Page 115 of Not Made to Last

Floating.

The house across the road lights up, and Dom groans. “Oh, look, you’ve gone and woken the neighborhood.”

I bite back a smile.

“I hate those fuckers,” he adds, and then he flashes a middle finger to the woman peering at us through a window. The lights switch off immediately, and Dominic chuckles. “Did Ollie ever tell you about them?”

I shake my head, facing him. “No.”

He gets more comfortable on the bench, then says, “So this one time I come home from a run, and there’s a package on my door, right?”

“Yeah…”

“But they delivered it to the wrong house.” He points to the house that was just lit up. “So, I’m like, okay, I’ll do the right thing and take it over to them. I’d just been for a run, and it was raining out, so I had my sweats, hoodie up. I don’t even knock on the door. I just leave the package by the door and leave. Next thing you know, the old hag who lives there posts my picture on that Next Door app, telling everyone to look out for me because I stole a fucking package from her.”

Eyes wide in disbelief, I murmur, “No, she fucking didn’t.”

“She fucking did, Garrett!” Dominic all but shouts, sitting forward. “I didn’t see it, but Ollie did, andgoddamn…”

“Did she think you did it?”

“No!” He scoffs. “Yo, up until your boy Oscar ratted my ass out, Ollie thought I walked on water.”

I shake my head, chuckling.

“So anyway… Ollie comes storming into my room, dragging my ass out of the house and all the way there—and remember,I have no idea what’s going on at this point—I’m literally being dragged, barefoot, through the streets, by my hoodie…”

I can’t stop laughing at the mental image because Dominic’s twice the size of Liv, and he could’ve stopped her, I’m sure, but he just let her do it, and it’s funny because I’d let my sister do the same. No doubt.

“So, she’s slamming her hand on the fucking door, yelling, ‘Open up, you ugly bitch!’”

I’m holding my stomach, trying to ease the ache from laughing so hard.

“The ugly bitch opens the door, and Ollie practically pushes me into her. And she goes: ‘This is my little brother Dominic Delgado! He’s the starting power forward for Philips Academy and top of his class! He has better things to do than steal your shit! Now take down that fucking post, or I’m going to come back here, fuck your husband, and give him a kid he’s actually proud of!’”

I’mdying. “She did not say that!”

“The fuck she did!” he yells. “And then… as we’re leaving, still dragging me by my hood, she turns back to the woman and says, ‘And if you so much as think about posting this anywhere on the Internet, I’m going to come back in the middle of the night and burn down your fucking house, with you and all your ugly-ass kids inside it!’”

I bust out a guffaw. “The fuck am I getting myself into?”

“Someone who’s got your back, one hundred,” he says, turning serious.

I let the remnants of my laughter filter out of me until it’s quiet again.

Then he says, “Hey, I know! Maybe we should egg it.”

I roll my eyes at his dig. “We could always superglue a giant dick to the front door.”

He laughs at that, and I’m right there with him. “Yo,” he says, jerking his head to the street. “Is that your boy?”

I squint, trying to get a better look, and sure enough, “Oscar!” I call out.

Oscar stops in his tracks, looks over at us before making his way over. “Garrett,” he greets, then nods at Dominic. “Delgado.” He looks between us, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Well well well, how the turntables…”

With a chuckle, I ask, “What are you doing up so early?”

“Up? Early?” He parks his ass on the swing beside me. “Brother, I haven’t been to bed yet.”

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