“Small world? If I knew we were dating other people, I don’t think I would have bothered.” He scoffed and took a swig from his drink, watching for any sign of Dean coming back.
I hugged myself a little tighter. “I know I should’ve told you I was seeing other people. And that I knew him when he helped us yesterday— I’m sorry.”
He still hadn’t looked at me as he said spitefully, “Have you kissed him yet?”
The tone was so different from how Dean gently approached the subject earlier.
I stammered, “Well, no. It’s just as new as what I had with you—”
His eyes came to me, and the frustration flickered. “Were you ever as interested in me as your mom said?”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head apologetically.
He looked stunned by this revelation. “Wow, okay... Can I ask you what it was about me that you didn’t like?”
I sighed softly. “It’s not that I don’t like you, Oliver—”
“So, what is it?”
“You were rushing into things—”
“And here I was thinking we were going too slow,” he muttered. “I can’t believe this. Where did you find him anyway? At one of the cells where your dad works?”
That tone again, and the way he seemed to think he was the better choice of the two, made me want to grab his drink and tip it over his head. Instead, I took a breath and remained polite, aware my mother was probably watching, hoping I would fix this little match-making project of hers. “Listen, Oliver, you’re a nice person. I’m sorry if you felt differently but I don’t want to get into anything with anyone if I don’t have my entire heart in it.”
The look on his face made me wonder if he had ever been rejected before. He flared his nostrils in frustration but seemed to struggle to find a response until eventually he just left with a scoff.
The instant relief I felt the second he walked away came as a surprise. I expected to feel guilty but instead, the pressure eased, and I moved straight on to looking for Dean.
Thanks to his tattoos, height, and dark hair, finding him again didn't take long as I spotted him talking to two of my uncles. Though he didn’t look overly concerned they had cornered him for questioning beside the trellis, I beelined straight for them. Throwing all caution to the wind, I slipped between the two men and grabbed Dean by the hand.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I promised him a tour of the house, do you mind?” I threw in a polite smile for good measure, noting how my actions garnered the wary eyes of my parents from across the garden. If we didn’t move, they would stop us for questioning too.
I didn’t wait for my uncles to respond as I tugged Dean by the hand and led him into the house, away from prying eyes. I glanced back over my shoulder as we passed through the back doors, just in time to catch the moment my parents attempted to follow us, but Jane stopped them, distracting them with a broken birdbath one of the cousins had knocked over.
“Thanks for that,” Dean said, as we stopped inside.
“No problem.” I realized I was still holding his hand and let go. “So this is the living room...”
The tour was much shorter than I planned, with the first half downstairs consisting mostly of me just pointing out which room was where before we headed upstairs. Dean was quiet the entire time, only nodding as he admired the rooms. If he was bored, he hid it well.
“And this is my room,” I said when we got to the end of the hall upstairs, stepping into the airy and bright bedroom.
It was exactly how I left it when I moved out. From the old teddy bears sitting along the bench under the bay window, to the sketches still pinned to the white walls. The latter caught Dean’s eye as he slowly entered the room to look at them. They were old sketches of people I had drawn while on the bus to and from school, or whenever I went with Jane to the park in the afternoons – the only time I could draw without being scolded by my parents.
Dean paused at one (an older woman sitting on a park bench) and smiled softly. “These are really good. I know I said that about the little sketches you did on the coasters, but damn.”
My face warmed.
Teenage me (braces, round glasses, and all) would’ve keeled over in shock if she saw the type of guy I had invited into our space. Everything about the room screamed girly bookworm and here was this tall, dark, and handsome man standing in the middle of it.
Having him here, and witnessing how he interacted with my family with politeness, even when they gave him none in return, made me realize I was too quick to judge him when we met. Which, I suppose, was how the rest of my family felt. Though I doubted they were up for changing their minds. It was a mistake of mine to assume he was a violent person just because of his job with Antonio.
“Thank you for agreeing to come to this thing. I know my family aren’t exactly the easiest people to get along with.” I approached the bay window opposite the door, looking down at the garden below.
“They’re...interestin’.” He followed me over and leaned against the window frame, folding his arms as he looked outside too. “Are you gonna follow in your dad’s footsteps?”
My gaze slipped to him, and I found him looking right back.
