Page 12 of Finding Delaware

Taylor

October

Huckslee’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 buttwicetonight; 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 outyou 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 alwaysthere. 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!”

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