Officially Us

25 - Rule Number 1: Don't ask about Rule Number 1.

Three days later.

Jet had been texting me most of the night. He was freaking out about his first day tomorrow. 

Jet: Hey. It's Jet. I'm a little nervous about tomorrow. What do I wear?

Me: Hey, kid. Preferably clothes, otherwise I could get sent to jail. Remember? We spoke about this the other day haha

Jet: I'm being serious. Do I wear jeans or tracksuit pants? What about a hoodie? Is that allowed or is that dangerous? Also, I don't have any boots or anything. You know, those ones with metal? Don't I need some, like for safety and shit? And those ugly yellow shirts I see tradies wear. Won't I need some of those? Where do I get them from?

He went on and on, to the point where Phoebe was getting annoyed that I was responding more to my phone than I was her efforts to seduce me.

Me: Relax, Jet. We can grab you everything you need tomorrow morning after you get here. I've already told the boys I'll be in late for exactly this reason. And don't worry about the money. I'm responsible for you at work and I'd rather you be safe and not getting hurt because you don't have everything you need. Okay?

Jet: Thanks, Ruben. I'll pay you back. 

Me: It's not necessary. Now get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow.  

Jet arrived early and had apparently been waiting outside for half an hour before he texted me to let me know he was outside. I admired his enthusiasm and was reminded of my first day working with Jack. He took me out for coffee and laid out his rules for work, which I was now going to have to go through with Jet once I finally got ready. Phoebe had kept me up, so I was running a little late.

"Make yourself at home and I'll be back down in a few minutes," I said, racing back up the stairs to have a quick shower and get dressed.

When I walked back downstairs, Jet had made himself at home, alright. He was drinking a tea he had made and was looking around my living room. "Did you make one for me too, at least?" I said jokingly, to which he walked straight back into my kitchen and grabbed a second cup he had already prepared on the counter. The kid was already seriously impressing me.

"Here," he said, handing it over to me, looking at the cup nervously, like he was anxious for my approval of his tea-making abilities.

"Why do you have a seriously fancy cookie jar if you don't have any cookies?" Jet asked, pointing to Sadie's birthday present, which sat in its permanent home in the middle of my dining table. I never could bring myself to get rid of it; but I also refused to fill it with cookies that weren't as good as hers. So, ultimately that meant no other cookie had been in there since her last batch of peanut butter and chocolate fudge. Fuck, I missed them.

"You think I have time to bake, kid?" I said, brushing thoughts of Sadie off and taking a sip of his tea, which was actually half-decent.

"Fair point," he said, continuing to walk around my house, taking it all in. Jet was in the hallway when he started laughing. "This is really cool. It's all about you, right?"

He was standing in front of the wrapping paper Sadie had drawn for my birthday, which I had framed as a teenager and mounted on my wall. I was impressed that he deciphered it was about me, even if there was no way he could understand every one of the references. The wood, work tools, houses and footballs were easy to decipher, but the others, not so much, unless he has some hidden skills in telepathy I'm unaware of.