Dex Is an Optimalist #2
“Not yet,” Dex said to his own reflection in the car window. “Give it time. You’ll see. It’s destiny, remember?”
The only response he received was the car slowly pulling away. Chuckling to himself, Dex watched it disappear down the street, then he headed to the tram stop.
When he got home, he dropped his gym bag and backpack in the entry and flicked the light switch several times, making the biggest lamp in the living room flash on and off. Jasmyn might have been in her room, but if she was anywhere in the main living area, she’d see it.
His mom had already left for her night shift at Gluttony hospital, so he didn’t bother calling out to announce he was home. It wasn’t like Jasmyn would hear him.
Like thinking her name had made her materialize, his thirteen-year-old sister appeared in the doorway to the living room. “You’re late,” she signed.
“Had to stay after class for a bit,” he replied. “You eat already?”
She nodded and gestured in the general direction of the kitchen. “Food’s still warm.”
“Homework done?” he asked, but she’d already turned to go back into the living room. Instead of chasing after her, he grabbed his bags and headed to his room.
When he returned to the living room, Jasmyn was curled up on the couch with a book in her hands and a pair of big headphones hooked around her neck.
He could hear the blasting music, something techno with lots of bass.
The speakers of the headphones pressed to either side of her neck, so she could feel the beat.
Dex tapped the top of her head to get her attention, and when she looked at him, he signed, “Homework?”
“Done,” she replied dismissively.
“All of it?” he checked, and she huffed in a way only a thirteen year old could, like he was purposefully going out of his way to annoy her.
“Yes, all of it.”
“How was school?”
She closed her book, giving him her full attention. “Fine. Tommi G. asked me to the spring fling dance, but I’m already going with Tommi S. They were gonna fight about it, so I told them I would go with both of them. Problem solved.”
“Two dates? That’s progressive,” he teased.
“Monogamy is low-key cheugy,” she sassed, spelling out the last word when he copied the unknown sign in question.
“Cheugy? The fuck?” He loaded his plate with the casserole his mom had popped in the oven before she’d left for work. “Side note, I don’t think thirteen year olds should be practicing polyamory.”
“Ethical non-monogamy,” Jasmyn corrected.
“Fuck’s sake,” he voiced, and since she could read his lips, she giggled, ears flicking in amusement.
Her fur was a few shades lighter than his, but she had the same heterochromia, a trait they’d both inherited from their dad.
Which was about all they’d inherited before he’d fucked off when Jasmyn was only two.
Dex had been eleven, so he remembered their dad.
Jasmyn not so much, which was probably a blessing. She was deaf because of him, after all.
As a baby, Jasmyn had contracted menyngitys.
Their mom had been away for the weekend, helping their grandma after her hip surgery, so Dad had been taking care of them.
He’d assumed it was just the flu, and it wasn’t until Jasmyn was burning up with a rash spreading over her whole back, that Dex—who’d been ten at the time—had called an ambulance.
The doctors saved her life, but she’d lost her hearing. His mom had nearly divorced his dad over it, but he’d wormed his way into forgiveness somehow. Not that it mattered; he’d taken off less than a year later.
A hand waved in his face, jerking him from his thoughts, and he focused back on his sister.
“Wanna watch a movie? That new sci-fi one is streaming now,” Jasmyn signed, face alight with hope.
“Okay, start it up,” he replied, and she yipped in excitement.
So as not to spill his food, she didn’t hug him fully, but she did lean in and rub her cheek against his, combining their scents.
Dex returned the affection, rumbling happily in his chest. She couldn’t hear it, but she must have felt it because she slid her hand from his shoulder to his chest to feel the vibrations better.
As the movie played, Jasmyn settled against his side on the couch, head cushioned on his arm.
Lupyns were a tactile species, and his instincts urged him to bundle her up in his lap and snuggle even closer.
Since he still had food to eat, he gave her ear a scritch instead, and she shot him a beaming smile before focusing back on the TV.
He shoveled food into his mouth while simultaneously checking his phone. The text he’d sent himself from Cya’s phone was still unread, so he opened the chat and saved their number in his contacts. Then he sent them a message.
Stoked for our first tutoring sesh.
They read the text right away but didn’t reply. He tried not to take it personally. They were probably really busy with, like, rich people stuff. To be honest, he didn’t know what rich people actually did, except spend their money on fancy things Dex couldn’t even pronounce, like quinoa.
Do you like quinoa?
He sent the text before he fully thought it through. This time, when the message changed from unread to read, a text bubble appeared right away.
Yes. Why?
Just proving a theory to myself. Though, I gotta ask. What even is quinoa?
A seed, but it’s most often prepared and eaten like a grain.
Whoa! No cap? I didn’t even know it was a food. I thought it was, like, a vibe thing. Like acupuncture or chakras.
Text bubbles appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.
You do know acupuncture is a real medical science, right?
I dunno about that. I saw a movie once where a guy died from acupuncture. Okay, so, technically, it wasn’t even the acupuncture that killed him. He got his face smashed in by a statue because Death had it out for him. So I guess it was really gravity that got him in the end.
I don’t know what to say to any of that.
I tend to leave people speechless. It’s a superpower. *winky emoji
What an optimistic viewpoint.
Dex grinned. He was an optimist. Sure, life wasn’t easy, but in his experience, most things tended to work out. If he put positive vibes into the universe, destiny usually did him a solid in return.
A hand waving in his peripheral stole his attention, and he blacked out his phone screen to focus back on his sister.
“You’re not watching.” Jasmyn pouted, and he did his best to look contrite as he set his now empty plate on the coffee table and tucked his phone into his pocket. Then he opened his arms in invitation, and she happily snuggled deeper into him.
“Love you,” Dex whispered into the fur between her ears, and her head lifted, brows furrowed in question.
Instead of answering with signs, he simply dragged a knuckle down the side of her throat, scent-marking her. Beaming at him, she rubbed her scent into his neck with her own knuckles, and he growled in approval. She growled back, then faced the TV again and rested her head on his chest.
Tightening his arms around her, he buried his face between her ears and kissed her. To some people, cuddling with a sibling this way might have been strange, but in most Mammylion circles, it was normal because it strengthened the pack bonds.
Pack mentality wasn’t necessary anymore, not in this day and age, but Dex thought it was still important. His mom and his sister, they were his family, his pack. It was small, and sometimes, it felt a little broken, but they were still a pack.
And pack took care of each other.