Finding Delaware (State of Us #1)

by Bree Wiley

“Taylor, you fucking fuck!”

“What the hell, Fuckslee?”

“Fuck you, you sissy bottom bitch.”

“I swear, Huck, if you fucked up my bike, I’ll ruin you,” he spits venomously, but I roll my eyes. He’s been threatening me since the ninth fucking grade. I’m over it.

But another part of me can because this is Taylor fucking Tottman we’re dealing with—the boy who lied our sophomore year and told the entire swim team I’d shit in the pool. (I did not.)

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.

“What’s up with your face?” I mutter, sweeping my gaze across the heavily decorated church. He glances at me sideways. “You punched it, jackass.” “No, I mean the death glare you’ve been sporting all morning.”

Leaning in close, I try to keep my voice light. “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.” “Delaware?” I shrug, raising a brow at him. “Have you ever heard of that city? I don’t even know where or if it exists.”

“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.

And it makes me so damn tired. I can’t sleep, can’t relax. The need to act like I’m the happy-go-lucky kid everyone believes me to be is exhausting. Something has to give. I don’t know how long I can go on like this. I just want it to end.

“Give me his number.” He wriggles beneath me, trying to free himself. “I’ll show him what a real cock looks like.” “I doubt his phone can even zoom in that far.”

“You tired?” He eyes me sideways, curls a mess around his face, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching out to touch them. Honestly, it’s a problem how much I want to do that. It’s wrong. Boys don’t touch other boys’ hair.

“But I want to talk to you, and you don’t trust me right now. So we’re going to Delaware.”

What happened between us altered my fucking brain chemistry, but to him, it was a game. Another way to mess with me.

I close my lids, stealing a moment to get into the zone. Images come to mind that help calm my nerves: summer rains, bunny rabbit feet, a pair of dark brown eyes, and the smell of chlorine.

Me and jealousy? We don’t mix. I never once felt possessive of any girl I’ve dated over the last four years, but for some reason, it’s all I feel when it comes to Huckslee. And it’s fucking toxic.

I hate it. It kills me. But I can’t seem to let Huckslee Davis go.

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.

Neither of us looks away from the other. I don’t think he’s breathing. For all he knows, I could be drinking for Salem or any other girl I’ve dated over the years, but I know I’m not. And I make sure that he knows it, too, by how I look at him.

A month. Four weeks. Nearly thirty days since I’ve seen Taylor, or touched him, or felt his lips on mine. I’m going fucking crazy.

When he changed into a dick, I never questioned the switch. I should have known something was up. I should have fucking known.

“You make it hard to think straight when you’re touching me like that.” “Yeah, my thoughts are far from straight,” I snort, slipping my palms under his shirt to run them over his abs.

Climbing out of a second-story bathroom window isn’t the proudest moment in my life, but the look on Taylor’s face when I walk through the front door ten minutes later is priceless.

He feels so perfect against me, so right. Like every molecule and atom in my body was formed specifically to combine with his, drawing us together magnetically in an explosion of gasps and moans when our hips grind together.

“Delaware doesn’t just apply to our texts and the track, it’s our whole fucking lives. Understand?”

“This is long overdue, but welcome to the family, son.”

“Do you trust me?” His gaze is intense, imploring, digging underneath the surface, and I don’t even need to think about my answer. I don’t hesitate. Don’t think twice. “With my whole heart.”

Now, we’re just Taylor and Huckslee.