Page 56 of Personal Foul

I snort out a laugh, grinning as I type out my response.

Me: I thought you fired me already.

Dylan: Apparently we need to have a more in depth discussion about this. You should come over so we can hammer out the details

Me: Be there in 20

I sit in my car for a few minutes before driving to Dylan’s, reeling a little bit from this reality where I’m seeking him out on purpose.

But he was right yesterday when he said that he’s the only one I can talk to about this. He’s become my only confidant. He’s the only one who knows everything about everything, and not having to lie or hide how upset I really am is such a relief.

And I need that right now more than anything.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Dylan

There’s that smile again at the sight of Charity. I should probably do a better job of keeping a lid on it, but … I don’t want to.

She’s my girlfriend for all intents and purposes—well, except the good ones. Practicing being happy to see her in private will only help when we’re in public. It’ll seem more natural—since it is—and less practiced if I do it all the time.

“Hey.” I lift my chin as I pull the door wide, taking her in. She has on the same clothes as earlier—dark wash jeans with a white T-shirt half tucked in the front and a kickass looking leather jacket over it. Her hair is piled on top of her head now, a pencil holding it in place. She’s taken care of the mascara streaks from earlier, though it looks like she just washed off her eye makeup and either didn’t have the opportunity or didn’t care enough to redo it. Her eyes still look a little puffy, but not as bad as earlier today. And her expression when I open the door can only be described as relief.

“Hey,” she breathes, hitching her backpack higher on her shoulder. “Listen, about earlier—”

I wave aside her explanation or apology before she can finish. “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.” I step out of her way and close the door behind her, placing a hand on her back as I slip past her and head to the kitchen. “You hungry? I can make us something easy or we can get takeout if you want.”

When I glance at her over my shoulder, her mouth is open, and her eyes ping-pong side to side like she’s not sure how to answer or what to make of my suggestion.

Once in the kitchen, I turn to face her, letting out a soft chuckle. “Look, I know you don’t want to be my cleaning lady. That was a joke.” Her shoulders relax, and she nods. “I mean, if you’re that desperate for money and won’t just take it from me outright, I would absolutely do it. But that’s not why you’re here now, right?” Another nod. “So since we’re hanging out as friends, we can eat, right?”

“Friends,” she repeats in a hoarse voice. “Right.”

I study her for a moment. She looks everywhere except at me, setting her backpack on the floor, inspecting her nails, and eventually leaning forward on her arms on the island, but keeping her gaze on the counter.

“Is there a problem with us being friends?” I ask.

She tilts her head back and forth, her eyes squinting. “No,” she says at length, drawing out the word.

My eyebrows lift, waiting for her to elaborate. “You sure about that?” I ask when she doesn’t.

She finally raises her eyes to mine with a huff of laughter. “Are you?” Straightening, she spreads her arms. “Is that what we are, Dylan? Friends?”

Swallowing the knot forming in my throat, I shrug one shoulder. “We could be. If you want.”

It’s her turn to study me, frank appraisal and no emotion. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” The word rings out in the kitchen, confident. Almost impressive, particularly given the fact that it’s not true. Not really. I mean, yes, I do want her around. I like sparring with her and spending time with her. But I don’t really want to relegate her to the same space occupied by Andrew and Liam and Caden. Or worse, the space occupied by other extended teammates who are more acquaintances than friends.

But I know dating her is a bad idea. Impossible, even. So that leaves this or nothing.

I’ll take this over nothing.

For some reason, that makes her chuckle. “Alright, Dylan. We’ve tried silent adversaries, an uneasy truce, and open hostility. I guess we can give friendship a try. What have I got to lose at this point?”

“That’s the spirit. I always love it when my friends are like, ‘Might as well be friends since it’s preferable to death.’”

That makes her laugh outright, which was the goal. After seeing her practically in tears this afternoon and knowing she’s so stressed about everything else, the fact that she still has the ability to laugh is encouraging.

---