"He talked about me?"
Robin grins, victorious. "And there it is. Yes, he talked about you. Apparently you're very careful with books and have excellent taste in fantasy series."
"He said that?"
"Among other things." Robin's expression softens. "Look, Dev's... he's had a rough time. I don't know details, but kid showed up for his interview literally shaking, like he was terrified I wouldn't hire him. He works his ass off, never complains, and stays late reading every night because I don't think he has anywhere else to go."
I think about the shelter, the third-floor window, the rain soaking through his thin jacket.
"I'll come back tomorrow," I say.
"Good." Robin steals my beer, takes a sip. "He makes better coffee than me anyway. Don't tell him I said that."
The conversation shifts to other things. The weekend ride everyone's planning, Jason's new recipe experiments, whether Nico's finally going to let Ezra replace the mattress with the spring that attacks his kidney. Knox mentions the five acres behind the bar, how the county assessor came out last week, and Vaughn says he'll clear the back fence line this weekend. It's vague, half-formed. Knox thinking out loud, which he does more of now that there are nine people living in or orbiting a building designed for five.
But I keep thinking about Devin, about that note, about the way he looked at me when he thought I wasn't watching.
About how he's been watching me read for months, the same way I've been peripherally aware of him.
Tomorrow. I'll go back tomorrow.
And maybe this time, I'll be the one slipping him a note.
Chapter 3
Devin
Friday morning starts the same as every morning. Tyler's alarm going off at 5:45, him hitting snooze three times while I lie there pretending I'm not already awake.
"Dude, just get up," he finally groans at 6:15. "I know you're awake. You stopped breathing normally like an hour ago."
"I breathe weird?"
"You breathe like you're trying not to exist." He sits up, stretches. "It's creepy."
The shelter's breakfast is from 6:30 to 7:30, and you have to get there early if you want anything decent. Tyler and I have a system. He saves our spot in line while I grab drinks. He actually eats the scrambled eggs that taste like rubber. I stick to milk and whatever fruit they have, saving my appetite for Robin's pastries.
"So that girl at Footlocker," Tyler says as we wait in line. "The one with the braids? I went back yesterday after my shift and she gave me her number."
"The one who laughed when you tried to explain sneaker technology?"
"She was laughing with me, not at me."
"Sure she was."
Tyler's twenty, been here six months longer than me. Parents kicked him out for the classic reason, brought a boyfriend home, ended up homeless. The boyfriend lasted two weeks. Tyler's still here, still optimistic, still convinced every cute girl or guy who smiles at him is the one.
"When you gonna get a girlfriend, Dev?" He asks, piling eggs onto his plate. "Or boyfriend. Whatever. You can't just read forever."
"I like reading."
"You like hiding."
He's not wrong. I grab milk, skip the eggs, snag an apple that's only slightly bruised.
"Oh shit, I almost forgot." Tyler pulls a crumpled envelope from his pocket. "Melissa from Footlocker actually wrote me a letter. Like an actual letter. Can you believe it?"
"That's either really romantic or really weird."