When I entered the kitchen, Dylan sat at the table with a clean, empty plate in front of him.
“Wow,” I whispered. Bacon, scrambled eggs, potatoes O’Brien, and even toast were all piled high on the table. If this guy ate all of these carbs, I’d eat the tablecloth. Although judging by the brown, nutty quality of the toast, maybe that wasn’t a good bet.
“Hungry? I didn’t know how you like eggs, so I just made scrambled.”
“Uh, I like scrambled just fine. Thanks.”
We dished up our plates—mine with eggs, bacon, and potatoes, him with eggs, bacon, and toast—and then ate in strained silence.
So awkward.
Dylan took a long drink of his water. His gaze bounced around the room like he felt as awkward as I did.
“So, uh, you’re a Taylor Swift fan, huh?” Dylan asked as he scooped up a forkful of eggs.
I choked on my potatoes. After coughing half my lung up into my napkin, I scrubbed a free hand over my eyes. “Ah…you heard that?”
“Pretty sure the neighbors heard it, judging by the way their dog started howling.”
I cracked up. It was rude as hell but also very true. Grandma had always told me that I’d inherited her love of music but unfortunately also her daughter’s vocal range. Mom apparently also had had my tone-deafness.
“Sorry, not sorry?” I shrugged. “I was really enjoying your shower. It’s pretty by the way.”
This time it was Dylan’s turn to blush. He shifted in his chair. “Yeah. Whatever. It was like that when I bought the place.”
For the next few minutes, the only sound in the room was our forks clinking on the dishes. But unlike earlier, it didn’t feel weird. It felt…comfortable?
Right up until he said, “So what’s your plan?”
Immediately, all the weight on my shoulders returned. Plan. Right. I needed one because I was homeless. Carless. What was I going to do? “Ask my boss for more hours?”
“Where do you work?”
“A sandwich shop near my place. My old place that is. Not really sure how I’m going to manage getting there now without my apartment. Or a car.” I sighed as the food in my stomach roiled. “Maybe I need to look into shelters first. Find out what place can take me then look for a job near wherever I land.”
All the different facets of my situation twisted around in my mind. I needed a place to stay but couldn’t afford anything on my own. I needed a job, but I also needed an address to get the job. And clothes! All my clothes were currently behind my landlord’s new lock. Not to mention that I lacked a car to get to any of these pretend destinations.
I wanted to cry.
And then curl up in bed and just…sleep. Despite just waking up, I was already exhausted.
“I think maybe you should put shelters on the back burner.” Dylan tipped his head. “Like I said, I wasn’t using the room for anything important. It’s yours, okay? I was thinking more about your stuff—your clothes, schoolbooks, paints, whatever—what’s your plan to get those?”
I smiled tremulously. “Uh, wait for the landlord to toss them out, and then dumpster dive?”
“Christ, kid.” Dylan muttered something else under his breath that I couldn’t hear.
Probably questioning my intelligence or what he did to deserve to get saddled with me.
Tears pooled in my eyes again, but I’d be damned if I let them fall.
“I’ll help ya, okay? We’ll figure it out together.”
I nodded tightly, my gaze stuck on the puddle of grease under my bacon. Despite his offer, everything felt so insurmountable. How was I going to get through this? What was I going to do?
I tried to hold onto the anger I felt earlier, but Dylan was so nice it was hard to remember why I wasn’t supposed to like him. I knew my dad was pissed at him, but he’d been nothing but amazing with me so far.
I sighed heavily. My head was starting to hurt.
