Page 10 of Finding Delaware

And what does this motherfucker do? He opens the bottle, pours a pill into his hand, and swallows that sucker down dry right in front of my God-given eyeballs. Just rawdogs a pain pill like candy. My face must reveal my shock because he simply winks before looking at something over my shoulder.

“You like Dethklok?”

What the fuck is happening right now?

I follow his gaze to where my Metalocalypse poster hangs above my bed and nod stiffly. I have several Dethklok shirts I wear to school regularly, but maybe he doesn’t notice the clothes I wear like I do with him.

Well, of course, he doesn’t, a little voice in my head reasons.He’s not attracted to you.

Taylor simply hums, pocketing the pill bottle as if it belongs to him before scooping the cat up from where she’s chewing on one of my shoelaces near the closet.

I follow him down the hall, feeling slightly dazed at our interaction, to be honest, because he’s throwing me through a loop. He only glances at the bathroom briefly before pushing open the door to the room that’s now his, which used to house all of my and Dad’s sports memorabilia. We had to move it all down into the garage and let me tell you, I was not happy that day.

Right now, the space is pretty sparse. A full bed, nightstand, dresser, and an empty shelf line the walls. Other than that, it’s a blank canvas for him to decorate as he wishes. My attention catches on the duffle bag he tosses onto the bed.

“Is that all you brought?”

Some emotion flickers across his face, but it’s gone before I can process it.

“I left the rest at my father’s place. I’ll only be here a year, anyway.”

Right. That makes sense.

“Your new home, Lasagna.” He kisses the cat before dropping her onto the floor, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Lasagna? Why not just call her Garfield?”

“Because I’m not a basic bitch like you.” He unbuttons his tuxedo jacket, shrugging out of it as I’m about to respond with some witty comeback when my mouth slams shut. I’m across the room instantly, and he blinks in surprise as I grab his arm.

“Who the fuck did this?”

Dark bruises line his arm, almost black, peppered along his bicep. I can make out the impression of fingerprints against his skin, but before I can inspect them further, he’s ripping his arm from my grip.

“You did, asshole.” He shoves me back violently, those blue-green eyes blazing, and a sick feeling churns in my stomach.

“I did that?” Honestly, I don’t remember grabbing him that hard, but last night’s kind of a blur where the fight was concerned. I remember tackling him to the ground and hitting him, but...Jesus. Yes, he’s got bruises covering hisface from my fists, but for some reason, the ones on his arm make me ashamed. Make me want to puke.

Do I regret attacking him? No, not after what he said about Dad. Honestly, the fucker had it coming, but the fact that I could inflict that kind of damage on someone makes me want to throw myself off a cliff.

“Huck, stop,” Taylor says suddenly, his voice rough. I meet his gaze, but he looks away with a hard swallow. “Look, I deserved it, okay? They’re just bruises.”

Just bruises. Right.

We stand awkwardly silent for a few minutes, unsure what to say. And even though I know I have no reason to feel guilty, it’s starting to claw at my throat. So I quickly clear it and say, “Change into your moto gear and meet me downstairs.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, I leave his room and return to mine, changing from the tux into clothes meant for dirt biking. Ten minutes later, I watch from the bottom of the stairs as he descends with his hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he’d rather turn around and nap.

Too fucking bad.

I hurt him, even if he deserved it. What separates us is that I actually feel bad about it, so I need to make it right.

“I’m really not in the mood to ride, Huck,” he mumbles, confirming my suspicions.

“We’ll see.” I jerk my chin toward the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow, and roll my eyes when he sighs heavily in annoyance.

Must be a bad day for him, though, or a good day for me because he follows without putting up much of a fight.

We round the island and cross over to the back door, where we step onto the covered deck accented with patio furniture, a brick-oven grill, and a lidded hot tub. Before us sprawls the back lawn, and I exit down the porch steps to cross it.

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