Read Online Chasing Boys by Karen Tayleur - Free Book Online Page A

Nice Young Man to see you, El,” Mom calls out.
    Nice Young Man? Maybe Dylan has brought a friend with him. I peek out from under the comforter.
    Mom’s making faces at me, moving her eyebrows up and down, her lips a surprised pursed oval.
    “I’m not really up for visitors,” I say, but Mom has already let Dylan through the door.
    “Please, call me Isobelle,” Mom insists.
    Please, pass me the basin. Dylan Shepherd is in my home. Black hoodie and all.
    “Hello,” I say, in a voice that clearly says What the hell are you doing here?
    Mom’s making signs behind his back, which are just annoying. The kind of signs that mean, “He’s a Nice Boy and where have you been hiding him?” It’s the happiest she’s looked in ages, but I’m not in the mood.
    Dylan turns around and nearly catches her at it. Mom asks if he would like a hot drink. He says no, then sits down in the rocking chair as if he’s settling in.
    “Well, I just need to go next door then,” says Mom loudly, as if we’re all deaf. “Nice to meet you, Dylan. Feel free to drop in any time.”
    Then she disappears out the door before I have a chance to say anything. The door clicks shut loudly.
    “Well,” says Dylan.
    “What are you doing here?”
    “Geography project,” he says.
    The niggle says “Bingo.” “Oh, right,” I say aloud.
    “Are you sick?” he says.
    “No,” I say, pulling the comforter up toward my chin. “I always lie around on Sundays in my pajamas.”
    “Oh,” says Dylan, looking around.
    “That was a joke,” I explain, just in case he didn’t get it.
    “I thought it was sarcasm,” he says lightly.
    I think back to my first idea of Dylan. Bored. Macho. Thick. Suddenly I feel really warm and I wonder whether my fever’s back.
    “This is a nice place,” he says.
    “It’s just temporary,” I say. I don’t know why I have to tell him this.
    He shrugs and pulls out some paper from his back pocket. He unfolds it and thrusts it at me. It’s our geography project info sheet.
    “Where’s that girl?” he asks.
    “Sarah?”
    “Yeah. The bossy one.”
    “I guess she’ll be here any minute,” I say.
    Dylan looks like he’s settled into the rocking chair for the duration. His jeans have crept up his legs while he’s sitting and I notice that he is wearing two different socks. I wonder if maybe he can’t afford a matching pair.
    “So . . .”
    The TV is blaring away and I stare at the screen without really seeing it.
    We watch three ads, all of them loud, and none of them make any sense.
    “So how long have you and Eric Callahan known each other?” I finally get the courage to ask.
    “A while,” he says.
    There are plenty of things I would like to ask Dylan. Who is Eric’s favorite band? What’s his favorite movie? Do you think he’d go out with a girl like me?
    “Did you find my place okay?” I ask.
    “I’ve been here before. Angelique’s brother lives here. Upstairs.”
    Shower man.
    “Angelique’s brother? How do you know Angelique?” I say.
    Dylan waves his hand in the air impatiently as if he doesn’t want to talk about it, then finally says, “Eric’s my cousin.”
    “You’re Eric Callahan’s cousin?” I repeat.
    Callahan. Shepherd.
    “Our mothers are sisters,” he says.
    I get it, of course. It’s just that I can’t think of two guys less like each other than Eric and Dylan.
    “Do you want a drink?” I need to move. My mind is crowded with the information. I just want to go somewhere quiet and work out what it means.
    “Coffee would be good,” he says even though five minutes before he didn’t want a drink.
    I wander into the kitchen, careful to keep the comforter covering me and turn the electric kettle on. I decide to make a dash for my bedroom to get changed and bump into Dylan who is standing right behind me. The comforter drops out of my hands and Dylan reaches down and gives it to me. He now has a perfect view of my little-kid pajamas.
    “Going to change,” I