4. Taylor

Taylor

October

H uckslee's staring again.

I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face.

Coach is debriefing us in the locker room after our football game, praising everyone else while telling me precisely what I did wrong, and I wrap my arms around myself. As the quarterback, it's always my fault when something happens that Coach doesn't like. It doesn't matter whether we won or Matty failed to stop a touchdown not once but twice tonight; I'm wrong for not passing to Huck when he was open. Which, admittedly, was on purpose just to piss him off.

Casting a glance in his direction, I find his gaze still on me, and I scowl.

He's been different since his eighteenth birthday last month .

A small chuckle leaves my throat when I think about the ramen restaurant his dad took us to, Huck's favorite one apparently, and how I dumped an entire bottle of hot sauce in his soup when no one was looking, just to see his eyes water and his face turn red. As sick as it was, I loved seeing the tears stream down his cheeks.

It had been fun until Maisie started asking him about his dating life, and I had to watch him shut down. He'd immediately thrown on a mask, turned into a fucking robot, and pulled away from me the rest of the night. It bothered me more than I'd like to admit.

Finally unable to ignore the weight of his gaze any longer, I turn to meet his dark brown eyes with a sneer. If it had been months ago, the old Huckslee would have dropped his gaze from mine, but ever since his birthday, he's been bolder. More outspoken, more…aggressive, for lack of a better word. It's almost like he's challenging me to do something, but I can't figure out what.

Raising my finger, I point directly at him before pumping my fist in front of my mouth with my tongue in my cheek, the universal sign for sucking cock. His brows lift, and he lowers his head to type something on his phone.

I snicker to myself until my own phone goes off in my pocket. Pulling it out, I silently read the message from an unknown number:

Unknown: Did you just offer to suck my dick?

What the hell? I glance up to see him staring across the locker room at me expectantly, his lips slightly parted.

Me: How the fuck did you get my number? And no, I gestured that YOU suck dick.

Huckslee: You're just jealous that I'm not sucking YOUR dick.

Yeah, okay .

It's on the tip of my thumbs to type out you couldn't handle this dick , but that crosses a line, and I'm not gay. So instead, I say:

Me: How'd you like your shampoo this morning?

Peeking over at him beneath my lashes, I catch sight of the blood draining from his face as he begins typing furiously.

Huckslee: What the fuck did you do to my shampoo Taylor?

With a smirk, I pocket my phone and point a finger gun at him before grabbing my gym bag to hit the showers. His angry shout at my back puts a wide grin on my face. I didn't do anything to his shampoo, but I like watching him squirm. It's been the highlight of these last two months, especially living with Maisie.

The grin falls off my lips at the thought of her. In some ways, it's been worse than living with my dad. At least when I was in Arbitrary Hills, I could wait until he passed out on the couch before sneaking off to hang with Christian and the guys. But apparently, Huck's grounding carried over to me, too, because his dad is always there . I hate it .

The constant questions—how was school, did you do your homework, how are you feeling—make my brain feel zappy and my palms sweat. The way he asks makes it seem like he actually cares about the answers, unlike Maisie, who seems more put out than anything when she has to be a mother. I can tell she only tries for her new husband's sake, especially when she's forced to sit beside me in church every Sunday.

Feeling's mutual, Maisie. I don't want to sit next to you, either.

I finish washing up, throwing on a clean shirt before leaving school and heading toward the parking lot where my bike is parked. I'm not supposed to ride it around town, but what's one more fine from the cops for my father to add onto everything else I owe him? I like the freedom of having my own ride.

"Tottman!"

A familiar voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I stop next to where Christian straddles a red dirt bike, his girlfriend Tatiana on the back.

"What up, Totillo," I greet with a grin, reaching out to bump his fist. We've been best friends since kindergarten when he'd always end up in the lunch line before me because of the closeness of our last names.

He pulls me in for a noogie. "Congrats on the win, fucker!"

"Yeah, congratulations," his girlfriend purrs, flinging blonde strands over her shoulder as her eyes dip down my body, but I pointedly ignore her as I shove Christian off me.

"Thanks, man. We partying tonight or what?"

"Fuck yeah." He dramatically looks around before leaning in closer. "The foam pit is fixed."

I whoop out a laugh, pumping my arms. "No fucking way! "

"Yep. It's all set up for us, homie. And my mom's working a double, so we've got all night."

Yes . I need this.

Christian's mom supervises a mattress factory two towns over, and she's always bringing home defective strips of foam they can't use. We'd filled an old above-ground pool with the pieces years ago to jump our bikes into. But shortly after the wedding, I'd overshot during a flip and landed my bike on the rim. Not only did I fuck up the pool, but my axle too.

And that had been a fun conversation with my dad.

Absently, my hand comes up to rub my ribcage as I think about the day he pulled me out of school and hauled my ass to his shop to fix it myself while he screamed at me the entire time. And then he kicked me so hard, I'm pretty sure he re-cracked my rib because weeks later, it still aches at times. I'd started a fight with Huck that night at the track just to be able to explain the bruises.

We don't fight at the track, asshole! This is Delaware!

Fucking no geography knowing dumbass.

Ever since that week when we had the house to ourselves while our parents were on their honeymoon, things have been awkward between us. He caught me in a vulnerable state with all the shit going on, and I was nice to him. We bonded over Lasagna—the cat, not the pasta. Things got weird. Not like, in a gay way, but we shared some emotions about our moms, and the intimacy of it made me feel nauseous.

A pit opens in my stomach when I think about the night we watched a movie together.

"What are you watching? "

Huckslee jolts from his place on the couch, scrambling to pause the movie with Lasagna and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. Even in the dim light of the living room, I can see how nervous he is, and I'm not gonna lie—it's kind of adorable.

"I-I thought you were staying the night at Christian's," he stammers, frowning over where I'm leaning against the archway, and I shrug nonchalantly.

Staying the night with my best friend had been the plan. I should still do it. But after spending a few hours doing jumps and getting high in his backyard with the guys, I just wanted to see Huck without being scrutinized by our parents or peers.

"He's busy," is all I say, shoving off the wall to grab my cat and plop down on the far end of the sofa. "You didn't answer me. What are you watching?"

Huck's silent for a moment, blinking over at me with a frown on his face, and the way his shoulders tighten tells me he really doesn't want to share what movie is paused. With a smirk, I reach over and pry the remote out of his sweaty palm, little jolts of energy skittering over my skin when our fingers brush and push a button to bring up the title screen.

"Across the Universe?"

"It was my mom's favorite," he grumbles, nervously running a hand through his curls. "She was a huge Beatles fan, and we used to watch it at least once a month. And I know you're gonna say some shit about it being a musical, but don't, okay? It's just a comfort thing. I didn't even know you'd be here tonight, or I wouldn't have even—"

"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. I enjoy the sight for a few more seconds before pressing play. "I've never seen this one before."

He scans the side of my face, completely taken aback, but I curl into the arm of the couch with Lasagna and focus on the TV. He's still tense like he thinks I'm going to make a joke about his dead mom's favorite thing, and I hate the way my stomach revolts at the thought. I can be a cruel bastard when I have to, but that would be downright unforgivable.

Plus, in all honesty, the movie isn't half bad. Pretty trippy, which is great because I'm stoned as fuck right now.

After a bit, Huckslee eventually relaxes, settling into the cushions, and we fall into a peaceful silence. He even passes the popcorn bowl to me at one point, offering to share his snack, which I accept even though I'm not the biggest popcorn fan. Any excuse to keep ‘accidentally' bumping my knuckles with his, I'll take.

Between the high I'm riding and Lasagna purring on my lap, I must have fallen asleep because sometime later, when I crack my eyes open, the title screen is back on again.

I'm lying on my side, stretched out on the couch, my head inches from Huck's thigh, and…his fingers are in my hair, playing with the strands.

His movements falter as he inhales sharply, both of us freezing, analyzing the situation. When I make no effort to get up, Huck slowly resumes massaging my scalp.

It's lovely. Different. Soft. I like it. My entire body relaxes, and I'm asleep again within minutes.

When I wake once more, hours later, I'm alone. The TV is off, the house dark, the couch cold .

After that, I stopped messing with him for about a month. Then, there were more bruises to hide, and whatever cease-fire that Huck and I had seemed to reach crumbled to pieces. Even when I'm not living under the same roof as my father, I can't escape.

"Hello? You in there, hombre ?" Christian's fingers snap in my face, bringing me back to the present, and I flash him a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, what were you saying?"

His brows furrow, a slight look of concern on his face. "I said my mom's working, so we have all night. You sure you're up for it?"

Opening my mouth to assure him that I definitely fucking am, a voice cuts me off from behind.

"Up for what?"

Shit. I hadn't even heard him sneak up on us.

"Fuck off, Huckslee," I mutter in annoyance, not even bothering to look at him as I jerk my chin to my best friend. "Let's go."

Jesus, just like his dad, he's everywhere. I used to dream up creative ways to piss him off on the weekends when we didn't have school, but now that I can easily ruin his day from morning until night, I just want my space.

Christian raises a brow, glancing between Huck and me curiously before thumbing his throttle. "Meet up at my place to get ready. Party starts at eight."

I nod as he starts his bike, Tatiana's eyes soaking me up when he pulls away. She mouths see you tonight, and I scowl.

After they're far enough in the distance, I pull out my phone to send her a text before getting onto my bike.

Me: You gotta stop eye fucking me, or he'll know something's up.

Am I a bad friend? Probably. Do I feel guilty? Christian slept with Salem three months after she and I started dating, so no. Not that I ever held any ill feelings toward them. It was a one-night thing—they both got it out of their systems, and that was that.

"You're going to a party?"

For the second time in five minutes, I'm pulled from my thoughts as I blink over at Huck standing beside me. His curls are damp from his shower, flopping to one side of his face, and his forearm flexes as he pushes them back.

"What about it?"

"Can I come?"

I stare at him blankly for a few minutes, debating it. "Doesn't your daddy give you a curfew?"

"We both have a curfew," he drawls, rolling his eyes. "And they're going on a date tonight."

Even better for me.

"Nah, no pussies allowed. You're not invited."

Whatever he replies is drowned out by my engine, and I do a burnout, my back wheel smoking before speeding away.

This party is starting to get out of hand.

And not in a fun way.

Everything spins as I fly through the air, my bike beneath me. My legs leave the seat when I bring them up to wrap around my arms, tapping my feet together in a Heel Clicker, rotating my body around and around until I land with an oomph upside down in soft foam. It's a collision that isn't pleasant but not painful either. Nothing like the bone-jarring impact of landing a bike on hard dirt after a jump.

" Ay Dios mío , that was almost three backflips!"

Damn. Almost? I'd been aiming for three. Only issue, though, is the world's still spinning even though my body is not.

Crawling up through the foam, I claw my way to the edge of the pool and haul myself up over the lip just in time to rip my helmet off before projectile vomiting onto the ground. It stings my throat, the taste of Kraken rum burning my nostrils along with whatever the fuck I ate earlier to soak up the alcohol. Clearly, it hadn't worked.

"Nasty, dude." Christian yanks me out while our friends Matt and Xed fish my bike from the pit, laying me on the ground, and I flop over onto my back.

There are people everywhere. The house that Christian lives in with his mom and five siblings isn't the biggest—it's a small two-bedroom, one-bath near the edge of town. However, an empty parking lot backs up the yard, so it's perfect for when we want to do tricks off the ramp we built and have a few friends over.

Well, in this case, more than a few.

‘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. Groups of people are scattered throughout the lawn, and a fire pit is burning in an old barrel, where everyone is tossing their trash. Some of them I recognize from our high school, and some I'm sure are from the next town over.

"You good, Tay?" Christian's sweaty face appears in my swimming vision, and I flash a sloppy smile with a thumbs up. My stomach still churns slightly, but throwing up made me feel ten times better.

He chuckles, reaching down to pull me to my feet before slapping my chest. "That's what I'm talking about! My turn."

On unstable feet, I watch a group of our football buddies help lift Christian's bike onto the top of the house, and a disbelieving laugh bubbles out of me.

Fuuuck , I can't believe I just jumped off of that while shitfaced. Can't believe we secured the ramp to the roof . It's why he'd wanted me to come over early. Not only had it taken hours to get the ramp safely secured, but we'd needed to make sure the angle of the pit was just right so that we didn't splatter ourselves all over the grass. It was reckless as hell, but I was powerless to resist when Christian came up with his ideas.

My best friend takes his place on his bike on the ridge of the roof, revving the engine. Using the downslope as an advantage, he guns it toward the incline, wheels catching air. Pulling back, he lets go of the handlebars to throw up two middle fingers as he backflips once. Twice. Three fucking times before landing upright in the pit.

"FUCK YEAH, MOTHERFUCKER!"

The crowd erupts into cheers as everyone swarms the pool, me included, and I'm reaching in to yank him out by his shirt as a massive grin splits his face.

"You did it, you crazy asshole," I shout ecstatically, pulling too hard so that we topple over onto the ground, taking Matty with us and thankfully missing my pile of puke. An elbow hits my rib, and I wheeze, shoving Matt's massive linebacker body off of me.

"You two are fucking insane." His dark blue eyes dance with laughter as he falls onto Christian. "That was terrifying."

"The adrenaline rush, though." Christian pushes him back, making me wince when Matty's entire body weight crushes me, but he's pulled off in an instant when his best friend hauls him up.

Xed grins down at me, green hair spiked into a mohawk, his ring-covered fingers pulling me to my feet. Another engine revs, getting our attention, and we watch someone else jump from the roof, whipping their bike to the side before landing in the pit.

This is what I fucking live for. Heart-pumping, gut-wrenching tricks and jumps that make my stomach fall out of my ass. Yeah, racing is fun, and I need to compete to get my professional license eventually, but free-style motocross is what lights my soul on fire. The reason I breathe and the only part of this place that makes dealing with my father worth it .

Because when I win that race at the end of the school year and get my scholarship, I can register for the national championship finals. And when I win that? I'll go pro, baby.

Me and Christian. This shitty town will be nothing but a memory for us.

A hand grips the back of my neck as someone shakes me out of my thoughts, and my best friend's hazel eyes come into view. "What's going on with you, Tay? You're ditzy lately."

"I'm not ditzy, I'm drunk." I wiggle out of his grip. "Anyone got a smoke?"

Xed pulls a pack out of his leather jacket pocket and hands me one, lighting it when I put it to my lips. Running my hands through my hair, I inhale deeply, feeling heated and feverish despite the slight bite of fall in the breeze.

"Shit. Valerie alert." Christian whacks Matty on the chest, who groans before ducking behind me.

"Don't let her see me."

"You're built like a fucking tank, man. Everyone here can see you."

Right on cue, a nasally feminine voice calls out his name, and he swears under his breath before taking off toward the parking lot to hide behind someone's car.

"You can't run from love, Matty," Xed hollers, snickering as our friend's ex-girlfriend hurries after him. I feel slightly bad for the guy. Valerie's gorgeous, but she's fucking insane.

Seriously. She cut his breaks one night when he tried to break up with her.

"Must be a full moon or something, cuz the bitches are out." Christian points a finger behind me, and my stomach does a weird flip until I see Salem leaning against the side of the house with Brad, their lips locked in battle. Something like disappointment has my shoulders drooping, which just confuses me. Who was I expecting to see?

A certain mop of blond curls, maybe…

"You want me to kick them out?"

"What?" I turn back to Christian with a smirk, puffing on my cigarette. "No, why would I?"

"That shit really doesn't bother you?" Xed asks with narrowed eyes, and I shrug.

"Not really."

"Tay and Salem are, like, weird," Christian laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as I roll my eyes.

We're not weird; we just don't hold each other back from unfair expectations. She does her thing, I do mine, and then we meet in the middle when we can. Sometimes we fuck, sometimes we don't. We're easy. It's complicated to explain to people, so I don't even try half the time. Love that girl to death, though, and I'd go to war for her in a heartbeat.

"So what do ya say, man? One more jump?" Christian waggles his brows at me, and I huff a chuckle around my cigarette before dropping it into someone's half-empty beer bottle on the ground.

"Hell yeah. Gimme a minute to take a piss."

Leaving them to talk amongst themselves, I stumble across the yard, weaving around people toward the backdoor as my eyes jump from group to group, searching for something I can't place. The chances that the only bathroom isn't occupied are slim, so I aim for the narrow space between the garage and the house instead.

My feet come to a halt when a deep, familiar laugh reaches my ears, and my head whips toward the burn barrel, where I see Logan standing around, chatting with members of the swim team.

A rush of satisfaction courses through me, and I immediately start looking for Huck. If Logan's here, then he can't be too far behind. A bit of excitement tingles up my spine, which is weird, but I tell myself it's because I can't wait to pick a fight with him as I head in the direction of his best friend. For nearly two months now, the fucker has been constantly at my side between school and home. I told him he wasn't invited tonight, but he didn't listen.

Because he enjoys fighting with me, too.

"Where is he?" I cut off whatever Logan was saying, and he faces me with a seething glare, animosity rolling off him. He's probably still pissed at me from my own birthday party three weeks ago when I threw a firecracker into the hot tub that he and Huck were sitting in.

"Where's who?" His jaw clenches, hands fisting at his sides, and I wave my arms irritably.

"You know who. Huckslee. I told him he wasn't invited."

Logan tilts his head. "He's at home."

Fuck . For real?

I immediately feel myself deflate as I turn away.

Well, shit. So much for a fight tonight.

A frown pulls at my lips the longer I think about Huck.

Why is he at home when his best friend is here? The two are almost as inseparable as Christian and me .

It's not like he has homework, it's a Friday night. When I told him he wasn't invited, I'd been half-lying because I wanted him to come anyway so that I could watch him—

My brain scratches to a screeching halt.

Why the hell do I care where Huckslee is?

I told him he couldn't come, so he didn't. And I don't want him here.

Because he's a pain in my ass, right?

Pun unintended?

What the fuck, brain? Yes , the pun was unintended. Because I'm not fucking gay.

The space between the house and garage comes into view, and I squeeze into it, thankfully finding it empty. It's big enough for me to stand with my shoulders touching each wall, and I'm about to unzip my pants when a small pair of arms wraps around me from behind.

"I've been wondering when I'd be able to get you alone."

Ah, fuck me .

"Tatiana." I turn around so that I'm facing her, and the moment I do, her lips are on mine.

Inwardly, I cringe. Not only because I threw up earlier but the scent of her skin against mine is making me ill right now. She trails a line of kisses down my neck, her hands pushing under my shirt to run along my chest.

"We gotta make it quick, lover," she whispers, grinning as she drops to her knees.

The fact that I had to piss ten seconds ago is forgotten when she starts unbuckling my belt. Her fingers pop open the button on my jeans, reaching inside to pull out my soft cock, and she jerks it until I harden slightly .

Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes as she works me, but something's off. Her hands feel too small, her grip too light. And when she wraps her lips around my shaft, even the tentative flick of her tongue sets my teeth on edge. A whine leaves her throat at my half-hard dick, but when I open my lids to stare down at her, it jumps painfully to full attention at the dark brown eyes looking up at me.

Because they're her eyes, yes, but they're also his .

No. That's not the reason. It's just that I have a girl on her knees for me. It has nothing to do with that. But I keep staring down into those eyes, my hips beginning to move against her tongue as I tangle my fingers in her hair. And even that doesn't feel right, the dry, straight strands sticking to my skin.

Unlike silky soft curls, which would feel amazing .

No.

I pump myself inside her mouth harder, pleasure vibrating my body as I grip her head in both my hands. She moans around my cock, her eyes fluttering closed, but I command her to keep them open. And fuck, the tears glistening in those brown eyes are almost enough to have me spilling my load down her throat.

She's whimpering as I fuck her face, but the sound is too high. Too breathy. Too feminine , so I slide my cock deeper to hush her up. And still, I watch those eyes, imagining a bigger, muscled body connected to them. It feels wrong, but in my drunken state, it's the wrongness about it that's getting me off right now.

My balls tighten when those tears finally spill over, trickling down her cheeks, and I'm coming before I can hold back. Hot cum fills her mouth, seeping out the sides of her lips as I milk my cock on her tongue until she's taken every last drop.

Only then does a breath gunshot from my lungs, burning my throat. Jesus fucking Christ, what just happened?

Tatiana blinks up at me with watery eyes as I tuck myself back into my jeans, makeup tracking down her face, and I notice how her hand shakes as she raises it to wipe her mouth.

"Fuck, are you okay?" Reaching down, I gently grab her arm to help her up. "I'm sorry."

She grins, about to respond, when her eyes catch on something over my shoulder. They widen in shame and fear as she pulls from my grip, and my spine stiffens.

Fuck .

I feel his presence behind me before he even speaks.

"What the fuck is this shit?!"

I whirl around in time to see my best friend's fist flying toward my face, and then pain erupts as everything goes dark.