Chapter Two
Taylor.
Mom had picked me up and told me that Dad had been out. I loved my mom, but I enjoyed the time in the car with my dad. He was much more laid back than my mother and I could talk to him about so much.
I could ask him about boys and he wouldn’t get upset or tell me that I couldn’t date certain boys. I was eighteen, and he respected that I needed a little more freedom. My mom was all about the appearances – what I looked like and who I hung out with.
It was so annoying. All I wanted to do was go to school, cheerlead, and hang out with my friends. Why do I have to be bothered about what I look like? People like me. I’m smart, sort of. I get so disgusted by her.
She makes me show her how I look before school every day. I know how to dress. She taught me, after all. I thought she should leave me alone. We don’t talk the whole ride home. When we got there, Dad’s car was in the driveway.
I hopped out to go see my daddy. I missed our talk on the ride home. I had a question for him that I didn’t think my mom could answer. Flying in the front door, I stopped dead at the strange guy sitting in my living room.
“What are you doing here?”
The boy stood. He looked a little familiar, but I was scared.
“I’m Dylan. Your father brought me home,” he said.
“Dylan? Where’s my father?” I raced down the hall to the kitchen before he could answer. “Daddy?”
“What, pumpkin?”
I stopped in the doorway to the kitchen. My dad was putting food on a plate.
“Who is that guy in the living room?”
“That’s Dylan Cabot.”
I had heard of him. He was a burnout and bad news. Why was he in my living room? My friends were coming over after dinner. “Why is he here?”
“He had no place to stay, and his mother is in the hospital,” he said.
It still didn’t make sense. “How did you meet him?”
“That not important, pussycat. He’s staying with us for a few days.”
I blinked. “Staying with us? Does Mom know?”
“Not yet.”
The front door closed and my mother strode into the kitchen. “What is that tattooed boy doing in our living room?”
“Relax, Mallory. He needed a place to stay, so I offered him one of our bedrooms. We have more than we need.”
“He looks like trouble.”
“Well, he is in trouble and I’d appreciate you being nice to him. The kid’s had it rough, and he needs our help.”
“Robert Dean, you are a softy. Do you have a plan?”
“Not yet. But I will.”
She frowned. My mother didn’t like people in the house. She only tolerated my friends because we went into the basement and she couldn’t hear us. My mother could be a bitch. I bet she was going to give Dad a hard time about Dylan after I went to bed.
“Dylan,” my dad yelled.
The boy appeared in the kitchen doorway looking at all of us as if we were going to challenge his right to be there. As long as he stayed out of my way, we’d be fine. I had no time for sullen teen boys when I had my eye on the quarterback of the football team.
“Here’s some food. Eat.”
“You already fed me,” he said.
His voice was deep, more like a man than he looked. He was skinny and a tattoo snaked up his arm into his shirt. I wasn’t sure I liked tattoos, and it made him look a little scary.
“Well, Dylan, I guess you’ll be our guest for a little while,” my mom said.
As much as she didn’t want him here, she still had manners. You know, all about appearances and such.
“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it.”
He took a spot on a stool at our kitchen island, then dug into the food Dad had offered him.
“Dylan, this is my daughter, Taylor,” he said.
Dylan looked at me, then through me. “Hello. You’re in my math class.”
Okay. I hadn’t seen him, but I might not notice someone like him. He wasn’t in the crowd I hung out with.
***
I was hungry, but I didn’t really want to eat with Dylan. He ate like he hadn’t seen food in years. Did he never eat in public?
“I’m going to take my plate downstairs,” I said.
My mother nodded. My father frowned. “You might as well eat with Dylan and me. Are you eating, honey?”
My mother shook her head. “No, I have a meeting tonight.”
She eyed Dylan as if she didn’t want to leave him alone in the house, like a new dog that might not be housetrained. At least my mother could escape. My father gave me a look that told me I couldn’t argue with him. I did anyway.
“I have friends coming over to study.”
“You can eat a plate of food before they get here,” he said. “You could invite Dylan to meet your friends.”
Before I could disagree, Dylan said it. “I don’t think so, sir. I have my own homework.”
My father eyed us then shrugged. “Okay. Do you need a computer? I think we have an older laptop laying around here somewhere. Where is that, Taylor?”
“It’s in the den, Daddy.”
I put some stew on my plate. I had snacks in the basement. My father made sure there was food down there, much to the chagrin of my mother. He would rather me have friends over where he could keep an eye on us. He was sure I was going to get into some kind of trouble.
Whatevs. Not like there weren’t many other hours in a day that I could get up to trouble. They didn’t really know when cheerleading practice ended. Not that I really got up to anything.
I had a beer at a party once and I had wanted to throw up. I waited until I felt normal again before I drove home. No one was the wiser, but it scared me.
So, I didn’t drink.
Not worth it. I’d bet Dylan partied every night. What would my Dad think of that?
“Dylan, you said you and Taylor are in the same math class?”
“Yes, sir.”
He put down his fork. I could see another tattoo on his other arm. How many did he have? Did they hurt? I didn’t want to ask. Dylan and I didn’t travel in the same social circles. I doubted that we even knew the same people.
“How are you doing in it?”
“Well, sir. I’m good at math.”
He looked like he was good at math, but I thought, but kept quiet and chewed. I braced for what my father was going to say next.
“Could you help Taylor with it?”
Dylan looked at her as if he was afraid she would bite. “Uh, if she wants me to.”
“Not tonight, Daddy. I have friends coming,” I said.
I didn’t want Dylan around me. Really, I didn’t. What had Daddy been thinking bringing him home? Weren’t there shelters for people like him?
“Okay, sweetheart, but it sounds like Dylan could help you get your grade up.”
I didn’t frown, but I wanted to. “Sure, Daddy. We can get together this weekend.”
Dylan nodded, then went back to his food. I escaped not long after. I set up snacks in a few bowls along with some chocolate – just the study food we needed.
The basement had its own entrance so my mother didn’t have to be bothered by people. Helena Charney, my best friend, arrived first.
“Hey, girl.”
We hugged. She was different from most of our friends. She wasn’t that into fashion, just enough that my other friends didn’t bug me about her – because they would. I once wore last year’s style to school and I never heard the end of it. I almost called my mother to come get me.
When I told her, she took me shopping that afternoon.
I’ve never worn last year’s clothing again.
Helena had put a purple streak in her brunette hair, and I worried that no one else would like it. “Why did you do that?”
She shrugged. “Just felt like it.”
“You look like a goth.”
“Hardly. It’s one streak of purple, Taylor.”
I kept quiet, opening my books to study. I had a report due the next day and would type it when everyone left.
Next into the basement came the B girls. Bailey and Barbie were twins and everyone just called them the B girls because it was tough to tell them apart. I could. Bailey was nicer than Barbie. Her hair was also a little darker than Barbie’s.
“Cheers, bitches,” Bailey said. “I have a report and I need a lot of help.”
Helena rolled her eyes. Bailey needed help all of the time. I often wondered what she was going to do in college when we weren’t there. The B girls dropped onto the couch while Helena grabbed some chips.
When I heard footsteps on the stairs, I expected to see my dad. He’d come down if my mother wasn’t there so he could steal some junk food. Instead, it was Dylan.
The B girls gasped. Bailey mouthed, “Is that Dylan Cabot?”
I nodded. “Can I help you, Dylan?”
“Your dad sent me down for a bag of chips,” he said.
He glanced at all of the girls, but his face showed nothing.
“The chips are in the closet,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t linger since he was coming across a little creepy.
He grabbed a bag. “Thanks.”
He trudged back up the stairs. Barbie squealed. “What is he doing in your house? He’s like a burnout or a druggy or something.”
“My father brought him home. You know how he is with strays,” I said.
That was really the only explanation.
“I think he’s kind of hot,” Bailey said.
“Hot? He’s bad news. He was caught stealing from the dollar store. The dollar store. I mean, really,” Barbie said.
I had heard many stories about Dylan and wondered if I should share them with Daddy. He should know who he invited into our house. “I think it’s for a few days while his mother is in the hospital.”
“Still, he has the bad boy mystique. Do you really think he’s had sex with as many girls as I’ve heard?” Barbie said. She shivered a little, but I could tell she was thinking it might be a good idea.
“Who told you he had sex with a lot of girls?” I asked. I was curious, okay?
Barbie shrugged. “I heard some girls talking in the bathroom. He picks the uggos, from what I can tell. Guess they’re more desperate.”
“I think he could get any girl he wanted,” Bailey said.
Oh, crap. Bailey crushed on anything with a penis. The last thing I needed was her inventing reasons to be here because of Dylan. “He’ll be gone in a few days, so we really don’t need to talk about him.”
“Shall we talk about that quarterback?” Barbie said.
Again, Helena rolled her eyes. She opened her books and, I guess, let the conversation flow around her.
“He was watching you do that split, Taylor. I think he’s into you.”
I shrugged, pretending it was no big deal, but he was Hot. With a capital H. “Maybe.”
“I bet he asks you to the dance,” Barbie said.
“We’ll see. Then I have to decide if I want to go with him.”