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TUCKER

T he Nest was quiet when we arrived, everyone had either gone to dinner or retreated to their rooms to study or do school work. I was hoping that someone would be around to buffer the awkwardness between Josh and me. It took twice as long for me to shower than usual, but when I’d returned to the locker room Josh was still there waiting patiently for me to get my shit together.

I’d done it, I took the questions like bullets to my chest. I’d answered what I could, shut down what I couldn’t or shouldn’t. I knew that no one would be satisfied, and I could hear my cell phone buzzing in my locker like an incessant reminder that my parents' wrath loomed like a thunder cloud.

“ Whatever comes next.”

That’s what he said.

But what came next was war, of the mind and body.

He disappeared to shower and for a moment I almost followed him like some lost puppy unable to navigate my own emotions. I would have just sat there on the counter until he was finished but it felt like too much. Unnecessary . So I wandered into the kitchen and stared at the fridge like something I actually wanted to eat might crawl out and nourish me with zero effort.

“I ordered pizza,” Josh’s voice broke me from the trance, and I couldn’t be sure how long I’d been standing there, but it didn’t feel like that long.

“Oh.” I flipped off the hat I was wearing and threw it on the counter. “Thanks.”

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” Josh asked, he looked uncomfortable even though he was wearing the faded red Lorette hoodie and same sweats he wore after every game. He was being so normal, but I could see through it, and it unexpectedly frustrated me.

“What are you doing?” I asked him as he wandered around to grab his water from the fridge.

“Asking you if you want to watch a movie and eat pizza?” His brows scrunched together in confusion as the fridge door clicked shut between us.

“Stop being nice to me,” I snapped, shaking my head. “Be angry or mad at me—something!”

“What exactly do you want me to be angry about, Tuck?” Josh asked and set the bottle down on the countertop. “Defending me? Defending yourself?”

He made it sound so simple.

“I lost control, I let my temper take the wheel, and I could have hurt someone!” I argued loudly, not caring who was listening.

“You hurt Ian.” Josh’s laugh was gentle and surprising.

“That’s not who I am, I don’t punch people,” I tried to explain to him.

“I’m thanking you for punching him.” Josh flashed that cocky smile and I wanted to shove him, to make him understand that what happened was bad. It wasn’t anything to smile over. "You told me I was safe here," he reminded me.

"You are."

"You were just keeping your promise." He never took his eyes off mine, the weight of his words settling heavy against my aching chest. “If it counts for anything, you looked in control to me. Well, in the moment, after not so much,” he added.

I had embarrassed myself in the locker room, and I’d be thinking about it for weeks. How stupid I must have looked. It was a fight and a shitty press conference. No one had died, my life wasn’t falling apart, but everything had hit me like a ton of bricks. It weighed so heavily on my chest that it was hard to breathe if I moved. So instead I shut down, I stayed so still that I could feel my muscles contracting with each breath. A sure way to tell that I had started breathing again after so long holding my breath.

I probably looked like an idiot to Josh, and that’s why he was teasing me now. Because in a trauma contest, I lost every round. Compared to the shit that he’d gone through in his life, a few shitty family members I could escape and press I could ignore. My life had been golden.

I stopped, shaking my head at my own thoughts. I looked up at Josh.

My life is golden.

Josh would hate the idea of someone describing him in such a way, he’d argue that he was cold and harsh like a bathroom floor in the morning after a bad sleep or the raw, upsetting feeling of disappointment. But he wasn’t, he was that first ray of sunshine sneaking through the dark curtains after the longest winter. Warm and annoyingly welcome even if he wakes you up at the crack of dawn.

Pay attention , Ella whispered in the back of my mind, and I looked closer at what Josh was saying to me.

Defending me?

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 stepped up for 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 kiss isn’t making 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.

“I…” He started and stopped.

“Are you nervous?” I laughed and he tossed me a dirty look that made me raise both hands in surrender.

“A little, just shut up. ” He rose to his knees and moved closer to me on the couch and I held my breath. It burned in my lungs as my heart started to race uncomfortably fast.

“What are you—”

“Please shut up?” He cut me off with a pathetic whisper, and I nodded, willing to do whatever he wanted if it meant he was going to take the leap and touch me.

I wanted to know every single violent thought that was floating around in his head at that moment, when he leaned down with his hands resting against his thighs and his lips slightly parted. Was he scared? Did he want to kiss me, or was he doing it for me?

“Stay still,” he said quietly and shifted on the couch, his hand pressed flat against my chest. He pushed me into the pillows, but it wasn’t rough or forceful, it was just direction. I hooked my arms up over the back of the couch, careful not to interrupt him as he lifted off his knees.

“Josh,” I whispered, suddenly so unsure that I wasn’t forcing him into something he didn’t want.

“Dean,” he inhaled my name like it was a breath of air he desperately needed, and inched closer. His leg hooked over mine, and he hovered over my lap, staring down at me with a tight, nervous jaw.

“Are you okay?” I asked him. I needed to know. I dug my fingers into the fabric of the couch to hold myself still as he lowered onto my lap. I ground my teeth together as his weight settled comfortably around me, and I wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to tell him how proud I was of him for doing any of this, but I couldn’t open my mouth.

I relinquished all the control to him.

His eyes darted to mine from my lips, and I could see how terrified he was, but there was something else there, certainty? Confidence? Need .

“Don’t move, okay?” The question came out a whisper and I wanted to nod but he told me not to move so I was going to listen and sit still for him while he worked out what he wanted just hoping that the want led to us.

I closed my eyes in hopes that it would help him calm down, but he paused.

“Look at me,” he said

I opened them, and he was staring at me so nervously that he was practically vibrating. I stifled the anxious laughter that threatened to bubble up from me, knowing that it would scare him away and instead breathed through my nose. The cinnamon kissed every sense as Josh rebuilt his courage and leaned in. His fingers dug into his sweats, pulling the fabric under his intense touch in a feeble attempt to hide his emotions.

Our bottom lips collided in a delicate kiss that wasn’t angry or rushed; it was just him and I. Quiet seeped in around us, and it took everything in me not to reach for his sides and pull him deeper into my lap. I wanted his body flush to mine, I wanted my arms around his back. His lips were so feathery and distracting from the tension he was clearly fighting as butterflies ran rampant in my stomach and my heart beat skipped around in my chest like a ping pong ball.

He retreated, and I felt myself follow him, my hips involuntarily lifting from the couch as my body gravitated toward him, daring to steal more from his trembling lip.

Josh paused, briefly letting me take the kiss that I needed, but one that scared him to no end. He licked his bottom lip and settled back on my thighs, his fingers still tangled into the fabric and his shoulders so tense I could snap him in half with the poke of a finger.

“What was that for?” I asked, reeling from the contact, wanting so much more. The couch creaked beneath my grip, and Josh’s eyes flicked to my white knuckles with a quiet hum.

I had never been that high in my life.

Everything was quiet except for Josh’s heavy breathing and the sting left on my lips from his absence. It was the longest moment of my life, wondering when and if he’d come back for more. He sat so quietly that I wasn’t sure he’d even heard me ask. I wanted to put my hands on him, to feel his skin, but without permission, I was stuck waiting for him to figure out what he wanted, what he needed.

When Josh decided to come back, I think my chest exploded with frantic impatience. It was such a small kiss but I had never been touched like that, with such careful exploration. It was new, but with Josh it felt familiar.

My palms were sweaty against the itchy fabric of the couch, but my mind was lost in the way our lips crushed together, sealing in the air and making me dizzy from the lack of oxygen. I wanted to devour him, to explore every inch of his freckled, scarred skin until I knew it by heart. So it would show up in my dreams on those days he couldn’t bear to crawl into my bed.

Suddenly, the meaning of need felt new—loud, and ringing in my ears.

I needed Josh.

A low whine of disappointment slipped out of me—pathetic, but Josh’s kiss-bitten lips curled into a tiny smirk.

“Thank you,” he said in a tone so soft I couldn’t believe that it had left Josh.

“You’re welcome?” My voice lifted in a confused question.

“For making it easy,” he finished, clearing the air.

“That was easy?” I laughed softly.

He shook his head.

“No, you fucking idiot, that was agony,” he said and I knew he didn’t mean because of me but because of all the trauma he had just waded through for me. “For making the last few days easy, you could have flipped out the moment you found everything out, my mom, the Shores.”

I waited patiently for him to get through it.

“Just thank you,” he said, swallowing hard. His hand lifted, and I wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but his fingers brushed over my bruised knuckles on the couch, a ghost of a touch that barely felt real.

“If all your gratitude feels like that…” I lowered my voice, leaning into his gravity. “Then you’re welcome, but—”

Josh’s lips curled into a gentle smirk. “Spit it out, Tuck.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to show it, ever,” I said to him. I wasn’t here for the sex or the makeouts. Hell, I didn’t even need him to hold my hand or even pretend he liked me around the guys. “That part doesn’t have to be necessary,” I said to him, trying to get him to understand.

“Our definitions of necessary will never align,” he said.

“Isn’t that a bad thing?” I sighed and he shook his head, causing his hair to fall loose from the pushed-back style he had combed it into after his shower. I was so nervous to do it wrong that I hadn’t noticed Josh leaving out all the instructions on how to love him right.

“No, Tuck,” he said. "But we do what we can, when we can. And right now, I’m fucking exhausted and want to go to bed.”

“The movie isn’t even over,” I complained, lifting my hand finally and pointing at the screen. Josh laughed at me.

“Fine, you stay here and finish. I’m going to bed,” he said, and I knew it meant that if I didn’t come now, he’d spend the night on his side of the room because getting comfortable together was a process.

He climbed out of my lap, leaving nothing but cold, aching loneliness behind, tugging off his sweater at the bottom of the stairs and disappearing out of sight.

“Fine,” I grumbled to myself and rolled off the couch, jogging after him. I wasn’t ready to be left behind just yet.

He was already tossing his pillow on my bed when I closed the door behind me, and he pointed.

“Against the wall,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time in the last two weeks, and I listened without a shred of hesitation every single time.

I stripped off my clothes down to my boxers and slipped against the wall, pulling my blankets up around my waist and shoving my arm under my pillow to crumple it up under my head. Josh waited until I settled, then climbed in beside me. Only that time when he crawled into the bed, he lay facing me. For weeks, I’ve slept staring at his back, and having access to the look in his eyes and the sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw was rattling.

It was like a gift.

The silence stretched on for a moment before he asked. "How’s your hand?”

I looked down at it and took in the ugly irritation. The red was settling into a dark purple color that would be sprawled across the top of my hand come morning. I had hit Ian harder than I had ever hit anyone in my entire life and was paying the price.

“Fine.” I tried to flex my fingers and groaned as the muscles screamed for me to stop. “Okay, not great.”

“You have to stretch it out, you’re seizing up.” Josh held out his hand, and before I could stop him, he was pressing his hand into mine. His fingers were long and soft, with small reminders of his occupation in the form of rough healed blisters. It was a little smaller in size as he pushed against my palm and the whimper that left me was embarrassing as he flexed the fingers to full extension.

“Breathe, Tuck,” he warned as he let them fall limp and did it again without warning or the same delicate touch. A thick, painful growl left my throat at the movement, but they went easier that time. You’re a baby,” he laughed through his own discomfort and pulled his hand away, but I wasn’t ready to let go of his touch just yet, tangling my fingers down around his with a stiff curl.

“Please?” I asked as he hesitated. “Give me this, I behaved earlier,” I said, I wasn’t above begging him for the contact.

He mumbled something under his breath but didn’t move as our hands came together and rested in the bed between us, his arm pulled closer to my side of the bed.

“I went to see Ms. Cody,” he confessed. "Just so you know.”

He listened.

“Thank you,” I said to him.

“She’s worse than both Cael and Coach,” he said, a tightness to his tone no doubt a result of the contact.

“She likes those fancy daisies, the bright colored ones and that sushi place down the block from Hillys,” I suggested. “Maybe you can bring her lunch this week.”

“You want me to bribe my therapist?” Josh questioned.

“Oh no,” I laughed quietly. "I want you to apologize to her because there’s no doubt in my mind that you pissed her off with the first sentence you spoke,” I teased.

“Fuck you, Tuck,” he said but a soft laugh tumbled from him as he shut his eyes. After a beat of silence, his eye crack opened and his brows furrowed as he asked. "Wait, why do you know that about her?”