Page 18 of Dean

My god, stop noticing things about me. I can’t cope.

“I was just thinking about my little sister. I need to call her.”

Dean arches an eyebrow. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“I do. We don’t talk much…for reasons, but I hope in a few years we can really reconnect.”

When my parents no longer have their claws in her, and she can finally get away.

“Do they live close?”

“Up in Northern California.”

“Hm, we could drive up there sometime, visit if you want.”

“Oh, Dean, I would if I could. But it’s not a good idea.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, but he lets it go. I guess there isn’t really anythingtosay. She’s under eighteen, and I really have no say in her life until she can escape. It’s a sad reality, but our reality nonetheless.

We continue to eat, chatting about the day ahead and leaving the heavy stuff behind us, and when we’re done, Dean insists on doing the dishes while I get ready for work.

And I do it quickly, washing my face and putting on a pair of oversized jeans and a crop top. One that shows off my slim waist. It’s not what I’d usually wear, but it’s trying something. Seeing how far I can push things.

Will anyone say anything? Will they stare?

I don’t know. But I want to find out. For some reason, I want to know.

Squaring my shoulders, I walk down the small hallway, meeting Dean by the front door.

“I can drive you,” he says, his eyes slipping down to my waist before popping back up to my eyes. “Your car is still at the garage. I didn’t realize that until just now.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried. I was planning on taking your motorcycle to work.”

He arches an eyebrow at me and then nudges me slightly. “Fuck off, Avery.”

“No can do, Boss.”

I waggle my eyebrows at him, and he strides out of the house with a smile, locking the door behind me before pausing. “Shit. You need a key.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“Yeah. But I have an extra one. Hold on.” He unlocks the door, moves inside, and then returns with a key in his hand. “Here.”

He sets it in my palm and my heart pitter-patters. It’s almost like he’s asking me to move in with him, which is silly. I know. But god, I’d love that. I’ve even imagined it. But I know what this is. We’re roommates. Platonic. Even if he did touch my cheek last night and braid my hair. It means nothing.

I need to get whatever thing I have growing in my head out of it.

I need to behave.

I won’t be here long enough anyway.

“All right. Well, thank you. Now drive me to work, you fool!” I hold up my fist, like some kind of Roman ruler making a declaration, and Dean just huffs a small laugh.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah. I know. But still. We don’t want to be late.”

“Bossy?”

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