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Technically, my bike isn’t street legal, but I’ve lived here all my life, so I know the shortcuts.
Besides being a Bishop, Dad’s also a realtor and bought the house when Mom was pregnant with me.
Okay range
I did that. I made those lips swell. I made those dark eyes water. I left my mark on him. Me.
“Shhh, quiet,” I hiss, breathing hard through the pain. “Lasagna, you asshole.”
the orange cat being named lasagna is HILARIOUS
I cross to my dresser, where I snicker at the punching bag in the corner that has Huckslee’s picture taped on it.
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.
One more year, and I can pay off my bike and leave this hellhole for good.
“That glare is reserved for me. You’re giving it to everyone else, and I’m jealous.”
Blue and green, blue or green. Pick a fucking color.
I stop inside the doorway to see him snickering up at the mini statue of Cloud from Final Fantasy sitting on top of my trophy case. “This your crush?” He snorts, and I choose not to respond because, well...yes.
“Lasagna? Why not just call her Garfield?” “Because I’m not a basic bitch like you.”
There’s a smile on his lips, excitement shining in his eyes as he takes in the track, and it reminds me of that day in PE three years ago when I thought I’d get to see that look on his face forever. I didn’t realize until this moment that I’d missed it.
“Yeah, why not? This can be like neutral ground or something. A fake place. Like…Delaware.”
“Have you ever heard of that city? I don’t even know where or if it exists.” Taylor’s eyes nearly bug out of his skull. “Delaware is a state, dumbass.”
Fucking no geography knowing dumbass.
“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.
‘Drag Me Down’ by Breathe Carolina thumps from someone’s shitty speakers, shouts ringing out from a game of beer pong near the back door.
honestly taste
I don’t meet his gaze, unsure if I could handle what I’d find there.
“You’re wrong.” Leaning all the way forward, I flatten my body to his, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You say anything, and I’ll tell everyone about the kiss.”
“I think my type is you, Taylor.” “M-me?” My voice comes out embarrassingly high, but I’m too shocked by what he just said to care.
“But I want to talk to you, and you don’t trust me right now. So we’re going to Delaware.”
“Why do you hate me so much, Taylor?” His tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I don’t hate you, Huck. Not even close.”
“Shut the fuck up, Huckslee,” he growls, cutting off my words. Before I can process what’s happening, he’s spinning me around and crushing his mouth to mine.
“What are you doing?” I murmur. Taylor laughs, a husky, breathy noise that shoots right to my dick. “Silencing your bullshit.”
“I don’t think you do,” he whispers, gazing at my lips. “I think that you want me to stay.”
“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.”
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.
Huckslee Davis, jersey number twenty, currently in his fourth and final season playing for the California Golden Bears at CU Berkeley.
He looks...ecstatic. Elated. It’s a look I never got to see with him, and I drink it down like the alcoholic I am, needing my fix.
I’ve broken it off with every guy I’ve ever dated because they aren’t assholes, apparently. I won’t even get into what my therapist thinks about that.
Jerking his chin, Taylor kicks his bike into gear. “We racing or what?” And then he’s speeding ahead of me down the track.
Tears freeze on my cheeks, eyes sliding shut, and despite the pressure crushing my windpipe, I find my thumb gently rubbing circles into Huck’s wrist. Telling him that it’s alright. It’s okay, I understand. I’ve wanted to do this to myself, too.
“Just as we did last year,” Christian continues, “ten percent of the proceeds we’ve made this week are being donated to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, so from the bottom of our hearts, thank you.”
THE NOISE I JUST MADE….
“Just remember that you are loved, and you matter.” Taylor presses two fingers to his lips before raising them up to the crowd.
WAHHHHHHHH
“You watch my games?” He jerks his chin, and I follow his gaze to see Taylor leaning against a far wall, engaged in conversation. “Baby boy never misses any. And if he does, he gets moody as fuck.”
“I’m trying to move on and do better, Huck,” he says quietly, sad eyes holding my gaze. “That’s all I can do.”
“You know what I think will really make you mad, though? This.” He yanks Logan’s face down to his and plants a kiss square on my best friend’s lips.
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.
“Never have I ever been in love.”
He doesn’t make a move toward his drink. But I do. Holding his gaze, I pick up my glass and drain its contents before placing it in the sink.
“Where’s your sense of whimsy, Huck?”
“Don’t you fucking leave me here alone, Huck! Don’t you fucking dare.” Breathe. Please, baby, breathe.
“You want me to own you, Taylor? Take away your choices while I fucking use you? Like you did to me?” Will that make you love me?
“You want my forgiveness?” His eyes are two black holes, utterly void of light. “Beg for it on your fucking knees, Taylor.”
But I don’t think I’m ready for him to see the outline I have tattooed on me, right over my heart.
“Now you know what it’s like to drown.”
I just listen. Like I should have been doing from the very start.
A bitter laugh leaves my throat. “It doesn’t take much for me, apparently. The slightest crumb of affection, and I’m a goner.”
and my stomach somersaults at the word he just called me. Baby. I’m baby.
“I can’t get you out of my head, Taylor. I haven’t been able to for four years.”
