This wasn't the first time Miguel had asked him over. The man seemed hell-bent on becoming Dorian's friend. They were cool at work, but Dorian didn't hang out with anyone he worked with.
Jayson and Cherry had cured him of that impulsive need.
He felt awkward as hell now sitting here knowing Miguel wanted to be outside-of-work buddies. "Maybe some other time."
"Ah, come on. You tell me this reason every time I ask you over. Do you have something against me?" Miguel bit into his apple, eyeing Dorian, already looking dejected. The kid was nice, but Dorian didn't know him that well. He couldn't understand why Miguel was so eager to hang out.
Besides the fact that he didn't know the guy, Dorian was at least six years older than Miguel. The stock boy couldn't be any older than eighteen. They wouldn't have anything in common.
Dorian shook his head, jerking it quickly from side to side. "Why do you want me to come, Miguel? It's not like we really know each other."
Miguel shrugged, tossing the apple core aside and unwrapping his sandwich. He took a bite, chewing meticulously before answering Dorian's question. "You don't call me names like everyone else."
Dorian felt sorry for the guy. He was short for a man and didn't speak the best English. He had heard a few of his coworkers mocking Miguel when the guy wasn't around. Dorian had told a few people off, and since then, they didn't talk about Miguel in front of him.
He wasn't stupid enough to think the cruel teasing had stopped, though.
Dorian inwardly groaned at what he was about to say. Being a sucker for the underdog, he knew he was doomed. "Fine, but I'm not staying long."
Dorian wasn't sure why he had agreed, but seeing the long face on Miguel and knowing he didn't have too many friends tugged at his conscience.
"Thanks," Miguel said, his expression becoming lighter as he took another bite of his sandwich and then pointed at Dorian. "I like you."
Dorian chuckled. The kid was too easy to please. What harm could come from one evening of dinner? Dorian had suffered through worse things, like listening all day at work to Jayson gossip about everything he had heard and read about. "Make sure you give me the address and let me know what time to be there."
Miguel leaned back and dug into his front pocket, pulling out a small piece of notebook paper. "For you."
Dorian took the paper, unfolded the crumpled mess, and saw an address and time scribbled on it. Damn, the kid had come prepared. "I'll see you at four then."
"Four, then," Miguel agreed as he finished his lunch.
Dorian was not looking forward to this. He wanted to tell Miguel never mind, that he wasn't coming, but the man looked too damn pleased sitting there as he ate his lunch.
Just go ahead and tear his heart out. Wipe that happy little smile right off of his face, you prick.
Dorian couldn't do it. No matter how much he dreaded going to some dinner tomorrow at Miguel's. He thought about all the teasing Miguel endured at work and knew the man was clinging to Dorian because he was nice to the kid. But why couldn't it end at work? Why did Miguel want to hang out outside of work?
Pushing from the table, Dorian wanted to get as far away from Miguel as possible at the moment. He really did want to turn the guy down, but knew he couldn't.
Being nice sometimes sucked.
"Later."
"Later," Miguel parroted, the olive-colored skin at the corner of his mouth jumping, as if he were fighting a smile.
Dorian ignored it and walked back inside, wishing he could clock out and go home. Maybe he could pretend to be sick and apologize to Miguel for not showing tomorrow. Again, Dorian couldn't do that. He had said he would be there.
Mr. Marcelo was standing by the employee lunch room, leaning against a wall, talking on his cell phone when Dorian walked inside. As he passed the district manager, pale grey eyes followed his progress. It was an eerie feeling, and Dorian wished he could disappear on the spot. Did the guy know the rumors floating around work about him being changeling? Did he think Dorian was in on them?
He hoped not. Dorian didn't want to lose his job because Cherry was an ignorant loudmouth who didn't censor anything she said. One of these days, that habit was going to catch up to her. The urge to tell Mr. Marcelo that he
had nothing to do with the rumors almost made him stop in front of the man, but Dorian kept right on walking.
Chicken.
Yeah, he was.
It wasn't a hidden fact that Mr. Marcelo was fair, but didn't take any shit from the people around him. The man exuded a dominating authority, and Dorian didn't have the nerve to talk to the guy. People in charge intimidated him. Dorian wasn't a coward, but there was something about Mr. Marcelo that made him keep his distance.
Maybe it was the broad shoulders that filled out the dress shirt, or the long powerful legs. Of course, Dorian hadn't seen the man naked, but the muscles rippling under Mr. Marcelo's shirt quickened Dorian's pulse. He took in the district manager's attractive male physique. Dorian's eyes froze on his long, lean frame, and then he got as far away as he could.
As yummy-looking as the man was—and there was no denying the fact that Mr. Marcelo was a very good-looking man—he also had an air of danger about him that Dorian did not want to explore at length.
Dorian finished out the rest of his day, trying his best to ignore Jayson.
The man wouldn't let the employment thing go. He harped on it for the remainder of Dorian's shift. By the time Dorian clocked out he had a splitting headache.
After walking to the bus stop, he caught the bus home. He went straight to his bedroom, bypassing the living room where his father sat, watching a football game. It no longer bothered him that he lived at home with his parents. Living on his own had been tough, and right now, Dorian couldn't afford it.
"Did you hear?" Ian asked as he dropped down onto the bed, never asking if he could come into Dorian's bedroom. "They arrested the manager down at Dexcom. He was stealing the blood that had been donated."
Dexcom was one of the many blood banks in Shelton. It was one of the major blood banks if Dorian remembered correctly. He had gone there a few times when he needed the cash. He wasn't fond of donating, so he used it as his very last resort.
"No shit," he said as he emptied his pockets onto his dresser. He cringed when he saw the paper Miguel had given him with his address and time scribbled on it. God, he really didn't want to go tomorrow.
"Yeah, right?" Ian stated excitedly. "I can't believe he was stealing blood. Couldn't he have just enthralled someone and drank from them?"
No one really knew that much about vampires, aside from the ones at the fang parties. Not all vampires went to them. From what Dorian had heard—he rolled his eyes at the gossip he was now basing his assumptions on—most vampires steered clear of those parties.
"Why don't you go ask him yourself?" Dorian asked sarcastically as he kicked his shoes off and then unbuttoned his work shirt.
"You are such a shit sometimes, Dorian." Ian pushed from the bed, leaving Dorian in peace. And that was exactly what he was after. He knew how to get his baby brother out of his bedroom without kicking him out.
The guy was too easy to ruffle. Although lately, Ian's mood was becoming more and more reserved. The guy was hardly around, and when he was, Ian became snappy when asked a simple question. He even began locking his bedroom door these days.
Dorian would chalk it up to teenage hormones, but Ian was twenty-one, only three years younger than him. Maybe the guy was latent and was just now becoming the impossible teen. Who knew.
Dorian took a shower and then joined his dad in the living room, dreading going over to Miguel's and knowing he wasn't going to do a no-show.
He just hoped it wasn't awkward the entire time he was there. He had nothing in common with the stock boy. They may work at the same supermarket, but Dorian didn't socialize with his coworkers outside of work.
The only reason Miguel knew Dorian was because he had defended the man, not knowing Miguel was just one aisle over, listening.
As sweet as the kid was, Dorian wished he had kept his mouth closed that day. Now he was committed to sit at the guy's house and pray he didn't die of boredom.