Chapter 8I’d always liked Dylan’s house. Back when his parents owned it, before they deeded it to their son, it had been nice. But once Dylan took over ownership, he’d made it his own. He had this whole meld of shabby-chic, with a little hipster and just a touch of frat boy. I don’t know how he made it work, but he did. His home was comfortable, lived in, and warm and welcoming.
When my sister finally left, I’d taken a shower and taken care of some other things before heading next door. Dylan greeted me with a kiss only seconds after I rang the bell. It turned my knees to jelly and I had to lean against the jamb when he pulled back. His smug smile made me scowl, but that only served to make his smile grow.
“You could have just walked in,” he said as he took my hand and led me inside. I l
