Page 19 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

“The best.” I immediately agree.

Jessie and I have been working side by side for several days now, and from pretty much nine to five.

It turns out, my stomping ground is similar to hers, so we have a lot more in common than either of us first realized. From talking about systems, our conversations just seemed to flow organically. Before I knew it, we were chatting about everything and anything.

Right now, we’re extremely busy. Thankfully, that stops the Neanderthalic brain I now seem to possess going down paths it shouldn’t. Whilst it still takes the one-track mind route any chance it can get, I’ve learned to control it by leaving the room and calling our Paddy. Talking to him about mundane family matters takes my mind off the increasingly inappropriate thoughts I’m having about Jessie O’Brien. Turns out it’s also much easier to hold an adult conversation with her when I’m thinking with the right head.

“It’s a shame, you know?”

“About?” I ask the question, but I know exactly where this is going.

“Jaine and Paddy.”

I glance at her then frown. Not over what she said per se. More because I’m worried about her. She looks like she hasn’t slept properly in days, and it’s likely because she hasn’t. She’s always working when I get here and still doing her thing when I leave.

Apparently, time really is of the essence.

I’m not sure my family fully appreciates the effort she’s going to. To save us from what I don’t fully know. While I realize she’s being handsomely rewarded, she’s still going above and beyond to the extent where it’s clearly becoming detrimental to her health.

She’s staring at her screen, rapidly manipulating data, and wearing an ancient pair of blue jeans, a tatty old grey tank top and the same ‘seen better days’ sneakers. Worryingly, she mumbled something about her outfit being what she wears when she needs good luck.

“I know,” I eventually reply.

“I mean, this arranged marriage business. It shouldn’t be allowed in this day and age.”

I exhale. This really isn’t a path I want our conversation to go down for obvious reasons. The main one being I don’t want to tempt fate.

“It’s fairly common in influential families. My own parents’ marriage was arranged.” This is the perfect opportunity for me to admit to my own situation.

I don’t use it.

Paddy assures me nothing’s been mentioned about my following suit with Eoin, so for now, I’ll stick my head in the sand and pretend it’s not going to happen. He doesn’t think it will. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it won’t.

“And are they happy?”

I shrug. “I’ve never met two people more so.”

“And that’s what’s on the cards for Eoin?”

“It is.”

“I can’t imagine he’ll be over the moon at being told what to do and who to wed.”

“He isn’t, but he’ll come around to my parents’ way of thinking, I’m sure.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

My heart sinks in my chest. If she’s asking me outright, I’ll have no choice but to tell her. I can’t blatantly lie. It will change our relationship. I know it will.

And I don’t want it to change.

Because it might only be fleeting and due to the unusual circumstances we’ve both found ourselves in, but these past few days I’ve seen the other side of Jessie. Not the loud, in your face, gregarious girl everyone else sees. The quiet one she turns into when the cameras are off and the world’s not watching.

The girl I’m falling for.

The girl that, underneath it all, is just the same as me.

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