Isn't It A Coincidence.

Chapter 2

I watched as he sat back down beside me, frowning. "At first, it hurt my pride to suddenly be out on the streets..." I knew the feeling. "My Mother just left me here yesterday. One moment, I was asleep in the car, and I woke up in a filthy alley. She got-" he choked, and I grimaced slightly as I held onto his hand. 

His eyes filled with tears and he buried his face into my shoulder, sobbing quietly. I tried not to think about how dirty he was as I gently pet his hair. It was messy and oily, showing he hadn't washed himself in a few days. I expertly hid my displeased expression as he sat on my lap, wrapping his arms around me. He must be a very physical person.

I sighed and rubbed his back, thinking back who I might know with a teenage son. "What is your mother's name?" I asked. 

His eyes became sad, "Angelina," he hesitated before continuing. "Angelina Wickman." He whispered the last name almost silently, and I shook my head. My face paled, and my blood began to boil. I stood, picking him up and carrying him with me. He gave a small yelp of surprise, holding onto my as I carried him to my sad excuse of a home.

I set him down in the shower, turning on the water. "Shower. The towels are under the wink, and I'll bring you clothes." There was only one woman I could think of with a son, and the name Angelina, but I was going to make sure I was wrong. I turned and called over my shoulder while I removed my jacket, "Strip." 

Clothes were soon hesitantly put on my arm, and I tossed them in the washing machine. It's a good thing today was laundry day. I left him to shower, tossing my clothes in with his. I changed and took some clothes to the bathroom for him, eyeing his back as his muscles moved. He looked pretty matured for a teenager. He turned and froze, blinking at me in shock. 

I cleared my throat and left the clothes on the toilet seat. "Sorry," I blurted. That guy was definitely not a teenager. I left the bathroom feeling indignant; I couldn't help but compare him to my own. I smacked my palm against my forehead, stalking to the kitchen to cook something. 

He soon walked into the kitchen, still holding his shirt as he brushed his damp, long-ish hair. "Uh... thanks for letting me use your stuff." He shifted awkwardly on his feet, seeming to contemplate his next words. "Why did you seem so angry when I told you her name?" 

I tensed at his question, choosing my words carefully. "I think I know her, unfortunately." I tacked the word on the end quietly, but he heart it and chuckled. 

"Yeah she sucks. She only kept me around to keep her blackmail bait until she knew her rival was long gone." He paused, a dreamy look taking over his face. "Mr Sackman was pretty hot though," he said quietly, snapping out of it and clearing his throat. "She probably threw me away because of my silly crush on him," he chuckled awkwardly. 

"My name is Taylor. Taylor Wickman. Yes, I know it's girly, don't bother teasing me." 

I let a small grin stretch my face, shaking my head. His last name just gave away that I was correct. "No, I know you. I met you once when your Mother  brought you to my grand-opening ceremony. You were about 15 years old, weren't you?" I whistled, "You sure grew up Taylor." 

I smiled fondly at the memory of him in his little suit and bow tie. He was so scrawny and shy, his face always looked boyish. He cleared his throat and I chuckled, plating the dinner. He gave me a quiet thank you and froze when he saw my hand. He stared at me in shock, "Mr Sackman?!" I shushed him, giving him a small, signature grin. 

His fork clanged onto his plate and he dropped his face in his hands, his ears turning bright red under his hair. "What have I done," he grumbled, groaning in embarrassment. I covered my mouth to stop from laughing. 

"So," I tried to change the subject. "How old are you now?" 

He hesitated, shifting awkwardly. "I turn 26 tomorrow." I froze, a sly grin slipping onto my face. 

"We have to make cake." I love cake, very much. 

His face paled and he shook his head erratically. "No! I-I've been intruding enough-" 

"Oh stop that, it's a good excuse to make cake. Besides, my cakes taste heavenly." I didn't mean to brag, but my cake was really tasty. He let out a breathy laugh. 

"Fine," he agreed. I laughed, looking him over. He really didn't look his age, and he's still a big crybaby. I swear he'll always look younger than he really is.