14. Taylor

Taylor

H uck blinks rapidly at me for several seconds, his face inches from mine as the grip on my arm loosens in shock.

"What?"

I tried to hold it all in—I really did. Even went as far as scoping the place out before entering the house to ensure no one was home because I did not want this to happen .

But then Logan pulled up with Huckslee in the passenger seat, and the moment he stepped out of that car looking cute as fuck in his oversized coat, I only saw rage. And hurt.

I wanted us to part on somewhat stable ground, but I know Huckslee. The way his eyes hyper-focused on my lips told me everything. So the minute he grabbed me, I knew. I fucking knew he was going to try to kiss me, and if I let him? It would be all over for me.

After four months of radio silence, that shit ain't flying .

"Why," I spit through clenched teeth. "Did you. Tell the cops. That I borrowed your car?"

He rears back, baring his teeth. "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Dead serious." Yanking my arm from his grasp, I step back to put some much-needed space between us. "Why the hell would you lie to the cops, dude? You know how much trouble you could have gotten into for that?"

"Me? I did it to save your ass, motherfucker!"

"I didn't ask you to do that."

Those dark, starry eyes widen as he scoffs. "You're an ungrateful piece of shit, you know that?"

His words lack the normal bite I'm used to, like he's holding back, and it only fuels my fire.

"At least I own it, Huckslee." My leg swings over the seat of my bike as I seethe at him. "I don't pretend to be something I'm not."

"What is that supposed to mean?" He goes still, pupils dilating in quiet rage.

A mirthless laugh pushes past my lips. "Mister football star, with his good grades and his charming smile. But it's all bullshit. I know what's really underneath. You're a fucking fake."

"And you're a fucking hypocrite," he growls, suddenly in my face, "because I'm not the one telling himself he's not gay despite kissing and jerking a guy off in a goddamn pool!"

I'm off my bike instantly, Huckslee's coat gripped in my fist as my other one clocks back. He flinches, eyes squeezing shut to brace himself, and in that moment, I pause .

My heart is racing, blood rushing to my ears as I fight every impulse inside of me to punch his gorgeous fucking face in. Old Taylor would have done it without hesitation.

But I don't want to hurt him. I don't. I've hurt him enough.

So I pause. Take a breath. Close my eyes. Slowly lower my fist.

And step back, and back, until I'm once again on the bike.

When I open my eyes, Huck studies me like we're strangers, and it hits me that we are . It's unreal how quickly two people can change in four months.

"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."

I tried to play it off like it didn't bother me, but that court-ordered therapist is actually good at her job. She presses into my bruises until I have no choice but to bleed, and honestly, it's cathartic. I've seen her more than just the three times I was supposed to. It feels good to talk to someone about stuff when you're not worried about their bullshit.

"My dad tried..." Huck's voice trails off, and my bike roars to life as I nod grimly.

"Yeah, he did. But you didn't."

With a deep breath, I throttle forward and leave without looking back because if I do, I'll drown in those damn dark eyes and never escape.