The Rivals - Dylan Allen Page 0,31

family helped you,” he says.

“Not by myself. And not because of my family. At least, not my blood family. It was the sheriff, my school librarian, the woman who ran the food market. Family, for me, isn’t because of blood. It’s because we decided to be each other’s support system.”

A strange expression crosses his face. “What? Does being a trust fund baby negate the need for family?” I ask.

“Of course not. And I don’t like that phrase. I’ve never been comfortable with the idea of being idle. I’ve worked since I left university. My brothers are the same way. We all have professions,” he says.

I pull back, “Profession? That sounds fancy. What did you do?”

“Nothing as fancy as a big firm lawyer,” he drawls. “I’m an accountant. Or I was,” he says and for some reason it tickles me to death. I laugh.

“You’re an accountant? You look like James Bond, the superhero version. I would never have guessed,” I tease. Kinda.

“Yeah, and I worked for my family’s company for a while. I’m the first Rivers in two generations to do so,” he says with pride.

“But, I think that if I didn’t have the benefit of all that money, it would have been a lot harder.”

I shrug, unimpressed.

“Sure, having to work a second job while going to school full-time meant college wasn’t a barrel of laughs. But, you know what?” I ask him.

“What?” he responds with an indulgent smile.

“I don’t even remember the hard work. I just know it’s paid off. So, yeah, I come from one of the poorest places in the country. But, I can also tell you that the more successful I become, the more terrible the people I meet are,” I say.

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s true. There are five hundred people in my town. They’re all like my family. They say good morning and they mean it,” I say.

“Hmm, sounds nice.”

“It was. That entire town raised me. When I left for school, over a hundred of them drove down to Memphis to hug me at the airport. They couldn’t give me money, but they gave me the work ethic to fuel my ambition just because they love me. Now everyone around me wants something in return.”

“Maybe. But I still think you defied the odds,” he says.

“So did you,” I throw back. “If you have disposable income, good health insurance, and job security, then you’ve defied the odds. Do you know how unattainable that is for so many people? The odds are stacked against most of us,” I tell him.

“Honestly, I have no idea. I’ve never had to think about any of those things,” he muses like he’s never considered the mundane aspects of life.

Lucky him.

“Do you volunteer?” I cock my head at him.

“Like, you mean … my time?” he asks like it’s the most far-fetched thing he’s ever had.

“Yes, your time. You know, in your community? Worked a soup kitchen, repaired a roof, cut grass, read to someone who couldn’t read to themselves?” I ask.

“No … I support those things financially,” he says.

I shrug. “Yeah, that’s great. And we should all do that if we’re able. But if you don’t interact with the people you’re writing those checks to support, you’ll never see them as anything but poor. Which, contrary to popular belief, is not a character flaw.”

He doesn’t respond, and after a full minute of tense silence, I can’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m just passionate about … well, about everything,” I admit.

“Everything?” He laughs and it rumbles around his chest and rolls over me like thunder. I snuggle closer to him.

“Well, yeah—everything I do, anyway. I don’t see the point in doing something if I’m not all in. It’ll take the same amount of time to do it whether I’m enthusiastic or not. And I’ve found my greatest passions that way. What you give is what you get … I acquired lot from my experiences, so I know that means I’ve got to give them my all, too.”

He doesn’t say anything and I start to feel uneasy. Me and my oversharing big mouth. “Did I just scare you off?” I press my forehead to his chest and close my eyes. “I’m a little neurotic,” I say.

“Where did you come from?” He drops his chin onto the top of my head and pulls me close to him. He smells so good.

“Did you fall asleep when I was talking? I just told you. I’m from Arkansas—”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean, I didn’t know people like you