Page 84 of Honeysuckle
“They’re fucking insufferable,” Van sighed and tugged his jersey over his head, tossing it into the locker and undoing the belt on his pants. “You’d think they’d give up on it.”
“You know they’re relentless, the second they smell fresh meat, they’re out for blood,” Cael said, stripping the majority of his clothes in one swoop of his long arms.
“I’m exhausted.” Dean slumped against his locker beside me and closed his eyes.
“Fuck Delta tonight,” Van said, sweat dripping from his chocolate brown mullet as he collapsed to the ground in nothing but his boxers.
I untied my shoes and shoved them into my locker between my feet before unbuttoning my jersey. I had been smart about wearing a t-shirt under my jersey, and so far, the only person who had given me stink eyes about it was Cael. I could tell he wanted to ask again, but he didn’t want to be pushy. Which was an odd revelation for Cael to have, since he had lived his entire life to push buttons.
“I’m calling in an orange duck,” Dean grumbled.
“A what?” I asked, looking around at them as they all agreed.
“Chinese food and TV,” Cael explained. “We call it an orange duck because one year Arlo-”
“I don’t need to hear the story that’s behind your latest toddler code word,” I scowled at him and tugged my sweater over my head. “But I’m in,” I grumbled.
“Logan’s in,” Cael smiled and slapped Van in the shoulder like it was a big deal.
“I’m just hungry,” I added, and Cael gave me a‘sure, that’s what it is’look in the form of a wide smile and his eyebrow raising.
“Shower and then meet back at the Nest.” Van clapped his hands into Cael's who hauled him off the ground and followed him into the showers, arguing over who would call to order the takeout.
Dean didn’t move from his sleepy position on the locker bench, his eyes still closed. I sat with him, quickly changing out of my ball pants while the others were distracted.
“You alright?” I asked him.
“Fine,” he said. And that’s all I got out of him.
We drove back up to Dansby house because my car was still ripped apart in the garage. Arlo had invited me in to help fix it more than once, but I knew less about cars than I did about loving someone. And being locked in a garage with Arlo King still felt like a death sentence, so I avoided him to keep the peace.
Dean looked wrecked behind the wheel. His hair hung limp under his Hornets cap, and the usual bright blue in his eyes had dulled. His hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles, and it was obvious that pretending to be okay was eating away at him.
I didn’t say anything as we all flooded into the house, running upstairs for a shower as the rest of them all found comfort in the living room on the main floor. I could hear them laughing and talking through the floor while I ran the shower hot and stepped under the water. For a moment the silence was perfect, there wasn’t a sound except the running water and my slowing breaths but it was interrupted by a small knock on the door.
Before I could say anything, the door was pushed open.
“Hey—”
“It’s just me,” Dean’s voice interrupted me.
“What do you want?” I asked, muscles locked with tension.
“I—” He stumbled over his words, and I could feel him standing there awkwardly, waiting for the invitation, but I couldn’t seem to get them out. “This was stupid, I'm being s—”
“Get in,” I snapped, before he could call himself stupid. Hearing the need in his voice was enough to break away another piece of the concrete that surrounded my heart. His clothes fell away in shuffled motions and the curtain pulled back just enough for his giant frame to slip into the shower.
His eyes caught mine, and uncomfortable heat filled my chest.
“Face the wall,” I ordered him. I reached up and angled the shower head so that it ran over my shoulder against his skin.
He nodded and turned around in the shower, offering the toned muscles of his back to me, and I eased out of my discomfort a little further. I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do by coming in here or why I even let him get in, but beneath all the anxiety that seemed to be itching its way to the surface was a want for him to stay.
I think that he had also sought out the quiet and that, maybe, I was that for him the way the shower was for me. Just like the night I had joined him in his bed; if he was able to focus on the one problem in front of him, all of his problems didn’t feel so scary.
“Tuck,” I said over the sound of the running water. “Are you okay?” I asked him, trying to curb the annoyance in my voice as I braced for him to lie to me again.
“I don’t have the time to be anything else, Josh.”
