29 - Reality Check

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"Would you go with me back home for the weekend, two weeks from now?" Dylan asks when he parks out front of my house

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"Would you go with me back home for the weekend, two weeks from now?" Dylan asks when he parks out front of my house.

It's dark inside the car as much as it is outside but Dylan's cornflower-coloured eyes shine intensely. He's focused on me, with the kind of face that reads "I won't take a no for an answer", and to be honest, it intimidates me.

Sure, I've met his family but it wasn't planned. To go and purposely spend an entire weekend with him seems... too official?

"What for? I would be intruding."

He is supposed to not be driving, but apparently, Jake is not prone to driving his nephew around and decided to ignore his sister's orders. Let's just hope it doesn't get him into more trouble, even though Dylan's mom seemed like a total softie.

"It's my birthday," he informs me awkwardly, glancing away. "I wanted to have you there with us."

Oh.

"I-, I don't..." I trail off, flabbergasted.  

But as his expression falls, I can't help but blurt, "Uh, sure. I guess?" 

"Perfect," he nods with a megawatt kind of smile before kissing me.

"We'll talk later," I tell him after we break apart.

Shit, I need to get him a present.

What the hell am I going to give him? He probably has everything... and probably a lot of stuff that I can't even afford.

"Call me whenever you're settled in bed, so we can talk some more." 

"Aren't you fed up with me yet?" I laugh.

"Never," he smirks before giving me a quick peck on the lips and unlocking his car.

I smile before getting out and entering the run-down building, where my apartment is located. The walls are no longer white but a dark and dirty grey from the years and years of not being taken care of, not to mention the constant cracks on them.

The doorways used to be glass ones - back when it was constructed - but due to the robberies in the area, it was replaced by an iron one, even if it doesn't lock properly anymore. In conclusion, it's useless. I still wonder why people rob our houses, though, and we've been robbed a couple of times before.

We live here, it means we can't afford better or more. We're as poor as they come so, why don't they fuck off and rob those prissy rich people who were born with golden cribs?

Maybe they'd be luckier if they found out where my dad lives. 

No, they'd for sure be luckier. From the looks of that high fashion suit and organizing that exhibition, he's doing good. Pretty good. Meanwhile, I deal with this shit, every day.

Well, he can fuck off for all I care.

"Where have you been?" A gruff, familiar and completely undesirable voice sounds.

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