With You┃Dylan O'Brien ⓵

Chapter Fourteen : Nine, Ten, Eleven

When I was in middle school, a lot of my friends had divorced parents. I always thought of myself as lucky because mine weren't, but other times I would worry that one day it would happen to me.

I always worried that if my parents got divorced that we would all three be depressed, and I would have to alternate between each of their homes frequently. But, fortunately for me, they're still happily married. This is not the case for Dylan, however.

He has only mentioned his family life to me on one occasion, previously, during our coffee shop conversation. His father had left with his younger brother when he was eleven, five years ago, leaving Dylan with his mother. On another occasion, he told me that his mother is a pediatric nurse at Saint Josephine's which is a large hospital nearby. Other than those two occasions, however, he never spoke of his family. Until now.

Saturday morning after I take a shower and get dressed, a perfectly-timed call from my best friend ensues.

"Good morning!", I say cheerfully after answering the phone.

"Morning," he says. "You sound joyous on this fine day."

"Trying to start the day off with some good vibes," I shrug, despite the fact that he cannot see me.

"That's good. I should follow your example and try that for myself."

"Good music helps, too."

"I don't doubt it."

I lean on my balcony outside and stare around at all the greenery, "What have you got planned today?"

"I'm supposed to go to my little brother's birthday party out in LA," he sighs a little.

"Why do you sound so bummed about it?"

"'Cause my mom's working, which means I have to go alone... And, well, that doesn't sound very appealing at all. Because without her, the only people I have to talk to are a bunch of ten year-olds and my dad. Also known as a disastrous disaster."

"Well how long is the party?"

"It's from one to three, so two hours."

"Aw, that's not too bad! I think you can hold it out for two hours, Dylan."

"Will you come with me?", he asks suddenly in that quiet voice that he uses when he's embarrassed or shy or nervous. It's the only voice I heard him use for the first three days that I knew him.

I smile, "Do you really want me to?"

"I mean, don't feel obligated to, but honestly I think it would make the situation significantly better for me."

"Then of course I'll go."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Anita, you are honestly and literally the best. Thank you so much."

"I just try to ensure your happiness. When do we leave?"

"Um," he pauses for a minute. "I'll pick you up in about an hour from now, so twelve-fifteen?"

"Perfect-o."

"Cool, I'll see you then."

"Wait, Dylan!"

"What?!", he sounds a little panicked.

I laugh, "Don't sound so worried, I was just wondering what the attire for this occasion is."

"You gotta be kidding me; it's a ten year-old's birthday party, Anita."

"I know, but what should I wear?!"

He doesn't answer.

"Dylan, this is a serious question!"