Chapter 15
Dean
“Can you help me with this?”
Before I could look up, there was a huge thud. The giant pile of mail Oli had dropped on the table started to spill over onto the floor, probably wanting to escape as much as I did.
“What exactly do you need help with?” I asked.
With a dramatic sigh, Oli lowered himself to the floor. He sat crisscross and hung his head, which made his dark waves fall over his eyes. “It’s overwhelming.”
“It’s just mail.”
“A lot of mail. Some junk. Some bills. Some that I can’t even process without thinking about taking a nail gun to my temple.”
“Need some good nails, otherwise you’ll just end up with an ugly scar and a hospital bill.”
“I don’t want to kill myself, Dean. Just a low-budget lobotomy. And if I botch it, that’s God’s will.”
“Well, I’m not down with lobotomies, so I guess I have to help.”
“Thank the stars.”
I picked up a piece of mail and studied the horrible state of the envelope. It was practically ripped down the middle. This guy was a different brand of chaos than I was used to.
“This says you’re pre-qualified,” I said.
“Oooh.” He held out his hand expectantly.
Tossing the letter to the side, I grabbed the next. “No credit cards.”
“Why not? I have three.”
“That’s one reason. Do you pay them on time every month?”
“I think so.”
Ignoring that disastrous statement, I checked out a few more pieces, all of which were junk. Then, I found one with big red letters.
“Have you paid this?” I asked, passing it to him.
He took a minute to read through it. The little hum he made probably wasn’t a good sign.
“I don’t remember,” he admitted.
“How?”
He shrugged. “If it was on auto-pay, it should be paid. But since this says overdue, I assume it’s not.”
“What do you use to track your spending?”
He lifted one brow silently.
This was it. This was when a stroke was going to take me out.
Pulling my dab pen from my pocket, I stood and walked to the back door. I poked my head out, blowing the smoke into the air. After another hit, I tucked it away and turned back to Oli. He was looking at a new piece of mail, which was too colorful. I snatched it from him and tore it in half.
“No cards,” I repeated. With a sigh, I sat on the couch. “Give me your phone with your bank account pulled up.”
He did it without question. I didn’t know if he was too trusting or simply didn’t care to hide anything.
Checking the date on the bill, I searched all of his transactions from that day forward.
There were so many of them, it took me a godawful amount of time.
He spent a lot of money. Most people seemed to blow their cash on trivial shit like booze, food delivery, OnlyFans, coffee, and the like.
Oli, on the other hand, bought the type of things that went on his shelves. And a lot of them weren’t cheap.
“God, Oli.”
He scooted closer. “It’s bad.”
“Oh, so you know it.”
He scrunched his nose. “It could be worse.”
“How?”
“Cocaine.”
I laughed, even though it was hard to find it funny.
Grabbing one of the envelopes, I took the pen I’d been using to do homework and started scrawling numbers as I scrolled through his account.
Next, I continued through the entire stack of mail, jotting down pertinent information before organizing it into piles.
When I finished, I let out a heavy sigh.
“In the past two months, you’ve paid ninety dollars in overdraft fees,” I said, tapping the number with my pen.
“Damn. I didn’t even know.”
“You have two overdue bills. Seventy-three dollars total. You’ve paid almost sixty in late fees, and that’s just on the bills that sent you payment confirmations in the mail.
I’m willing to bet there are more that are paperless.
Do you know how much you’ve spent on non-essentials from what I can see here? ”
“A hundred?” he guessed with a grimace.
“No.”
“One-fifteen.”
“Four hundred and twenty.”
“Your favorite number.”
I couldn’t smile at the joke, and after a second, he became serious.
“That’s not terrible,” he said, although it was clear he didn’t even believe his own words.
“Oli—”
He let out a wispy breath, making me stop talking.
“What was that for?”
“Just the way you say that,” he replied easily.
“Your name?” He nodded. “Why would you like the way I say your name?”
“I’m attracted to you.”
My eyes widened. For a second, I just sat silently, then I cleared my throat. “That’s . . . Okay.”
“Don’t worry, Broku. I’m just communicating, not flirting.”
Was this what whiplash felt like? I was just going to chalk it up to the weed.
“Anyway,” I went on, “you could be saving a bunch of money.”
“But I wouldn’t have all those.” He gestured toward his shelf. It was definitely fuller than when I’d moved in.
“Sure, but do you need more all the time?”
His lips thinned for a second. “Need? Maybe not.”
“Is there some significance to them?”
He readjusted on the floor, then hung his arms over his knees. “I like adding things to my home. Things that are mine. I’ve never had my own space.”
“You didn’t have your own room?”
He looked at me, and there was a strange distance in his eyes. “Or a home.”
“Oh.”
Remembering what he’d said about people getting weird when he shared, I tried to measure my reaction. For some reason, I slid off the couch to sit closer to him on the floor. He met my eyes, raising one brow. Surprisingly, he didn’t look sad like I thought he would.
“I’m sorry,” I said lamely.
“No need to be. I’m one of many.”
“Still sucks ass. Also, I’m not sure what you mean. Was your family homeless? Or were you sent away from your home planet, only to land on Earth, lost and confused?”
He chuckled, making dimples appear on his cheeks. “Foster care, born and raised. Aged out with the same name I went in with.”
“Damn. Right from the start?”
“Yup. I don’t know the details. Never asked. I just know I was a baby, which makes it easier to find a family, but it doesn’t happen for everyone. Shame too. I bet I was a damn cute baby.”
I smiled a little despite the way the conversation had turned.
“What about your family?” he asked before I could say anything. He leaned closer. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell.”
“Bullshit. Your story just feels more normal after my significantly darker lore drop. Start with your mom. What’s she do?”
“Twenty years as a nurse. Outside of family, that hospital’s her life.”
“Damn, I bet she’s got some good stories. Nurses always do.”
“Let’s just say she’s seen quite a few strange objects in people’s . . . cavities.”
Oli burst into laughter, and his hand landed on my thigh. “God, I’ll have to ask her about all of them.”
When I shifted away, he pulled his hand back and set it in his lap. Clearing his throat, he grabbed a random piece of mail and tore through the side of it.
“What about your dad?”
“He was in the army,” I replied. “Now, he’s disabled.”
“What happened?”
“Brain injury.” I nodded slowly when his face softened. “It’s hard, but they’re strong people. They manage.”
Looking at one of the letters, I tried to avoid his gaze. He seemed like the type to pry, and I didn’t really want to get deeper into it right now. More than that, I didn’t want him to get weird and start apologizing or something.
“I’m starving,” he said while his eyes scanned the paper. “I could order something.”
I leaned forward. “Nah, that’s one of the things you do too much of. Have you seen all those fees?”
He grunted. “Fine, Broku. I’ll take you out.” Raising and lowering his brows, he smirked at me. “I’ll treat you to a fat, juicy burger. You can’t say no to that.”
I shook my head once. “There’s food here, man.”
“But it all has to be cooked.”
“Yeah, that’s how food works. You should try to start saving money, you know.”
“Damn, are you going to take full control of my finances?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but I wasn’t sure what to say. I clearly knew a hell of a lot more about being smart with money. That, or I just had more self-control with it. But Oliver was a grown ass man.
Looking over at him, I watched his eyes sparkle as he stared at an ad for some anime-looking figures. Sure, he was grown, but there was a childlike excitement in him.
No, it wasn’t even excitement, per se. Maybe it was more like desire. A need. Something deep inside that drove him to make up for lost time, to search for all the feelings he was denied at one point in his life.
“You’re staring at me,” Oli said without looking up.
Hanging my arms over my knees, I watched the way his grip tightened on the letter. I didn’t really care that he knew I was studying him. It was the best way to learn how to read someone.
Suddenly, he dropped the letter and turned to face me. I didn’t budge, even as his eyes traced the entirety of my body.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked.
“When I was twelve, everyone at school was getting the new gaming system.”
“Which one?”
I ignored the question. “There were some old people in our neighborhood who gave me a few bucks to help them clean their houses and keep them company. It took me a few months to get it, but when I did, well . . . It didn’t satisfy me. After a week, I ended up returning it.”
“This sounds like a sad story.”
“No, not really. I left the cash in my mom’s purse, and when she found it, she cried and called it a miracle because she’d caught a bug the week before and her check was short. That money kept us from losing the house. And that did satisfy me.”
“So, honor in sacrifice or something like that.”
“Simpler than that. It was when I truly learned the value of every little thing in my life.” With a frown, I looked at the letter in his hand. “You don’t know how to survive.”
“I know how to survive better than most.”
“Sure, if we’re talking pure survival mode. What I’m talking about is building a life. Planning a future. Setting goals for the next year, five years, ten years.”
“I have goals,” he countered. His lips had turned down slightly, though the look in his eyes didn’t appear sad. More confused than anything.
“Name them.”
With a sigh, he matched my position and held up his fingers to count them off. “Get into college: accomplished. Live on my own: accomplished. Graduate and get a dope job: in progress. Fall in love: we can call that a five-year plan, though that’s being generous. I’d prefer to do it sooner.”
“Ten years?”
“Have a kid. Foster as many as I can. Adopt them, even.”
“They’re good goals. But they aren’t enough.”
His eyes narrowed. “How are they not enough?”
“You have the end goal, not the actual plan. You need steps. Then, you have to follow them. You don’t have a single dollar in your savings account.”
“Do you?”
The corner of my mouth lifted. “Touché. I haven’t been working, but now that I am, you can bet your ass that half of my money will be getting put away for as long as I can manage it.
You think I don’t want to go and blow my tips on some new shoes?
Good food? Some carts from the dispensary?
” I shook my head. “I have a budget for those things, and if they don’t fit in that budget, I don’t get them. ”
“This sounds miserable. No wonder you look bored all the time.”
“Well, maybe you should be more entertaining. Ever thought about that?”
He threw a paper airplane at me, conjured from somewhere only he knew, and the tip hit me in the eyelid.
With a swear, I thrust my leg out and kicked him.
It only took moments for a full-on duel to ensue.
Despite my physical fitness, he got me in a headlock.
I hadn’t wrestled someone nearly my size in a long time, and clearly, I wasn’t prepared for it.
“I think you need some goals too,” he said directly in my ear. The words were breathy, making me shiver as I felt them against my skin.
“Yeah?” I got out through the pressure on my throat. “Like?”
“Get me to submit in a wrestling match. Bet you can’t.” His arm tightened around me, taking away the rest of my breath. I tapped his arm, but he waited another few seconds before he released me. “Although, it might just require you to ask nicely.”
I coughed a little as I tried to orient myself. There was a smile on his face as he got to his feet, which made me narrow my eyes.
“I’ll beat you next time,” I said.
He shrugged one shoulder. “Looking forward to it.”
“Where are you going? There’s still a bunch of mail.”
Stepping around me, he plopped onto the couch with a loud groan. “We’re gonna game.”
“But—”
“Yeah, yeah. Responsibilities. One hour.”
When I didn’t respond, he stuck his lip out. With a sigh, I sat beside him and took the controller he held out.
Baby steps, I guess. There was no way I’d let him off the hook unless he actually didn’t want me to help him, but I was pretty sure he did. That meant I had my work cut out for me. Somehow, though, I didn’t really mind.