One Condition

Dylan

Standing on the porch, clothes soaked, backpack off one shoulder like it weighed more than it did. My hands were shaking, but not from the cold. I’d stopped feeling the cold 3 blocks ago.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t be on his doorstep.

But when you’re shoved out of your own house and told not to come back, you don’t really have many options. Especially if you’re looking at your phone with a ‘sorry can’t.’ or ‘my parents would never let me.’

This is my only option…

I knock once and then twice. No answer. I’m starting to doubt whether I should stay or just find a bridge to sleep under, but I waited a minute, still no answer. I’m about to turn and leave when the lock clicks and the door swings open. I’m stunned for a moment and stay staring. His eyes look tired, he has messy hair, and his hood is up.

He stares back, his cold gaze analyzing me. His eyes flicked from my shoes that were now soaking his welcome mat, then to my red face and finally my bag strap hanging off my shoulder.

“What.” He asked. Not a question. A challenge.

I swallowed. My voice felt hoarse. “I need somewhere to stay.”

A pause

Lightning struck behind the house. Illuminating the dark rooms and his face, he towers above me, making him look ten times scarier than he already is.

“And you decided to come here?” he taunts, his lips quirking to one side. He leans against the door frame, arms crossing.

Yes.

The boy he humiliated.

The boy he shoved into lockers.

The boy who avoided eye contact because it felt like looking into those almost black eyes would kill me.

I nod. His jaw clenches in a way that you can tell he’s thinking. Finally, he steps aside.

“You can stay.”

Relief washes over me so fast my knees almost buckle. I’m about to step inside when he starts to speak again.

“But there’s a condition.”

Of course there is.

“You have to do one thing for me every day,” he says, smirking. Turning to leave with his hands on the back of his head.

“Oh and one more thing,” he turns, but not fully just enough for me to see his dark eyes.

“We share a bed.”

“What!? Can’t I just sleep on the floor?”

“No, you’ll hurt your back.”

“Why…”

“Because, I’m not the monster you make me out to be.”

That night might’ve been the hardest I’ve slept in my entire life, but I must’ve fallen asleep at some point because, when I woke up, Evan was facing me. I don’t really know what the big deal is, but I shot up. My face feels warm for some reason, and I can’t seem to shake the feeling. He looks good when he’s asleep.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” I say quickly, too quick. He gives me a look, but doesn’t say anything else, just shifts out of the covers and moves to the bathroom.

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

After being kicked out of my house, none of my friends wanted to sit with me, probably because of the money my parents had, and let me tell you, I didn’t get a single cent from their account.

Having no table to sit at, I made a swift turn and quietly walked to the bathrooms.

Taking a bite of the sandwich I’d made with Evan’s ingredients, I got from his fridge.

Baloney, white bread and mayo.

Though I wouldn’t typically eat baloney, there wasn’t much in his fridge.

I’m about to take another bite when somehow the stall door opens with a bang. Standing there is Evan with his cold expression he always has. I checked the door. The lock is completely bent from the impact. I’m standing there in shock and gawking at him. I’m about to open my mouth to speak, but he interrupts.

“Come on,” he commands.

Shocked, I say nothing and just stare.

He moves toward me, placing his hand behind my head, pushing me forward and out of the stall. I quietly follow behind him.

“You’ll stay in my sight from now on, aside from classes.” I think of that for a second. This must be one of his daily conditions, but it feels weird to think about so I just leave it.

Eventually, we reach the back of the bleachers where the rest of his “gang” are smoking and yelling at each other.

Tim, who makes all of us call him Wolf. I don’t know why. Maybe too many kids called him hairy in middle school, so he made a cool name out of it so they couldn’t bully him anymore. He’s fighting with some girl named Tiffany. Brad, who’s watching and laughing, clearly amused by what they’re fighting about, is holding his cigarette, and Evan is about to light his. I’m staring at the situation when Evan pauses and looks up.

“What?”

“N-nothing,” I say, looking away at the fighting Tiffany and Wolf.

Wolf looks past her shoulder, noticing me. “What are you looking at, huh?!”

My eyes widen a little, I’m horrified when he starts walking towards me. He slams me into a poll of the bleachers.

“I asked you a question!”

I raise my hands and am about to speak when Evan interrupts.

“Enough.” Wolf and I both looked in his direction, then back to each other. He pushes off of me, and stomps back to Tiffany, glaring at me. I just look down and lean on the pole, waiting for lunch to be over. I check my phone, lunch is over but none of them move or stomp out their cigarettes. I start to move to class, but Evan grabs me by my wrist, not hard but just enough to keep me from moving away. I look up at him more seriously than scared for once. He stops. let’s go. He stands awkwardly.

I stomped across the field. What an absolute jerk, he makes me sit there and watch them smoke… but he did stop Wolf, and he did try to stop me from going… UGHH WHATEVER!

“Stop here,” I say when we pass a small food stall selling fruits, vegetables and spices.

"Why?"

"There is literally no food in the house idiot."

I walk up to the vendor.

"Hi?"

"Ah no engles"

"Hablas español?" I speak to him again, hoping he'll understand.

"Sí, sí!" he grabs and shakes my hands.

"Bien, ¿puedo comer un mango, calabaza, fresas y esas especias?" I say, which translates to, Right, can I have a mango, and squash, strawberries and those spices.

"entiendo!" he packs what I asked for into a bag.

I turn to Evan, who's leaning against the car.

"You speak spanish?" he asks.

"Yeah, ever heard of spanish class?"

Once we get home, I get one of the pots from the sink and wash it. Making the stew until it was just right was the best part. Adding the vegetables I got from the stall and some that I got from the house, then the spices and meat. I let it sit until it steams and test to see if everything is good. Perfect.

I set the table and sit down on the other side of Evan when he gets up and walks to his room with his plate. I sit there in silence eating my meal. Guess he just didn't want to sit next to me...