Fifteen minutes before the end of their shift, Jacob couldn’t stop glancing at the wall clock. 

No customers in sight, the sky was turning to an orangish hue. Dodger approached him, sliding his elbows on the counter he was still wiping.

"You've been cleaning for so long we're going to start hallucinating from chemicals," they commented.

"I'm not going to that party with you," Jacob stated, annoyed. Dodger rolled their eyes, slapping their hands down on the spot he'd just finished cleaning. "I don't care if Mr. I-Know-I'm-Gorgeous invited us."

"I wasn't about to ask you."

"Yeah, sure."

"Bod, you don't get it: I've never seen so much sexual tension in my life - he undressed you with his eyes!"

Jacob turned to stare at them, shocked. "What are you talking about?" he asked, embarrassed. "Who, that guy? And how is that supposed to make me change my mind?"

"Hellooo? He invited you to the party. Asa Raven invited you to a party." They pronounced that name as if they were talking about a celebrity, as if that wasn't the first time Jacob had heard of him, ever. What could possibly be so special about him?

"He invited us. Did you ask him? Before I got here?" He didn't mean to accuse them, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. To be honest, given the effort Dodger put into making him change his mind over the past few days, he wouldn’t even be surprised if all of that was staged.

Because he felt that… something was off when Revie introduced himself.

"What?! Who do you think I am to be friends with someone like him? You have no idea who he is."

"Actually, no. Honestly, at first I thought he was that guy you have a crush on - the one you always talk about."

Dodger narrowed their eyes and got closer.

"Are you jealous of me?" they whispered, in his ear. Jacob raised a hand between them and took a step back. Oh my god.

Dodger apparently wasn’t willing to give up. "Look, I know what he wants from me: he knows I push weed for his friends, that's all." And after receiving a judgmental look, they continued, "We've smoked together a couple of times! So what? He's chill and funny, but he's never hit on me, not even by accident. But with you...  trust me, the way he was staring at you was so gay it must be illegal in at least ten states."

"It’s all in your head."

"I would totally fuck him if I were you," they said, raising their hands.

Jacob didn't have the energy for crushes. He didn't even have the energy to wonder if he could be considered attractive to someone like that. It seemed like a ridiculous fantasy for someone like him. He shook his head to brush off those thoughts.

"Well,  then go ahead and fuck him," he blurted out.

"I'd focus on printing the expiration dates labels if I were you," Moirin chimed in, behind them.

Jacob flinched, covering his face with one hand, feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Dodger let out a chuckle, before the boss threw him a withering look. They quickly ran to find something to do.

Only five minutes later, while he was clearing leftover pastries from the display counter and his coworker was polishing the espresso machine, Jacob whispered: "You don't even know if he's straight."

Dodger had to stop themselves from pointing out that he was willingly bringing up the subject again.

"He's not," they denied worryingly fast. Jacob glared back at them. Dodger raised their hands. "He told me... that time we smoked. I don’t know how we got there. But he's out, everyone knows it."

Jacob rolled his eyes with an annoyed grimace. "Whatever, he's not my type."

"And who is your type?" Dodger teased. "Me?"

Jacob nearly choked. "No- I mean", he hated how easily he panicked. He inhaled, composing himself. "Actually, what I meant was that I'm surely not his type. So you're most definitely wrong."

"Why not? You're cute and shy. I think he was kinda sizing you up and can't wait to see you again."

Jacob swallowed. The knot in his stomach tightened at the thought of seeing him again. He didn't want to be studied by anyone. He tried to shift the conversation. "By the way, don't sell weed to my sister," he said. "Please."

Dodger's look softened. "Your sister is fourteen.  I have ethics too."

Jacob decided to disappear into the storage room. It seemed to work, because Dodger made a thoughtful noise and dropped the subject, whistling as they began counting the cash in the register before  closing the shop.

***

They walked through the town under an umbrella too small for two people.

Obviously Jacob needed to get used to the bad weather, just as he had to get used to the signs written in both English and French. Rainhill looked like a freshly painted watercolor: the roof tiles glinted like fish scales, the  light coming from the shops and windows reflecting on the asphalt.

When he had moved there with his family a month earlier, Rainhill seemed just like any other place that would swallow, chew, and spit them out. He had promised himself he wouldn't get attached to anything or anyone.

Jacob was tired, and not many could understand his reasons - not everyone had to move to new cities, and new countries, more than once before turning eighteen, all because of a parent's struggle to  lead a functional life and keep a stable job. Every relocation had scarred and thickened the struggles Jacob had carried since childhood: he had no sense of belonging, nothing to talk about, and no longer felt the need to form bonds.

Jacob's house was a mess of open boxes and displaced furniture, but he had stopped apologizing to Dodger about the chaos. The entryway smelled of cardboard, cat hair, and coffee.

Dodger followed him inside, slipping off their shoes by the door. There was an extra pair of shoes, a size larger than theirs. Evan's.

They helped him move some boxes from the kitchen  to the upper floor, trying to get Jacob to talk and ease the tension making him so pale. Jacob listened,  giving one-word answers, but his mind was racing: passing in front of the office room, he had noticed the PC was on, but his father wasn't sitting at the desk. Something was wrong.

Where was Evan?

"He's not in his office" Jacob whispered at one point, consumed by spiraling thoughts. After a few seconds, Dodger seemed to read something in his expression. He had spent enough time in that house to have an idea of how things worked there.

"Your dad? He's probably kidnapping a kid to take him to a foster home, right?" Jacob didn't even pay attention to the joke. "Isn't that what social workers do? He must have gotten an urgent call, or some shit."

No.

"No, he's not at work - his car is here, his keys are here," he blurted out. He was starting to panic.

That silence felt wrong. He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket and held it to his ear as he went upstairs to check his father's bedroom. He kicked away a box blocking the hallway. When he flung the door wide, he found only his two cats, Ginger and Paprika, sleeping on the blankets.

Dodger, who was following him, stopped halfway up the stairs. "I hear something." A vibration.

Jacob looked around.

"I think I found him."