9. Huckslee

Huckslee

D eep breath.

I inhale, expanding my lungs to total capacity before diving beneath the water. Pumping my legs, I glide from one end of the pool to the other before coming up for air. ‘Rain' by Sleep Token reverberates around the quiet pool room from my Bluetooth speaker, keeping me focused while I swim my laps.

Winter break officially started today, and everyone's gone home for the week. While some would feel spooked in an empty school alone, I find it calming and peaceful. It's like the world has finally stopped turning for a moment, and all that exists is myself.

I've always felt more at home in the water than on a football field.

Once, during sophomore year, I begged my dad to let me drop football and focus on the swim team, but he shot me down. Said that football was more of a team sport and it would be good for me to learn how to cope in a team environment and learn to share. Like it was my fault he and Mom chose to homeschool their only child until the age of twelve. And it's not like I'd been wholly isolated—they'd put me in tons of youth church sports. Really, I think Dad just thought that football looked better on a college resume.

Diving back down again, I swim another lap, pushing my body until I hopefully become so exerted that I'll fall right into sleep the moment my head hits the pillow. The anxiety pills stopped working, so I'm trying something new, but the painkillers ran out. Not that I need them anyway; the latest x-ray shows good progress on my arm. It's healing nicely enough that they took off my splint, but I still can't lift or do anything to compromise the bone.

I just wish I could sleep. Something is brewing under the surface, steadily rising inside me each day. My mask is slipping. I snapped at Logan this morning, and the way he looked at me as if I'd lost my mind made me want to jab a fork into my neck.

It's all because of Taylor. I've been hyper-aware of his presence since that night at the track—everywhere he fucking goes, I feel it. In the house, at school, in the gym, running drills. And even though he hasn't messed with me in months, I find myself waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me. Like, I'll wake up and find a severed horse head in my bed or something. It's the type of apprehension I can't shake anywhere but alone in the pool, knowing he's home and not waiting around a corner to fuck with me.

Like kissing Salem in the cafeteria three days ago and then having the audacity to ask me if I'm talking to anyone. Like, what the fuck was that about? Which I am, for the record. And yes, it's Royce. Though we've only hung out the few handfuls of times I could sneak out of the house. I usually meet him down the street in his car, and then he drives us somewhere to fool around. It's been nice. He's a fun and sweet guy. The only issue is, well...I can't get myself to kiss him anymore.

Putting my mouth on his dick seems to give me no problem, but the thought of anyone else on my lips other than my fucking stepbrother makes me nauseous. Which is why the sight of him kissing Salem sent me spiraling. Cue the mental breakdown.

As the song on my speaker rises to a crescendo, the water ripples with a splash, startling me. I sense him before breaking the surface, and I come up for air in time to see Taylor's dark head of hair swimming toward me. Pushing my goggles onto my forehead, I grit my teeth as he draws closer. His eyes lock onto mine, more green in the pool's reflection, and he stops several feet from where I'm treading water.

"You're not allowed to be here," I clip, irritated that he's invading the small space of peace I've found in months.

He scoffs, dipping down until the waterline touches his jaw. "What, like swimming is illegal now?"

"Technically, yeah. It's after hours. Pool's closed."

"You're here," he points out, shaking water from his ears, and I track a droplet running down the side of his neck.

"I have permission from the swim coach. Doctor says it'll help me get my arm strength back."

Taylor merely hums before twisting around, moving into a breaststroke. I watch the sculpted muscles of his back work as he swims to the other side of the pool before kicking off the edge and swimming back. Goddammit. Being half-naked with him in a pool is the last place I want to be right now.

So I ignore him, putting my goggles back on and continuing with my own laps. We pass each other in silence as he does the same, and I try to keep my eyes from gravitating toward him every time he flashes his abs. And fail miserably. Honestly, he's a good swimmer. His form is near perfect. No part of his arms or hands come back past his shoulders when he sweeps them to the side; on the glide, his hands and feet touch like they're supposed to. Truly magnificent. It isn't until he stops to look at me curiously mid-stroke that I realize I've been floating here staring at him like a creep.

Clearing my throat, I pull my goggles off and fling them onto the ledge. "Looks like someone paid attention in swim team after all."

"Sure did, Captain," he grins, mocking me with a salute.

"So why'd you quit?"

His grin fades, eyes darkening before he looks away. "Wasn't my thing."

Now, that feels like bullshit. He wasn't on the swim team for long, maybe half a semester, but he showed up for every practice and every meet. Of course, I'd done my best to stay out of his way, so I don't remember much, but I do remember seeing joy on his face in the pool that wasn't there during football. It was the same joy as mine.

But I don't call him out on his blatant lie because I really don't give a shit. Whatever internal stuff he's going through is none of my concern. It's not like he's ever cared about what I go through. So I turn to swim toward the ladder that'll take me out of the pool, planning on leaving him here alone to drown, hopefully, but then I remember that Coach gave me the key. So I can't.

Fuck.

"Is there a reason you're here," I growl irritably, turning around to jolt with surprise when I find him inches from me, close enough to feel the heat of his skin. Sneaky fucker.

"I was lifting late." His eyes search my face. "Saw the door to the pool open. Figured I'd investigate."

"Well, it's just me." My voice is rough when I respond, watching the reflection of the water shimmer in his eyes. "So you can leave now."

He swallows, moving closer, and I tread backward to keep the distance between us.

"Is that what you want?" he asks softly, licking his bottom lip. "For me to leave?"

Say yes. Say yes , my mind screams at me, but when I open my mouth, no words come out. I can only float and stare as his gorgeous face moves toward me. Our chests brush and my breath hitches, his eyes intently holding mine when he leans in close enough for our mouths to barely touch.

"I don't think you do," he whispers, gazing at my lips. "I think that you want me to stay."

But I don't. I don't.

My nerve endings feel like they're on fire when his fingertips brush my biceps, trailing over my shoulders and leaving molten lava in their wake. He presses himself against me, cupping the back of my neck, and I can feel when my heart jumps as if it wants to leap out of my chest and into his.

Warm breath caresses my face. "Say it. Say you want me to stay, Huck. "

No.

"I don't." It comes out breathless, barely audible over my speaker, so I raise my voice louder. "I don't want you to stay."

It sounds unconvincing, even to my own ears.

Taylor tilts his head, studying me for a moment before a slow, wicked grin forms on his face.

"Liar."

Somehow, my body knows what's coming before my brain does.

I breathe in just before he shoves me under the water, his hands gripping my shoulders. Struggling against him, I kick out my legs, but we're in the deep end, and it's useless. He holds me down until my lungs begin to burn, nostrils stinging from the chlorine I accidentally snorted. Just when I think he's going to keep me there until I pass out, he yanks me to the surface.

My lips part as I gasp for air, and suddenly, Taylor's mouth is on mine, breathing life into me. He crushes my body to him, gliding our tongues together with such fervor that I'm breathless again when he pulls away and shoves me back under. Punching through the water, I try to hit his torso, to wriggle out of his grasp as terror ices my veins, but I'm weak from months of inactivity due to the splint.

I start to spasm, desperate for oxygen, spots filling my vision.

And then Taylor is there again, emptying his lungs into mine as if our very existence depends on each other. He tastes like chlorine and bad decisions, but damn if I don't find myself sucking on his bottom lip like it's a lifeline.

When he pushes me under again, I don't fight it. I let the waves pull me down, closing my eyes and relinquishing to the darkness that has clawed at me for years. It's euphoric. Weightless. A high I'll never find again but continue to chase for as long as I live.

It's easy to give in like this. Easy in a way that's addicting.

Our bodies slide together when Taylor lifts me, holding my shaking frame as he dominates my mouth. Any strength I had disintegrates, the struggle for air taking everything out of my aching limbs. If not for his strong arms keeping me afloat, I'd sink to the bottom and cease to exist.

His lips leave mine to trail kisses along my jaw, down my neck, until his teeth bite into my throat, and I hiss at the pleasure that shoots down to my aching cock.

Taylor chuckles into my skin, pressing his hard length against my thigh as his tongue traces a line up to my ear.

"I've dreamt about this," he murmurs, nibbling on my earlobe as his hand palms my dick outside of my swim shorts.

My attempt at a scoff comes out like a gasp. "About drowning me?"

I've never been so exhausted and turned on in my life.

"Yeah," he laughs, smiling against my face. He starts to jerk me slowly through my pants, and I groan, dropping my forehead to his shoulder. My own hand slides to his crotch, rubbing him like he's doing to me, equally delighted and annoyed to find how much bigger he is than me. It's not fair.

Taylor's hips thrust against my palm, seeking friction while his teeth work my lobe. I'm also moving, albeit less animatedly, thanks to the oxygen deprivation, but it's not enough. I need more. And I must say it out loud because Taylor hums before his hand slowly starts to ease its way under the waistband of my shorts .

"As you wish," he breathes, and my body jolts the minute he wraps around my cock. It hits me like lightning, filling me with heat, and I raise my head to capture his lips as he works me in long, languid strokes. Before long, we're both panting while I writhe against him, fucking his fist as the water sloshes around us.

God, he feels good. Not just his hand on my cock, but his tongue as it lazily plays with mine, the curve of his ribs where I grip him, using his body as leverage to thrust myself into a frenzy. In the way his free arm braces me behind my back, keeping me upright.

"So fucking good," I groan into his mouth, and his smile is almost enough to send me spilling over the edge.

"Let go, Huck," he says, kissing down the line of my jaw. "Give in for me."

So I do.

Three thrusts later, I come apart in his hand, moaning as I bury my face into his neck. He jerks me completely dry, stroking my cock until every last drop of cum is spent. We cling to each other for a long moment after he tucks me back into my shorts, his cheek resting against my hair while mine continues to take up space on his shoulder.

I feel like I've just run a marathon.

As the orgasm high starts to fade, I begin to notice the burning in my throat and the heaviness in my limbs. My eyes are exhausted, struggling to keep open. Taylor's body is warm against mine, steady, an anchor holding me in place as I feel like I'm lifting into space .

"We can't stay here, Huck," he murmurs, but his voice seems far away as if he's on the other side of the pool instead of in my arms.

Tightening my hold on him, I keep him pressed against me, knowing I've responded, but I don't hear it. I don't feel it. A numbness works up my body, seeping into my skin and bones. His lips are in my hair, whispering words that no longer register because sleep has pulled me into its dark, sticky web for the first time in months.

And I don't ever want to leave.