Kyle looked at me just before I left and said, "I know you love these shorts. I'll see if dad can get a pair for you."
"Okay," I replied still feeling weird about whole ordeal. Kyle had no idea I was actually his son. Honestly, I didn't even know he was in a relationship, and to a boy. Not that I had any problems with it; it just felt a little weird.
"By the way Jacob," said Kyle, "What size are you?"
"Small," I automatically replied.
"Ok. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," I replied, "Going to enjoy these holidays."
As I walked out my actual house. I suddenly realized that I had spoken exactly like Jacob, and it was automatic.
I arrived at Jacob's house. I have dropped him off once or twice before. But never went in. This was my first time.
And boy was I glad. This house was a complete pigsty. Random newspapers laying around on the solid, faded carpet. Entire walls were unpainted, while the others looked like they would be getting to that stage soon enough. I ignored the dump of a house and headed straight for 'my' bedroom. When I entered I was disappointed but not surprised. The walls had no paint and were cracked. My bed wasn't really a bed either. Just a single mattress laying on the floor without a sheet. The pillows and quilt had no covers. "No wonder Jacob was so independent," I said to myself, "This place is an absolute dump."
Suddenly I heard gunshots ring from down the street and ran straight for the front door. I locked it. First with the usual handle, followed by the two deadbolts. I then sprinted to the back door to let the dog: a Staffy, into the house. Followed by locking those doors. There was no way I was going to be killed by a common criminal.
A few minutes passed. A few more gunshots rang across the neighborhood, as did the police sirens that came.
Soon enough. The gunshots had become a thing of the past. The little Staffy looked at me and I knew it was wanting fed.