Chapter Nineteen
Jasmine had certainly noticed the shift in Dylan’s demeanor over the last few weeks.
More and more of his free time had been spent away from the house, always with the same people.
Now, if it’d just been Kaiden, chances were she wouldn’t have suspected Dylan had gotten romantic.
Or maybe she noticed his feelings for Kaiden long before he did himself.
In either case, the time he spent with Rus piqued Jasmine’s curiosity.
She asked if they were dating. Dylan sort of awkwardly dodged the question since yes, he was, but he didn’t want to elaborate on his poly relationship quite yet.
Moreover, he wanted Jasmine to meet Rus outside of his community service obligations.
If he planned on declaring his relationship, he wanted Jasmine’s blessing.
So, he arranged for a dinner and game night date to bring Kaiden and Rus over, not too big a challenge since Jasmine hosted family dinner every night of the week, with weekends allowing flexibility for anyone who wanted to go out or just pick at leftovers.
Kaiden pulled up to the house, parking on the street, and walking up with a semi-reluctant Rus. It wasn’t the dinner itself, but Dylan could tell Rus didn’t much like the dress shirt and tie Kaiden had undoubtedly forced him into.
Dylan smirked. Dressing up was not a requirement—they kept things very casual at the house—but Kaiden likely sensed Dylan’s nerves to make a good impression and played his part well.
“Thank you,” Dylan mouthed, to which Kaiden gave a sweet smile in return.
“I can stay for dinner, but I have a shift over at—”
“Is the gallery doing something this evening?” Dylan interrupted.
“Not the gallery.” Kaiden stretched his cheeks into a forced smile. “Retail. The joy of holiday presales.”
Dylan cringed. He very much admired Kaiden’s determination to save up for a place of his own, so much so that he’d taken on a second job, but he also hated how reluctant Kaiden was when it came to accepting a little help.
Honestly, Dylan couldn’t imagine the stress of balancing two jobs at once.
His gig at Dorothy’s Home consumed most of his time, though he never really considered it work work.
He never clocked in or out. He never had to worry about his schedule.
Mostly, he just ran errands, arranged moves, organized fundraisers, and helped the teens with schoolwork.
Dylan felt more like a chill guncle around the house than a busy worker bee.
Even on days when he juggled a hundred different tasks.
It all came down to supporting the house, and that was what mattered to him the most.
Dylan invited Kaiden and Rus inside.
“About time you got here,” Miguel greeted them as they walked inside, his eyes locked onto Rus. “How are you this evening?”
“Fine.”
“I’m not sure if we were ever formally introduced.”
Rus shrugged.
“I’m Miguel Whitley Alvarado-Hernandez, but everyone just calls me”—Miguel made a loud smacking sound with his puckered lips—“mwah.”
Dylan sighed. No one called Miguel that, despite his very desperate efforts to make it his official nickname. Truthfully, his middle name started with a J, but that wouldn’t work for his little kissy-faced flirtations.
“How about a tour?” Miguel stepped closer, and Dylan blocked his path.
“I was just about to introduce him to everyone.”
“Waste of time if you ask me.” Miguel walked away, lost in a conversation with Tasha before long.
“Not to be that person,” Rus said, quirking a brow in Miguel’s direction, “but was that kid just flirting with me?”
“Yes,” Dylan said with a sigh. “He sort of does that with everyone. Don’t worry about it. He’s harmless, and his crushes are pretty fickle.”
“I’d wager short kings are trending or something,” Kaiden said with a light laugh.
Dylan smirked, knowing Kaiden had been dragged into a conversation about Miguel’s many online crushes, and his type changed as frequently as fashion trends. The number of men Miguel liked could fill a 365-day calendar thrice over.
“I’m not that short,” Rus said. “Just so we’re clear, I’m average height.”
Dylan eyed Kaiden, then they both looked down at Rus, then up at each other with wicked little smirks.
“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.
“Oh, fuck both of you.”
“One of these days,” Kaiden teased.
After that, Dylan gave Rus a tour around the house as he introduced him to the residents. About halfway through, Rus appeared frazzled. Even Kaiden seemed a bit perplexed by who was who. It wasn’t easy learning the names of twelve teens, especially when half of them were eager for conversation.
Jasmine gave a warning call for dinner, loudly announcing they had five minutes.
Dylan went to wash his hands, telling Rus that this was his last chance for a smoke break until after dinner.
Jasmine tried to keep dinner very official, no leaving the table until everyone else, and ensuring the teens participated in conversation. She liked engagement.
Chelsea and Yazmin carried in large bowls of side dishes while Jasmine brought in a tray of pork chops.
“It’s nice of you to join us again,” Jasmine said, inviting Rus to take a seat near her.
Dylan ended up sequestered on the foot of the table between Miguel and Tasha, where he normally sat, though he’d planned on bringing his boyfriends closer to his side. Instead, Jasmine got ahold of Rus, and Chelsea dragged Kaiden into helping set the table.
“Just sit down,” Dylan whispered as Kaiden placed a basket of rolls on the table. “You’re a guest.”
“I don’t mind helping.” Kaiden shrugged, then scurried back into the kitchen to assist.
It seemed every time Kaiden came over, he jumped in for something, whether washing dishes or organizing donations or setting the damn dinner table.
Once everything was arranged and everyone had taken their seats, Jasmine invited Rus and Kaiden to dig in, letting company fill their plates first.
“So,” Chelsea said, scooping herself a large portion of mashed potatoes. “You know Mrs. Helix, Hendrix, Hydraulics? Whatever, the old hag down the street who pretends she’s still in college?”
“What’d that stupid ass bitch do now?” Miguel asked.
Jasmine snapped her fingers. “Ut-uh. None of that. Reel it back, real fast.”
Miguel huffed, then sarcastically pretended to reel back a fishing line to pull his profanity in.
When Jasmine disregarded his flair, he shifted to another preferred tactic of his.
Miguel had a silent stare off with Jasmine until he either grew bored or quietly surrendered.
Dylan smirked, knowing Miguel only relented because of company.
Sometimes, guests could bring out his more provocative streaks, but perhaps he didn’t want to chance Jasmine’s wrath in front of his crush.
Either way, Dylan gave Rus a tight smile and then Kaiden an awkward grin. Kaiden understood the chaos in the house all too well and handled it well enough. Hopefully, this first dinner wouldn’t scare Rus away.
“You were saying, Chelsea.” Jasmine nodded for her to continue her story on their vile neighbor.
“Oh, well, nothing much. Just her and the platinum Karens were all huddled together, trash-talking per usual, but when we walked by…” Chelsea said with a wave of her hand, gesturing for Yazmin to pick up the story.
“They feel for us, naturally,” Yazmin said with a pitchy, sarcastic lilt. “As they hold a special place in their hearts for all unhoused people, but—”
“Megh,” Miguel interjected. “I fucking hate that term. What the hell is wrong with just saying homeless?”
“Some people find the term homeless dehumanizing,” Dylan explained, hoping Jasmine wouldn’t need to redirect the blatant profanity a second time. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal of saying unhoused either, but he supposed it didn’t hurt anyone, so it didn’t matter.
“Those people would be stupid cunty twats,” Rus said absentmindedly as he sawed his pork chop.
The table went silent, and only the screechy clink of Rus’ knife and fork hitting his plate could be heard.
Chelsea and Yazmin snorted, turning to each other and whispering.
Miguel smirked, leaning closer to the table. “Oh, do tell.”
“Huh?” Rus blinked a few times, then scrunched his face, unsure of himself momentarily.
Dylan grimaced, let out a sigh, and twisted his frown into a slight smile. “You have quite the opinion.”
“Quite the opinion indeed,” Jasmine added, eyeing Dylan.
He so rarely brought people to the house, finding the presence of acquaintances could be difficult for the teens to cycle through.
If Dylan brought someone to the house, they were a true friend.
Or at the very least, a proper donor. In years past, he’d only ever brought Kaiden around the house, and it helped that Jasmine knew him before Dylan had even met him.
Kaiden was an easy sell around the house. He was polite, soft-spoken around large groups, and kept his opinions PG-friendly. And sure, the teens were all about vulgarity when the mood hit, but the point of being an adult was not to fan that behavior. Or so Dylan believed.
Of course, Rus would have a strong opinion on any controversial subject with the vocabulary of a sailor.
“Please elaborate,” Jasmine insisted.
Rus chewed on his pork chop, taking his time.
“The phrase unhoused is designed to shift the blame of homelessness away from the individual and focus on the socio-economic factors,” Rus explained, already losing Dylan a bit.
“Great in theory. If that were the true agenda, I could almost be on board. Unhoused is supposed to remove the stigma. But why the fuck would a homeless person care about the stigma?”
He paused, silently apologizing for his profanity with a soft expression directed toward Dylan.
“Perhaps the unhoused population who seeks to pull themselves up and would prefer to avoid harmful stereotypes,” Jasmine added, answering Rus’ rhetorical question.
“Yes, but unhoused carries its own stereotypes. Worst of all, unhoused is deliberately designed to diminish the horror of homelessness and make it more palatable to those throwing around terms the majority of them have never experienced.”
Jasmine locked in on this. Dylan studied her curious expression, the way her shoulders eased.
In one simple statement, Rus had shifted Jasmine from going on a polite offensive to a calm dialogue, one where she’d listen with interest. Jasmine never bulldozed into an argument.
She explained to Dylan years ago that the only way she could engage in a healthy dialogue with someone who opposed her was to lead them to her argument.
Anything else and she’d be deemed hostile, aggressive, unhinged, loud, and so much more.
So, Jasmine worked twice as hard to subtly approach her point on a topic.
Of course, this didn’t come with every conflict, simply the ones she needed to win for the sake of Dorothy’s Home.
“People who use the term unhoused aren’t trying to give more humanity to homeless people; they’re trying to wash away the bitter taste the word homeless leaves in their mouths.
They don’t like the guilt it carries, the way they benefit in a capitalistic society while ignoring an entire population of people every day,” Rus explained.
“It’s easier to disregard them, create stereotypes on drug abuse or crime, anything that shifts the blame to them—the homeless population.
It also helps to assume they’re all con artists, pretending to be homeless while panhandling a nice 100k tax-free salary every year.
Yes, there was a rare instance where that happened once for certain, so let’s assume the worst in every single homeless person. ”
“Well, that’s quite the tangent,” Jasmine said with a light laugh. “You seem quite opinionated on the subject.”
“I’m too opinionated on too many subjects,” Rus said, tearing into a piece of his pork chop.
“And I easily get off topic from time to time. The point is, unhoused is just gentrifying our vocabulary to make wealthy people feel less uncomfortable when they discuss unsavory topics. This is partly because of social media and algorithm suppression. For example, saying killed as opposed to the absurdly palatable term unalived. Saying graped because let’s ruin fruit and turn SA into a rhyming punchline.
Even mentioning race or queerness of any kind knocks a post down.
And don’t get me started on how cringey it is to even say PDF since these internet assholes banded together.
Apps have trained us to edit our language or risk losing our voice altogether, but that’s a whole other story. ”
“I’d be very curious to hear more about it,” Jasmine said, taking a sip of her drink. “Perhaps at a future dinner.”
Rus nodded, then returned to his plate. Dylan smiled at him, smiled at Kaiden, and took an easy breath.
Miguel leaned over to Dylan and whispered. “My future short king is on fire. Even got Jailor Jazzy’s approval.”
Dylan sighed. “It’s never happening.”
Miguel tsked and rolled his eyes. “Wishing on my downfall only makes me stronger.”
Shortly after dinner, Kaiden bid his farewells and left for work, while everyone else set up for game night.
While Jasmine would gladly drag everyone into the living room to play board games, card games, and anything else family-oriented, she often reserved the game nights for rare occasions. At most, a once-a-month event.
“Hope you’re not too competitive,” Dylan whispered. “The house rules kind of get chaotic with these games, and winners are sort of determined on who can argue their point the best.”
“Sounds like my kind of game night,” Rus whispered in response.
“Thank you for coming.” Dylan lightly pressed his knee against Rus’ and sank into the bliss of sharing a little piece of his home with someone he cared about.