Dylan. I don’t need her scowl, too.

“Yeah, that works.” He picks up his soup bowl and drains the last bit.

“Come. On,” Kaitlyn urges. “I’m waiting.”

I look away, because I know what’s going to happen next.

“Coming,” Dylan says cheerfully. He pushes back his chair and carries his soup bowl over to the sink, where he rinses it carefully before tucking it into the dishwasher. “Back in a bit,” he says to me on his way out of the room.

I dip my spoon in the soup and take another bite. It was nice of Dylan to feed me. He’s a good friend. And it’s hardly his fault that I want things I can’t have.

A moment later, two mugs land on the table in front of me, and then Rickie takes Dylan’s seat. “Those two are hard to watch, right?”

Ouch. Either I’m a terrible actress, or Rickie shares my opinion that they’re an awful couple.