Page 101 of Honeysuckle
I chuckled under my breath. It wasn’t about the punch or the violence. It never was. Josh was thanking me for protecting him, for standing up for him. Years spent defending himself, from every person that stepped dangerously into his life, his own mother, his team, people he no doubt thought were his friends. No one had ever steppedupfor him.
“What movie?” I finally asked him.
He smiled at me. "You pick, the last movie I watched was…” he shrugged and a few of those dark damp waves fell out of place against his temple. “I don’t even remember?”
“My favorite is The Outsiders,” I said, and Josh’s face scrunched up in a funny but adorable way.
“Isn’t that movie a hundred years old?” He asked, nodding toward the living room. I followed him like I always did, settling down on the couch with some distance between us.
“Cael’s mom loved it. When she got really sick, we all used to read her pages of the book so it’s kinda a staple of the Nest,” I said. "I never really slowed down enough to pick a favorite movie of my own.”
“Too busy being Harbor's golden boy?” Josh jabbed.
“Luckily, I think tonight stripped me of that stupid title.” I shook my head and used my phone to flip on the movie.
“You’re beating yourself up, the crowd isn’t going to turn on you. If anything I think they respect you more, Tuck,” Josh said. "I’m not the only one that’s been waiting for you to explode. You bottle shit up because it’s what you think they want from you, that fake sunshine bullshit.” Josh rolled those deep brown eyes at me.
“You say the most inspiring things,” I scoffed, and the doorbell rang.
“That’s pizza, be right back.” Josh pushed off the couch.
“My wallet’s on the—”
“Shut up, Tuck.” He flipped me off and disappeared around the corner of the hallway. The smell of pizza was quick to fill the living room and Josh set it on the coffee table in front of us, grabbing his own piece. “I didn’t waste my money on this date for you to starve to death,” he grumbled.
“Date?” I laughed nervously and pinned my shoulders back to keep myself from falling apart completely.
Josh ignored my question and stared at me until I grabbed a piece and pressed the warm crust and cheese to my lips. Once he seemed satisfied with how much I’d eaten he went back to his own, melting into the couch and watching the movie.
I spent more time watching him. ‘Date’.He had said it, not me, but what the fuck did he mean, date? My heart was pounding faster in my chest now than it had been on the field, and it felt like my body was a hundred degrees.
“Date?”I said out loud that time.
Josh laughed and looked at me. "Will you relax?”
“You can’t just drop bombs and go back to eating pizza,” I said with shock, badly hidden in my voice.
“I was doing just fine, it’s you not eating.” He pointed to my half-gone slice of pizza as he grabbed a second one.
“I’m eating,” I said, taking another bite. "Eating and melting down here, dude.”
“Don’t call me dude, I’m not your dude,” he corrected me.
“‘Dude’is your limit?” I teased, the tension between my shoulders starting to relax.
“It is my limit.” He turned back to the movie.
“Why?” I pushed, because if I was going to have the term date thrust upon me, I wanted to know why he hated being called dude.
“Cause I’m not your friend, Dean,” he said it so easily that it took a moment to register that he called me Dean.
“Isn’t the mortal enemies thing getting old? We’ve made out,” I said with a small smile.
“That wasn’t making out, one kissisn’tmaking out,” Josh said, the slight tinge of red in his cheeks only made me smile more. It was the first time he had been visibly flustered.
“Alright,” I said, popping the rest of the crust in my mouth. It filled my stomach and I was starting to feel a little better about everything. How easily Josh had walked me back from the edge was baffling. It was like I didn’t even know it was happening until I was situated safely away from the cliff.
He finished his piece and turned on the couch to look at me, closer now I could see the soft trace of freckles that lived beneath the tan tone of his skin and the weather worn scars from life that painted his features.
