Page 146 of Finding Delaware

“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. “Stilla 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 keepingan 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 thisonme. 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.

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