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I did that. I made those lips swell. I made those dark eyes water. I left my mark on him. Me.
While I may get violent with Huckslee because I’m forced to, the thought of anyone else touching him pisses me off. He’s mine to torment. No one else’s.
“That glare is reserved for me. You’re giving it to everyone else, and I’m jealous.”
This can be like neutral ground or something. A fake place. Like…Delaware.”
“You’re fucking cute when you’re flustered,” I blurt out, cutting off his rant, and my smile grows when his lips part at my words. His dark eyes widen, twinkling like a starry night sky as he flounders like a fish for something to say. I enjoy the sight for a few more seconds before pressing play. “I’ve never seen this one before.”
“The track.” “But I can’t ride,” he answers sadly. “I know.” Turning toward him, I meet his eyes with my own. “But I want to talk to you, and you don’t trust me right now. So we’re going to Delaware.”
“God, I’m so fucking stupid.” I laugh humorlessly as I turn on my heel, heading back toward the house. “Despite all the shit you’ve done to me, I pined after you for years. Years. You really couldn’t care less about anyone but yourself, Taylor.”
“You weren’t there,” I accuse softly, gripping the handlebars. He must not have heard me because he tilts his head and steps closer. “I don’t know what we are, Huckslee. Maybe at one point, I did, but all of that changed. And I know I can’t undo everything I’ve done, but I almost fucking died, and you weren’t there.”
Huckslee Davis, jersey number twenty, currently in his fourth and final season playing for the California Golden Bears at CU Berkeley.
Those you love will fear losing you, and the trust has to be rebuilt. And that’s the thing about trust. It takes years to build, but only one minor lapse in judgment to blast it all to smithereens.
Fuck, even sad, he’s adorable. Makes me want to make him hot chocolate and shit. Tuck a blanket around him. Sit on his face.
Sick and twisted. Toxic. He’s no good for you, Royce said. I’m no good for him. We’re no good for each other, and yet I Can’t Let Him Go.
‘Break The Glass.’ “I’ve been wondering about this.” “I got it when I first got to California,” he answers after a quiet moment. “It’s a quote from a Jelly Roll song, but I liked the meaning behind it. Essentially, the mirror is a barrier between our past and future. You can let it stop you from moving forward or break the glass.”
“What does this mean?” He murmurs, tracing a finger over the outline inked on my left peck. “Uh,” I cough a nervous laugh, suddenly wide awake. “You really need to study geography, Huck.”
“How much did you hear?” I grit through my teeth, scrubbing my face. His gaze narrows as he takes a loud sip. “Caught the whole show plus the after-credit scene.” He pauses. “Unwillingly, I might add.” “Fucking great.”
I’ve noticed in my short twenty-two years of life that people are comfortable taking things at face value. No one hardly ever digs beneath the surface, too afraid they might delve too deep and find something that makes them uncomfortable.
“You make it hard to think straight when you’re touching me like that.” “Yeah, my thoughts are far from straight,”
I connect my phone to the Bluetooth while I puff on my cig, throwing on some Lamb of God because I’m pissed off. The first six hours, we vibed to Salem’s reggae music and Xed’s techno, but now my bad mood is about to be everyone’s problem. I don’t give a fuck.
Remember, we all wear masks, but it's the moments when they fall away that we find our true selves. Embrace those moments, no matter how terrifying they may be.
