Dylan shrugs. “We only talked about being an ass to people and making them feel bad. You said nothing about me joking around.”
I give him a pinched look. “Did I honestly need to make that distinction?”
“Hey, the clearer, the better. That way it leaves no room for misunderstandings.”
“I’ll remember that for next time.”
We make our way to the other side of campus where all the fraternity houses are. The illustrious Greek row, or so they have many fooled into thinking. Either way, it’s a place I’ve managed to avoid and intend to keep avoiding for the duration of my time here in school. But as Dylan said, there’s a quaint little cafe just on the edge of the street.
When we enter, it’s not overly busy. The diner was packed all night tonight, so the moment of quiet is appreciated.
“Why don’t you grab that table over there while I go and order. What would you like?” Dylan asks.
I take a quick look at the drink list above the counter. “Ooo, I’ll have a flat white, please and thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Grabbing the table in the corner, I move to the other side, taking the seat with a view of the whole shop. With the dim incandescent lighting and soft jazz playing in the background, this setup makes for quite the little romantic rendezvous point. I glance around the room, not missing the fact that most of the tables are filled with couples. Yeah, now I’m starting to think that maybe we should’ve hit the truck stop off the highway.
Moments later, Dylan returns with our drinks. “Well, this makes for quite the cozy hangout.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing.”
He offers a small smile resting our drinks on the table then takes the seat across from me. “So, do you work every night at the diner?”
“And day.”
His eyes widen in surprise. “You work every day and at night? When do you have time for a social life?”
“After.” I let out with a laugh. “I really only work six-hour days—three in the morning for prep and three at night for the dinner rush. Sometimes depending on what I have going on with school, I’ll pick up a lunch shift, but that’s more for the tips.”
His eyes scan my face. “Why do you work so much?”
I sit back in the chair, my hand resting on the table holding onto the mug in front of me. “How much has Chase told you about me?”
“Nothing, he just said that it wasn’t his place to tell me.”
I nod, letting out a chuckle. “Well, at least I know whom I can trust with any deep dark secrets I have.” I look up to Dylan, seeing that his eyes are still very focused on me. “There’s not much to tell. I grew up in a nice neighborhood and in a nice home with absolutely amazing parents, then my mother died two years ago, and everything changed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks…I don’t know, I was devastated when my mother died, but we had time to prepare, so it’s almost like my grieving period started even before she was gone. I miss her every day, but I just try and remember the times when she was here with us, happy and healthy, and it seems to get me through. Each day that passes gets a little bit easier. But my Dad, that’s a different story.”
“He didn’t take it well?”
I shake my head. “That would be an understatement. My father completely fell apart when my mother died. At first, he wouldn’t get out of bed. Then it progressed to nights of drinking once I was asleep so I wouldn’t see, but then into days and nights of complete intoxication. It got to the point he was barely functioning at home, nevermind out in the real world, and that’s when he lost his job. After that, it was like a snowball effect of one disaster after another. When he lost his job, that then led to us losing our house. I managed to get together enough money for a little apartment, but that’s it. Everything else; rent, groceries, bills...that’s why I work so much.”
“And you still go to school.”
I nod in confirmation. “That’s also why I deferred for two years. I didn’t want to, but at the time it’s the only option I had.”
“And your dad...does he still drink?”
“Every day. I used to push him to get help in the beginning, but the therapist I was seeing taught me that he has to want to make that change. He needs to want to do it himself,” I explain.
Dylan lets out a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t know what’s worse, having an absentee father who could really care less or a father who’s around but may as well not be?” He looks me over for a moment then asks, “Why do you do it? Why do you stick around?”
Leaning forward, I look into his eyes. “Would you not do the same for Chase?”
“Well, yeah, but that’s Chase. He’s my brother; I love him.”
“And it’s my father, and I love him.” I shrug. “I know from the outside for someone who didn’t see what it was like before; it looks hopeless. But I know my dad and the man that he was. That man is still in there, and that man; the man that raised me to be who I am today…that man is worth hanging in for.”
I see the little glisten in his eyes. The part of him that Chase was talking about. The part no one gets to see. But just as quickly as I see it, it disappears as Dylan sits up, pulling forward his armor.
“Yeah, well, I guess you at least have some decent memories. All Chase and I have are two sorry excuses
