32. Huckslee

Huckslee

April

L aughter fills the house, little feet pitter-pattering off the tile as my baby cousins ricochet off the walls.

The dining room is packed full, aunts and uncles filling every chair as Dad sits at the head of the table, looking happier than I've seen him in a while, enjoying everyone's company.

We even had to set up a few tables in the foyer to accommodate all the extra people. There's enough food to feed an entire army since Maisie and Logan's mom spent days cooking for this. It's Dad's first holiday out of recovery, so they wanted to go big and celebrate.

A full house, overflowing with so much family that it's bursting.

And yet, it feels empty to me because one person is missing.

Where the fuck is he ?

Scowling down at my plate, I check my phone for what has to be the millionth time today, billions in the last week. Plenty of texts, just not from him. It's been two weeks since we exchanged numbers on Instagram, but I've been too cowardly to reach out first.

Just like I was too big of a coward to face him that morning a month ago after St. Patrick's Day.

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.

"What's with you today?" Logan asks next to me, looking about as bad as I feel. "You've been in a bad mood since we left the apartment."

"So have you," I counter dryly, and he just lifts the corner of his mouth in response.

Yeah, we haven't been fun to be around the last few weeks. A moping Logan was bad enough, but add in my surly ass, and now being cooped up in that damn apartment is becoming unbearable. It's been nothing but studying for finals, piles of homework, and being alone with my thoughts. I started dragging Logan to the gym for something to do, but that still gave me too much time to think.

Like thoughts about the fact that Taylor saved my fucking life, and I assaulted him after disappearing for four years. And then I made out with him, sucked the soul out of his dick after he admitted he was in love with me, then disappeared again . Cue the self-loathing. Between Logan and I, there's plenty to go around.

"Hey, Huckslee," one of my uncles calls from across the room. "Any news on that draft pick yet?"

Ugh, don't remind me .

"Not yet. Pick's not until next weekend. It's anyone's guess."

The top players know which NFL team they're getting picked for ahead of time, but seeing as I'm just reasonably decent, it could be anywhere.

Dad takes a sip of his drink. "Who you hoping for, son?"

Honestly, I'm hoping I don't get picked at all. It's an odd thing to say for someone who spent four years playing football, but I just don't think I want to make it my career. Free agency would be ideal.

"Somewhere close," I shrug, pushing my food around. "Or at least on the West Coast."

My cousin Angela gags. "Really, like the Seahawks? Booo!"

That starts a whole discussion about NFL teams that I'm just not in the mood for, so I finally pull out my phone again and text Taylor.

Me: Where are you?

He doesn't respond immediately, and I listen to the conversation around me for a minute until the screen lights up.

Taylor: Who dis?

Seriously, asshole?

Me: Huckslee.

Another minute passes.

Taylor: How did you get my number?

Me: You gave it to me on IG, remember?

He did. Right? I pull up my Instagram account to read over the message again, making sure I'm not crazy. Another text comes through.

Taylor: Salem runs my social media accounts. I'm never on those haha.

What's up?

What's up? What's up is that I haven't stopped thinking about the way your lips feel or the way your cock tastes, motherfucker.

Me: Where are you?

Taylor: Uh in my room?

My brows pinch together.

Me: No you're not

Taylor: Yes huh

A picture comes through, his hand flipping the middle finger with his room at his apartment in the background.

Ah, that room. I don't know why I thought he meant his room here, at this house.

Me: Why aren't you here?

Taylor: Where's here?

Me: Our parents house. Easter Sunday dinner.

Taylor: Wasn't invited.

He…what?

Glancing up, I look around at all the members of Maisie's side of the family. His side of the family. Why the fuck didn't his own mother invite him? Why didn't my dad? He should be here.

"Is Taylor coming today?" I ask Maisie, and she blinks as the room goes quiet.

"I don't think so, dear," she replies vaguely, slicing into the ham in the middle of the table, not meeting my gaze.

A frown pulls at my mouth. "Why not?"

She exchanges a look with Dad before shrugging, a tight smile on her face. "Oh, we figured he'd be busy with his biking thing. No big deal."

Bullshit.

Seriously, it sounds like the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard, and the words nearly spill from my mouth until I grind my molars to keep them in. I can feel Dad's eyes on me, so I meet them, not bothering to hide the disappointment in him that I'm feeling for the first time in my life.

Logan bumps my shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Taylor should be here," I mutter, looking away from my dad. "This is his family too. "

He sweeps his gaze around the room before slowly nodding. "I agree."

Turning back to my phone, I send Taylor another message.

Me: You shouldn't have to be invited. It's family.

Taylor: Oh? You missing me, big bro? ;P

I cringe so hard at that, it's not even funny, but I ignore his Taylorisms and ask what he's up to because I'd rather talk to him than anyone else.

Taylor: Puzzles

Me: Haha, funny

Taylor: You?

Me: Trying to get through this awkward dinner without discussing football or my life plans.

Taylor: Yeah, good luck with that.

Being the family pariah has its benefits. Nobody asks me shit.

Well, that's sad as hell.

Me: What are your life plans Taylor?

A moment passes before I see the bubbles appear while he types.

Taylor: Become a muthafuckin freestyle legend.

Buy a house next to Christian and build a track in our backyard.

Maybe get a goat.

Me: A goat?

That makes me snort. Logan gives me a funny look, but I wave him off.

Taylor: Yeah one of those fainting ones.

Me: Most people want the house with the wife, kids and a dog.

Taylor: Dogs are cool. I'd rather have a ferret or something. I'm too lazy for walks.

Me: And the wife and kids?

I don't even know why I'm asking or what possessed me to bring it up, but my palms are damp, and my heart is beating a little hard. He reads the text but doesn't respond. Not for a while. I try to interject myself into the surrounding conversations, to focus on whatever my little cousins try to show me, but I can't concentrate.

Finally, the phone buzzes, and I feel slightly dizzy.

Taylor: I'm with Salem on the whole marriage thing. Don't really see the point in it, to be honest.

And I think I'd make a shitty dad, so kids are definitely not on the list.

Me: I don't think so. You doted on Lasagna, and I could tell your rabbit is happy.

Taylor: Don't know if you know this, Huckslee, but children and animals are entirely different.

Me: No shit, Sherlock. I'm just saying you have like, fatherly instincts.

Taylor: Fatherly, huh?

Me: Fuck off. I'm trying to compliment you.

Taylor: Why bother?

Sighing heavily, I rub my eyes before sending a gif of a cat waving a white flag.

Me: Let's not fight, okay? That's not why I texted. Truce?

He leaves me on read for ten minutes. Twenty. I help clear the table, chat with Logan and his dad, and even play tag in the backyard with my cousins. Two hours later, still no response, so I pull up my phone and create a group chat titled ' Delaware' before adding Taylor's number to it. Not even a minute passes before he sends a message in the thread.

Taylor: Really, a group chat with just the two of us?

Me: This chat is Delaware. Fighting is off-limits.

Taylor: What do you want, Huck? I'm busy.

Me: With your puzzles?

Taylor: No, I'm about to get on my bike.

Been practicing for the qualifier this weekend.

Me: Shit, that's this weekend?

No response. I type out a quick ‘ good luck, I hope you win ' because it's clear he doesn't want to talk to me, and I don't blame him. Yeah, I tried reaching out via Instagram, but I didn't know he doesn't even read his social media messages. And I shouldn't have left him in the first place, but I was just...confused.

Ashamed, not because of what we did together but because of how I treated him. His dad almost killed him and hurt him so bad he was in the hospital for a month, but I just ignored him. It was easier to believe he was the villain than to try and understand him, just like how our parents are acting now.

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. I should know; I put on a show for years that nobody noticed. Nobody except Taylor.

But just like everyone else, I saw his asshole kid exterior and automatically decided he was a bad egg, even when he showed me his true self in eighth grade. When he changed into a dick, I never questioned the switch. I should have known something was up.

I should have fucking known.

Eventually, the evening ends. Logan and I make the long drive back to his apartment in the city, and I'm tempted to ask him to drop me off at Taylor's, but I don't. Instead, when we walk into his two-bedroom, one-bathroom on the top floor of a high rise, I throw my jacket onto a chair and close myself in my nearly empty room.

There's an air mattress, my suitcase, which I've been living out of, and a desk I purchased from IKEA with college money, which I'm steadily running out of. Seriously, I owe Logan so much money when all of this is over for letting me stay here and for eating his food. He says not to worry about it, but as soon as I figure out what the fuck I want to do with my life, I'll pay him back with interest.

Walking over to the desk, I plop down and let out a breath. My laptop sits to the left, and my sketchbook to the right. Finals are in a week and a half, so I should probably study .

And yet…

My hands reach for the sketchbook of their own volition, and I find myself flipping through the new pieces I've been working on. Drawings for Taylor and Christian's brand, even though it was never brought up again after February. It's given me something to do, though. Keeps my mind occupied. Flipping open the book, I lief through my latest sketches, feeling heartsick.

That night, after Taylor fell asleep, I studied every piece of ink on his skin, mapping them to memory. After a heavy FaceTime with my therapist, I started drawing them—renditions of them anyway, in designs I think Taylor would like based on his t-shirt choices. I learned a lot of things that night when I studied his body, just from his tattoos and the things I noticed around his room.

He seems to like old movies, like Young Frankenstein and Little Shop of Horrors. Judging from the few books on his shelf and the cosmos inked onto his arm, he loves sci-fi and space. There are constellations down his spine and a UFO abducting a cow on his ribcage that made me chuckle. His other arm has trees and mountains on it. I could tell there was more on his legs, but since we were both clothed from the waist down, I couldn't see those. The ones on his right knuckles are a mystery, Japanese letters I know nothing about. His left hand has a skull tattooed on the back of it.

The memory of those inked fingers wrapped around his cock sends a heated wave through me, and I reach down to adjust myself. Fuck, he looked perfect. Lips all swollen from biting kisses, his neck red from my stubble, the tip of his dick engorged and weeping for me. I want to taste him again. Make a mess all over him and clean it up. Fucking hell .

I'm about to take out my dick and pull up his Instagram for the umpteenth time when a new message comes through in the chat, his reply to my good luck text.

Taylor: Thanks. I think I have a good shot at making it.

Christian does, too, but there's only one spot, so it could be either of us.

Me: Oh, damn. Is it causing issues?

Taylor: With me and Christian?

Nah. He's worked just as hard as me for this. I'm proud of him.

We're solid.

Resentment festers in my gut as I read his words. Typing out a message, I hit send before I can stop myself.

Me: So different from the scholarship, then?

I'm such a petty fucking bitch. Swiping on the screen, I'm about to apologize when his reply comes through.

Taylor: I'm not a little punk-ass crybaby anymore, so no.

Right. Shit.

New leaf, Huck. Start fresh.

Me: You're right. Sorry for assuming.

Taylor: Well, you know what they say about those who assume...you make an ASS out of U and ME.

Me: Yeah, yeah. I know lol

Taylor: Speaking of asses…

My stomach flips, and I move from the desk to the air mattress, waiting for his response.

Taylor: I miss yours.

And you are one for leaving me.

Goddammit.

Pulling up his number, I hit the call button, holding my breath as it rings. When he picks up on the fifth round, he sounds flustered.

"Hey?"

His deep, husky voice sends a current to my dick, and I chuckle. "Hey. Why do you sound so confused?"

"Uh," he coughs a dry laugh, "besides the occasional call with Salem, I don't think I talk to anyone on the phone. Like ever. I'm strictly a texter."

That makes me smile. "Is it weird?"

"Little bit." There's a pause, some rustling in the background. "Not bad, though."

I wish I could see his face. An odd sound comes over the line, like a swallow, prompting me to ask him what he's up to.

"Eating a HotPocket," he mumbles, clearly with his mouth full .

I snort. "Do you ever eat real food?"

"Yeah, on Wednesdays when Salem takes pity on us and comes over to cook."

Sounds about right. "How is she doing?"

"Eh. Been better."

Sighing, I flop back onto my pillow. "Yeah. Logan, too."

He grunts, and we're both quiet while he eats. Usually, the sound of someone chewing in my ear sets me off, but with Taylor, it's different. Like it's proof he's still there, even after all I've done to drive him away.

"So what had to be said over the phone that you couldn't text?" He asks finally, presumably done with his food.

"Well, first, I-I kind of missed your voice," I stammer, feeling a little stupid for admitting it out loud. "And second, I wanted to explain why I left."

"Guess you can try."

He sounds upset, and I don't fucking blame him one bit. I wish I could get over my shit.

Taking a deep breath, my fingers tangle in my curls. "I feel like I'm always apologizing to you, so I'll skip that part and jump right in. Look, Tay, hearing that you found me on prom night really freaked me out."

"I know," he whispers. "I could tell."

And that's why he kissed me. Because I was on the verge of an episode, and his lips dragged me back to reality.

"This whole time, I thought my dad was the one who found me and that the EMTs had stabilized me. I didn't…I didn't know that you saved my life. Literally, Taylor, because I looked at the hospital report. I'd be dead if you'd been just a few seconds later."

There's silence on the other line, but I hear his breath, so I continue.

"You gave me a second chance, and I'll never be able to repay that. Look at what I've done to you since I've been back. I hurt you."

He sighs heavily. "I thought we got past this?"

"Not just the times I choked you and punched your face, but the cabin, Taylor. I...I violated you."

"You what?! " His sudden shout causes me to pull the phone away from my ear with a flinch. "Huckslee, hold the fuck up, what are you even talking about?"

Swallowing hard, I cover my eyes. "I forced you to get on your knees and take my dick down your throat."

He pauses, my heart pounding in my chest, and then he groans in disbelief. "Huck, I wanted to get on my knees for you. I wanted your dick in my mouth."

"But not like that," I whisper, feeling ashamed at the way I restrained him and pinned him against the counter, "not for your first time. I let this anger inside of me poison something that should have been good for you. I'll never forgive myself."

"Huckslee, listen to me very carefully. I wanted it. I liked it. Was it rougher than I expected, and could I have used some aftercare? Fuck yeah. But it...it wasn't what you're making it out to be, okay? So stop that line of thinking."

Not likely, but I mumble a weak ‘ok' and blink away the tears of shame. He might not feel the way I do, but I still twisted an experience for him into something ugly. It shouldn't have happened that way .

"Hey," he breathes softly in my ear, "I can hear the doubts in your head over the phone. I'm telling you, baby, it's alright. Listen to the words I'm saying."

My breath catches, warmth flooding my chest. "Okay. I am, I'm listening."

"We need to break this cycle, Huck. The running and hiding and keeping shit inside. It's not healthy. Next time you feel this way, you need to talk to me about it."

"I will," I promise earnestly, hope lighting up the darkness in my head now that he sounds less mad at me. "I swear."

"Good. And I know how I can make you feel better."

"Yeah? How?"

He laughs low, a sultry sound that sends a tingle to my balls. "We're going to rewrite the scene. Change it."

"Change it?"

"Yeah." Fabric rustles in the background as he swallows. "Like, hypothetically speaking, if we could go back and redo that night, what would you do?"

"Hmm." Heart thumping, I close my eyes as I think about it. "Well, first, I'd let you kiss me after your snowman fell apart."

"Still pissed about that," he whines. "The snowman and the kiss part. You looked cute."

"And then I'd take you upstairs, peel off your clothes, and kiss every inch of your body."

He hums, "mm-hmm, that's a good start."

"I'd have you suck on my fingers, get your mouth all wet and dripping for me. And then I'd slowly feed you my cock."

A breathy moan comes from his side. "I want to taste you again so bad, Huck."

Goddamn .

"Yeah?" I'm fully hard now, undoing my jeans to pull myself out and give my shaft a long, slow tug.

"Yeah. I liked the way it felt when your cum slid down my throat."

"Fuck, baby, I wish you were sucking on me right now."

He whimpers like he did when I first wrapped my hands around him, and God, it's the sexiest sound I've ever heard. Jerking myself from base to tip, I ask, "are you playing with your cock, Tay?"

"Just a little. Can't help it. You make me fucking horny."

Groaning and regretting my choice of not having Logan take me to Taylor's apartment, I spit into my palm, getting it nice and wet. "You know what I can't stop thinking about?"

"Hmm?"

"Remember that night in the cabin when we shared a bed?"

There's a pause. "You want to have a foursome with Salem and Logan?"

The seriousness of his tone makes a laugh burst out of me. " No . Salem is not my type, and Logan is like my brother. That'd be weird."

"Good to know," he chuckles, "cuz I don't want to share you."

My heart wrenches at that. "What I can't stop thinking about is when Salem mentioned in that hypothetically fucked up scenario that I'd be fucking you."

His breath catches and then quickens. "I've been thinking about that, too."

Oh, fuck. My cock is heavy in my hand as I pump myself, imagining Taylor bent over for me. "Does it turn you on?"

"Fuck, yes," he moans. "God, it makes me so fucking hard."

"Can I ask you something? When you did anal before...did you like it?"

A soft laugh reaches me through the phone. "Yeah. From what I remember, anyway. It was one time with Salem, and we were drunk."

Damn, so it's been over two years since he's done it? And only once?

"I'd make you feel good, baby." I let go of my cock to massage my aching balls. "I'd go slow. Play with you until you're ready."

He doesn't answer, but I can tell from his noises that he likes the idea very much. Stroking myself right along with him, I continue.

"Mm, I'd get your tight ass nice and stretched for me, then I'd fill you with my cock. Fuck you so good that you make a mess all over yourself, clenching around me. And after I've pumped you full of cum, I'll lick you clean."

"Shit, Huck," he inhales shakily. "I'm gonna...c-come..."

"Show me," I command, jerking myself harder. "Record it, Taylor. I need to see it."

"H-hang on." He moves the phone closer to his cock, and the slick sounds of him rubbing himself grace my ears. There's a muffled, choked cry as he orgasms, bringing me close to tumbling over that edge myself. When he comes back on the line, he's breathless. "Check the chat."

Pressing play on the video, I watch his tattooed hand stroke that big cock until he's shooting cum all over his abs, and I moan as my own release spills from me, running down my shaft and over my fingers .

"Mmm, damn, Tay." Working myself through it, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. "You're so fucking perfect."

He hums contentedly, and when I'm finished wringing myself dry, I stick my fingers in my mouth one by one.

"Did you–" Taylor groans into the phone. "Did you just suck your own cum from your fingers just now?"

"Well, I'm not wasting it."

" Fuuck , Huckslee. Next time film that shit, it's not fair that you got a video and I didn't."

Grinning, I huff a laugh. "Or next time, you can just suck my fingers for me?"

"Deal."

We fall into a comfortable silence, cleaning ourselves up from the mess we just made, the sounds of Warhammer from Logan's room playing in the background. Lately, that's all he does. Goes to work, goes to school, then comes home and sits in front of his computer for hours. He doesn't even eat half the time unless I suggest making something or ordering takeout.

Rolling over onto my side, I exhale sharply. "I've got to get Logan out of the apartment more. He's been moody since February."

"Salem isn't much better. She's starting to piss me off, honestly. I took her to a rage room last weekend to try and help, but I think it only made things worse."

"At least you don't have to live with her." I blow a curl out of my face. "We should do something because I think they're both being stupid."

He grunts in agreement, "like what?"

"I don't know. Like, parent trap them, or something. Lindsay Lohan style."

"I have no clue what the hell that means."

"What? You've never seen The Parent Trap?"

"Negative, Ghost Rider."

"Of course, you've seen Top Gun, though," I scoff, shaking my head. "It's a movie about two twins who try to get their divorced parents back together by tricking them into being at the same place at the same time."

"Ah." He pauses and then gasps. "Wait. Huckslee, you're a fucking genius. I have the perfect idea."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. This weekend, at the Nitro Fuel Games qualifier. We're gonna get mom and dad back together, baby."

Scrunching up my nose, I snort. "Weird way to put it, seeing as how our parents are literally married to each other. But I'm picking up what you're putting down."

"Yeah, and calling Salem mom is probably super weird, right? Since I've fucked her?"

"Jesus Christ, Taylor." Burying my face into the pillow, I choke out a laugh. "You say the most out-of-pocket shit."

"But you love it, though."

I can hear the smile in his voice, which has my heart doing flips.

"Yeah. I do."

I really fucking do.