Chapter 18
Oliver
Last night, I slept better than I had in a while. I might’ve been happy about it if it’d been possible to stop thinking about Dean’s sleeping face. I managed not to wake him up when I got out of bed, and I’d taken a minute to just watch him, wishing I could climb right back in beside him.
While I tried to get it out of my head, I lined up cans of beans on the shelf. Oddly, they sold pretty fast, so it felt like I was always in this spot stocking them.
Did he like beans? The thought made me wrinkle my nose. It wasn’t that I didn’t, but if someone liked them enough to mention it, there had to be something wrong with them. I definitely wouldn’t want to sleep next to that person.
I’d sleep next to Dean regardless, though.
Damnit.
Shaking my head, I focused on the beans. There was nothing sexy about those. They were just little squishy nut-like things. Wet nuts.
That wasn’t helping.
“You alright, Oli?”
A can slipped from my hand, but I managed to catch it before it hit the floor. I turned, meeting Kasey’s eyes. We’d taken a class together last year and had hit it off, often talking at length about her photography. She was also gorgeous, but she wasn’t my type. Romantically, most people weren’t.
“Hey,” I said, flashing her a smile as I held up the can. “You spooked me.”
“Looked like you needed it.”
“Hm. Maybe I did. You’ve got a good eye.”
“That’s sort of my thing.”
With a laugh, I tossed the can from one hand to the other. “Got any more insight for a poor soul like me?”
Her head cocked. “You look . . . forlorn.”
“Forlorn, eh?” I considered it for a second. I hadn’t been very social all week, and since I’d been discussing a can of beans in my head, it was possible I was sort of lonely. Dean was working late tonight, which meant the apartment would be too quiet for my tastes.
Maybe I needed to go and bug Remi.
“Could be time to get a taste of your own supply,” Kasey said. I raised a brow, which made her breathe a laugh. “Psychology. Maybe you’re burnt out. Aren’t you doing that project on mental health or something?”
“Sure am. I’ve had my fair share of therapy, but I’ll probably find someone to hang out with when I’m off in a bit.”
“Good. Maybe you can finally let me set you up with someone soon.”
I gave her a mock scowl, but I couldn’t fake it for very long. “Actually, this time I might already be smitten.”
Her mouth formed an O. “My dating life is DOA. Please spill the beans.”
I snorted a laugh. “Clever.” After setting the can down, I crossed my arms. “I probably shouldn’t even say anything about it. It’s . . . not reciprocated.”
She pouted. “That’s lame. What do you see in them?”
“I can’t really describe it. He’s gorgeous.”
“Oooh.” She got closer, wearing a playful smile. “Do I know him?”
I tutted at her as I continued stocking the shelf.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “But don’t tell me it’s just about him being hot. That shallow shit is gonna kill our generation.”
“You’re right.”
While I thought about her statement, I tried to put it into words, but it was hard.
“At first, I was just attracted to him,” I admitted. “But . . . I don’t know. He has this way of making me feel safe.”
“Safe how?”
“Like I can go to sleep around him and trust that nothing will happen.” Rolling my lips inward, I took a breath through my nose. “It’s more than that, even. He’s seen some of my failures, and he’s jumped in to help me fix them. Not in a pitying way. Like he wants to guide me, not fix me.”
“Damn. Are you sure he’s not interested?”
I chuckled. “Nah. Not in the slightest.”
“That’s too bad. Still, if I see a shooting star, I’ll put out a wish for you.”
Putting my hand on my chest, I smiled. “You’d give me your wish?”
“Sure. You’re, like, the sweetest guy on campus, Oli.”
“Too bad we’re not compatible.”
“It happens to the best of us. We should hang out soon, though. You going to the party tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll see you there, then.” She gave me a quick hug before she headed further down the aisle.
Thinking about the party made me nervous for some reason. I’d never been into the scene, but it didn’t bother me to be around it either. If Dean hadn’t invited me, I likely would have stayed home.
“Hey, you were off twenty minutes ago,” Marty said, stopping at the end of the aisle.
I blinked a few times, then pulled out my phone to check the time. “Damn, you’re right.”
He chuckled and jerked his head toward the front. “Get out of here. I’ll finish this.”
“You sure?”
“You did your part. It’s the weekend. Go be young and dumb. Not too dumb, though.”
With a grin, I walked past him. “Tell Rebecca I said hi.”
“She wants me to invite you over for dinner, but I keep telling her it’s unprofessional.”
“No one has to know.”
“Once you move on from here, you’ll have to come by.”
The thought of leaving this place made me feel sad, but I nodded. After dropping my apron off in my locker, I left the store, swinging my keys around my finger. The idea of going home sounded terrible, so I decided to follow through on harassing my best friend. He was always down for it.
Since it was Friday, the bar was hopping.
I immediately spotted Remi behind the counter, moving at the speed of light.
Dean was grabbing empty glasses from the tables, looking as focused as if he were on the field.
It was crazy to think that Remi used to do this all by himself, and I was glad he'd chosen to get help. He was rapidly approaching thirty. God forbid he started finding grey hairs. I’d never hear the end of it.
“Hey, pal,” I said as I took one of the stools.
Remi met my eyes briefly, his lips quirking upward without pausing his movements. “How was work, kid?”
“Lots of beans.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“Got an ode to beans to lift a guy’s spirits?”
His shoulders shook, but I couldn’t hear his laugh over all the noise. After a minute, he cleared his throat.
“Oh beans, you musical nuggets of joy,
You toot-powered treasures no shame can destroy;
In burritos or soups, you reign as cuisines clown,
Long live the bean in its gassy, glorious crown.”
“Truly, you have a gift.”
He offered me a bow, then leaned against the counter. “I bought a ton of beans the other day.”
My nose wrinkled. “Why would you do that?”
“I saw this TikTok about how most of us will die if our grid ever goes down. I freaked out and got a bunch of dry food, packaged it all up in airtight jars, then realized I didn’t have a good place to store them, so I had to go buy a shelf at Home Depot.”
“Well, you’re stocked for the apocalypse. But maybe don’t watch more of those videos.”
“I mean, you’ll be on my doorstep as soon as the lights go out, so it’s good for both of us.”
“Facts.”
“You’re supposed to say, ‘Aw, how sweet, Remi.’”
“Aw,” I replied ultra-dramatically, leaning my chin on my fist. “You’re so sweet, Rem. Taking care of me all the time and shit.”
“Damn right. Without me, where would you be?”
“Eating beans beneath an overpass instead of in your spare room.”
He shuddered. “What a nightmare.”
“What’s a nightmare?” Dean asked when he joined Remi behind the counter.
I looked him up and down, unable to help myself. He was wearing a brown t-shirt, which seemed unstylish in theory, but in practice, it turned his pecs into mountains of chocolate I wanted to devour.
“Beans under an overpass,” I said.
“What sort of nightmares are you having?”
“Not a nightmare,” Remi countered. “Reality is a cold bitch.”
The frown on Dean’s face made me look away, but I found myself glancing at him again.
I wished I hadn’t, because the discreet way he studied Remi was eerily similar to how he’d watched me before, when he was trying to understand me.
At the time, I’d felt special. Being a bug under a microscope might not be ideal, but it meant you were interesting, with secrets someone would devote time to uncovering. It meant you had value.
But like with all those years in foster homes and group homes, there was a layer of competition to that sort of thing. I’d have killed for my friends to find a family that wanted them. At the same time, that meant there were two less parents interested in offering that to me.
In the end, we were all just victims of chance and bureaucracy back then. If they didn’t incentivize families to provide temporary homes, we would’ve been living in alleyways, begging for scraps.
For some, that would’ve been preferable.
I watched Remi as he went back to making drinks.
Once again, I thought about how the past affected the trajectory of our lives.
Some had survived hell and went on functioning, faking it and hoping they could keep doing that until they died.
That was the cold reality the professionals didn’t tell you.
“Why do you look like that?” Dean asked. He continued to line up clean glasses beneath the counter, seemingly not paying attention to me, although I knew that he was.
“It’s just my face.”
“You’re not usually so glum.”
“Maybe people should stop assuming things about me.”
Leaning his elbows on the counter, he grunted. “Alright, whatever. Why are you here?”
“It’s basically my third home.”
“Having so many seems like you’re sorta blessed.”
I matched his position, shifting my weight forward until I was close to him. “What makes a home?”
His brows went up for a second, then he turned contemplative. “Family?” After he said it, he shook his head. “Not only that, though. It’s just one option.”
“You don’t have to be apologetic about it.”
He made that signature grunting sound before he turned away from me. I struggled to find something else to say, but after my long day at work, I didn’t really have the brainpower for it.
Dean took a glass and filled it from the soda gun. When he turned back around, he set it down in front of me.
“Trying to get me drunk?” I teased.
“It’s virgin.”
“I know.”
Tentatively, I took a sip. For some reason, I thought he’d give me a graveyard or something, just to mess with me, but it was root beer.
I met his eyes while I took a longer drink, and he stared right back at me.
It could’ve been a coincidence that this was my favorite soda.
There were two options in this place that were caffeine-free, so it was a roll of the dice.
“I think how you feel in a place makes it a home,” he said, resuming his previous position. “It’s not just about the people or the location.”
“Go on.”
“When you’ve had a long day, does walking through the door take that weight off your shoulders, or do you feel boxed in, like that familiar kitchen is just a placeholder for something else?
Would you feel sad to see it burn down, or would you simply find yourself moving on to the next place?
Do you feel safe there, even when you’re alone? ”
I hummed thoughtfully. “Those are interesting questions.”
“So, do you?”
Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I ran my finger around the rim of the glass.
“I don’t really know. I don’t not feel safe there.
If it burned down, I’d be sad about it because it’s an old place with a lot of memories.
Not just mine. In the bedroom behind the dresser, there are marks on the wall.
I think they’re from measuring a kid’s height.
Nobody will ever know who they belonged to, but the idea of them being gone feels tragic. ”
“But that has nothing to do with you.”
“Doesn’t it? Some people a lot smarter than me say that thought shapes reality.
Maybe memories do too. Matter can’t really be destroyed, right?
So everything I’m made up of could be connected to a thousand other lives that came and went at some point.
Maybe millions of years ago, part of me existed in another galaxy we can’t even fathom. Maybe I was a warrior.”
“You sure you aren’t drinking?”
With a laugh, I drained the glass. “Nah, man, I just get lost in my head sometimes.”
“He’s a dreamer,” Remi chimed in from the register.
“And he’s a nosey bitch,” I muttered. “Hey, I’m gonna grab some food on my way home. I’ll get you something for when you’re off.”
Dean shook his head. “Don’t do that.”
“It’s cool. I know you’re trying to make me save money, so I guess I could just cook. What sounds good?”
“Seriously, I’ll be off late. Probably won’t even be hungry.”
“I’ll have to surprise you, then. I’ll wait until later so it doesn’t sit around for too long.”
“Dude, you’ve got to chill with that.”
Absently, I spun the glass around. “With what?”
“We can exist separately, you know. It won’t kill us.”
Rolling my lips, I stole a glance at him. He looked tired, and I wondered if it was because I’d kept him up last night. Maybe he hadn’t slept very well with me in the bed. My cheeks heated at the memory, but now it felt a little tarnished.
“Yeah.” I hopped off of the stool and pulled out my wallet.
“You’re not paying for the soda,” Remi called.
With a huff, I stuffed it back in my pocket. “Well, I’m off.”
“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asked, lowering his voice to a point I could barely hear him.
“Yup. Just a long day. I’ll see you at home if I’m awake then.”
Of course, I would be awake as soon as I heard his footsteps on the stairs. It was an unbreakable curse, something else that could never be destroyed.
Whenever I recognized Dean’s steps, my heart raced for different reasons. But I was starting to fear that it would have much the same result as so many other footsteps, with some sort of pain at the end of it.
That was what I got for being a dumbass and forcing myself closer to him.
Oh well. I’d been through worse, and I’d become an expert at bouncing back. No matter what, life would turn out beautiful for me. I’d make sure of it.