13. Dee
Chapter thirteen
Dee
Iwake to the smell of bacon. My stomach twists with hunger and I stretch my arms and legs starfish style.
“Emi,” I mumble.
No response from the tangle of blankets next to me.
“Emi,” I try again, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “Honey, time to wake up.”
“Nooooooo,” she whines, burrowing deeper into the mess of comfort.
I laugh, rolling myself out of bed and heading into my bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. A few minutes later, I slip past Emi, who hasn’t moved an inch, and make my way to the kitchen.
I see him before he sees me. Dylan, in a tight black T-shirt, tattoos on full display wrapping around his arm, hair tied back in a low bun. My gaze travels south…and a little farther south….and a little farther.
“Did you ask me to be your roommate so you could stare at my butt?” Dylan asks. Busted. My cheeks heat as I step out of the hallway and take a seat at the counter.
Classic rock music plays quietly from his phone resting on the countertop next to the stove.
“That, among other reasons.”
“My body and my money. I should be offended.”
“Don’t cheapen our agreement,” I say with a smile. “You love being the apartment sugar daddy. And apparently the chef too.”
“Felt like I owed you two. I ate more than my fair share of cupcakes last night.”
“Yeah, I thought I said something about you only getting one.”
“Emi kept throwing them at me after her drum lesson. What was I supposed to do? Say no to a cupcake? I’m not dumb. Where is the new rockstar?”
I nod toward my bedroom door, cracked open in hopes the smell of food is enough to wake Emi.
“Sleeping Beauty turns into a dragon if you wake her too early or too quickly. It’ll be a minute before she—”
“Is that bacon?” Emi asks as she strolls out of my room, cocooned in my comforter, half of the massive blanket trailing behind her as she passes me and walks straight into Dylan’s room.
Two seconds later, Dylan and I hear the telltale sounds of her playing on his drum set again.
“You were saying?” Dylan asks with a smug smirk plastered on his face as he divides a pan of scrambled eggs onto three plates.
“I stand corrected.”
I allow myself another lazy perusal while Dylan moves around the kitchen comfortably. He’s only been here a couple of weeks, but he moves in the space like it’s home to him. I find myself smiling at the thought, warmth spreading through my insides.
He places a mug in front of me. My tea exactly the way I like it.
I don’t need coffee. I am the stimulant.
“What’s this?” I ask.
“Well, Deanna. It’s a ceramic mug with hot water and loose-leaf tea, steeped with a splash of—”
“I don’t mean the tea? Why are you doing all this?”
He pauses. “Don’t overthink it. I live here. I eat breakfast. You live here, and as far as I know, you eat breakfast. Despite the multiple mornings I’ve seen you run out of here with nothing more than a granola bar and a Gatorade.”
“Why wake up early, when I can sleep in, snooze my alarm seven times, and then panic for ten minutes about being late while rushing out the door?” I ask, blowing cool air into my mug.
“Sounds awful.”
“You mean exhilarating.” I wink.
He shakes his head, amusement clearly winning out, though I watch carefully as he tries to hide it.
He plates the bacon and toast and then strides over to his bedroom door, signaling to Emi it’s time to eat.
Silence follows, and then I watch as she high-fives Dylan on her way back into the kitchen, giving her shoulders a little stretch and wiggle, Dylan’s headphones still draped around her neck.
“Sorry, my guy. Had to work out a rhythm that was keeping me up last night.” She yawns dramatically.
“Funny,” I say, leaning back in my stool, mug in hand, warmth seeping into my fingertips. “I could have sworn I heard you snoring the moment your head hit the pillow.”
“Dee, Dee. We both know you’re the snorer,” Emi says, scooching up onto the stool next to me. “Mom gave me earplugs months ago, but I can’t sleep with those in my ears.”
Dylan doesn’t hide his laugh well enough, so he tries to save it by forcing a drink of coffee, failing. He ends up choking on his sip. I flip him off behind Emi’s back and mouth, Karma’s a bitch.
He nods, coughing into his fist for a minute before clearing his throat and taking a sip of water.
I hear a key struggling in the lock of my front door, then Morgan and Kai make their way into the apartment, huge smiles on their faces. Emi yells in excitement and runs into their arms.
Dylan grabs two more plates from the cabinet, holding them up when they join us in the kitchen. “You two hungry?”
“Oh no, but thank you. We grabbed our favorite breakfast sandwiches on the way over. It’s tradition for us now. We would have brought some for you three, but Dee texted us to let us know you already had breakfast covered,” Morgan says.
“How was last night?” Kai asks.
“Dad. It. Was. Amazing,” Emi nearly screams, then runs out of the room. She’s back two seconds later with Dylan’s drumsticks in hand, arms reached high above her head, sticks crossed in an X in the air. “You are now looking at a musician.”
“Ooooh, druuuums.” Morgan drags the words out, zeroing her look of disdain on me.
I hold up one hand defensively, limited by the mug in the other, before pointing at Dylan. “It was him. Blame him.”
“I thought you were taking the fall for this,” he mutters as Morgan levels her gaze at him, the disdain intensifying. Shit, even I forgot how scary she can be. It runs in the family, I guess.
“That was before you laughed at my snoring. Sucks to suck, fucker,” I hiss, jumping off my stool, standing next to Emi and glaring at him. “Yeah, what the fuck is this, Dylan?”
“I—She—You—you said it was fine!” he shouts, panic clear in his tone.
“Me?” I yell back.
“Oh, save it, Dee,” Morgan mumbles. “You and I both know that you wouldn’t stop Emi if she was really enjoying herself.
” She releases a heavy sigh, arms crossing, leaning back against the counter as Emi drags Kai into Dylan’s bedroom and starts explaining the electric drum set in detail. “And neither would we.”
“You’re going to cave this time?”
“Doesn’t seem like we have another choice,” she muses. She may play the part of annoyed parent, but when it comes to Kai and Morgan, when Emi is serious about following an interest, they always support her, and then some.
Kai and Emi rejoin us, and she hops back into her seat, happily stuffing a slice of bacon in her mouth, not a care in the world.
Yeah. Emi is absolutely winning this round.
“I guess you’re the one I should talk to about where to start with all this?” Kai asks, taking the coffee Dylan hands him. A valiant attempt at a peace offering, I’ll admit.
“I’ll hook you guys up. No problem,” Dylan says. “I’ll give you the name of the music shop where I teach lessons.”
My phone starts ringing on the counter.
“Great Nana is calling,” Emi screeches, swiping to answer the video call. “Hi, Great Nana,” she says, using the nickname all of my grandmother’s great-grandkids use, before taking another chomp of bacon.
“I was expecting to see my granddaughter, and here I am, blinded by a gem instead,” I hear Nana exclaiming from the other end of the call.
“Maybe you could put on some sunglasses.” Emi shrugs. “I can’t help how I shine.” She starts chugging her glass of orange juice. Why do kids always eat like the food is going to run away?
“I swear, we ate so much food last night. Why is she acting like this?” I mumble to Morgan.
“Growth spurt,” Kai chimes in. “One right after another. From birth…till now. We’ll let you know when that lets up.”
“I take it you’re with your aunt Dee Dee. Show me this new roommate man friend of hers.”
Man friend, Dylan mouths at me, eyebrows raised.
Go with it, I mouth back.
Emi holds out her phone, and Dylan gently accepts, like it’s going to bite him if he’s not careful. It’s only partially true.
“I’m Nana. And you are…” Nana waits expectantly.
Dylan clears his throat. “Uh, Dylan. Dylan Brooks, ma’am.”
“Oh, he’s polite. Deanna, be nice to this one. I have a feeling he’s going to be scared of you if he isn’t already. Too much fire in our genes. I’m afraid she got that from me.”
“Yes. I mean, no. I mean, Dee doesn’t scare me,” Dylan says, a small laugh escaping him.
“Yes, I do,” I call out across the room, before I steal the phone from Dylan, standing next to him so she can see both of us.
I can see about one inch of Nana’s forehead and her silver hair, fluffed and looking perfect as usual.
“I get to see you in two weeks. Any last requests for a birthday present?” I ask.
“Stop it,” she replies. “You are my present. Now get in that car and make the trip early if you really want to give me something special.”
“Wish I could, but I’m booked. Gotta make some money, cause some chaos, be a menace to society. You know, the usual.”
“I know, dear. You make me so proud. Bring that Dylan with you, all right? He needs to meet the family.”
The ground shifts beneath me. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t think—” I start to say, before Dylan smirks and cuts me off.
“I’d love to be there. See you soon,” Dylan says, pulling me tightly to his side, his fingers firmly set around my shoulder.
I wish I could say I’m irritated. Obnoxiously annoyed at his immediate acceptance of her invite. But let’s just say I’m temporarily distracted because…why does he smell so good?
Kai steals the phone from me, and he and Morgan chat with Nana for the next few minutes before Emi runs away with it to show off Dylan’s drum set.
Maybe this will be good. If Dylan comes to the party, it’ll take the heat off me and my job hunt while my family all fusses over meeting him—my roommate, sugar daddy, and technically my boss? I don’t know. I might just stick with my roommate for introductions.
To be determined.
“Why can’t we see her face. Does she not know how to use the video feature?” Dylan whispers.
“Oh, she knows. She’s been hiding from pictures and videos my entire life.
I have about three good pictures with her, and I intend to make it four at her birthday party.
She’s turning ninety in two weeks. A week after my birthday.
We used to have joint birthday parties. I’d bet you twenty bucks she still insists my name be included on her cake.
” I realize I’m rambling. “But you don’t actually have to make the trip.
I can come up with a solid reason why you can’t make it. Work, whatever, we’ll figure it out.”
“No, Dee. I said I’ll be there. Unless it’d make you uncomfortable, I’d like to go.”
I study him, not a trace of insincerity to be found. “Why would you do that?” I whisper, not sure what to make of him wanting to come with me to Cleveland to meet my family.
“I was invited.” Dylan shrugs. “And how could I not be curious about what kind of family spawned my greatest challenge? It’s a need-to-know kind of answer.”
I shove his shoulder and he rubs the spot with mock hurt.
“Poor baby,” I whine.
“Nana said you have to be nice to me,” he whines, before backing away into his room to join the conversation about when Emi will start her first band.
Jesus Christ, he’s going to milk that single comment forever. I will not be nice. I will be very mean. Yeah, I’ll be a huge asshole from now until he moves out.
But when I shuffle to his room and lean against the doorframe, I know I’m lying to myself. He patiently reminds Emi of the cadence he taught her last night, and she promptly shows it off to Morgan, Kai, and Nana.
Dylan doesn’t deserve for me to be mean. He doesn’t even annoy me anymore. Fuck, am I starting to actually like my friend? My boss? My roommate? How fucking annoying.