Page 20 of Dirty Dylan: Dirty Dusters

JESSIE

If someone were to tell me that by prizing Dylan O’Connell out of that shell of his, he’d do a full one-eighty, I’d have straight up called them a liar.

Is it because we’ve been talking geek speak most of the time? Probably.

We’ve been working together for well over a week now. We didn’t discuss or plan it. It just sort of happened. We drifted together, one computer nerd to another, and now here we are sitting side by side drinking coffee, talking systems, and swapping hacking and security tips.

At times I catch him staring. I know he’s as surprised by the changes in me as I am by the ones in him. Changes that are surfacing because neither of us have anywhere to hide.

The contrast.

That due to complete exhaustion on my part, I’ve allowed my exuberant persona to temporarily slip and shown him the me that’s only allowed to surface when I’m on my own. The quiet and contained me I wear like a comfy old pair of slippers when I don’t need to be the center of attention, or when I don’t want to be loud or quick-witted. Was letting my guard down in front of him a mistake? Who knows. Right now, I’m way too busy and way too tired to care.

Meanwhile, Dylan has gone from being a classic introvert to someone who can not only hold a meaningful conversation but can quite easily start one.

The tables have turned. Who’d have thought it?

I’ve worked out that his reluctance or inability to speak is when he’s having to converse with strangers, and it would appear he no longer considers me one of those.

From talking systems we then digressed to other subjects. It turns out Dyl is also a Pink Floyd fan, although he much prefersWish You Were Hereto my choice ofComfortably Numb.

We’re now talking arranged marriages. It’s a hot topic in the O’Connell household given Eoin’s situation. I mean, it almost happened to me and my sister, so I’m not sure why I’m so surprised that Ma and Da Duster want to make sure the Duster heir marries the right mobster girl.

“And what about you?” I ask, my gaze remaining focused on the data I’m working on.

I realize I’m asking a question I don’t really want the answer to. What am I thinking? Who even does that?

But do they have the same plans for Dyl?

My heart sinks at the thought. Then again what difference does it make when there’s his cliché blonde to contend with?

Actually. Nope. Best to stick to being geeky friends. There’s less chance of my heart being broken that way.

“What about me?”

I’m now wishing I hadn’t asked. Thankfully, he doesn’t get a chance to answer as his phone vibrates to let us know big brother, as regular as clockwork, is calling at the pre-arranged daily time.

Dylan accepts the call and puts it on hands-free.

“How’s progress?”

Eoin gets straight to the point. He’s all business. He ignores niceties and human interaction as much as possible. He won’t care that this tall order of theirs is starting to take its toll on me both mentally and physically.

I exhale then rub my hand slowly over my face, only grateful that he can’t see me and vice versa before switching on my happy-go-lucky persona.

“It’s coming along slowly but surely, Eoin.”

There’s a pause. I can tell he’s not happy with that answer and with how long all of this is taking, but right now I’m surviving on a couple of hours sleep a night.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to speed matters up? Jaine’s coping admirably keeping the IRS at bay by asking them to document everything before responding with a plethora of questions of her own, but time is running out, Jessie. Eventually, they’ll see our delaying tactics for what they are. That’s if they haven’t cottoned on to it already.”

I open my mouth to respond, but I don’t get the chance as Dylan interjects.

“Jessie’s working flat out, Eoin. I won’t allow you to ask any more of her. She’s already exhausting herself on our behalf.” His tone is firm.

I swing my attention to him, mouth agape, as he defends me while sitting there barefoot in a pair of ancient blue jeans and a black tee.

Little brother has just told big brother to get off my case.

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