“Waste of time if you ask me.” Miguel walked away, lost in a conversation with Tasha before long.
“Not to be that person,” Rus said, quirking a brow in Miguel’s direction, “but was that kid just flirting with me?”
“Yes,” Dylan said with a sigh. “He sort of does that with everyone. Don’t worry about it. He’s harmless, and his crushes are pretty fickle.”
“I’d wager short kings are trending or something,” Kaiden said with a light laugh.
Dylan smirked, knowing Kaiden had been dragged into a conversation about Miguel’s many online crushes, and his type changed as frequently as fashion trends. The number of men Miguel liked could fill a 365-day calendar thrice over.
“I’m not that short,” Rus said. “Just so we’re clear, I’m average height.”
Dylan eyed Kaiden, then they both looked down at Rus, then up at each other with wicked little smirks.
“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.
“Oh, fuck both of you.”
“One of these days,” Kaiden teased.
After that, Dylan gave Rus a tour around the house as he introduced him to the residents. About halfway through, Rus appeared frazzled. Even Kaiden seemed a bit perplexed by who was who. It wasn’t easy learning the names of twelve teens, especially when half of them were eager for conversation.
Jasmine gave a warning call for dinner, loudly announcing they had five minutes. Dylan went to wash his hands, telling Rus that this was his last chance for a smoke break until after dinner. Jasmine tried to keep dinner very official, no leaving the table until everyone else, and ensuring the teens participated in conversation. She liked engagement.
Chelsea and Yazmin carried in large bowls of side dishes while Jasmine brought in a tray of pork chops.
“It’s nice of you to join us again,” Jasmine said, inviting Rus to take a seat near her.
Dylan ended up sequestered on the foot of the table between Miguel and Tasha, where he normally sat, though he’d planned on bringing his boyfriends closer to his side. Instead, Jasmine got ahold of Rus, and Chelsea dragged Kaiden into helping set the table.
“Just sit down,” Dylan whispered as Kaiden placed a basket of rolls on the table. “You’re a guest.”
“I don’t mind helping.” Kaiden shrugged, then scurried back into the kitchen to assist.
It seemed every time Kaiden came over, he jumped in for something, whether washing dishes or organizing donations or setting the damn dinner table.
Once everything was arranged and everyone had taken their seats, Jasmine invited Rus and Kaiden to dig in, letting company fill their plates first.
“So,” Chelsea said, scooping herself a large portion of mashed potatoes. “You know Mrs. Helix, Hendrix, Hydraulics? Whatever, the old hag down the street who pretends she’s still in college?”
“What’d that stupid ass bitch do now?” Miguel asked.
Jasmine snapped her fingers. “Ut-uh. None of that. Reel it back, real fast.”
Miguel huffed, then sarcastically pretended to reel back a fishing line to pull his profanity in. When Jasmine disregarded his flair, he shifted to another preferred tactic of his. Miguel had a silent stare off with Jasmine until he either grew bored or quietly surrendered. Dylan smirked, knowing Miguel only relented because of company. Sometimes, guests could bring out his more provocative streaks, but perhaps he didn’t want to chance Jasmine’s wrath in front of his crush.
Either way, Dylan gave Rus a tight smile and then Kaiden an awkward grin. Kaiden understood the chaos in the house all too well and handled it well enough. Hopefully, this first dinner wouldn’t scare Rus away.
“You were saying, Chelsea.” Jasmine nodded for her to continue her story on their vile neighbor.
“Oh, well, nothing much. Just her and the platinum Karens were all huddled together, trash-talking per usual, but when wewalked by…” Chelsea said with a wave of her hand, gesturing for Yazmin to pick up the story.
“They feel for us, naturally,” Yazmin said with a pitchy, sarcastic lilt. “As they hold a special place in their hearts for all unhoused people, but—”
“Megh,” Miguel interjected. “I fucking hate that term. What the hell is wrong with just saying homeless?”
“Some people find the term homeless dehumanizing,” Dylan explained, hoping Jasmine wouldn’t need to redirect the blatant profanity a second time. Personally, he didn’t understand the appeal of saying unhoused either, but he supposed it didn’t hurt anyone, so it didn’t matter.
“Those people would be stupid cunty twats,” Rus said absentmindedly as he sawed his pork chop.
