36. Huckslee

Huckslee

T he drive back to Logan's apartment is quietly awkward.

His head keeps swiveling in my direction, mouth opening like he wants to ask something, but then he chickens out and turns back to the window. I'm not about to encourage him to ask whatever's on his mind because I'm honestly not ready to answer.

Anticipation buzzes through me, so much so that I swear my body is vibrating by the time we pull into the apartment complex. Sending Logan inside with his keys, I tell him I'm going to hang out with Royce and that I'll be out late, the lie getting caught in my throat. He seems to believe it, though, nodding as he tells me to be safe before disappearing into the building while I stand outside and wait for a yellow truck to pull up.

It's ridiculous how excited I am to see Taylor since we just parted ways twenty minutes ago. I feel like I'm addicted to him, intoxicated by his presence. I just want to breathe him in, hold him inside my lungs and never exhale, as if his very existence could give me life.

A thought occurs to me, and I hurriedly run up to the apartment to grab my sketchbook. Luckily, Logan is already in the shower, so he doesn't notice. By the time I come back down, Taylor is waiting on the curb in his truck with a big, crooked grin, snapback on backward.

"I'm here to pick up my date," he calls from the open window. "Have you seen him? Super tall, sexy curls, plays football?"

"Haven't seen him, but I'm happy to take his place." Hopping into the passenger seat, I lean over for a kiss. "I charge by the hour, though. Hundred bucks."

"Damn, that's cheap. I can swing that," he chuckles as he pulls out of the parking lot, and my chest swells. It feels...odd to be flirting with him like this. Not in a bad way, but freeing. It should have been this way between us from the start.

"So you survived Arya, I see."

"Barely." Shifting gears, he maneuvers the truck into traffic. "She practically grabbed my dick, trying to get me into a threesome with her and Christian. They started fucking right there on your seat."

" Gross, what the fuck!" I jump into the middle, pressing into Taylor's side as he bursts into laughter. His hand leaves the gearshift to rest on my knee, and I watch him drive for a minute. He looks completely at ease, his inked arm extended to grasp the wheel, strands of dark hair brushing his face, and his lips curled into a smile. Beautiful .

"Does that happen often?" I ask, tearing my gaze away when he tosses his phone and tells me to pick some music. "With you and Christian?"

"What, threesomes?" At my nod, his head bounces from side to side. "I wouldn't say they happen often, but frequently, yeah. Don't know if you remember, but Christian and I had issues in high school with stealing each other's girlfriends."

"He punched you for messing around with one, I remember." Settling on a playlist titled ‘Songs I Miss Getting High To,' I lean against him as ‘Like This' by Breathe Carolina filters through the speakers. "The night you broke my arm, right?"

He squirms uncomfortably. "Yeah. We eventually decided that it made more sense for us to date together. Can't steal someone's girlfriend if she's already your girl, too."

My brows jump as I turn to gape at him. "Seriously? Like, at the same time?"

"Yep. It was practical, honestly, because we spend most of our time together anyway. So, it was like...killing two birds with one stone? Is that the right phrase?"

His hand leaves my leg to downshift before returning, and I stare at it thoughtfully.

"But you and Christian... you've never...?" I let the question hang in the air, feeling his eyes on my face.

"No," he answers softly, squeezing my thigh. "I said in the cabin that I've only had experience with one guy, remember? I don't feel that way about Christian. Only you, Huck."

We're stopped at a red light, his gaze is so intense that I have to turn away. Clearing my throat, I try to lighten the mood.

"Well, I'm not dating him, too, so don't ask."

That gets a snort out of him. "No offense, but you're not really his type. If that fucker could live in pussy twenty-four-seven, he would."

"I'm surprised he has no crotch goblins running around everywhere."

"You kidding? He got snipped the minute we turned eighteen." Taylor huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "I went with him when he did it. Not as scary as it sounds, honestly. He said he felt no pain."

"But you didn't do it?"

"Hell, no." He gives me an odd look, shifting again as he accelerates, and I narrow my gaze.

"Why not?"

Without responding, his teeth sink into his bottom lip as a blush creeps onto his neck. His eyes bounce around the road, fingers tightening on the wheel, throat flexing as he swallows hard. And that's when I realize he's flustered. Taylor fucking Tottman is embarrassed.

Turning my body into his, I lean close to brush my lips over his ear as I place my hand on his upper thigh. "Tell me, baby."

He grumbles something under his breath, and even though I caught every word, he looks too damn cute not to mess with him a little more.

"A little louder, I didn't hear you."

"I like having swimmers, ok?" He glares at me, his face entirely red as we turn down a quiet street. "Happy?"

Snorting louder than intended, I nip at his shoulder with a chuckle. "You just like cum."

Scoffing, he says nothing else, but I catch a hint of a smile as he turns away .

"So, that word Christian calls you, cari?o ? What does it mean?"

"It's a term of endearment," his expression softens, "like honey or darling. His mom has always called me that, and he started doing it when I moved in with them in high school. Started as a joke, mostly, but then it stuck."

My chest pinches at his words. "You're super close with his family."

"Yep. Pretty sure I spent more time at his house than mine growing up."

That makes sense. As tumultuous as his home life was, I'm sure Taylor used Christian's place as an escape. A sanctuary. For what it's worth, I'm glad he had somewhere to go that made him feel safe.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I ask, ready to change the subject.

"Up the canyon. Ever been to Silver Lake?"

"Nope."

His teeth flash as he grins, giving me a peek of that crooked incisor. "We'll be there soon. Bit of a drive, but I want to show you the view."

We fall into a comfortable silence other than the music, Taylor switching off from handling the gear shift and teasing my thigh. When we reach the mouth of the canyon, he speeds up, swerving around bends in the road expertly one-handed. It's fuckhot, honestly, watching him drift like a drag racer.

"I didn't know you could drive stick," I comment, tangling my fingers in his hair.

"Well, yeah. Gotta know how to operate a clutch before you get on a bike. "

"No wonder you're so good at what you do."

He throws me a sideways glance. "Don't tell me you've never learned to drive a manual?"

I blink at him for a second, and his eyes widen.

" Really? Aaron never taught you?"

"My mom was the one who taught me to drive, and she only knew automatic, so...no."

"Damn." He grabs my hand and puts it on the shifter, "here, I'll show you."

Over the next twenty minutes or so, he tries to teach me about the different gears and how they tie into the clutch, and I try to pay attention. He's so confident, patiently answering my questions even though I'm not retaining much. I just like hearing him speak.

"Fifth gear is only for sixty-five miles per hour or above. But I'm not taking this corner that fast with you in the truck. I have done it before, though." Using our hands to downshift into second, he pulls onto a dirt path, taking us through the trees. It's too dark to see anything other than shadows beyond the beam of his headlights, but it doesn't seem to phase him.

"Who taught you to drive?" I ask, and his body slightly stiffens.

"My dad started teaching me when I was five." The truck slows, turning as he whips us around to back into a spot in the brush. "Couldn't even reach the pedals yet. He'd beat my ass every time I stalled on the clutch, but I sure learned fast."

My stomach twists at that, anger blooming for the little boy he'd been.

"I'm sorry. You deserved better parents. "

It's true. Even though Maisie has always been kind to me, it doesn't excuse how she treats her flesh and blood. A part of me wonders if my dad has ever questioned it or saw anything wrong with it. Yes, Taylor fucked up. He did a lot of bad things growing up, but would he have still been that way if he'd grown up in a loving environment?

I guess I don't really know. I grew up with two caring, supportive parents, and what had that gotten me?

Anxiety, that's what.

Maybe instead of being ‘nature versus nurture,' it's a bit of both.

Taylor shrugs tightly. "I had Salem and the guys. I was lucky."

"This the place?" Not wanting to make him uncomfortable by discussing his childhood, I steer us away from the conversation.

"Yeah." Reaching behind the seat, he grabs a wadded-up blanket and a plastic bag before rolling down the window to open his door. "Come on."

The chilly canyon air hits me when I leave the truck, making me shiver as I follow him to the back. Water sloshes in the distance, backed by a cacophony of crickets and croaking frogs. Taylor unlatches the tailgate, hopping onto the truck bed with a pat for me to join him, and as I settle in, the view before us catches my breath.

Silver Lake glitters under the waxing moon, the dark sky above so clear that I swear I can see our own galaxy flickering among the stars. Far away from the bright city lights, it's almost ethereal, watching the sky's reflection ripple in the water, surrounded by nothing but aspens and spruce .

"Unreal, huh?" Taylor's eyes are on my face, and I turn to give him an appreciative nod.

"It's beautiful. I can only imagine what it looks like in the daytime."

"During the day, it's just your typical lake. Still beautiful, sure, but at night?" He tips his head back, sweeping his gaze above with a small smile. "Everything goes quiet and still. There's nothing but you and space out here, stretching for miles."

Quiet is definitely right. Even the frogs have stopped their bellowing like our presence scared them off. The silence is almost deafening, unlike the water lapping on the shoreline. With the darkness of the trees around us, it's a bit eerie, if I'm being honest.

"You don't find it unnerving?"

"Nah." Leaning on his palms, he swings his legs back and forth. "It's the calm that settles me. Sometimes, after a big show or practice on my bike, I have a hard time coming down from the adrenaline. Weed used to help, but...yeah. Once I stopped smoking and drinking, I'd be antsy as fuck for hours. Couldn't sleep. So, my therapist suggested ‘peaceful' activities to get my brain to shut off. Coming here is soothing."

I hum, keeping my eyes on the shadows in case something decides to jump out. "The first time I went to a doctor at eighteen with sleeping problems, they just threw pills at me."

He's silent for a bit, gazing at me sadly, but his eyes slip away when I turn to look at him.

"They tried that, too, at first," he admits softly, "but after...everything that happened, and with my newfound sobriety, I wanted to stay off meds. Took a while and some experimentation, but I found what worked for me. Everyone's brain is different."

"So coming here helps you sleep?" A slight breeze kicks up, rustling the leaves and sending chills through me.

Taylor unravels the blanket he brought from the truck to wrap around our shoulders, crowding into me so that our sides and thighs are pressed together. "Sometimes. It's easier in the summer when it's warm, and I can just fall asleep in the bed of my truck. Winter is a little harder, but I make do with shit like puzzles. And masturbation."

He winks at me, and I choke out a laugh. The warmth from his body floods my own. "I thought you were joking when I asked what you were doing, and you said puzzles."

"One hundred percent not a joke. I like the jigsaw ones with over a thousand pieces."

"Like a little old man." I bump his shoulder, grinning as he snorts. "Who knew the adrenaline junkie from high school would turn into such a grandpa."

"Hey," he gasps in mock offense. " Still a certified badass over here. My nervous system needs a break once in a while."

"Yeah, yeah, you're still cool." Smirking, I glance up again at the stars twinkling above. "So, which constellations up there are tattooed on your back?"

There's a startled flicker on his face before he follows my gaze to the sky. "Well, the first one is Libra, but you can't see it from the Northern Hemisphere just yet. It's my zodiac sign. Second one is Aries, for Christian, and the third is Taurus, for Salem. I think they're both there," he points, "and there. If I had a telescope, I could show you. "

My throat closes with emotion. "You have your best friend's star signs tattooed on you? That's...actually really sweet."

"Shut up, no, it's not," he scoffs, shoving me playfully beneath the blanket. "You wanna know a secret? Most of my tats cover up scars from crashing my bike."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I've broken both wrists, a femur, and my ribs more times than I can remember. Punctured a lung once. Got a few metal rods in my bones. Check this out." He jumps down to unbutton his pants while I gape, and when he shoves them down to his ankles, I'm graced with the sight of his toned thighs.

"This tat here," he touches a colorful dragon winding its way up from shin to just above his knee, "shattered my tibia, had to get staples. The scar was gnarly, and I wasn't supposed to ride for six months, but I got back on my bike after nine weeks."

" Jesus Christ, Taylor." Throwing him an incredulous glance, I try to ignore the imprint of his dick in the crotch of his briefs. "I've had my fair share of injuries on the field, but that's...damn."

He tugs his pants back up, much to my disappointment, but leaves them undone as he hops up next to me. "I know. Tore a ligament in your foot during your second season, right?"

"You remember that?"

"Well...yeah," he shrugs, pulling the blanket tight around him. "I was paying attention."

My brows furrow, an odd flutter mixed with shame blooming in my stomach at the knowledge that he'd been keeping an eye on me from afar for four years. Whereas I, on the other hand, spent those years pretending he didn't exist.

That familiar feeling creeps into my veins, quickening my pulse and making me lightheaded. But I fight it, telling Taylor I'll be right back as I slide off the tailgate and make my way to the cab. Reaching in to grab my sketchbook, I stand there momentarily and just breathe.

Inhale. Exhale.

One. Two. Three.

My fingers shake when I round the truck again, finding him studying me with wide, worried eyes. Swallowing, I gingerly place the sketchbook in his lap. "I don't know if that offer is still on the table, the one you and Salem brought up about helping design some of your merch, but... it's something that's kept me busy these last few months, and I wanted to show you what I've drawn."

The words come out in a rush, my breathing a bit ragged. He gives me a perplexed look before flipping open the book to the first sketch. A grin immediately lights up his eyes, easing the tension in my neck.

"Hey, Fizzgig," he laughs, pointing at the creature from The Dark Crystal movie. "I have a tattoo of the Crystal of Truth on my arm."

I know. Never seen the movie in my life, but he has a poster in his room, and a Google search told me what I needed to know.

"No fucking way!" He stares at the next drawing, a pinup girl dressed as the Audrey II from Little Shop of Horrors. Her mouth is open, tongue obscenely out, with a text bubble that says ‘ feed me, Seymour! ' "Holy shit, Huck, this is amazing! I want this on a shirt right fucking now. I want this on me. I already have a tattoo of the plant, but I probably-"

He cuts himself off when he turns to the next page, taking in yet another concept of the art he already has on his body. And then another. And another. It slowly dawns on him, his eyes flicking up to mine from under his lashes. Stepping closer, my legs bump his as I tap the sketchbook in his hands.

"I may be four years too late, Tay. But I've been paying attention, too. I'm just sorry it took me so long." Pausing, I run my hands through my hair with a nervous chuckle. "It's all mostly your ink, though. I'm not sure what Christian would like, but he's not as interesting to look at as you. No offense."

He gently, almost lovingly, closes the book and sets it aside before grabbing my shirt to pull me closer. Our lips meet halfway, opening for one another, an electric jolt zipping through me when our tongues touch like it's the first time all over again. His legs wrap around my waist, trapping me against him while his hands roam my back. Heating my blood, sending my heart into overdrive.

Out of all the guys I've kissed, none of them make me feel the way Taylor does, like his arms are the only place I belong. As if I could build a home inside his embrace and live in it forever. Ever since that night when he kissed me on the track behind my house, it's a feeling I searched for in every relationship I've ever had, and they always come up short.

"Get up here," he rasps between kisses on my throat. "Need you."

Practically dragging me onto the bed of the truck, he guides us to the back, where he pushes me against the cab beneath the window. Straddling my legs, he sits on my thighs to tangle his hands in my hair while he makes love to my mouth with his own. It's not long before we're both rock hard, grinding our cocks against each other with breathless moans. His jeans are still undone, and when I glance down, I can see his crown peeking out of the waistband of his briefs, already glistening with a bead of precum. He shivers when I swipe my thumb over it and bring it to my lips, sucking off the taste.

Reaching for my buckle, he undoes it before popping open the button on my pants, pulling down my underwear so that he can wrap his fingers around my cock.

"Fuck, baby," I groan, thrusting up into his fist. "One of these days, I'm gonna get you fully naked."

"It's too cold out here for that." He pulls out his own length and lines us up. "We could always move into the truck?"

"After what you told me happened on those seats, hard pass."

Huffing a throaty laugh, he lifts my shirt, exposing my nipples to the cold air as he leans down to take one between his teeth. He continues to work our shafts, pumping them together while he moves to give my other nipple attention, the chill on the one he left behind making me hiss with pleasure.

"A-am I doing ok?" He stammers, glancing up at me as he licks my sternum, a hint of uncertainty in his beautiful eyes. All I can do is blink at him dazedly, trying to think through the fog of desire.

Then, it hits me. The last time he actually played with me was in the shower, over four years ago, and that was only the second time he'd ever done it. The first was in the pool.

"You're making me feel so good, Tay." Pulling him up for a kiss, I buck my hips to fuck his fist. "So fucking good. "

He hums against my mouth, tongue tangling with mine lazily before he leans back and sinks his teeth into his bottom lip. "Can I...can I suck on you?"

Goddamn. That's it. I'm wholly gone for this boy. And it terrifies me.

"Do you want to?" Cupping his face between my palms, I search his anxious gaze with a knot in my chest. "I know the last time wasn't what it should have been. I'd understand if you needed time. I don't want you to give me head just because you think it's what I want."

"No, no, I want to. Trust me," he chuckles, shaking his head quickly. "Other than you fucking me, it's been my number one fantasy for weeks. I'm just..."

"Just what?"

A sheepish smile pulls at his cheeks. "What if I'm bad at it?"

I can't help but laugh. "As long as you don't bite it, I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Shut up, fucker." He squeezes our cocks hard, causing my laugh to cut off into a groan. "You know what I mean. God, I feel like such a chick right now."

"You're adorable." I kiss his scowling lips until they soften for me before gently pushing him off. "I have an idea. Lay down on your side."

Interest and curiosity brighten his features as he obliges, spreading out on the blanket beneath him. I settle down with my head in the opposite direction so that our crotches are lined up directly in each other's faces, sixty-nining on our sides.

"Just mimic what I do," I say, dragging my tongue along his shaft, earning me a whimper in response. "Eventually, you'll learn what feels good in your mouth. Oral doesn't just have to be for the other person."

Following my lead, Taylor licks up my length slowly, making me moan against him when his tongue pauses to flick tentatively over the ridge at the bottom of my crown.

"Mm, just like that, baby. Explore all you want. It feels amazing."

Spurred on by my praise, he does just that, taking me at different tempos, finding what's comfortable for him while I take him to the back of my throat and swallow the way I know he likes. Eventually, he sighs contentedly and stills, suckling on my cock like a damn lollipop, and it's the hottest thing I've ever felt, almost spilling my load right there.

But I'm not finished with him yet.

Sliding his jeans down to mid-thigh, I tease my fingers along his crease. He jolts against me, vibrating my shaft with a moan, and I press between his ass cheeks to run my finger over his puckered hole.

"Huck," he groans around my cock, thrusting into my mouth, and I grin as I begin to circle him, feeling his muscles clench.

Bringing my finger to my mouth, I get it wet before putting it back, probing him slowly before popping off his cock. "You want me inside, Tay?"

He nods emphatically, whining while still sucking on me peacefully, and I probe him gently, the tip of my finger slipping past that tight ring of muscle. In and out, I work into him, shaking from the effort of staying still, fighting the urge to shove myself down his throat until he chokes. He thrusts into my mouth, fucking himself back and forth on my finger until I'm seated up to the knuckle, so fucking tight, and I find that spot inside him that I know will make him see stars.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." It only takes three or four prods against his prostate before he's coming down my throat, the tickle of his cries on my balls sending me there as well. He echoes through the quiet night, drinking me down as he milks his orgasm on my tongue, clenching around my finger.

And when it's over, he laughs softly, nuzzling his lips against my hip, hugging my waist tightly like he's afraid to let go. As I slip out of him, resting my forehead against his thighs to catch my breath, I can't help but feel the same.

When the cold starts to nip at us, we right ourselves and snuggle beneath the blanket, my head on his chest while he flips through the rest of my sketchbook, and I cling to him, not wanting morning to come. Because even though he's mine for now, at least until July, there's a nagging voice in the back of my skull telling me to make the most of our moments together because they're limited. This can't last forever, no matter how much we want it to.

As he murmurs into my curls under the twinkling stars, I can only think one thing:

Our story has just begun, yet we're already running out of time.