Page 34 of Bad Boys Don’t Date Clumsy Girls

Chapter Thirteen

I pull the front door to the shelter open and do my best to embrace the butterflies. My heart races as I approach the breakroom. A smile is already forming on my lips in anticipation of seeing Dylan. But the room is empty and disappointment races cold through my veins. My heart really plummets when I find patio A empty as well. Maybe Dylan isn’t coming today.

I let the first two dogs out and get right to work sweeping and mopping their kennels. Maybe the water fight made Dylan catch a bad cold. Should I take him some chicken noodle soup? I imagine him tucked into bed as I spoon-feed him and find it an oddly alluring fantasy. But it’s more likely he isn’t there because the water fight turned him off. He probably found somewhere else to do his community service.

Finished with the first two kennels, I pause outside Popeye’s door. Should I skip it? I shake my head. Even if Dylan does come back, he won’t be volunteering forever, and Popeye should know that. I swing the door open and Popeye trots out. He halts in the middle of the patio and stares at the empty expanse in front of him. His ears and head droop and he saunters to the side of the patio and curls up in the sunshine.

My mouth hangs open. Popeye didn’t even lift his leg to kennel F. Ignoring the looming sense of sadness, I tromp into Popeye’s kennel to sweep. I’ve just slapped the mop onto the concrete when I hear a deep voice crooning to Popeye out on the patio. My insides come alive with a forest worth of skittering animals. I halt so I can listen more closely but can barely hear over the thundering of my own pulse in my ears. I smile to myself when I recognize Dylan’s voice. He came. I didn’t scare him away.

When my stomach starts to flutter, my instinct is to hide or run, but I chant Sam’s advice in my head. Embrace the crush, embrace the crush. When Dylan and Popeye appear in the doorway, I feel the anticipation without the nerves.

“You didn’t save the beast for me.” Dylan rubs the top of Popeye’s head.

“I wasn’t sure if you were coming, so…” I shrug. He looks tired. I wonder if he overslept. Maybe he got back together with Teresa, and he’d been busy putting his mouth…I shake the thought away. No jealousy. That’s not part of a crush.

“Sorry I’m late.” Dylan stares down at Popeye as he scratches the dog behind the ears. “I had to make a stop and the place opens at the same time as the shelter.”

“Oh, you don’t have to explain to me. I’m not your boss or anything.” My laugh sounds forced.

Dylan peeks up at me through his long, floppy bangs as he speaks. “Because I miss a lot of school, it probably made you think I’d blow this place off too, but I’m not…I mean, I don’t…” He shrugs. “I’m committed to being here.”

“Okay.” I push the mop bucket ahead of me as I leave the kennel. Dylan jumps forward and takes the mop handle from me and pulls the bucket the rest of the way out of the kennel. His fingers brush mine as he takes the handle from me. I revel in the quickening of my pulse and silently thank my best friend for the awesome advice. I can’t believe he can have such an impact on me. I smile at him, and he cocks his head.

“What’s the smile for?” His brow furrows and he scans my face like he’s seeing something new.

“I’m just glad you’re here. I like working with you.” I can’t look at him as I admit that, so I place my hand on the handle of the next kennel and wait for him to put Popeye away.

Dylan snorts. “Why do you sound surprised when you say that?”

“Oh, come on. We are totally different people.” I open the next two kennel doors and Dylan opens the third, and we watch the dogs burst free and run off to smell and pee on things. “It isn’t like we have anything in common.”

“What do you mean nothing in common? We have this place.” Dylan holds his hands out, watching me sweep the first of the two empty kennels.

“I’m here because I want to be. You’re here because you have to be.” I eye him. “Totally different.”

He tilts his head back and laughs. “Fine.”

“And you are really cool,” I laugh. “And I’m so not cool.”

Dylan squints at me, his smile forming into a questioning look. “Why don’t you think you’re cool?”

I arch my brows. “Serious?”

“Yeah.”

He does look completely serious, but I can’t really understand his question. How would he think I am? Or that I would fool myself into thinking I’m cool? “Okay, um…you have that whole bad-boy image thing going on, with the motorcycle, leather jackets, girls galore.”

He rolls his eyes, but I keep talking.

“I can’t even talk to a boy without dumping a drink in his lap. I trip over absolutely nothing. I don’t even own a pair of pants that don’t have torn knees.”

Dylan’s expression softens as I describe myself. “First off, you are clumsy. I wish I could dispute that for you, but it’s undeniable.”

I have to laugh. “It is!”

“And my bad boy image is a total farse.”

I step out of the kennel, and he wheels the mop bucket through the doorway. I think about what he said and snort. “Right.”

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