“You don’t have to,” I offer.
He shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. “The relationship just died. It was like she completely moved on with this new life and left me and my dad like we were nothing. She never called.She came to a few of my games, but it stopped after a while. It didn’t matter how good I was; there was radio silence from her. Just static in my head, and maybe that’s why I’m a good player. I don’t know.”
I reach my foot out and put it on his lap. “I’m sorry.”
He laughs, and the sound comforts me. “Are you comforting me with your foot?”
“This is good, Dylan.”
“My home life is good?”
I shake my head. “No.” I take my foot back and place my hand on his arm. It’s firm. Really firm. “The food’s about to get here, and I’m starving. We know each other’s shit, and honestly, is it all really that bad?” I blink a few times. “I’m not minimizing anything you just said. I don’t have a relationship with my mom either, so I get it. I know how hard it is to be so in love and obsessed with the person who gave birth to you, and you don’t get that reciprocated. It’s tough, but the silver lining is that we’re in college now. It’s not in our faces anymore. The longer the time passes, the more understanding we have that it’s on them, not on us. Like, your mom must be a complete idiot.”
He shakes his head.
“I’m serious. She’s missing out. These are your best years growing up. Her son’s in college, and she has no idea who you are. And I feel sorry for her because from where I’m sitting.” I squeeze his arm. “You’re pretty fucking cool, Dylan. You’re worth more than what she could offer, and that’s on her. Honestly, screw her. Screw mine too.”
He looks into my eyes and says, “I…”
There’s a knock at my door, and I widen my eyes at him, squeezing his arm again. “Coming!”
We both stand and greet the guy delivering our food. I grab a ten-dollar bill from my counter.
“Yeah. Dylan,” Dylan says to the guy.
I hand the ten over and say, “Thank you so much.”
When the door shuts, Dylan says, “I tipped him.”
“Me, too,” I chirp, following him to the dining room table.
We sit and distribute most of the food to me.
He says, “I’ve never talked with anyone this much.”
“No?” I ask, surprised. “You’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I’ve had girlfriends, but…” he shrugs. “We didn’t talk much.”
I open up the main plate and breathe it in. “I have to start with the soup. You need to try this.”
I let him take the first bite, and he agrees that it’s good. I slurp down a few dumplings and vegetables. “I’m going to get you hooked on this place. Try a piece of my chicken.”
He takes a piece and nods. “Yeah. Wow.” He reaches for the shrimp. When he eats that, he moans. “Mmm.”
I set the soup aside and eat a few shrimp pieces, then the white rice.
“You weren’t kidding,” he jokes as I inhale my food. “Breathe, Cecily. Take a breath.”
I laugh, flipping him off because my mouth is full.
It’s not long before my hunger is sated, and there’s only a bite left of each entrée.
“What should I wear to the party?” I ask, curious about how this is going to go down.
He shrugs. “Whatever you want.”
“There’s no scale?”
