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puck-luck · 5 months ago

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new beginnings | june 17 - june 23

note: this chapter contains NSFW content. it also contains references to (tw) nudes being leaked (spoiler alert), so if that bothers you or triggers you in any way, you may want to skip over that part. unfortunately, it is pivotal to the story. this chapter is 24.2k, so strap in. it will also be the last chapter for a little while (maybe two-three weeks) because i want to work on some requests and churn those out for my followers who aren't as passionate about this project as i am and some of you are. i need to feed everyone in our community, not just the STG Truthers!!

22:90 – HONEY

“So what happened while you were in the closet with Cole?” Honey asks, biting into a peach slice and gesturing with the remaining food. “We never had the time to discuss it.”

Bea blushes, the apples of her cheeks dusted in a sweet pink. She starts to giggle– the same reaction she has every time that Honey brings Cole up since the events of Seven Minutes in Heaven the day before.

“Okay, it can’t have been that good,” Honey scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Quit your giggling and tell me what happened.”

“Okay, okay,” Bea says, taking a few deep breaths and calming down. She wipes under her eyes like she’s wiping away tears, but it’s an over exaggeration. Honey is unimpressed by the dramatics from her friend. “I’m only laughing because I severely underestimated him.”

“Severely,” Honey repeats, mouth wide open in surprise. “What happened?”

“So we go in the closet and I’m expecting to talk about Jack and his dick, like I told Cole I would if he spun and landed on me,” Bea says. She’s talking with her hands, waving her own peach slice at Honey. “But I get, like, two words out before Cole interrupts me and asks if I’m actually trying to sleep with everyone this summer.”

“Which you are,” Honey confirms. “So Jack told him?”

“I’m sure he did. I told Cole I was, and then he asked if I wanted him to make things easier for me.”

“What?”

“Then he kissed me and fingered me against the closet door and he made me come before our time was even up,” Bea reveals, counting off on her first three fingers and waving them in Honey’s face.

Honey gasps. “You’re kidding.”

“I am not. He just moved my panties to the side and fucked me with two fingers until I came. All the while, he was telling me about how badly he wanted to get his mouth on me,” Bea sighs, a faraway look in her eyes. “Then we went upstairs and he ate me out until I came three more times. Like, what the fuck?”

“Cole did all this?” Honey asks, barely able to believe it.

“Dude, Cole,” Bea confirms, nodding vehemently. “I told you. I underestimated him.”

“Has Quinn even made you–”

“No.” Bea shakes her head, cutting Honey off. “Quinn has only made me come twice in a night. Cole made me come four times and we didn’t even fuck.”

Honey’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ but she doesn’t say anything.

Bea nods, holding eye contact with Honey.

“That’s wild,” Honey says.

“Dude, I know,” Bea replies. “I adore Quinn and he’s still my favorite of the guys, but, like… holy shit.”

“Well, you didn’t even fuck,” Honey points out. “Maybe he’s bad in bed and he gives head to make up for it.”

“I don’t give a fuck. If I want head, I’m going to Cole,” Bea states.

“That’s lofty,” Honey says.

“I’m serious.”

Honey feels a little stunned, blinking to clear her head. She can’t believe that Cole– Cole Caufield, the giddiest and goofiest man that Honey has met in years– is secretly a master munch.

“Rank them,” Honey suggests. “Of the three that you’ve hooked up with, who’s the best? What are their scores?”

Bea pops the rest of her piece of fruit into her mouth, chewing emphatically. “Great question,” she says. “But also, why do you want to know? Are you interested in joining me this summer? You can’t have Quinn, but I’ll share the other ones.”

“Well, I don’t really want to mess around with any of them, but especially not Jack,” Honey replies.

Bea hums, frowning. “You’re right. I think I’ve committed to the timer idea we had, but it might be too mean as is. I might have to sweeten the deal so I don't feel like a bitch. I have an idea about how, but I’m not sure about it yet.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me think about this ranking thing.”

The girls fall into silence. Honey snacks on the rest of her peach slices, sucking the juice off of her fingertips. She cleans up her plate, walking into her kitchen and loading up the dishwasher.

“Can you get me a pencil and paper?” Bea calls. “I’ll love you forever.”

“You already do,” Honey responds with a roll of her eyes. “Are you actually giving it this much thought?”

“There are a lot of factors!” Bea defends herself, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. She cocoons herself in the blanket and seems to enter a conversation with herself in her mind.

Honey would laugh if she didn’t do the exact same thing in the car after her kiss with Jamie on the hike. She had actually spoken out loud to herself, weighing her options before eventually deciding that she needed to indulge Trevor at least once, just to see how she felt after.

The thing is, Honey was attracted to Jamie. She thought he was cute, she wanted to kiss him, and she enjoyed hanging out with him.

On the other hand: he wasn’t Trevor. Honey was drawn to Trevor inherently. That fact is still true after their rushed blowjob in the closet. It’s still true after Trevor’s desperate kiss. Honey hasn’t been able to shake the image of Trevor sinking to his knees and reaching for her. Honey knows she, like Cole, is good at giving head, but she hadn’t expected a reaction like that.

Trevor was boneless and easy, agreeing not to tell the boys. He was eying her mouth almost constantly after she made him come, leaning into her space and putting his hands all over her. He whined when she stepped away, a sound that Honey can pull from her memory and replay over and over. It was a carnal sound, drawn from the depths of Trevor’s chest, and she swears he hadn’t even made the sound on purpose.

Truthfully, Honey wants to see how far she can go with this. Trevor is frustratingly annoying, filled with jealousy that’s boiling over each time Honey starts to bond with the other guys, and he’s hard to get through to. He’s a challenge.

Honey wanted something easy, she really did, but Trevor bore his soul to her in the closet and it won her over. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him any longer and what happened, happened.

She hasn’t told Bea.

She really needs to tell Bea.

Honey’s just not sure how to broach the subject.

As she opens her mouth to blurt out a quick “I sucked Trevor off in the closet while you were upstairs and no one knows but me and him and I don’t know what came over me!,” Bea claps her hands and announces that she’s ready to reveal her ranking.

Honey snaps her mouth shut and gives Bea her full attention.

“I need to seduce Luke if I want to make this a comprehensive list,” Bea clarifies. “So it’s incomplete until I get with him.”

“Okay,” Honey acknowledges, gesturing for Bea to get on with it.

“Jack is on the bottom, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Honey agrees. She and Bea had had an intense discussion the previous day before going to the boys’ house about Bea’s experience with Jack. They had meant to talk about the encounter briefly, but Bea and Honey had started laughing and making jokes about how quickly it was over, and they accidentally lost track of time. They were almost two hours late to the boys’ house last night, but at least Quinn cooked dinner for the girls.

“I’m giving him a five and a half because I feel bad going lower,” Bea decides. “He’s got room for improvement and it was fine. I didn’t come, but he was good at kissing and he made the prettiest little noises.”

“Hmm.” Honey nods her head, keeping silent about her own opinions about a boy making ‘the prettiest little noises.’ She hasn’t heard Jack’s moans, nor does she want to, but there’s no way that Jack sounded prettier than Trevor did while Honey blew him last night.

“Next is Cole,” Bea says. “I’m giving him an eight-point-eight.”

Honey blinks in surprise. “Shit,” she says, impressed. “Without even fucking you, he’s almost at a nine?”

Bea reminds Honey that Cole made her come four times the previous night, dropping the detail that he never even took her dress off once they were upstairs. All he did was slide her panties down her legs and flip up the hem of her skirt, going down on her like it was the last night on Earth and he couldn’t be bothered to remove her clothes.

It’s appealing, to be honest. Honey might have to dig out one of her own sundresses and see if Trevor has a similar response.

Hmm. She hadn’t planned to hook up with Trevor again after that first time, but he was like a drug. Honey wants to see him be that soft and desperate for affection again. He’s sweet, so sweet, and Honey fears that she might like him a lot more than she wants to. She might even dare to hook up with him again.

She resents that fact. She can barely admit it to herself– nor will she admit it to Bea when she eventually tells her about Trevor. She sure as hell will not admit it to Trevor. He doesn’t need a bigger head.

“Quinn is number one, always,” Bea finishes.

Honey nods. There was no question about it.

“I give him a nine point seven. He loses part of a point because Cole made me come more times in one night than Quinn has.”

“Are you going to tell him that’s why he’s not a perfect ten?” Honey asks.

Bea thinks about it, tapping her chin. “I’d say no, but he’s so competitive that I think he’d really try to beat Cole’s record. I know that would be such a good night for me, so… honestly? I might tell him.” Bea pauses, then she barks out a laugh. “Should I reveal the scores to them? We could do, like, a PowerPoint night.”

“That could be funny.” Honey drinks from her water bottle, then swallows quickly when an idea pops into her head. She snorts. “What about the chalkboard that they use for pool scores?”

“What, you want me to erase it? I think Luke’ll get mad at me,” Bea laughs.

“No, I want you to recreate it,” Honey replies. “Dude, you don’t even have to tell them what it means. We could see how long it takes for them to notice that you’re rating them based on sex.”

“That’s so funny,” Bea agrees. She raises a finger, tilting her head. “But do you think they’ll feel objectified?”

“Great question,” Honey replies in the same tone. “What if you give them a reward at the end? The winner gets… something. Sex tape for when they go home?”

Bea hums, intrigued by the idea. “We’ll workshop that. I could be down, but what if the boys aren’t?”

Honey shrugs. “We’ll think of something. Wanna go to the fruit stand and the grocery store and buy a board?”

“Yeah, sure,” Bea says. “Let me just text Quinn and tell him that I can meet up with him when we’re done. Do you want to drop me off after?” She’s already pulling her phone out and tapping out a message, a text that seems way longer than just an ‘I’ll see you when we’re done.’

She’s been texting a lot lately. Honey cannot believe that Quinn enjoys receiving all these messages.

“What do you guys even talk about?” Honey asks, grabbing a threadbare cardigan that Sacha knitted for her a few years back.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Quinn,” Honey clarifies. “What do you guys talk about?”

They walk out of Honey’s house and to her car. Bea turns on the stereo, turning on her favorite music like she always does.

“We talk about a lot of things,” Bea says. “We talk a lot about hockey and his family. He told me about his ex-girlfriend the other day. It’s over between them, for good, but he misses her.”

Bea pauses, looking down at her lap.

“He misses her?” Honey repeats, incredulous. “And he told you that?”

Bea sighs, rolling her neck back to stretch her muscles. She’s stalling.

“Bea,” Honey insists.

“It’s not a big deal,” Bea says quietly, shaking her head. “We’re not exclusive, I’m not dating him.” She scoffs out a laugh. “I’m fucking his brothers and his friends. I think he’s allowed to miss his girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Honey corrects.

“Ex-girlfriend,” Bea amends. She sighs again. “It’s fine, really. I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything. Unfortunately, that includes his exes.”

“You want to talk to him about everything?” Honey teases.

“He’s a great guy,” Bea says simply. She purses her lips and sucks her teeth before adding, “I think if I wasn’t having a Slut Summer, and I didn’t live in Litchton, I would want something more. But we’re having fun, and he’s leaving at the end of the summer, so it doesn’t matter.”

“Baby-Bea, you don’t actually believe that,” Honey says.

“I do. It’s just a summer.” Bea holds her hands up in surrender. “And he’s just a guy.”

Honey doesn’t reply. She just hums out a little tune along with Bea’s music, patting the steering wheel. They pull into the grocery parking lot and make their way across the parking lot. Bea is still singing the last song that played on their drive, and she and Honey are holding hands, swinging their interlocked fingers back and forth in big waves. Bea is skipping.

He’s there.

Honey stops dead in her tracks, right in front of powdery blue minivan. Her sudden stop yanks Bea’s arm back and she whirls to face Honey.

“What?” She asks, her song dying out with a giggle that fades into a concerned frown.

“I blew Trevor in the closet last night,” Honey rushes out, entirely at a normal volume.

A mother and her teenage daughter make a face when they pass Honey and Bea, certainly overhearing the sentence.

“What?” Bea repeats.

Honey clears her throat, borderline gagging on her breath. “He’s sitting at the fruit stand with a bouquet of flowers.”

“What?” Bea raises her voice, eyes widening as she twists. She squeezes Honey’s hand, clutching it tightly. When she spots the boy, she claps a hand over her mouth.

“Oh my God,” Honey breathes out, feeling sick. She covers her own mouth. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh my God,” Bea repeats, a smile splitting her face.

“You cannot talk to him,” Honey hisses. She holds Bea’s hand with a vice grip, keeping her from running towards him. “Bea, you can’t.”

“I have to,” Bea says, pulling Honey along. They struggle forward bit by bit until Trevor notices them and stands, smiling like a dope.

His eyes are on Honey’s. He doesn’t even look at Bea until she speaks.

“Trevor, those flowers are gorgeous!” Bea chirps, sounding extra bubbly. “What are they for?”

Trevor’s smile turns to a sharp glare when Bea snatches at them. He pulls them out of her reach and scowls. He keeps his mouth shut, but Honey knows there’s something crossing his mind.

“Go inside,” Honey growls, pushing Bea away.

Bea practically goes limp, smug and gigging about having caused Honey’s struggle. Eventually, Honey tips her weight and she goes, stumbling into the store with a cackle.

Then, Honey turns back to Trevor.

He thrusts the bouquet at her and bites his lip in a tiny smile.

Honey brushes them away with the back of her hand. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t know what time you were coming to the stand today, and I didn’t want to miss it like last week, so I showed up when they opened, and bought these flowers around lunchtime because I needed to do something… or else I’d go crazy…” He speeds through the lengthy sentence, trailing off at the end. “I already sound crazy.” He looks down, bouquet drooping.

Honey feels lightheaded. She’s burning up. She presses the back of her hand against her forehead, staring at the boy. “Yeah,” she agrees. She nods. “You sound fucking crazy.”

Joan clicks her tongue at Honey, but returns to her magazine when Honey’s eyes flicker over to her.

“We are in public,” Honey says to Trevor, speaking through her teeth. “I told you that you couldn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t,” Trevor denies, tone combative.

Honey almost bursts out in laughter. “What part of showing up in public with flowers for me is not telling anyone?”

“Well I didn’t– I didn’t say it,” Trevor stammers out, defending himself desperately. He shuffles back, waving the flowers between them.

Honey stomps over a few petals that fell from the bouquet when Trevor used it like a sword to keep her back. “I could strangle you.”

“Please don’t,” Trevor pleads.

Honey takes a deep breath. She clenches and unclenches her fists at her sides. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to make you mad by not showing up,” Trevor explains. He nods, drops his gaze to the flowers in his hand and offers them again to Honey. “And the flowers are ‘cause I like you.”

Honey gasps, covering her face with her hands. “Trevor, we hooked up once,” Honey whimpers out, unable to believe it. “I don’t like you!” She chokes a little from the panic.

Oh, my God, he assumed that Honey wanted more.

“Trevor, I’m not looking for a relationship,” she whisper-shouts.

She sneaks a peek at him, and he’s blinking stupidly, back pressed against the wall of the building behind the stand. The flowers are pulled up against his chest, crushed beneath her own. She hadn’t realized they were so close. She steps away.

“You– you’re not?” Trevor asks, staying still. “But you said you were thinking about me–”

“Yes, I was thinking about you. I’m ovulating, Trevor!” Honey feels faint again and turns away from him, back to the edge of the road.

Trevor follows after her, reaching for her hand. “That’s fine,” he says. He catches her fingers and slides the bouquet into her hand, closing Honey’s fingers around the stems. “Honey, we can do whatever you want. I will take anything you give me.”

Honey lurches forward like he just slapped her on the back. She presses a hand to her chest. “Trevor, it was one blowjob. You know that, right?”

He pales a little, letting his fingers fall from her hand. Her fingers are slack around the stems. It’s a grouping of pink azaleas. The stems are a little stick-like against her skin. “You don’t want to go again?” Trevor asks.

“I don’t know,” Honey drawls. She brings the bouquet to her other hand, holding her hands together like a prayer. “...maybe?”

“Scruffy’s has live music on Wednesdays, I looked it up,” Trevor says.

The abrupt change of subject makes Honey blink in surprise. “I know,” she says. She loves Scruffy’s, but she usually only goes in the winter, when it gets dark early in the night.

“I thought you would like it. Go with me.” Trevor ducks his head to capture Honey’s gaze. “All the boys can come, and Bea too.”

“Bea can do what?” The girl asks, returning with a large whiteboard in her hands. A bag with a pack of dry erase markers dangles from her wrist.

“Come dancing with us at Scruffy’s,” Trevor explains in a rush to the deviant girl, just as Honey says, “Nothing, Bea, this doesn’t involve you.”

Bea’s eyes slide from Trevor to Honey. “I love Scruffy’s,” she says, nodding with a smug smile. “We’ll absolutely be there on Wednesday, Trevor. I will make sure of it.”

“Bea, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Honey hisses, her eyes narrow and full of fire. “I will not be driving you to see Quinn anymore.”

Bea snorts out a laugh, a look of delight on her face. “Trevor,” Bea calls, her eyes still glinting at Honey. “Will you drive me to your place right now so I can fuck Quinn in exchange for bringing Honey to Scruffy’s on Wednesday?”

“Absolutely I will,” Trevor agrees with a beam.

“This is kidnapping,” Honey hisses at Bea. “I’ll have you arrested.”

Bea giggles, then leans into Honey’s face. Her nose nearly touches Honey’s, scrunching with pride. “Quinn will bail me out,” she brags, teasing Honey.

She reaches up, taps Honey on the nose, then steps away. She loops her arm with Trevor’s and begins to walk off, taking the boy with her.

Trevor waves a goodbye at Honey, grinning like a fool. “See you Wednesday, Honey,” he bids, his mouth wide in a laugh and eyes squinted shut.

She’s left standing there, bouquet in hand. She watches them retreat, blinking and unable to identify how she feels.

There’s a tap on her shoulder.

When Honey turns, Joan hands her a bag of peaches, filled to the brim. “Your friend bought you some peaches, too. He said you’d like them more than his silly flowers.”

23:90 – TREVOR

Trevor is taking a break.

He just finished showering after a long training session outside with the boys. Before that, he and the guys had gone to Winston to find a tailor that could fit the Hughes boys for their NHL Awards suits. Ellen had been pestering the boys for a few days about the suits, wanting her sons to look sharp and handsome for the event. The excuse that the event was over a week away meant nothing to the boys’ mother, and Trevor decided a long time ago that he wasn’t going to disagree with Ellen.

He deserves a break, and today, he wants to sit on his balcony and watch the sunset.

The sun has just sunk below the mountains, leaving the sky a dark orange. The clouds reflect the color, painted across the horizon in swirling strokes. The air is thick with the smell of impending rain and the sounds of cicadas in the trees. There’s a bullfrog in the distance, always croaking when Trevor least expects it, and it sounds a lot like Trevor’s father’s snores.

They’ve been in Litchton for almost a month. Bedford has always been Trevor’s home, and Anaheim is the place where Trevor really learned how to be on his own, but Litchton is special. It’s a fixed place, as silly as that sounds– Trevor feels like nothing from the outside world can affect him here. He feels free.

“Can I join you?”

Jamie’s voice sounds from the balcony door behind Trevor. He’s soft-spoken, still treading lightly even though Trevor apologized for his behavior and tried to make things go back to normal.

Staying true to his promise, Trevor hasn’t told Jamie about the blowjob in the closet.

It’s killing him. He needs to talk it out with someone– especially after what happened yesterday. Honey doesn’t want a relationship. Trevor doesn’t know what he wants, just that he wants her. Honey can’t seem to figure out how she really feels about Trevor. Trevor knows exactly what he feels. He doesn’t want to let her go when he leaves at the end of the summer.

“Yeah, come sit,” Trevor agrees. He pulls one of the rocking chairs on the balcony closer to his own.

Jamie takes a seat.

They rock together, staring out at the mountains and woods in front of them. Breaking the silence, Jamie speaks first.

“You know, Honey says if you can count ten rows of mountains back, you’re in Tennessee.”

Trevor finds himself counting the rows in his minds immediately. The clouds are heavy today. The orange is already fading and he can’t see that far. Five rows, maybe the shadow of a sixth if he squints. “That’s cool,” Trevor replies.

Another silence washes over the space between them, but it’s shorter than the previous one. Trevor breaks it this time.

“What happened on the hike?” He asks. Trevor’s been dying to know about the hike since Jamie left with Honey on Saturday, especially considering how close the two seemed after going on the hike together. He knows that something happened, as if driven by his gut, and Trevor knows that he’s not going to be happy about it.

“We hiked, ate lunch. She asked questions about me and I asked questions about her while we walked. She’s a really cool girl, Z.” Jamie stares straight forward, one foot up on the railing in front of them.

“What kind of questions?” Trevor presses.

Jamie snorts and shakes his head, looking down at his lap then up at Trevor. “You wanna know?”

“Obviously, or else I wouldn’t have asked,” Trevor sasses, narrowing his eyes at Jamie.

“I asked her how long you two had been fucking,” Jamie reveals without hesitation. He laughs when Trevor’s jaw drops, then continues. “Then I asked her why she wasn’t fucking you yet.”

“Oh,” Trevor says. It’s all he can think to say. There’s nothing else he could say.

“And then we conspired against you to make you jealous, so that you would make a fucking move. She was going to play Seven Minutes in Heaven until she got to go into that closet with you, even if it took all night.” Jamie nods when Trevor tilts his head at him, flabbergasted. “Z. Honey and I don’t want each other. Sure, we kissed, but she wants you. She wants you.”

“You kissed?” Trevor demands, all of his surprise turning to rage. “You kissed her?”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Relax.”

“Relax? You kissed my fucking girl, dude,” Trevor snaps, shifting forward in his chair and facing Jamie.

Jamie takes a deep breath and shakes his head, closing his eyes in annoyance. “Jesus-fuck, Trevor. It is a miracle that the other boys haven’t caught onto this thing that’s happening between you and Honey. You’re even luckier that Quinn’s keeping your secret.”

“Quinn knows?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He knows that he gets on the older boy’s nerves and, usually, Quinn uses any ammunition he has to take Trevor down.

Jamie stares at Trevor for a minute, amused yet baffled by Trevor’s ignorance. “Bea knows,” Jamie tells Trevor. He runs a hand over the back of his neck, then gestures at Trevor. “And if Bea knows…”

Trevor feels stupid for assuming otherwise. “That makes sense,” he concedes, pressing his lips into a thin line out of frustration for not realizing that on his own sooner. He reverts to anger. “You still kissed my girl.”

“Okay,” Jamie says. “Let me put it like this: I show up here, you guys tell me that there’s a girl hooking up with everyone, then a beautiful girl shows up at our door and drops a book off for you. She checks me out, blushes when I talk, even stutters a little bit, so I assume she’s the one who’s having her Slut Summer. When she comes back the following night, I learn that she’s not the one who’s hooking up with everyone, but she’s still gorgeous and not tied down. You hadn’t told me that you wanted her yet. I take a body shot off of her, and it’s hot, and we hang for the rest of the night. Then, she invites me on a date the following morning. You wouldn’t kiss her?”

Trevor scowls, wanting to grow talons and sink them into Jamie’s neck. Part of it is that he’s still pissed Jamie touched Honey at all, but the other reason is that Jamie is being logical and reasonable. Trevor absolutely would have kissed Honey if he was in Jamie’s position. He resents it.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Trevor lies.

Jamie blinks at him, unimpressed.

“Okay, yeah, I would’ve kissed her,” Trevor amends. He sighs. “I still hate it.”

“I expected no less,” Jamie says. “You never really learned how to share, did you? Puck hog, girl hog… someone needs to put you back in preschool, buddy.”

“I’m not going to share her,” Trevor declares. “Honey is mine. I’ve never felt like this before, Jim.”

Jamie hums, acknowledging Trevor’s words. “Are you sick?”

“What? No.”

“This is new for you,” Jamie says. “You’ve never been the most… committed guy.”

“Okay, I’m not a fucking cheater, dude,” Trevor snaps, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but you’re not exactly someone who wants to be with a girl long-term,” Jamie replies.

Trevor knows he’s right, but he doesn’t like the way Jamie says it. He refuses to respond, falling into silence with the boy next to him. The sky is turning navy and they can hear the boys yelling at the TV in the game room. They’re probably watching game five of the Cup final– Trevor hopes that it’s closer than the last game was.

“How was the blowjob?” Jamie asks.

Trevor jolts to face him again. “You know about that?”

“She told me that you’ve gone crazy because of it,” Jamie replies, digging his phone out of his pocket and clicking around for a second before handing his phone to Trevor. “She also said you were freaking out and that you bought her flowers. What were you thinking?”

Trevor takes Jamie’s phone and scrolls through the messages. Jamie and Honey have been chatting consistently since Honey dropped the boy off on Saturday. The final message is from about an hour ago and it’s Honey telling Jamie to go talk to Trevor about ‘the blowjob in the closet that made him lose his fucking marbles.’

“So what happened?” Jamie asks, taking his phone back from Trevor.

Trevor thinks about what to say. There are so many explanations that he could give Jamie, but they all boil down to one thing.

“She’s so beautiful,” Trevor sighs. He shakes his head, unable to believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. “I need her like I need to breathe.”

Jamie is silent, speechless from the shock of Trevor’s statement. “What the fuck?” He asks, laughing nervously.

Trevor continues, explaining himself. “I know I just met her, J, but she’s so special. I need her in my life and I will take whatever she gives me.”

“What if she only wants to hook up?”

“Then we’ll hook up.”

“What if she only wanted to do it this one time?”

“Then I’ll keep trying to convince her to give me another chance.”

“What if she refuses you and hooks up with Jack instead?”

“I’ll kill him.”

A smile breaks over Jamie’s face and he nods slowly. “You’ve got this all thought out.” He slaps his hands over his knees, then stands. The chair rocks behind him from the force of his movement. “I’ll report this exchange back to my boss.”

“Tell Honey that I’m excited to see her again tomorrow and that she needs to save me a dance,” Trevor says.

Jamie sucks in a breath between gritted teeth. “Oof,” he breathes out. “She already declared that I was her dance partner for the whole night.”

“Don’t make me pull your shoulder out of its socket,” Trevor threatens with a chilly smile.

Jamie just raises his eyebrows subtly and smirks, walking back inside the house and leaving Trevor alone.

The stars are starting to twinkle above Trevor’s head, and he tilts back in his rocking chair to search the sky. He’s nearing the end of his book and he’s been challenging himself to find the constellations he’s been reading about.

He wishes Honey was sitting next to him and staring at the same stars. Although imaginary, he can almost feel her fingers intertwined with his.

24:90 – HONEY

Hiding from Bea was never actually an option. Honey knows that in her heart of hearts, but she’d be damned if she didn’t try. Her best bet was somewhere around The Reading Nook, since Scruffy’s is just down the road and they’re leaving directly from work.

Bea actually brought clothes for Honey to change into when she showed up to work before lunch– a cute denim maxidress that has tiers of different washes on the skirt. It’s exactly something Honey would wear to Scruffy’s in the winter, with a little cardigan to keep her warm enough while dancing. This is the outfit that Honey’s wearing now, having been forced to change during her break by a watchful Bea.

Honey is tucked between two of the stacks and a beanbag chair, hoping that her corner of refuge will be enough for Bea to leave the store without her. Then, Honey will sneak to her car and drive home, effectively avoiding Trevor for another day. She can’t avoid him forever, but she might be able to make it a little while longer before she’s forced to face him.

She decided that Trevor’s a lunatic who is looking too much into the relationship he and Honey share. She gave him one blowjob and he bought her flowers– a disproportionate response that left Honey reeling on Monday. She might’ve watered the flowers and thrown them in a vase on her bedside table, but that doesn’t mean she wanted to accept the bouquet. Accepting the bouquet is too real– it would give Trevor too much hope.

He forced it into her hand and offered her anything she wanted, so Honey thought about it. She wants him to not be so fucking obvious.

Honey has lived in Litchton for a long time. In that time, she’s gone on two dates: one, with Gillian’s grandson while he was visiting for Christmas that went okay. The second was with some guy from a dating app that Bea made Honey download, and that date ended in tears because Honey was overwhelmed by the boy’s cologne– the same one that she used to know all too well when she and Bea were still living in Charlotte.

The townies know Honey as an independent girl. They know her as a person who won’t stand for nonsense, a person who isn’t interested in frivolous things. She likes what she likes and her routine stays the same.

Trevor has completely overthrown her routine.

In a normal summer, Honey goes through book after book, reading and writing and having fun. She creates terrible art that never sells in the town-side yard sale in August. Bea drags her to Winston or Boone one or two weekends a month and they talk to guys their age until Bea finds someone to flirt with. Then, Honey heads back to Litchton to her own bed and usually has to wake up early to pick Bea up from her conquest’s house.

Now, they’re spending every weekend with the boys. Bea is even spending non-weekend days with the boys. Honey walked herself into a trap by declaring that the fruit stand was her and Trevor’s “thing,” whereas it’s supposed to just be hers. They’re going to the lake not to tan, but to boat with the guys. Bea is satiated and happy, giggling and glowing the way she does when she’s seeing a guy she really likes.

This is Bea’s ideal summer and it’s quickly turning into Honey’s hell.

She’s not a relationship girl. She hasn’t been for years, opting to be independent and satisfied with herself, refusing to worry about being alone. That life, that stress, was left in Charlotte when she moved away. She’s determined to keep it that way.

Which means that she cannot, under any circumstances, hook up with Trevor again. She cannot give him a reason to believe that this was more than a one-night thing. It was just a moment of weakness and it can’t happen again.

Honey has taken some necessary precautions. She texted Jamie the previous day and begged him to dance with her all night, get drinks with her at the bar, sit at the table when she’s sitting at the table, and never leave her side. He swore he would, even pinky-promised over the thread of messages.

It’s that fact that helps Honey remain calm when Bea finds her and rips the beanbag out of her clutches, pulling her up from where she’s curled up on the floor.

“I can’t believe you tried to hide from me and made me close the entire store alone,” Bea complains, dragging Honey to the back room to grab their purses before heading out. She steals Honey’s keys rather than using her own to lock the bookstore, effectively taking away Honey’s only means of escape– her car. Had Honey bolted, like she considered, there would be no way to get into her vehicle and outrun Bea fast enough without her keys.

Damn Bea. She thinks of everything.

They walk down the street, arm in arm. Bea’s brown cowboy boots click against the sidewalk with each step and the ruffled sleeves of her romper sway with the summer wind. The romper is a pastel yellow with white daisies dotting the fabric. It’s short, short enough that Jack will probably drool over her and Quinn will make sure his hand stays on Bea’s waist all night.

The walk to Scruffy’s takes less than five minutes. They don’t even have to cross the street. Scruffy’s is the building on the corner of the main road, the last thing you see before you drive past the town of Litchton and head further up the mountain. Past Scruffy’s, there are only ranches, farm life, and Honey’s little abode. Scruffy’s is like the end of civilization.

It’s been in business for generations. Scruffy’s is where Earl and Vera met, funnily enough, more than half a century ago. Last year, their anniversary fell on a Tuesday, and Vera came into The Reading Nook gushing about how they’d been married for fifty-three years officially. Honey had asked and she had gotten the full story– that Vera and her girls (the same knitting group) went dancing in Scruffy’s after their senior prom ended and it was there that she was asked to dance by the most handsome man in the joint. That man was Earl, who won Vera over with just once dance, and they were dating by the end of the night. He was sent to Vietnam less than two months later, but they were married in a short ceremony the night before he was shipped off. Earl was 21. Vera was 17.

It’s a little gross to Honey, but she’s impressed that they stuck it out this long. She’s impressed that Vera and Earl still love each other, even after fifty years. They had multiple kids, lived in the same small town their whole life except for Earl’s stint in ‘Nam, and they’re still happy. Part of the reason why Honey came to Litchton after leaving Charlotte is because of relationships like Vera and Earl’s– they stand the test of time up in the mountains. Everybody finds their person.

Honey loves Scruffy’s because it represents the culture of Litchton. It’s one of the longest-running businesses in the area. It’s a place where people go to meet, dance, and have fun. There aren’t many places like it anymore. Honey would much rather go to Scruffy’s than join Bea on a night out in Winston-Salem– it’s where she first learned to play pool.

Selfishly, Honey wonders to herself about the odds of stealing Quinn away from Bea for a night of pool. It would frustrate Bea to no end– and it might be the perfect revenge.

“Before we get in there, I want you to know that you’re not playing pool tonight,” Bea says as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “And if I see you by the pool table, I’m telling the boys that you blew Trevor in the closet.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “First kidnapping, now blackmail? Who are you? What have the boys turned you into, a villain?”

Bea laughs, a twinkling sound that has her whole body rolling. “Baby, I was always a villain,” Bea says with a wink. “The boys are just encouraging me to be the worst version of myself.”

“Yeah, at my expense,” Honey shoots back.

Bea just grins. “Exactly!”

With that, Bea swings open the door and the girls step into the bar. It’s shabby and dive bar-esque, but the music spilling from the speakers near the stage transforms the place.

The band is made up of a group of local dads who have been playing in the area since they were teens, having abandoned their big dream of becoming rock stars to settle down in their hometown with their wives and families. Honey has hustled most of these guys before at the pool table, although she’s never been quite able to beat Andrew, who plays bass for the band.

Whereas the wood floor seems creaky when there’s silence in the halls, now it seems to glimmer beneath the dancing feet that adorn it. The exposed brick walls echo the laughter of drinkers in the booths, reflecting the cheers of when a new round appears as if by a miracle.

Bea leads Honey to the back of the bar, where they find the boys in one of the bigger booths. Quinn is sat on the edge of the booth next to his brothers and he easily pulls Bea onto his lap, perching her on his thigh. Honey stands at the end of the booth, her palms flat against the table separating the groups of boys.

“You can sit right here, Honey.” Cole offers his own thigh, gesturing to the “seat” like Vanna White.

Honey forces a smile onto her face. “I’ll stand.”

“No, you don’t have to stand,” Trevor jumps in, trapped between the wall and Jamie on Cole’s side of the booth. “We can find you a chair.”

“It doesn’t look like you’ll be escaping anytime soon to find me one,” Honey retorts. She’s pleased that he’s stuck in the booth, but she’s still itching to put some distance between them. “Jimmy-Jam, want to go dance?”

“Sure, Honey,” Jamie says with a smile, nudging Cole so the boy can let him out of the booth.

“Oh, that’s too cute,” Bea coos. “Honey and Jam. You’re like a little kindergartener’s lunchtime sandwich.”

Honey and Jamie, now standing next to each other, turn and make eye contact. They evaluate each other briefly, then Jamie shrugs. “I guess it is like that.”

Honey sees Trevor frown, but puts the image out of her mind. Focusing on Trevor leads to disaster (like in the closet), which leads to even more disasters (the bouquet of flowers and Trevor tripping over himself to date Honey), so Honey really ought to avoid him altogether. She drags Jamie off, across the bar and towards the dance floor, finding a place near the stage. They’re dancing with the music on one side and the old, 1950s pinball machine on the other.

Honey loses track of time, spinning with Jamie under the dim light of the bar. The spotlights are all trained on the lead singer of the band, a man named Arn who is still desperately clinging to the hair left on his head.

She and Jamie laugh and talk as they dance, having the best time. It’s Jamie’s last night in town, he reveals during one of the slower songs of the set. He’s driving back to Charlotte tomorrow with Trevor, flying out of North Carolina and back to Toronto around two in the afternoon. The men are singing ‘Amarillo By Morning’ by George Strait and Honey is overcome with a brief feeling of sadness.

“You’re really leaving?” Honey asks. “So soon?”

Jamie smiles, sympathetic and sad. He nods gently, squeezing Honey’s hand in his own. “Z only booked me for a week.”

“Cancel your flight.” Honey pouts, resting her forehead on Jamie’s shoulder, pulling him closer with the hand on his shoulderblades. “You should stay.”

Jamie drops a kiss on the crown of her head, then rests his chin on top of where he laid his lips. “I’ll text you all the time.”

Honey wishes she could stomp her foot and put a petulant glare on her face until Jamie relents, but she knows it’s just not realistic.

“I should warn you,” Jamie whispers into Honey’s hair. “Trevor’s coming over here and he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

Honey looks over her shoulder and catches Trevor’s eyes as he approaches. He’s determined, staring directly at Honey.

“May I?” Trevor asks when he makes it to the pair, nodding to Jamie in a dismissal.

Honey feels betrayed the moment Jamie lifts her hand to his lips and plants a kiss on her knuckles. He’s got a hint of laughter glimmering in his eyes and if she weren’t so sad he’s leaving tomorrow, she would pop him on the noggin for abandoning her.

Jamie hands her off to Trevor, placing her palm in his, and Honey suddenly feels shy.

Trevor pulls her close, reaching his arm around her waist and clutching at her opposing ribs. Her hand rests in his, just inches away from their bodies. Her other hand slides across his back and her fingertips brush the hair at the nape of his neck. She peeks over Trevor’s shoulder, watching Jamie walk away.

The band is playing something more upbeat now, a modern country song that Honey vaguely recognizes.

Jack and Bea are dancing off to their left, halfway across the dance floor in the direct middle, and Jack is trying to spin himself under Bea’s arm. She’s giggling and Jack tumbles against her, crowding her space. His hands find Bea’s hips and he sways against her, leaning in to touch his nose to Bea’s own. She throws her arms around his neck and allows him to dip her, pecking his lips on the way back up.

Trevor’s not as energetic. He sways with Honey, but his touch is more like a grasp than a lead. Honey aches.

“Why didn’t you ask Jamie to stay longer?” Honey asks quietly. She’s embarrassed to ask the question at all, embarrassed to admit that she’d grown so fond of the boy. She knows that they’re all just visiting, but saying goodbye to Jamie is a daunting task that makes Honey think of why she left Charlotte.

“I did,” Trevor replies, surprising her. “I asked him if he would stay for another week, but he’s anxious to get back to his buddies and training. He’s got his own summer routine.” Trevor’s temple presses against Honey’s own, his mouth hovering right next to her ear. “He only came because I was desperate.”

Honey fails to respond to his statement with anything more than a hum. She’s distracted, watching the remaining boys at the table polish off a pitcher of beer. Quinn stands to get more and brushes off Bea’s invitation to come dance with a good-natured wave.

The band starts to play a cover of one of Bea’s favorite songs, a duet between a man and a woman that Honey only remembers because of how anguished the couple sounds. The lyrics of the song are something about begging for time to come back and Honey grimaces at how real the song feels.

“I wish he didn’t have to leave,” Honey admits, the pout on her face feeling permanent.

“Me too,” Trevor says. It’s reassuring. “I’ll miss him.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor steps away, raising his hand and guiding Honey underneath it. He guides her through a series of steps, surprising Honey with his sureness and precision. She ends up facing the stage, her back pressed against Trevor’s chest.

“How do you know how to dance?” Honey asks, a little laugh affecting her words.

“Cotillion and lots of weddings in the summers,” Trevor replies, spinning Honey away and then pulling her back into their original position. He smiles, inches from her face. “I know my way around the floor, just never really had a partner to dance with.”

Honey’s smile fades as he reaches the end of his sentence. She pulls away from him, dipping her head to avoid his eyes. Her hands fall to her sides, then she hugs herself, shaking her head. “We’re not partners, Trevor,” Honey says. “That isn’t what this is.”

Trevor’s own hands fall to his pockets. He’s got jeans on, and some creased white sneakers, and it’s the most dressed up Honey has ever seen him. He looks normal, like any other guy that she would dance with in another bar– in another life.

“What is it, then?” Trevor asks. He’s not pushy. He doesn’t sound curious. He just sounds resigned.

“A mistake,” Honey whispers, rubbing over the goosebumps on her arms to try and soothe them away. “We hooked up once, Trevor.”

“Honey.” Trevor’s face falls and it’s a sight that makes Honey want to run for the hills. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek, thinking over her next words carefully. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“And you’re running away from it. Give me a chance, Honey,” Trevor implores, reaching for her hand again. “I promise, I’ll do whatever you want me to do. I just want you to give me a chance.”

Honey pulls away. “I can’t do this again, Trevor.”

“I need you,” Trevor says.

The words settle in Honey’s stomach like a cinderblock at the bottom of the lake. He’s telling the truth– Honey does not see an ounce of doubt in his eyes.

“Honey, I have not been able to think about anything except you for weeks,” Trevor continues. “Please.”

Honey steps back, her throat tight. Her eyes are darting every which way, just trying to avoid Trevor. She can’t hold his eyes for longer than a second, but a second is long enough to shake her head.

She leaves him on the dance floor, joining the boys at the booth. She squeezes herself between Jamie and Luke, leaning into her friend’s figure. Jamie wraps his arm around Honey’s shoulders and she buries her face in his chest, squeezing her eyes shut.

She’s right. She can’t do this again. She left her hometown after her last real relationship soured and rotted. Honey cannot let the same thing happen to her life in Litchton, especially not when Trevor’s going to leave at the end of the summer anyway. She’ll never see him again once he’s gone and things will go back to normal. It’s better this way.

25:90 – TREVOR

“I can’t believe you have to go,” Trevor says. He and Jamie are parked in the daily garage outside of Charlotte’s airport.

“You’re the one who booked the ticket,” Jamie replies, the same excuse he’s used every time Trevor has brought up the end of his stay in Litchton. He’s got half of a smile on his face as he looks at Trevor.

“You could’ve changed it,” Trevor argues.

Jamie scoffs, laughing. “Dude.” He opens the passenger door and starts to climb out of the car. “You’re never going to make any moves on Honey while I’m still here.” He slams the door shut and rounds the car, pressing the button so that the trunk starts to open.

Trevor gets out of the car and joins Jamie in the back. He hops up and sits on the edge of the trunk, letting his feet dangle. “Was she serious about what she said to me last night?”

Jamie furrows his eyebrows. “What did she say? She didn’t tell me anything.”

Now it’s Trevor’s turn to be confused. “She didn’t say anything when she went back to the table?”

“No,” Jamie says. “Should she have?”

“I mean…” Trevor trails off.

“What did you do?” Jamie groans, rubbing a hand over his face. He grabs his carry on and sets it on the ground next to him.

“I didn’t do anything, really,” Trevor replies. He looks at his nails, then brings his index finger to his mouth to bite off a hangnail. “She just… shut down.”

“What did Honey say?” Jamie repeats, voice hard. He’s staring at Trevor now, eyes full of disdain.

“That hooking up with me was a mistake and she can’t do it again,” Trevor says begrudgingly, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“That’s… weird. I’m going to call her when I get through security.” Jamie extends the handle of his carry on, then kicks the bag so it’s perched on two of its wheels, ready to roll out. “You should go to the store when you get back. You finished that book today, right?”

“Yeah, this morning,” Trevor confirms.

“Return it. Buy it, I don’t care. Just talk to her– you can win her over.” Jamie shrugs. “I know she’s got some baggage that she doesn’t really like to talk about, but you could always ask. That’s how I won her over.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you got to kiss her,” Trevor grumbles.

Jamie takes a deep breath. “On that note, I’m out.” He reaches out to pull Trevor onto his feet and into a hug, clapping him on the back. “Thanks for the week, Trev. Don’t let her push you away, really. She likes you, I can tell. She’s just not ready to admit it yet.”

Trevor pulls away, dapping Jamie up as he does so. “I’ll try.”

“Just be yourself,” Jamie corrects. “Don’t try too hard.”

“Yeah, you’re right, she’d hate that,” Trevor says, chuckling to himself a bit.

“She’d hate that,” Jamie confirms at the same time.

They stand in the parking garage for a moment longer, chuckling until their laughter dies in the wind. Trevor clears his throat and smiles, pulling Jamie in for another hug.

“Have a safe flight, Jim,” Trevor says.

“Have a safe drive, Z.” Jamie begins to walk away, raising his hand over his head in a wave. “See you when the Ducks play the Flyers.”

“Yeah, if neither of us gets traded– again– before that,” Trevor adds. He closes the trunk of the car and climbs back behind the steering wheel.

“Get over it!” Jamie’s voice is distant, echoing off the cars.

Trevor responds by slamming his door and laying on the horn.

He pulls out of the garage, paying the toll, and finds his way to the highway. He’s heading north to Litchton and he’s got about an hour of interstate time before he pulls off and takes the winding mountain roads the rest of the way.

Trevor spends all of that time trying to stop thinking about Honey. He plays his music and sings out loud. He rolls his windows down and lets the wind wash over his face, messing up his hair in every direction. He even tries out an audiobook, which he hates, and turns it off within five minutes of starting it.

The drive goes by faster than he thinks it will, or maybe it’s just getting easier each time he does it.

Trevor feels a little bit like he does every time he heads back to Anaheim after the summer now that Jamie’s gone. The feeling never changes, even though he’s gotten better at managing it. It’s pure melancholy– knowing that he won’t see Jamie again for so long. It’s like when he leaves the Hughes boys or Cole, or even worse, when he visits home for a while and has to leave his family behind.

Trevor pulls into the driveway of the rental house, leaving the car running while he heads inside to grab his book.

He knows just the cure for this weird mood that he’s found himself in.

Honey.

From the kitchen, Luke asks Trevor what he’s doing, but Trevor pays him no mind. He’s busy. Once he’s got his book in his hand, he’s walking back out the door and taking off in the car.

He plows past Quinn, who is pulling back into the driveway after spending the night with Bea. That’s the best news yet for Trevor– if Quinn is only just now getting home from Bea’s place, then Bea is still getting ready to go to The Reading Nook. There’s a good chance that Honey is alone.

Trevor has to get there first– he has to talk to Honey without a crutch. He’s going to convince her that he’s worth it. He just has to be less… direct. The commitment to Trevor is what’s scaring Honey, he can tell, and her fear is the one thing that’s really holding them back.

After almost a month on the mountaintop, Trevor feels comfortable enough to take the curves up the mountain the same way Honey does, loose and fast. He makes it up the mountain in record time and pulls into the grocery store parking lot, but walks the opposite way.

He approaches The Reading Nook and finds the front of the store mostly empty. There are a few adults wandering around, but he doesn’t see Honey.

Trevor follows the echo of voices to the back of the store, through the stacks to the cozy children’s reading area, where Honey is perched on a stool with a short picture book in hand. There are about fifteen kids of different ages crowded around her, all giving her their rapt attention as she reads the story.

The book is familiar to Trevor– he was about the same age as these kids when his teacher read this book to his class for the first time. He doesn’t remember the name of the book, or the message, but he remembers the image of the dark-haired girl’s skin turning into rainbow stripes. Trevor’s face twists at the mention of lima beans, but he quickly realizes that he just forgot about that very important (and absurd) detail.

Honey hasn’t noticed him yet– she’s making faces at the children and doing different voices for each character. She’s making the toddlers giggle and the school-aged kids howl. Her nose is almost constantly scrunched up, accompanying a smile, and it’s infectious.

Trevor crosses his arms against his chest and leans on the edge of one of the stacks, admiring Honey. He’s hidden among the parents, smiling a little at the anonymity. In his mind, he’s acting out a movie scene where he’s waiting to pick his girlfriend up for a date and she’s running late because she’s nurturing the youth of the town. Trevor imagines Honey’s face lighting up when she spots him. He imagines Honey wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss when he approaches.

The real thing is not quite as romantic.

As Honey is closing the book, wiggling her eyebrows at the kids and laughing a little when they whine and beg for another story, she scans the faces of the parents around Trevor. When she spots him, he gives her a little wave, and her mouth straightens into a thin line. It’s the only indication that she’s seen him because she just keeps looking around the room.

There’s a little boy kneeling in front of her, pulling at her skirt and pouting when she waves him off.

“Luca, I’m not Bea,” Honey teases. “I’m a one story kind of girl and you got a long one today.” She taps his nose with a smile, which causes the little boy to giggle and grab at her fingers.

“It’s a shame, you know,” the mom next to Trevor says. “He loves it when she reads.”

“She’s entertaining,” Trevor agrees, not sure why she’s talking to him.

“Is this your first time at Story Time? I don’t think I’ve met you before. I’m Jessie,” the woman says, sticking her hand out for Trevor to shake. “Luca is mine. Which one is yours?”

Trevor shakes her hand, but lets out a relieved breath. “Trevor. I’m not a dad. I’m just here to drop my book off and I didn’t see Honey up at the counter.”

Jessie laughs. “Is Bea still not here? She used to be so much better about being here on time. It’s not like her to miss Story Time.”

“I think something came up,” Trevor covers, knowing full well that Bea and Quinn were tied up in the sheets until the early hours of the morning.

“I was 22 once,” Jessie says, a smile curving her lips.

“Mmm, and I heard rumors that you and Tyler used to drink at the water tower when you were 16,” Honey interrupts, sidling up next to Jessie and Trevor. The little boy, Luca, is attached to her side, hugging her thigh with one arm and sucking his thumb with the other. “So I can’t imagine the trouble you got up to at 22, Jessie.”

“A lady never kisses and tells,” Jessie replies, leaning in to press a kiss on Honey’s cheek. “Thank you for the amazing performance, as always. Luca wishes you would read more often. He misses you.”

“He barely has time to miss me now that his Mommy stays at home with him,” Honey says fondly. She reaches down to ruffle Luca’s hair and puts her hands under his armpits to lift him up. She sets the boy on her hip and presses a kiss to his forehead before handing him off to Jessie.

Jessie takes her son and sets him on her own hip. Luca wiggles in her grasp, reaching for Honey. He whines, lower lip wobbling when his mom won’t let him go back to Honey. “Maybe Honey can come hang out with you sometime soon,” Jessie soothes her son. She looks to Honey. “Mommy and Dad can go out to dinner.”

Honey giggles, cooing as she reaches to wipe the fat tears from the corners of Luca’s eyes. “I’d be happy to babysit my favorite little man. Just call me when you decide on a date night and I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, Honey.” Jessie bounces Luca on her hip. “Say bye to Honey, baby.”

Still pouting, Luca raises his hand and waves. It’s less of a wave and more just the toddler flopping his wrist around so his hand moves, but Honey returns the wave nonetheless.

“Nice meeting you, Trevor,” Jessie calls as she walks away. Luca turns in her arms and his big eyes peer at Honey for as long as they can. She’s smiling at the boy until he and his mother are out of eyesight, then she turns to Trevor.

“What do you want?” Honey asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

It never fails to impress Trevor how quickly she can turn on and turn off her charm. Not that he’s not charmed by this. He’s always charmed by Honey, even when she’s being mean.

“I’m here to return my book,” Trevor explains, lifting the item so she can see the cover. “Or buy it, I haven’t decided yet.”

“You can’t buy it,” Honey says in a monotone voice.

“Why not?”

“Because I said so.” She walks off toward the counter and Trevor follows.

“That’s a stupid reason.”

“Well, it’s a stupid reason for a stupid person. Fitting.”

“Hey,” Trevor laments.

Honey looks up at him, sliding onto her stool behind the counter. She holds her palm out, ready for Trevor to balance the book on the surface. “Give me the book.”

Trevor holds onto the book with both of his hands, frowning at Honey. “No,” he replies. “Ask nicely. You��re being mean.”

“I could be a lot meaner,” Honey says, pointedly glaring at Trevor as she snatches the book from his grasp. She types something on the computer, then slides the book onto a cart behind her. When she turns around, she folds her hands on the counter and stares at Trevor. “Do you want your receipt?”

Trevor makes a face. “No, I don’t want my receipt. What–”

“Good. Get out.”

Trevor’s mouth is agape. He’s staring at Honey in bewilderment. “I thought Jamie talked to you.”

“He did.”

Trevor flounders, trying to think of a response for her curt, two-word sentence. It’s barely even a sentence! It doesn’t even have a predicate! He fails to think of an answer and stands uselessly at the counter, unmoving in front of Honey.

Honey waits. She watches him. They’re still for a good minute, just looking at each other until Honey pulls a book out from under the counter and opens it. She flips to a page about a quarter of the way through and begins to read.

Trevor is still standing in front of her.

The store has cleared out for the most part. A few children and parents are still in the kids section and an older woman is sitting at one of the tables near the back room, flipping through her own book.

Trevor leans down, crossing his arms and leveling himself against the counter. He sets his chin on his hands and waits for Honey to look at him.

“What are you doing?” She asks, barely glancing at him before turning the page and cocking her head to the side, paying extra attention to the new words on the left side of her book.

“I’m hanging out with you.”

“Why?” Honey’s lip curls in judgment and she scoffs.

“Because you cheer me up, and the boys wouldn’t get it.”

“The boys wouldn’t get what?” Her eyes linger on him a little longer this time before returning to her book.

“They won’t be sad that Jamie left, but I know you are. We can be miserable together,” Trevor says, batting his eyelashes at Honey.

She just looks him up and down, then pushes his arms off the counter.

Trevor straightens up. “C’mon, Honey. It’s hard to be apart from your friends, especially if they’re more like family. I was just hoping to see you.”

“Because seeing me makes you feel better,” Honey adds, unimpressed. She glares at Trevor for a moment, then turns to the next page of her book.

“I like hanging out with you. It’s easy to forget my problems when you’re around.”

“Good line.”

“It’s not a line, it’s actually how I feel.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize you were so in tune with your emotions.”

“You, of all people, should know that I’m a big fan of following the heart.”

“I couldn’t possibly care less about your heart, Trev–”

There’s a rustle of paper and a thud as the older lady sets her book down. “Honey,” she snaps.

Honey lights up at the interruption, looking over to the woman. “Yes, Ada?”

“Put the poor boy out of his misery,” Ada scolds, a tilted frown on her face. “You’re not helping him.”

“Ada–” Honey tries.

The woman raises her hand. “I don’t want to hear it. One of your friends is upset and you’re being rude to him.”

“I promise you, he’s not–” Honey says, but she’s interrupted again.

“I want you to take the day off tomorrow and spend it with him.” Ada nods at Trevor, then continues. “Because we spread kindness in this town. We do not perpetuate another person’s misery.”

Honey ducks her head. “Yes, ma’am,” she grumbles.

Ada picks her book back up and flips through the pages. “Now I’ve lost my page,” she complains. “Consider how Christ would view your actions, Honey, and how they affect others around you.”

Honey gawks at the woman, affronted and angry, shown by the tilt of her eyebrows. She snaps her jaw shut and looks up to the sky, thoughts racing behind her eyes and through her mind.

Trevor’s got an amused little smile on his face, but he wipes it from his expression before Honey can spot it.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” Honey snaps. “Bea will text you the directions. We’re hiking up Stone Mountain. It’s an hour drive from here. I’ll meet you there at ten. Don’t be late, or else I’m starting the hike without you.”

“Do you want me to bring a sandwich for you?” Trevor asks, careful not to argue with Honey. He remembers Jamie packing a lunch for Honey and he wants to do the same– maybe if he recreates Jamie’s hike, then he’ll have the same success.

Honey looks at him with disdain. “I’ll pack my own. Thanks. Go away.”

Ada hums, but doesn’t look up.

Honey cuts her eyes at the older woman, but plasters a smile on her face when her eyes return to Trevor’s. She turns her charm on, just for appearances. “Thank you for visiting The Reading Nook. Feel free to come back anytime.”

Her voice is sweet, customer service-y, but she’s glaring at Trevor and shaking her head ‘no’ as she says the words. She does not want him to return.

Trevor most certainly will be back, if only to plant a smacker on Honey’s boss and thank her for the set-up. “See you tomorrow, Honey.”

“Yep.”

Trevor walks away, but he catches another scolding from Ada to Honey as he walks away. It sounds like Ada wants Honey to attend church this Sunday.

Maybe he can convince Bea to bring him and the other boys along.

26:90 – HONEY

She’s standing at the trailhead, next to the information board. Honey’s been here a thousand times, the view at the top of the mountain being one of her favorites in all of western North Carolina, and Trevor is late. It’s 10:11 and she told him to be on time or else she would start without him. It was an empty threat, but now she’s really considering it.

Honey’s phone rings in her bag and she has to scramble to dig it out.

“Hello?” She asks, not glancing at the screen. There are only a few people that have her number and would know that she’s off work today. Those people are Ada and Bea– and Honey is pretty sure Ada isn’t calling her.

“Trevor wants to know where you are.” Bea’s voice is choppy due to the service being so finicky in this area.

“What? I’m at the trailhead. Right next to the sign. He doesn’t see me?” Honey asks, searching the parking lot. She raises a hand above her hand and waves. “I’m waving. Tell him to look for the girl who’s waving.”

“I don’t have two phones,” Bea snaps. “How am I meant to talk to you both at the same time?”

“Yes, you do,” Honey scoffs. Of course Bea has two phones– she’s at work right now. She can use the store phone to call Trevor and relay the message. “Use the phone at the Nook.”

Bea groans into the phone. “That’s so much work. Are you sure I can’t just give him your number?”

“Absolutely, I’m sure! What the fuck?” Honey exclaims, covering her eyes with her hand. “I told you no.”

“Okay, well, I didn’t listen. I already gave it to him, but he wanted me to call you first.”

Honey opens her mouth, a snarl rising up her throat.

“Have fun with your loverboy!” Bea laughs a little as she hangs up, the dial tone ringing in Honey’s ear.

Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and scowls to herself, closing her eyes and looking up to the sky to calm herself. Bea has been on her nerves lately. Honey understands that the girl wants what’s best for Honey, but good God– does she have to meddle so much?

The phone starts to ring in her hand, a (914) number flashing across the screen. Honey stares at it, letting the phone ring a few times before she answers it.

“Hello?” She asks as she answers, annoyed.

“Honey? It’s Trevor.”

“I figured.”

“Where are you? I’m at the trailhead.”

Honey blinks, then looks around her. “No, you’re not. I’m at the trailhead.”

“No, you’re not? I don’t see you.”

Honey looks at the information sign next to her. She reads the location in her head, then it dawns on her. She winces, covering her eyes with her hand again. “Are you in the upper parking lot?” She wipes her face, then her hand drops to her hip. “Look at the sign next to you.”

Trevor is silent on the other end of the call. After a moment, his sheepish voice fills Honey’s ear. “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Honey sighs. “This is Bea’s fault. I’ll come to you.”

“No, I’ll come to you!” Trevor corrects, sounding like he’s already jogging back to his car. “Don’t move an inch. I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up, leaving Honey standing next to the lower trailhead. She’s lucky that no one really wants to hike the five-mile loop that Honey chose, especially not in the summer, otherwise there would be a constant stream of people passing her while she waits for her date.

Not that it’s a date. She’s being forced.

Trevor is racing across the parking lot towards Honey before she knows it, catching her hand in his as he approaches and panting out an apology. “I didn’t know there were two different trailheads,” he says.

Honey pulls her hand away. “It’s okay. Bea should’ve told you.”

Unable to take a hint, Trevor just grins. “Well, now you have my number. We can just talk directly.”

“I already had your number. I don’t want to talk to you directly. That’s why I made you go through Bea,” Honey tells him, turning her back and starting up the trail.

Trevor follows after her, quickly falling into step next to Honey. “You already had my number?”

Honey hums, nodding. “Bea gave it to me.”

“Why didn’t you use it?” Trevor wonders.

“Because I didn’t want to.” Honey adjusts her bag on her shoulders. She keeps her fingers wrapped around the straps as she walks, just in case Trevor does something stupid like try to hold Honey’s hand.

“Honey, I really think you should just give me a chance–”

“Do you run, Trevor?” Honey asks, cutting him off.

“Not really. I’ll do sprints and stuff on the ice, but I’m not really a runner,” Trevor replies, making a confused face at Honey. “I broke my–”

“Cool.” Honey tightens the straps of her bag and looks down to make sure her shoelaces are double-knotted. “Race you to the peak. Just follow the trail.”

She takes off, putting distance between herself and Trevor. Honey hasn’t run consistently in a while, but she’s able to manage her breath well enough to run the two miles to the stone top of the mountain. Trevor plods along after her, but she loses him about a mile into the run.

Honey catches her breath once she breaks through the trees and steps onto the clearing of the peak. The stone is ashy and dry, but the different shades of stone across the face of the mountain give off the appearance of a waterfall.

Honey reaches into her bag and takes out her camera, looking through the viewfinder to capture the skyline. She takes a few pictures, even balances her camera on a rock to set up her own timer picture. Finally, she hears the pounding of feet against ground coming up the trail and she turns her camera on the entrance to the clearing.

She captures Trevor’s final moments in quick succession– the relief that the run is finally over, the way his breath continues to run away from him even as his feet slow, and the annoyance washing over his face at the sound of Honey’s laughter.

He stalks toward her, grimacing noticeably when he steps out with his left foot. Honey dances away from him, evading his grasp and snapping pictures as she goes, giggling at his annoyance. The more Honey steps away from Trevor, the harder he tries to catch her, and the harder it is for him to keep a smile from making its way onto his face.

Honey documents the whole thing– the transformation of his gaze from irritated to playful, the growing curve of his lips into a fuckass smile and a laugh, and the final moment when he snatches the camera out of her hand.

Trevor turns the lens on her, snapping away and getting all up in her face. She pushes him, and the camera, away when she notices him trying to zoom in up her nostrils. He’s so fucking weird.

Honey takes the camera back from him and tucks it into her bag, swapping the item for her lunch. It’s a little crumpled up from the time in her bag, but the food is still good. She reaches for her peach, looking to snack on the sweet fruit. She pauses when her hand brushes against the second peach she packed– the peach that she packed for Trevor.

“You know, you were right the other day,” Trevor says.

Honey can hear just how feigned his nonchalance is from the second he opens his mouth. He’s thought this moment out, probably reenacted an idealized version in the shower yesterday, but he’s still hesitant to say anything.

“I really haven’t spent enough time trying to get to know you.”

Honey’s head snaps up, eyes fixing on Trevor. That’s not what she expected him to say. She doesn’t know where she thought this was going, but it wasn’t here.

“I want to know you, you know?” Trevor continues with a shrug. “I don’t want to have you around just to have you around. I want to know everything about you.”

Bea’s voice echoes in Honey’s ears. “I want him to be open with me. I want to talk to him about everything.” The realization washes over Honey like a spill soaking into a paper towel. She feels sticky, a result of the understanding, and a little panicked. Trevor likes me the way Bea likes Quinn.

Honey ducks her head and studies the peach in her hand. It’s fuzzy and prickly against her fingertips, grating against the grooves of her fingerprints. She turns it over, moving the fruit from one hand to the other. It’s mostly red, dark and ripe. It’s got a bruise near the bottom and the stem is still intact. Honey picks it, twisting until it comes free, and she flicks it away.

Trevor keeps talking. Honey is barely listening, but he captures her attention again with an apology.

“I’m sorry I haven’t put more time into getting to know you– I was caught up in how I felt about you. It’s kind of shallow, but I think I didn’t try hard enough to talk to you because I felt like I already knew you.”

Honey stares at him, lips parted. They’re growing dry with each ragged breath she draws in, but she can’t speak.

“I feel… tied to you. You’re special,” Trevor explains, finally floundering over himself. Honey expects that he didn’t think he would get this far. “I’ve never had to try to prove myself to someone before, and I probably should’ve given up by now, but I just… I like you so much, Honey. I feel like I can’t lose you, and I don’t even have you yet.”

“You don’t even know me,” Honey says, a weak defense.

“That’s my problem,” Trevor agrees. “I haven’t even tried.”

“No, you haven’t.” Honey’s voice is far away, indicative of the mess of flames and smoke swirling around in her head.

“Will you let me get to know you?” Trevor asks. He has stepped forward, closing in on Honey, and the hem of her t-shirt has found its way between his thumb and index finger. He’s just feeling the fabric, unaware that he’s keeping her from stepping away with his featherlight touch. His mouth quirks at the edges and he gives her shirt a little tug. “I’m desperate,” he adds in the wake of Honey’s silence, looking a little amused at his own words.

Honey tears her eyes away from the pinched fabric between his fingers. She lets her bottom lip drop from between her teeth, an unconscious reaction to Trevor’s words that she finally recognized and corrected before she drew blood. Her hands are shaking, so Honey tightens her grip on her peach and clamps the fingers of her other hand on her wrist.

Trevor notices, of course he does.

“I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready,” he says, dropping his hand to his side. Honey misses the weight of it already. “I really will take anything you want to give me, Honey.”

“I can’t date you,” Honey says. “I can’t do that.”

“If I asked why, would you tell me?” Trevor prods delicately.

Honey shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Is it because of me?” Trevor asks, some reluctance seeping onto his face. He looks down and scuffs his shoes against the stone face of the mountain. “Is it because I’m in the NHL?”

Honey shakes her head.

Trevor barely catches the movement, only looking up at Honey when her silence stretches too long. “It’s not me?” He asks, his features softening.

Honey could cry. His concern, his relief, his overwhelming and obvious desire for her, and his ability to just come out and say it is too much. She lets out a breath, reaching out to pinch the hem of Trevor’s shirt the same way he held hers. She tugs him closer and Trevor comes easily, tilting his head and raking his eyes over her features in admiration. He brings a hand up to her jaw, thumbing over her cheek.

“It’s not you,” Honey tells him quietly. “I’m just… stuck.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor asks, matching her pitch. He traces the collar of her shirt.

“I moved to Litchton five years ago after some stuff happened in my hometown. It wasn’t pretty and I kind of, you know… swore off dating and everyone from Charlotte except Bea,” Honey explains, ducking her head to the side and sighing in the middle of her sentence. “So I can’t date you, Trevor. I’m not there.”

“We don’t need to date,” Trevor assures her. He pauses, then rolls his eyes and cringes. He forces his next words out, an edge cutting into his voice. “We can be friends if that’s what you want.”

“Oh my God, I hate you,” Honey sighs. “Obviously I don’t want to be your friend, Trevor.”

“Yeah, for a second I forgot that you hate me,” Trevor says. He twists his lips with an exaggerated “ugh,” then smiles at Honey. “I was thinking about the blowjob. It’s very hard to think you hate me when you’re swallowing my cum.”

Honey scoffs, clenching her jaw. “Fuck off.”

Trevor hums, pouting at her. “What do you want from me?”

She takes a deep breath, then glares at him through her eyelashes. She reaches into her bag and pulls out the second peach, dropping it in Trevor’s hand. “I want sex.”

“Now?” Trevor exclaims, looking around. There’s no one on the peak with them, but Honey shushes him anyway.

“Not now, you moron,” she chastises. “Why would we have sex now?”

“That’s a really good question,” Trevor says. He points at Honey, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. I was just excited that you said that.”

Honey laughs and shakes her head. “Just sit down and eat your peach, Trevor.”

He nods, a big goofy smile on his face. Trevor plops down right where he stands, reaching for Honey’s hand and tugging her down to sit next to him. “Thank you for the peach.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So you were thinking about me,” Trevor teases. “Are you still ovulating?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Honey snaps, rubbing a hand over her face so that he can’t see the smile on her face. She only takes her hand away once her face smoothens itself out and she can look at him without blushing.

Trevor bites into his fruit and chews, watching Honey with an amused glint in his eyes. “Tell me more about you,” Trevor prompts through a mouthful.

“Well, for starters, I don’t like it when guys talk with food in their mouth,” Honey announces.

“Mm, I guess I’m out of the running.” Trevor leans against Honey, taking another bite.

Honey rolls her eyes, an unimpressed smirk taking over her mouth. “Just… shut up and I’ll tell you my favorite movie.”

Trevor lights up, then makes a show of zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. He bites his bottom lip and scoots closer, their knees touching.

Honey doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t tell him anything substantive about her life either. Trevor doesn’t push her, although he does ask her a few questions that she has to shake her head at– the first: the names of all the people who made her want to leave Charlotte, the second: if he could lick the peach juice off her lips, just to name two examples. He’s frustrating and annoying and a loser, but Honey would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy herself. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t like Trevor’s company.

He tells her about his family on the way down the mountain. She tells him about how she doesn’t talk to her parents anymore. He tells her about his teammates and reveals a few embarrassing stories from the years he spent with the Hughes boys and Cole. Honey tells him about the times she and Bea would go out in the city and she’d hustle the pool players while Bea found a date. He tells her about how he broke his ankle this past year, and for a moment, Honey feels bad about making him run up the mountain after her. Then she remembers that he has her phone number now and he will certainly abuse that privilege, so she gets over her guilt quickly. Trevor talks about his life and Honey talks about hers– despite their differences, Honey likes hearing about his life as an athlete in California. It’s a side of life that she’s never heard about before.

About halfway through the hike, Trevor’s hand brushes against Honey’s and she almost reaches to intertwine their fingers. She can barely hold back.

When they make it back to the parking lot, Trevor walks Honey to her car. He tries to open the door for her, but it’s locked, so Honey laughs at him a little bit. He pinches her hip for laughing, then swats her keys out of her hand to unlock the vehicle himself. He successfully opens the door for her and hands her keys back, then leans against the vehicle, blocking Honey from shutting the door.

“Will you come over tomorrow?” Trevor asks.

“I think Bea already invited us over, so I’ll probably make an appearance.” Honey keeps her voice light, aloof.

Trevor is unimpressed, frowning at her. “How can I get you to promise to come over?”

Honey mulls the question over, taking extra time before she responds just to make Trevor squirm a little. “Can you promise me something?” She asks as an answer to Trevor’s question.

“Anything,” Trevor vows, sincere in his words.

“I don’t want anyone to know about this. How am I supposed to maintain my street cred if I suddenly act like we’re friends?”

Trevor chuckles a little, leaning down to press his lips to Honey’s cheek. They’re soft, but his skin is growing a tad bit scratchy. He must not have shaved this morning. “Whatever you want,” he says. “I promise to keep my mouth shut.”

“Then I promise to come over tomorrow,” Honey says with a smile. “Now, get away from my car before I run over your foot.”

“Yes ma’am,” Trevor drawls, raising his hands in surrender and stepping back.

Honey reaches out and closes the driver’s side door, hitting the lock button out of instinct. Trevor hears the click and frowns at her, his eyebrows scrunched together. Honey rolls her eyes then waves goodbye, pulling out of her parking spot and heading home.

Trevor passes her on the highway ten minutes later and Honey can’t have that, so they race the rest of the way to Litchton.

She wins. Obviously.

27:90 – TREVOR

“Stop texting me!!! I’m at work!!!”

This morning, Trevor grinned at his phone. “I only texted you once and all I did was ask what you’ve got on today”

“& I’m not answering that! Stop being a creep! I can’t stand you”

“Ok, so sit down. Can’t a guy get to know a girl over text?”

“I am not telling you what I’m wearing. Do not sext me at work.”

“Whoa, whoa. I only asked what you’ve got on. Got GOING on. You’re a dirty girl, Honey.”

“Oh My God. What is your fucking problem?? Don’t make me block you, Trevor.”

“:(”

After the events of the hike yesterday, Trevor has been using and abusing Honey’s phone number. He texted her that he had gotten home safely last night, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a goodnight message, which she hadn’t replied to. He texted her a good morning, to which she gave a thumbs up. Taking that as a good sign, Trevor typed out a question of what Honey had going on today, but then giggled at the potential double entendre and sent “What have you got on today?” instead.

He thought it would get him a reaction and the rewards he was reaping were so, so sweet. Talking to Honey, no matter how angry she was, was a joy.

Trevor wants to do it all the time. He likes her so much.

It feels impossible, but Trevor is even more connected to Honey than before. He’s on a high and has been since she told him that her hesitance is not his fault.

The relief leaving his body was almost comparable with the feeling of Honey’s mouth around the head of his cock.

And once that image entered Trevor’s head, he was helpless. He couldn’t think of anything else all day. Honey is coming over tonight, and he’s been very, very hard since this morning.

It’s getting harder to hide from the boys, too. Trevor can only sit with a pillow halfway over his lap for so long before one of the four immature goons notices and starts to chirp.

Trevor has reread his texts with Honey no less than six times since he sent his final sad face– now that Honey’s shift is just under an hour from ending, Trevor thinks it’s time to send her another message.

“When are you coming over? I miss you” Trevor types, not hesitating for a moment before he hits send. He grins at his phone like a goof, then tucks it into his pocket when Jack looks his way. Trevor pulls the edge of the pillow up to hide his erection from the boy. He’s really got to get his dick under control before the girls show up. He stands, drawing the eyes of the boys.

“I’m going upstairs,” Trevor says. “Holler for me when the girls show up.”

Quinn snickers from the corner of the couch, his laughter breathy and quiet. Other than that, no one says anything, eyes glued on the television once again. Cole had turned on some reality show that Bea recommended, and all the boys are enraptured.

Trevor pads upstairs, tugging his shirt off as he enters his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed, face down, and groans into his pillow. He stretches his limbs, feeling the joints in his shoulders pop. With a sigh, he rolls his hips once against the mattress before turning over and palming his cock.

He scrolls on his phone for a while, mindlessly watching Instagram pictures load and clicking through stories. He fists his cock over his shorts, just holding the length. He glides his hand down to cup his balls and turns his phone off, shoving it under his pillow.

Trevor feels himself out, squeezing and releasing his cock every so often. He’s not quite stroking, at least not until Honey’s face pops into his head again.

“I want sex,” she had said the previous day. To say that Trevor was down for that was an understatement– sure, he wanted to be around Honey in more than a physical way, but he’d be an idiot if he pushed the topic. He’ll win Honey over eventually, but for now, he’ll just make her feel so good that she forgets she ever disliked him at all.

He can’t seem to decide which fantasy he wants to focus on while he takes care of his problem– it’s like every possible sexual encounter he could have with Honey is flashing through his mind at a rapid pace. He considers her hands, then her mouth, her tits, her pussy, over and over again, never deciding on one image as he starts to move his hand over his cock.

Trevor loses track of time and most of his clothes in the passing minutes. He’s only just wrapping his hand around his bare cock, imagining Honey’s soft lips against his own and her delicate fingers under his, when someone opens his bedroom door and gasps.

Trevor flinches, immediately scrambling to cover himself up with his blankets. “Dude!” Trevor exclaims, expecting to see one of the boys in his doorway. “Knock much?”

When he turns to face the intruder, Trevor pales when he sees that it’s Honey. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open, one hand frozen on the doorknob and the other covering her heart like she’s a grandmother clutching at her pearls.

“I’m so sorry,” Honey rushes out. “I was just coming up here to yell at you for being fucking annoying, I didn’t realize you were… occupied. I’m just gonna–”

She starts to turn, pulling the door behind her, but Trevor calls out her name to stop her.

“No, you should stay,” Trevor corrects. “After all, you’re here in my imagination. You might as well watch in real life.”

“Watch?” Honey snaps, incredulous. “Have you lost your mind?”

Trevor pushes the covers off his body, fisting his dick and stroking it back to full hardness after it had flagged a bit upon Honey’s original intrusion. It’s not difficult to get back to the point where Trevor was before she walked in, just the sight of her causing a chill to run up his spine. He bites his lip and groans when he swipes his thumb over his slit, spreading his precum over his tip.

Honey is still frozen, but her eyes are drawn to Trevor’s cock and her bottom lip has found its way between her teeth.

“Better yet,” Trevor continues, allowing his hand to stop moving and rest at his base. His cock jumps in his hand, seeking out more friction. “Why watch when you could help?”

Honey’s jaw drops again, blinking in surprise. “Help?” She repeats.

“You still want sex, don’t you?” Trevor asks. “You told me so.”

“I– well, yeah,” Honey says, stumbling over her words. She opens her mouth to say something else, but ends up shaking her head and shrugging.

“So come here,” Trevor beckons. “I don’t bite, unless you want me to. I was just thinking about how your fingers would feel on my cock. Will you show me?”

He starts to move his hand over his cock again, slowly. His skin slides against his palm, the glide that was harsh at first becoming more and more effortless as he continues to leak precum from his tip.

The shock of the moment has painted a pretty pink blush across Honey’s cheeks and her open mouth further exacerbates her dangerously attractive cheekbones, reminding Trevor of the way they looked when her lips were wrapped around his cock. Honey stays frozen, but Trevor can see that her nipples have grown hard and are pebbling against the fabric of her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra. Excellent.

“Honey,” Trevor says, waiting for her eyes to find his. “Please don’t make me ask again.”

Honey shakes her head. “No. Ask me again.” She takes a step forward, then another.

Trevor relents, watching her approach the end of the bed. “C’mere,” he pleads. “Come help me.”

Honey climbs onto the bed and crawls toward Trevor, running her hands up his thighs and sitting back on her heels between his legs. She runs her hands up over his hips, deliberately avoiding his groin in favor of feeling over his stomach and sides.

Trevor drops his cock, lacing his fingers behind his head. His member stands away from his hips, erect and twitching invitingly at Honey.

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor requests.

“No. We’re not elongating this any more than we need to. I’m going to make you come and then we’re going to go downstairs and I’m going to kick Luke’s ass at pool and you’ll try not to get hard again when you watch me bend over the table,” Honey replies, reaching for Trevor’s dick.

Trevor moans when Honey leans down and spits over the head of Trevor’s cock. He watches her saliva drip down his shaft and disappear between her fingers, acting as a sort of lube. She licks his tip like a kitten at a bowl of milk and moves her hand up and down, her grip on Trevor’s cock deliciously tight and practiced. Despite swearing off dating five years prior, it’s like Honey hasn’t lost any of her talent.

Trevor’s hips buck up into Honey’s hand when she circles her lips around his tip and suckles lightly. The tip of her tongue flicks over his slit, then lathers the skin around his cockhead. In this position, Trevor has a great view of the curve of Honey’s lower back, the waistband of her jean shorts pulling away from her skin and revealing the lavender underwear she’s hiding beneath her clothes. Trevor lets out a low whistle when his eyes trail further up her body, fixing on the tattoo marking the small of her back. He’s surprised he hasn’t noticed it before. It’s a dragonfly, surrounded by two branches of flowers. The tattoo is made up of thin but sweeping black lines and it’s so perfectly Honey that Trevor makes a mental note to ask her about it later.

“C’mon, Trev,” Honey goads. “People are going to start wondering what we’re up to. Hurry up.” Her hand speeds up, twisting over his shaft.

Trevor keens, pushing up into Honey’s grasp.

“It’s embarrassing how badly you want me,” Honey teases. “You’re so easy.”

“You’re so pretty,” Trevor replies, voice strangled and caught in his throat.

The pleased little smile that crosses Honey’s face makes his heart jump. She shakes her head at him fondly, then takes him back in her mouth. She hollows her cheeks, creating a vacuum around Trevor’s cockhead. She hums a little against him, the vibrations causing Trevor’s thighs to spasm. Her left hand soothes his quad, kneading the muscle with a scratch of her fingernails, and Trevor spills over her tongue.

Honey takes it all in her mouth like a champion, sitting back and swallowing, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. Trevor watches the line of her throat move with her swallow and he wishes that his refractory period was nonexistent so that he could fill her mouth again.

“Now that that’s over,” Honey says, shifting on her heels. She crawls up, straddling Trevor’s waist and hovering above him.

Trevor tilts his chin up and purses his lips.

Honey covers his mouth with her palm, effectively forcing him to kiss her palm, and glares at Trevor through narrowed eyes. She leans in close, making it almost impossible for Trevor to maintain eye contact.

“Do not fucking text me while I’m at work,” Honey says. “I mean it.”

She swings her legs to one side of his body, clambering off the bed and returning to the door. With one last look, Honey slips through the little crack of the door and shuts it behind her. Trevor hears her walking down the hall, then down the stairs.

He throws his head back against his pillow and covers his eyes with the bend of his elbow.

It takes him a few more minutes to catch his breath and move again. He washes his hands and goes to take a leak, replacing his boxers and shorts. He pulls a sweatshirt over his head, his favorite pink hoodie. He ties the strings into a cute little bow and leaves the hood over his hair, covering the mess beneath it that is, quite frankly, none of his business.

He just came in Honey’s mouth for a second time in a week– his hair is the least of his worries. It’s not even a worry at all. In fact, Trevor might never have another worry again.

When Trevor makes his way downstairs, he finds Honey in his line of vision immediately. She’s standing next to Luke as he lines up a shot, hoping to sink the maroon seven into the third pocket. Trevor only knows which pocket is which because Jack tried to show Quinn up last year with his technical billiards knowledge, considering he couldn’t beat Quinn until halfway through the summer.

Honey’s eyes are drawn to Trevor’s movement, away from Luke’s long fingers creating a good base for his shot. Almost unconsciously, her eyes are flooded with pride and the edge of a smile quirks her mouth before she looks away, focusing back on the pool game.

Luke takes his shot, but the ball bounces off the cushion next to the pocket. He groans, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe under his eyes. Honey pats his arm as he paces past her, evidently frustrated by his game.

Trevor looks to the table and finds that Honey only has a couple of striped targets left, while Luke has to sink four more shots if he wants to catch up to Honey. Having played against Honey before, Trevor is not confident in Luke’s ability.

When he looks to the leaderboard, Honey’s name is starred. She hasn’t played as many games as the other boys, but she’s undefeated. She’s beaten everyone except Bea, but it’s a no-brainer about who would win that fight.

Trevor spares one last glance at Honey before spilling across the loveseat. He lays for a minute, then turns over and gets comfortable. He pulls one hand up next to his head, using it as a pillow, and pulls his legs up toward his chest. He evaluates the room.

Quinn and Bea are sat in the plush recliner chair, sharing the small space. Bea has her legs thrown over Quinn’s lap, halfway seated on the arm of the chair. Quinn’s hand rests on Bea’s thigh, keeping her in place. She’s kissing over his neck and nuzzling into his side, letting her hands roam over his torso. Quinn catches Trevor watching them and fixes him with a hard stare, expression mostly unreadable. He’s mastered the art of the pokerface, but Trevor knows him well enough to know that his look is a warning.

Jack and Cole are standing up from the couch, Wii controllers in hand and pushing each other over to try and get Player 1. Both younger siblings, Trevor snorts at their stubborn desire to be in charge for once. They found the Wii yesterday while Trevor was out, tucked away in the closet where he received his first blowjob from Honey, on one of the highest shelves.

Cole immediately dug it out and went searching for games. So far, he’s only found Wii Sports, but that’s all they really need. Last night, Cole and Jack had boxed, and things had gotten so heated that Quinn had to ban boxing from the house. He even hid the nunchucks that were necessary to play the sport– so the rest of the boys were straight out of luck.

They’re pulling up a game of golf right now, which causes Bea to roll her eyes.

“You’re such boys,” she grumbles, lips pressed to Quinn’s cheek. “Golf is boring in real life. It’s even worse virtually. Can’t you play something good like bowling?”

Quinn chuckles a bit, pulling Bea closer. He wraps his arms around her waist and nips at her collarbone, causing the girl to shriek with a giggle. “I promise, if you come out on the course with me, I’ll teach you to like the game.”

Bea pushes him away, squirming on his lap until she finds a position where she’s comfortable. “You just want to get me in a little golf outfit so you can look at something pretty.”

“I will be looking at something pretty,” Quinn agrees. He leans in, pressing his forehead against hers and bumping their noses. He pecks her lips, brief and fleeting before he finishes his sentence. “The greens.”

Bea groans, tossing her head back. She goes to climb off of Quinn, but he holds her tightly on his lap and brings his mouth to her shoulder.

“Just imagine it,” he muses between kisses. “The smell of the freshly mown grass, the even blades, the sound of the club hitting the ball and the flag in the hole waving in the wind…”

“I can’t possibly think of a hole that you might be more interested in,” Bea deadpans, her bottom lip jutting out just a tad.

Quinn smiles, deciding to tug on Bea’s pouted lip with his teeth rather than deign her with an answer.

Trevor watches the exchange in disgust. The disgust transforms when he hears Honey whoop and gloat from the back of the room, evidently still undefeated. His gaze on Bea and Quinn softens a little bit, tinged with envy. Oh, how sweet it would be if Honey was sitting on his lap the way Bea is sitting on Quinn’s. He’s so jealous that he has to look away.

“Update that board, Lukey,” Honey teases, her voice cutting through the rest of the chatter like the beacon of a lighthouse.

Luke mimics her words, high-pitched and whiny the way only a younger sibling can sound, but reracks his cue and turns to the blackboard. He wipes Honey’s scores away with the dustrag that they repurposed into an eraser, then scrawls out a chicken-scratchy “6-0” next to her name. Next to his own, he erases the number of losses and replaces the number with one higher.

Honey beams at him, laying her stick along the table and walking around to gather all the balls from the pockets. She racks them up in a neat triangle, then leaves them immobile on the playing field. Honey joins the group, making herself comfortable on the corner cushion of the couch.

Luke plops down on the other end of the couch, closer to Trevor. Both pool players are studying the game on the screen with equal amounts of intensity, right thumbs pressed against their top lips and eyebrows drawn together in a tight pinch.

Trevor pulls his phone out of his pocket, chuckling to himself and types out a message.

“Look at Luke and Honey,” it reads.

Quinn pulls Bea’s phone out of his back pocket, glancing at the screen and making a face when he sees Trevor’s name flash across the screen. He eyes Trevor out of the side of his vision once Bea unlocks her phone and reads the message, tilting her screen so Quinn can see it.

They both look over at Luke and Honey, eyes flickering between the two, and Bea giggles. She presses her hand to her mouth, but the damage is done. Quinn turns back to look at her, eyes shining as he admires the girl sitting on top of him.

Trevor doesn’t know the details of his breakup, but he seems to be doing okay. Jack expected a whole lot worse, even briefed Trevor and Cole about the recent split during the drive down to Litchton, but none of them had expected to meet Bea and Honey.

It’s hard to be down in the dumps when there are people like them around.

Honey’s hand drops, dangling over the edge of the arm of the couch. “What?” She asks, apprehensive and skeptical. She glares at Bea, frown etched deeply on her face. There’s a little crease between her brows and Trevor itches to soothe it with a kiss. “What?” Honey repeats, looking around.

Luke is unperturbed, sitting in the same position and watching Jack putt the virtual golf ball. He laughs out a breath when Jack misses, grinning against his thumb.

Honey seems to recognize the pose immediately, making a face at Bea when the girl giggles again.

Quinn adjusts Bea on his lap, spreading his legs so there’s more room for her to sit in his arms. She’s practically cradled in his lap, legs no longer thrown over his lap but over the edge of the chair.

Honey sticks her tongue out at Bea, then returns to the screen.

The sun has started to set by the time Jack and Cole’s game ends and they’re almost in complete darkness once Bea has beaten Honey in bowling.

Trevor gets a kick out of seeing Honey lose– only because he’s never seen this side of her before. She’s competitive and she likes to win, so when she loses, she sulks the same way that Quinn does. Bea, to rub in her win, grabs Honey by her cheeks and plants a loud kiss on her nose. She overexaggerates a “mwah” and pinches Honey’s skin. Honey is blushing and pushing Bea away, wiping the kiss off of her nose.

“You are such a sore winner,” Honey chastises, crossing her arms over her chest.

“At least I’m not a loo-hoo-za-her,” Bea replies, wiggling her finger in Honey’s face like Ace Ventura. She spins and beams at Quinn, crawling back onto his lap and pushing her fingers through his hair.

Trevor isn’t sure that Quinn has told Bea that he’s getting a haircut before the Awards next week– or if he’s told her about the Awards at all. Trevor does know that Bea will be heartbroken when Quinn’s long hair is cropped back to a Catholic-school length and she can’t twirl the strands between her fingers as easily.

Honey blows a raspberry at Bea. She turns to walk toward the basement bathroom, evidently forgetting that it’s being occupied by Cole, and has to redirect upstairs.

Trevor misses her as soon as she disappears up the stairs and out of sight.

Luke sets out to try and get a perfect score in bowling, but gets distracted making a Mii of himself. It takes far too long and Luke defends himself when Jack chirps him for trying to make his Mii’s body less like a stick than he actually is, which is when he rushes through the rest of his design to get to the game. He scores two strikes in a row, then restarts the game upon only hitting eight pins in his third frame.

He’s less successful the second time. And the third. On his fourth try, he gets a third strike in a row, but then loses momentum.

And Jack is getting antsy, itching to prove that he can do better.

He usurps the Wii, and Trevor realizes that Cole returned from the bathroom a few minutes ago, but Honey has not.

Trevor frowns. She can’t have gotten lost in the house since she’s been here enough times to know the layout and she’s certainly capable of going to the bathroom on her own. She should be back by now. He should go check on her.

“Anybody want a drink?” Trevor asks, rolling off the loveseat and catching himself before he hits the floor, straightening up. He stands still for only a moment before taking off towards the stairs, not allowing anyone to affirm or deny his request. He’s not bringing them drinks. He doesn’t care about that– all he wants is to go find Honey and see what’s taking her so long.

He scampers up the stairs, a baseball cap hitting him squarely in the back as he goes, probably a result of Cole wanting a drink and Trevor running away before he could say so. Trevor laughs a little as he goes and as soon as he makes it up to the kitchen, it’s evident where Honey has found herself.

The balcony door is cracked open and her back is to Trevor. She’s leaning over the rail, looking up towards the night sky.

Trevor pauses, watching her.

Her hair falls freely over her shoulders, cascading down her back. It’s messy, windswept in a movie-star way. Her jean shorts are doing that gap thing again, showing off the dimples at the base of Honey’s spine and the tramp stamp– her mouth-watering tramp stamp– decorating her skin. Her hip is popped to one side and she looks good enough to eat.

She was right, too. Trevor has to make a very concentrated effort not to get hard while watching her bend over.

He approaches the door and slides it open. “Hey,” Trevor says softly. “What are you doing out here?”

Honey jumps at the sound of him, but she calms down and returns to her original position in an instant. “You’ve got a lovely view out here.”

Trevor sidles up next to her, bumping her hip with his own before settling in. He looks up to the sky.

Honey swallows, clearing her throat. “Do you get to see the stars like this in California?”

Trevor’s heart flutters with the question. She’s asking me about myself. She’s asking me about California. She cares. “I live outside of LA,” he explains. “So there’s a lot of light pollution. The stars are harder to come by.”

“Oh,” Honey says, sounding disappointed.

“Which is why this is so nice,” Trevor adds. “Up here, you can see everything. I’ve been learning the constellations because of that book. It’s really cool.”

“What got you interested in space?” Honey asks.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of like hockey for me. I always loved it.” Trevor shrugs. “When I went to Boston for college, I was an astronomy major, but I went to the NHL before I got to take any of the really cool classes.”

“So that’s why you’ve been looking for books.” Honey looks at Trevor for a moment, locking eyes with him for a split second, then she turns back to the sky.

It’s dark, but her face is lit up by the moon and the stars are reflecting in her eyes. They’re dimmer than normal due to the clouds rolling in from the west, dark and threatening. They seem far away. A strand of hair falls into her face, distracting Trevor, and his fingers twitch with the desire to sweep it back behind her ear, but Honey gets to it first.

Trevor looks up. “I think some of it has to do with all the Greek myths attached to the constellations, too,” he murmurs. “I think it’s really cool that the Ancient Greeks were able to see all of their stories in the stars. Plus, I’m Greek, so I guess I feel connected.”

Honey hums, considering his words.

They fall into an easy silence for a while, surveying the sky. Every so often, Trevor watches Honey from his peripheral. He catches her looking at him twice, and both times, they each blush and look away.

Trevor fixes on one of his favorite constellations– Cygnus, partially covered by a sprinkling of smaller rainclouds. It’s on his list of favorites because it took him so long to find and he’s proud that he was able to do so. Cygnus depicts a swan, who represents Zeus. He reaches his finger out and tries to point the constellation out to Honey.

“See there? That bright star separate from the others?” Trevor asks, pointing at the twinkle of light.

Honey furrows her brow and tilts her head, trying to line Trevor’s finger up with the star he’s pointing at. “No,” she replies.

“Here.” Trevor stands behind Honey, bringing his hand up and pointing so that she can look down his arm like a scope. Honey leans against his arm, one of her eyes squeezed shut. “There’s Deneb, which is the tail. It’s so bright because it has the power of more than sixty thousand suns. Isn’t that cool?” He drags his finger across the sky to another two major stars in the constellation, spreading his fingers in a peace sign to point them both out at once. “And there’s Xi and Albireo. Albireo is the swan’s beak and if I had a telescope, I’d be able to show you that it’s actually a star that glows blue and yellow.” Trevor unfolds his palm and sweeps it across the sky, drawing the path of Cygnus’s wings. “And those little stars are the swan’s wings. He’s flying across the sky for all eternity. I think that’s really cool.”

Trevor stands, proud of himself, admiring the constellation and his explanation. It takes him a moment to realize that Honey has turned in front of him.

When he does, he only has a second to take her in. That second of time suspends when his eyes meet hers. He can feel her breath puffing against his lips. Her back is pressed against the railing and Trevor is so close to her that he can feel her heat radiating outward and reaching for him. Honey’s eyes are big and wide, thoughtful.

Then she leans in and kisses Trevor.

Her lips are soft, just like they were when he kissed her in the closet. She tastes sweet, but not like any food Trevor has ever tasted before. He can’t pinpoint it– it’s just Honey.

Trevor barely registers Honey’s hands sliding into his hair, curling the strands around her fingers. He’s too busy reaching for her waist and pulling her close. Her skin is burning under his fingers and Trevor slides his right hand around to her back, resting his palm against the tattoo he discovered just earlier today.

When Honey’s hips press against his, her torso brushing against his, Trevor allows his left hand to rise. He brushes over her collarbone, then up to her jaw.

Honey’s fingers tug on his hair and Trevor groans, which is when she licks over his bottom lip and into his mouth.

And he thought he was giving his all to avoid a boner before. That effort is nothing compared to this one.

One of Honey’s hands leaves Trevor’s hair, finding his chest. She presses her palm against his shirt, between his pecs, and Trevor is sure that she can feel his heart pounding. All the while, she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Trevor crowds into her space more at that thought, taking charge of the kiss. His hand slips from her jaw, resting at the base of Honey’s neck.

And in a beautiful turn of events, she whimpers.

Trevor could bottle the sound up and put it in a safe for the rest of time. The breathy sigh only spurs him on and suddenly his teeth are clinking against hers with the ferocity of his movements. Like an electric shock, Honey breaks the kiss.

Trevor wishes he could take a picture of her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her gaze is a little foggy, focused on his lips until she blinks the confusion away. She sucks in a breath when she looks up at Trevor and her lips are plump, still parted like they’re seeking his own.

Trevor stands still, not even daring to let out a breath lest it scares her away. He watches her expression go from dreamy to concentrated, and he’s ready to step away, but her fingers clench in his hair and she pulls him back in.

The kiss is not sweet by any means. Honey pulls Trevor’s hand back to her throat, then her hands pull at the fabric of his shirt. She tugs him close, making an indignant keen when he’s slow to move. Trevor is stunned, but the noise snaps him out of it. Her fingers are impatient, tapping against his sides, and Trevor springs forward.

His hand caresses the column of her neck, feeling all of her little noises rise up and vibrate through her vocal chords. His other hand dips lower, under the gap her jean shorts created. His fingertips dip under the lavender band of her underwear, but they stop there, just teasing her. Honey rolls her hips against Trevor’s cock, totally not erect at all, obviously, and they break apart again.

Honey looks much more surprised this time, caught off guard by her own actions. She pushes Trevor away and he stumbles back, putting enough space between them that Honey can cover her lips with her hand. She feels over the pink skin, her hand shaking.

Trevor can still feel the ghost of the kiss and he expects Honey is feeling the same thing.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t interrupt whatever is going through her head. He can’t– he won’t give her any more reason to run away. He knows that’s what’s coming next.

Honey’s mouth is wide open. Her chest is heaving and she’s staring at Trevor.

Trevor starts to worry when her silence stretches a moment too long. “Do you want me to get Bea?” He asks.

Honey snaps her mouth shut, swallowing the lump in her throat and shaking her head vehemently. “I need to go home.” Like her hands, her voice is shaking.

“Okay,” Trevor says. He’s not sure what else he can say.

Honey steps toward the sliding door, then halts in her tracks. “Bea drove me,” she realizes aloud, eyes widening in panic.

“I’ll drive you,” Trevor says, the words falling from his lips like an avalanche. “I’ll say you got sick. I’ll drive you home right now and I promise I won’t try anything, I swear–”

Honey cuts him off with a nod, meeting Trevor’s eyes for just a second before she looks away and starting blinking more rapidly. She looks like she’s fighting something internally, lost but panicked but ashamed that she’s acting this way, and Trevor just grabs her hand.

He leads her inside, closing the sliding door behind them and beelining for the front door. He grabs his keys and presses them against Honey’s palm. “Go start the car for me, okay?” He says, talking quietly. He holds Honey’s shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers. She closes her eyes and leans against him. “I’m gonna go tell everyone that you threw up, or something, and I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” Honey agrees, whispering the word out. Trevor opens the front door for her, keeping a hand on her until she’s across the threshold. He leaves the door open and bounds downstairs.

“Hey,” Trevor calls, catching the attention of everyone in the basement. Jack gripes a bit, missing a strike because of Trevor’s call, but Trevor cuts him off. “Honey’s sick. I’m taking her home.”

Bea’s head pops up from where it was snuggled under Quinn’s chin. She bumps into his head by accident, petting over the point of contact as an apology while she turns to Trevor. “What? Is she okay?”

Trevor waves her off. “She’s fine. She doesn’t want to cause a big deal. She said it might be something she ate.”

Bea scowls. “I told her not to eat that turkey we found in the fridge at work,” she says. “I knew it had gone bad. Poor Honey.”

“She’ll be fine,” Trevor assures the girl, waving her off when she starts to stand up from Quinn’s chair. “I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”

Bea looks hesitant, but Quinn’s hand on her hip seems to convince her to stay. “Okay, fine,” Bea says eventually. “But be careful, okay? It’s supposed to storm tonight. You’re not used to the mountains in the rain. The roads get bad.”

“If it gets bad, I’ll convince Honey to let me borrow her couch,” Trevor says. “I’ll text you when we get there.”

Quinn pulls Bea back down onto his lap, kissing her temple and rubbing her waist comfortingly. “They’ll be fine, baby. Honey’s a big girl.”

“I’m more worried about Trevor,” Bea grumbles in reply, barely audible. “The curves are slippery.”

“He’ll be fine,” Quinn repeats. He looks at Trevor, glaring at the boy, before opening his mouth to boss him around yet again. “Don’t be fucking stupid on the roads.”

Trevor flashes a thumbs-up in Quinn’s direction, then hurries back up the stairs. It’s starting to drizzle already– he can see the sparse raindrops falling towards the ground. They’re lit up by the lights of his car, already up and running.

Honey is curled up in the passenger seat, her fingers clutching the collar of her shirt and tucked under her chin. She’s looking out the window at the rain and doesn’t acknowledge Trevor when he joins her in the car.

He drives home carefully, having to turn the windshield wipers up as the rain grows harder. Honey directs him in hushed tones, her voice monotone. Trevor wants to reach over and take her hand. He wants to distract her from whatever is going through her mind. He doesn’t– it’s not his place.

“Pull in here,” Honey mutters, pointing toward an overgrown driveway marked by a painted-floral mailbox. It looks like a child had painted it and Trevor spots a flower made of little thumbprints on the front flap as he turns in. He creeps down the driveway, approaching the dark house.

He throws the car into park, then gets out of the car. He walks around in the rain, shrugging his sweatshirt off as he does so. He opens Honey’s door and unbuckles her seatbelt, putting the hood of his sweatshirt over her head to protect her hair from the drops.

Trevor leads her by the hand to her front door, which Honey opens easily. She left it unlocked. Trevor feels taken aback for a moment, but then he remembers that she’s been living in Litchton for five years and there’s barely any crime in town. She’s fine. She probably knows better than Trevor does, anyway.

He stands awkwardly in her doorway, watching Honey navigate the space with memorized ease. Her footsteps are light. She disappears up into the lofted area above her living room, which is just as eclectic and unique as she is. He takes in the knick-knacks and the lived-in space. The blanket on her couch is thrown over the back haphazardly. He can see into her backyard, the big windows on the back side of her house taking up almost the whole wall.

The house is dark, but it lights up with a flash of lightning. The house shakes with a crash of thunder. Trevor looks outside again and realizes he can barely see to his car, parked maybe twenty yards from Honey’s door.

He sends a quick text to Bea, letting her know that he just got to Honey’s safely and that he’s going to hang out for a little while before the storm dies down.

Trevor walks over to Honey’s kitchen, making sure he shut and locked the front door behind him. He finds a peach in a bowl on her counter and a knife in one of her drawers. Trevor washes the peach and cuts it into cubes, plating them. He searches for a glass and fills it with water, then takes both the plate and the cup in his hands.

Trevor climbs up to the loft, moving quietly and slowly so he doesn’t disturb Honey.

She’s curled up in her bed, just a little lump under the covers. It’s dark in her bedroom, but Trevor can see her eyes glinting. Her face lights up with another flash of lightning and he wants to break at the sight of the tears lining her face.

“Honey,” Trevor breathes out, placing the plate and cup on her bedside table. He rounds the bed, kneeling on the other side and reaching out to touch her face. He wipes away one of the tears streaking her cheeks.

Honey whines, squeezing her eyes shut and turning to hide her face in her pillow.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” Trevor says. “I didn’t mean to.”

Honey groans, lifting her head to fix him with one big stink-eye. “You didn’t do anything,” she glowers. “I’m the one who kissed you.”

“Yeah, but I–”

“No, you didn’t.” Honey drags herself into a seated position, pulling her hair out of her face. She wipes her eyes and sniffs, looking miserable. “I’m just… working through everything.”

Trevor pauses, watching her. He feels absolutely helpless, unable to do or say anything that could make her feel better. “I brought you food and water,” Trevor says, feeling lame. “You should make sure you’re staying hydrated.”

Honey’s in the middle of wiping her eyes again as he says it, and Trevor panics when her shoulders start to shake again and a fresh batch of tears leak from her eyes. He moves back from the bed, eyes wide. Maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t said anything at all. Now Honey’s crying because of him.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” Honey tells him, her voice thick with tears, hiccuping. “You are so fucking insufferable,” she continues, and Trevor realizes that her shoulders are shaking with laughter even as she cries.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ and Trevor looks around, afraid to look at Honey for too long lest she start bawling again.

“Just–” Honey cuts herself off. “Can you–”

“Anything,” Trevor agrees immediately, interrupting her.

Honey presses her lips together, letting the words form in her mouth. She seems to consider not saying them at all, but she eventually continues. She’s sheepish when she looks at Trevor, small and caved in on herself. “Can you lay with me?” The words are resigned when they leave her mouth, her eyes miserable.

Trevor scrambles onto the bed and has her in his arms before she can finish the sentence, all of the breath knocked out of his lungs with relief. He can do that easily– he wants to do that for Honey. He holds her against his chest, tucking her head into the curve of his neck. She’s sniffling again against his skin, marking his neck with wet tears. Thunder crashes outside again, and Trevor just holds her as tightly as he can.

She shakes for a little while, crying silently. Trevor coos at her and wipes her tears away, kissing her temple and rubbing her back in what he hopes are soothing motions. Eventually, her breath evens and her tears dry up, but she stays curled up in Trevor’s arms.

When she calms down, Trevor starts to feel awkward again. She’s just laying there in his arms and he’s sitting on her bed, not really sure what he’s supposed to do.

“You should sleep,” Trevor decides. He’s speaking softly, prompting Honey like the gentle nudge of a finger pointing her in the right direction. “The storm has died down, so I’ll head back–”

Honey frowns against his neck, pushing away from his chest to look up at him. “Stay with me,” she pouts.

Trevor is helpless to say no.

They maneuver themselves down to lay on the bed, and Honey presses against Trevor. She bundles a hand in his t-shirt, throwing the other over his waist. She hides her face in his chest and Trevor hopes that she can’t hear his heart racing, punching against his ribs in harsh beats, even though he knows that she can hear that and more, like the rumbling of his stomach.

She doesn’t seem to mind, though. She falls asleep, one last tear falling across her cheek as her face finally relaxes.

Trevor wipes it away and pulls her close, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He doesn’t know what happened to Honey in Charlotte, what made her swear off dating, but he’s determined to find out. He’s going to do everything he can to reassure her and keep her safe. He never wants to see her like this again.

Trevor’s last thought before he falls into his own restless sleep is, God, I hope I don’t ruin this by waking up hard in the morning.

28:90 – HONEY

It was inevitable. Honey should’ve expected it. Trevor’s dick is hard, nestled against her ass, and he’s holding her there. He’s still asleep, breathing evenly on Honey’s neck with his nose nuzzled behind her ear.

He snores. It woke her up.

An hour ago.

She doesn’t have it in her to wake him up. Trevor was so sweet last night, trying so hard to do everything right. He cut her peaches up into cubes and poured her a glass of ice water while she expected him to walk right out the door and leave her alone. He held her while she cried and his stupid face, his dumbfounded and panicked expression, made her laugh through the tears.

He handled it well and Honey slept soundly in his arms. She was okay. She’s calmer now, more steady on her feet than she’s ever been after Bea talks her down from a freakout.

Trevor’s arms are strong around her, affording her very little wiggle room. About twenty minutes ago, Trevor’s hand had shifted to graze her boob, tickling Honey with his movements. Unconsciously, when she leaned back against him, his hand found the curve of her breast and cupped the weight in his palm.

Honey is surprised Trevor was able to sleep through her giggles.

His hand is still holding her chest, occasionally squeezing the flesh through her shirt. It’s a comfortable weight now and Honey finds it too endearing to push him away. She also understands the comfort that comes with holding a boob– whenever she finds herself watching TV and lazing around on her sofa, she catches herself with one of her hands on the slope of her chest. It never fails to make her laugh at herself. She really is no better than a man.

Trevor’s finally stirring, though, so Honey has to push his hand away. His wrist ends up curving over her hip, leaving his hand to dangle near the hem of her shorts. His other hand is nice and snug against the curve of her waist, trapped between her body and the bed. Trevor sighs, his voice deep and thick with sleep, snuggling against Honey with a smack of his lips and a yawn before he realizes that he’s not alone, nor is he in his bed at the rental house.

He twitches, pulling himself away from the drowsiness that was threatening to overtake him again. He scrambles back, putting distance between himself and Honey. When Honey turns to face him, mourning the loss of the warm body against her back, Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are pulled back in a grimace. He’s watching Honey like he’s afraid of her next move.

She lays facing him and puts her arm under her head, using the curve of her elbow as an extra cushion. She tries to keep her expression neutral. She licks her lips, then reaches her other hand over and tugs Trevor’s shirt.

He’s stupid, so he doesn’t get it. Trevor stays frozen, way too much distance between his body and Honey’s for what she wants to say.

Persistently, Honey tugs again at the hem of his shirt. When he still doesn’t move, she rolls her eyes and sits up, scooting over. If Trevor moves any farther back, he’ll fall off the bed. Luckily, he seems to realize that and he stares up at Honey, lips parted. If she weren’t so sure he was freaking out about overstepping and staying in her bed after she calmed down, Honey would think that the look in his eyes might be something akin to awe.

With a huff, Honey lays back down and intertwines her legs with Trevor’s, keeping a hand on his waist. She drops his shirt, but rests her palm on the waistband of his shorts, thumbing over the bare skin above the fabric.

Trevor shivers and his eyelids flutter a bit.

Honey wants to laugh. She does, but now is not the time. He’s just so easy.

“About six months before I moved to Litchton, my high school boyfriend and I broke up,” Honey says quietly. “We had been dating for almost two years and things were great until they weren’t.”

Trevor closes his mouth, watching Honey. His hand, hesitating in the air, comes to rest on her cheek. He pushes her hair over her shoulder and catches one of her waves between his fingers, feeling it out.

“He wanted to go to college. I didn’t. He wanted to make the most of the end of senior year and I wasn’t as into the party scene as he was. I had Bea, who gets invited everywhere by her adoring gaggle of fans, as you well know,” Honey continues, crinkling her nose and nudging it against Trevor’s in a teasing manner. “But there was still that distance growing between me and Thomas.”

“What happened?” Trevor asks, brows furrowed in concern.

“He started doing drugs,” Honey explains with a shrug. “Speed, mostly, but a lot of acid in between trips. He liked the high of those things more than he liked me.” She looks down. “The first time he mentioned reaching into a pill bowl, I broke up with him.”

Trevor’s hand soothes Honey, running over her cheek. His thumb barely grazes her skin, just there enough that Honey can feel her peach fuzz moving with his fingerprint. He’s paying attention to her, staring at her like she’s the only person who has ever walked the face of the Earth. Honey wants to blush, wants to cover her face with an embarrassed hand, all too aware of the way Trevor is taking her in and admiring her. It’s scary, the way he’s looking at her. It’s the same way Thomas looked at her before everything turned to shit.

Honey looks away. She stares at the logo branded on Trevor’s t-shirt, tracing the line of the design with her fingernail. He draws a breath in when she scrapes over his nipple, making her smile.

“He didn’t take it well,” Honey continues. “Why would he, you know? He couldn’t handle losing all of this.” She gestures down at her body, watching Trevor’s eyes follow her hands. His eyes, unlike Thomas’s, make their way back up to her face. She starts to feel hot tears prickle in the corner of her eyes, but Honey shakes them away. “And I wouldn’t tolerate his behavior. He just wanted someone who would sit idly by as he ruined his life.”

Trevor hums, pulling her closer. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then closes his eyes as he leans against her. Honey brings her hand up between them and runs her finger down the curve of his nose.

“He thought that revenge was the best course of action,” Honey says delicately, smiling ruefully at the memory. It still affects her, even now, although Thomas hasn’t occupied her mind in a substantial way in years. She feels a little silly, gearing up to say what comes next, even though she knows it’s not her fault. She’s not to blame. It’s a shame it still affects her so much, five years later.

“He…” Honey clenches her teeth, cringing in a long pause. “Took things that I shared with him in confidence,” she decides on, her voice shaking not with sadness, but with anger. “And he sent them out to my entire class. They sent them out to other people in the city and they sent them to… explicit websites, not caring that I was underage at the time.”

Trevor lets out a breath, his grip tightening around Honey’s body. He buries his face in her hair, squeezing her.

“So, I dropped it all. I dropped him, I dropped my other friends, I dropped the whole city of Charlotte and I left. My parents were great– they paid for a lawsuit and got all the pictures taken down from those websites. They finally accepted that I wanted to move here full time and my dad offered the house. I had to pay, yeah, but I had somewhere to live. Eventually, I stopped talking to them, but I wasn’t alone–”

“You had Bea,” Trevor completes the sentence for her, sounding equally as sad as Honey. Trevor tilts Honey’s chin up, capturing her lips in a sweet, chaste kiss.

Honey needed that.

When he pulls away, Trevor takes a breath. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“It’s okay,” Honey replies. “I’ve had five years to process it. Sometimes it’s hard for me, and I'll freak out, but I want to keep doing the… things… that we’ve been doing. I just can't have everyone knowing– it makes me feel like there's pressure to be okay and have everything seem 'perfect' all the time.”

“You do?” Trevor asks, biting his bottom lip. His eyes rake over Honey’s features, then he brings his lips down in front of hers. Honey can feel the little puffs of breath leaving his mouth, his bottom lip sliding against hers in something less than a kiss when he lifts his chin. "You know I'll do whatever you want, Honey. Secret or not, we should absolutely keep doing the things we've been doing."

“Don’t get too excited,” Honey says, pushing against Trevor’s chest. She smiles, lips pulled tight over her teeth. “I let you sleep way too long. I have to go to church with Ada in thirty minutes and I still have to shower.”

Honey tears herself away from Trevor, dragging herself out of bed.

Trevor leans up on the back of his elbows, his hair still messy with sleep. “Do you want me to join you?”

Honey scoffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Absolutely not. I’ll take you home before the service. You can shower there.”

“Mmm,” Trevor hums. “Bea can bring me some church clothes.”

Honey lets out a little laugh, exasperated by his determination to see her naked. “You’re coming to church with me?” She asks, stepping through her conjoined bathroom door and reaching for the spout of her shower. She turns the knob, watching the water from the showerhead spurt to life and start to warm up. “I should warn you, I’m not a big believer. I kind of lost all that after… well. Now, you know.”

“I’m not a huge believer either,” Trevor says. “I only join Bea at church when I think I’ll see you. All one time so far.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” Honey laughs, sarcasm twisting her tone. She realizes that it was the wrong response when Trevor lets out a cackle, still bundled up under her bedsheets.

“You would know,” he teases. “After all, you’re the one who’s tasted me… twice.”

Honey stares at herself in her bathroom mirror, unimpressed. “What the fuck are we doing?” she mouths at her reflection, throwing her hands up. She smooths her hair back, pulling it into a ponytail before letting it loose and shaking her hair. A smile takes over her face until she ducks her head, burying her head in her hands.

“I’m not going to give you the privilege of a response,” Honey calls, turning and reaching her hand under the water to check the temperature. Steam is starting to rise toward the ceiling, and the water is warming up by the second, so she sheds her shirt and shorts, leaving her in just her underwear.

Not taking the chance, or the distraction, Honey closes her bathroom door and locks it.

Trevor knocks soon after the lock clicks, calling for Honey to let him in. Honey just laughs, loud enough that he can hear it, and hops in the shower.

She takes all of fifteen minutes to shower and get ready, leaving them with plenty of time to make it to the church along the main road. Trevor has to wear the same clothes as the night before, while Honey has changed into a flowery skirt and a white bodysuit. She looks much more put together than Trevor, who insists on hiding out in the car once they park in the church parking lot until Bea smuggles some clothes through his driver’s side window. Trevor changes in the backseat, hoping that the tinted windows are enough to cover him up (they’re not– Cole looked through the back window and affirmed that he could see Trevor’s dick… “and balls”).

Instead of hanging around with the group, Honey walks into the church and finds Ada. She stands in the pew next to her elderly boss, holding Ada’s hand in her right and the hymnal in the other.

Just before the usher approaches the podium to greet the congregation, Ada whispers to Honey: “Did you help that young man feel better after your poor behavior on Thursday?”

Honey wishes she could throw her head back and laugh aloud. She smirks, throwing a look over her shoulder and catching Trevor fiddle with his tie. Bea notices him loosening it and reaches over to tighten the knot, causing Trevor to faux-gag in the girl’s face. Honey looks at his neat white button-up and his dark jeans, snug against his hips with a brown belt, and she bites her bottom lip. Trevor catches her eyes and grins.

Honey looks back at Ada. “Yes ma’am,” she says, a little smug. “I would say that he definitely feels better now.”

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #jamie drysdale #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction

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puck-luck · 6 months ago

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New Beginnings Masterlist

Welcome to Litchton, North Carolina! Population: 2, 358 "North Carolina's own little slice of Heaven."

Trevor Zegras wants a boring, drama-free summer with his friends. He and his friends rent a house in Litchton for thirteen weeks and find themselves fascinated by the town and its inhabitants. After a chance meeting their first day in town, Trevor finds himself enchanted by a mysterious and beautiful townie named Honey. He'll do anything he can to win her over– and he will win her over, even if she acts like she couldn't care less about his existence.

As for Honey, she's got a past she'd rather not rehash. She's spent the past five years in Litchton, living in her parents' old vacation house. She's inserted herself into the community and made a home here, the only place where she's ever felt like she can truly be herself. The appearance of five new boys in Litchton throws everything awry, especially Trevor's persistent efforts to win Honey over.

(note: all this graphic does is depict Honey and Bea as i(!!!!!!) see them. if you want to envision yourself as honey, go for it! if you want bea to look like your best friend, good! i never actually describe their features in the fic, so use your imagination!)

MASTERLIST:

may 27 - june 2 (24.4k)

june 3 - june 9 (20.9k)

june 10 - june 16 (24.6k)

june 17 - june 23 (24.2k)

june 24 - june 30 (24.1k)

july 1 - july 7 (26.7k)

july 8 - july 14 (29.5k)

july 15 - july 21 (20.8k)

july 22 - july 28

july 29 - august 4

august 5 - august 11

august 12 - august 18

august 19 - august 25

OTHER NEED-TO-KNOWS:

this is how i envision the boys' home for the summer. this is how i envision honey's place. this & this are how i envision bea's place.

#puck luck's masterlist #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #nhl fanfiction #trevor zegras #trevor zegras fanfiction

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puck-luck · 1 month ago

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STAND-ALONES

just visiting | 2.5K | fem!reader & tz enjoy a one night stand in a bar bathroom

let it slip | 0.8K | fem!reader calls tz by a new name in bed... and he doesn't hate it

give him six | 4.1K | tz takes his anger and frustration out on his girlfriend after a long game

INEXPERIENCED!READER [COMPLETED]

first time butterflies | 3K | first blowjob

s(we)e(t) dreams | 1.1K | thigh riding

learning curves | 3.8K | conversation about experience and handjob

good vibrations | 3K | high!sex, first time using a vibrator AND squirting

last resort | 1.2K | face-sitting

finish line | 3.8K | everything.

NEW BEGINNINGS

masterlist

ASKS & BLURBS

thigh riding

thigh biting

choking

tz receiving praise

mr. yapper

making reader cry (sexually)

cockwarming

face slapping

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras masterlist #trevor zegras smut #tz x inexperienced!reader series #small town girl x tz #trevor zegras blurb

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puck-luck · 2 months ago

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new beginnings | july 8 - july 14

note: we are halfway! this is 29.5k. i hope you all enjoy it. we are in the meat of it now! things are getting angsty, but i loooove love love these pairings more than anything and i hope you guys are enjoying this series just as much as El Capitan (Cappy) and I are <3

43:90 – TREVOR

do you smoke?

Trevor really likes Honey. He does. That's why he hasn't blocked Bea’s number yet. He never should have gone to see her at The Reading Nook in the first place. He could've won Honey on his own– and did– but Trevor has to deal with the nasty side effect of his own actions. The side effect is that Bea still texts him all the time, asking silly questions like this.

&! &! IF i brought weed to the house, would i be the victim of a murder?

You're going to be the victim of a murder right now if you don't stop texting me. Yes, we all smoke on occasion. You can come over if you bring Honey.

she’s not already there? ;)

Trevor narrows his eyes at his phone and doesn't reply. No, Honey isn’t already here, and Trevor wishes he could get her to stay over after they hook up. He’s stayed at her place twice now. He should be afforded the same luxury of having Honey in his bed rather than being the guest star in Honey’s bed.

She needs to get used to sleeping in his bed anyway, since Scarlett has decided that they’re getting married. If the ladies know, then there’s a chance that everyone in Litchton knows. Trevor realizes that Sarah said the ladies loved Honey more than the chance to gossip– but you never know. All of their efforts to keep things secret could be in vain.

Even though it seems pointless, Trevor likes that Jack, Cole, and Luke are still in the dark. No matter how many times they tease him for being so down bad for Honey, Trevor won’t break. Each one of them ends their chirps with something about how Honey would never shack up with Trevor– even though Jack and Cole really want it to happen– and the knowledge that they’re wrong keeps Trevor strong.

Honey would shack up with him, actually, and regularly does so. When he sees her tonight, they’ll probably shack up again, especially if they’ve got some weed in their system. Trevor can’t wait to see what Honey’s like while she’s high– he’s only ever seen her drunk and she rarely ever loses her inhibitions.

Trevor hears the door open when the girls arrive. They never knock anymore. They haven’t since the first time they came over. They just walk right in because the boys always leave the doors unlocked during the day– it’s Litchton. There’s no crime in this town. The worst thing that happens in a day is that someone jaywalks from The Reading Nook to their car.

He hears the boys call to them from the basement and he hears them bounding down the stairs. He hears Bea present a bag of weed to the room and Cole’s loud cheer. He’s got time before they roll up the weed into something smokeable. While he waits, he changes into his sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt, knowing that he’s going to get cold when he smokes. He’ll bring his sweatshirt downstairs later. Trevor tries to fix his hair in the mirror. It’s getting a little long.

He busies himself until he hears the loud crash of Cole climbing the steps, probably having been sent to summon Trevor to the basement.

“Let’s go, dude,” Cole calls, rapping on the door. “Weed! Downstairs.”

“I know, I’m coming,” Trevor says. He crosses his room and opens the door. Cole is already grinning dopily, like he’s consumed his own joint within the past few minutes and he’s already halfway to high.

Cole scampers down the hallway ahead of Trevor, practically bouncing off the walls. It’s rare that they get the chance to smoke at any point during the year. Weed isn’t banned in the league, but the boys are tested pretty regularly. Executives tend to frown on people that smoke weed, but– shockingly– don’t have much to say when it comes to alcohol abuse.

Still, the boys are able to risk it today. They’ve got half a summer left, which is plenty of time for the drug to get out of their system before their preseason tests.

They used to smoke over the summers before they joined the league. Cole always preferred smoking over drinking, so the times that they get to roll up a blunt, he’s all over it. Bea has no idea what she’s started.

They head down to the basement, with Cole crashing onto the loveseat face-first. He turns over onto his back. His knees bend over the edge of the couch and he places a pillow under his neck. “Hurry up,” Cole whines.

Honey frowns at him, raising the paper roll to her lips. She licks over the edge of the paper and seals it down like an envelope. “God, your highness,” she scoffs. “Impatient much?”

“Weed, please,” Cole says. He’s smiling extra-wide and pinches his fingers at Honey until she hands the completed joint his way.

Honey starts to roll a new one. She’s kneeling beside the coffee table, using a plastic sandwich bag like a rolling board. Jack is leaning over her shoulder, hooking his chin over her exposed skin.

Trevor would get angry at Jack being so close to the girl, but Honey pats the side of Jack’s face and tells him something that Trevor doesn’t catch, and the boy leans back. He’s the next one to receive a joint, which he’s quick to light and take a drag from before sharing with Luke.

“Bea, where’d you get this shit?” Trevor asks, finally drawing attention to himself.

Honey scoffs, snorting under her breath.

“Don’t laugh!” Bea exclaims, reaching forward and tugging Honey’s hair, hard. “I got it from this guy named Griffin.”

Trevor immediately thinks of his brother, who shares a name with Bea’s dealer. He should probably call him soon.

“How do you know Griffin?” Honey asks.

Bea glares at the girl out of the side of her eye. “We dated.”

“What’s Griffin’s job?” Honey continues.

Bea whines, pouting slightly. She looks at Quinn for a second, but the boy shakes his head and grins. “He’s Litchton’s deputy sheriff,” Bea growls.

Trevor laughs to himself. Sometimes he forgets that Bea and Honey are more like sisters than friends and Honey loves to embarrass Bea when she can. Bea’s not really the kind to be embarrassed, but occasionally Honey hits the nail on the head and milks it for all her jokes are worth.

Of course Bea dated the deputy sheriff and of course he still gives her confiscated evidence. It just makes sense.

Honey goes silent and smiles down at the third joint that she’s rolling. The group chats around her, but she’s all that Trevor can focus on.

She looks gorgeous today. Her hair is loose around her shoulders and keeps falling into her eyes, a little wet and stringy from the rain. Honey is wearing a tank top that ties in the front in a cute little bow– the thin string is so flimsy that Trevor might “accidentally” pull it loose once they’re alone. Her fingers are deft as she assembles and rolls the paper into a neat little cylinder.

When she finishes that roll, she hands the joint to Bea, who puts the joint between her lips and waits for Quinn to spark the lighter, holding it to the other end of the joint so she doesn’t have to.

Trevor understands why Honey was glaring at them so much yesterday. They’re gross.

Honey rolls up the rest of the weed into a couple more joints. Trevor is surprised that the deputy sheriff handed all of this evidence off to Bea, considering it produced a good crop of roll-ups. Surely this guy would’ve liked to smoke some of the weed. Maybe he gets tested way more often than Trevor and can’t smoke. Poor Griffin.

Cole offers his joint to Trevor, who takes it and inhales. It’s been a minute since he smoked anything, so the smoke feels grainy when it makes its way down his throat and into his lungs. It takes everything in him not to cough. He’ll be damned if he’s the first one to cough this evening.

He’s saved by Luke, luckily. The boy has to shift on the couch and bury his face in a throw pillow.

Bea, who seems to have claimed the recliner with Quinn as their designated, unassigned-assigned seat, leans forward to pat the boy’s back. “Aw, Lukey,” she coos. “Let it out. You know, the more you cough, the higher you get.”

“That’s not true,” Honey says with an eye roll.

“Anything can be true if you believe,” Bea replies, still rubbing Luke’s back. She allows Quinn to steal the joint from between her fingers and he inhales deep. Trevor half expects him to cough it out and take Bea’s attention from his younger brother, but he just holds the smoke in his chest for a moment before exhaling a dim cloud.

Honey climbs onto the loveseat, lifting Cole’s pillow and head so that she can slide underneath. Trevor takes the final seat on the couch between the two younger Hughes brothers, returning Cole’s joint to him. Trevor is now part of Jack and Luke’s blunt rotation.

Bea throws on the same trashy reality show that she got Cole hooked on a few weeks ago and they watch that for a while. It’s refreshing to see drama unfold on a television screen rather than in their own lives– Trevor remembers for the first time in a while that they originally came to Litchton because a group of girls were so interested in hanging out with the boys that they committed a crime to do so.

Trevor didn’t realize how much he valued his anonymity until he came to Litchton and rediscovered it. The only thing that people are talking about in town, at least in regards to Trevor, is his love life. That’s not even confirmed– it’s just a bunch of old ladies assuming the correct thing as a coincidence. Maybe Trevor and Honey should be more careful.

Nah.

Over the next half hour, the room starts to fill with smoke, so much so that Bea slides off of Quinn to open the glass sliding door and ‘increase air flow.’ When she returns, she settles down on his lap like it’s her throne.

Trevor wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. He keeps an eye on them for one stubborn reason that’s being repeated over and over in the back of his mind– that should be him and Honey.

Honey is sharing a joint with Cole, petting her fingers through his hair in a way that has Cole drifting off to sleep. She’s taken control of the joint, holding it lazily between her index and middle fingers. Her palm faces the sky as her elbow rests on the arm of the couch, wrist bending daintily. When she inhales, she looks at the person in the group who’s talking. When she exhales, she rolls her head back and blows the smoke towards the ceiling. She usually closes her eyes in relief when she does.

It’s the prettiest thing Trevor has ever seen. He wishes he could take a picture of Honey right now, just so that he could freeze this moment forever. She’s so pretty. She could ask Trevor to do anything right now and he would– no questions asked. “Get me a beer, Trevor?” He’d be on his feet and upstairs in an instant, grabbing her three beers so that she doesn’t run out. “Trevor, it’s hot in here. Turn the thermostat down.” Yes, ma’am. 68ºF, just for you.

“Come over here and eat me out.”

Trevor wishes she would say that. He would do it. He’d tune out the things that the other boys would inevitably say and bury himself between Honey’s legs until she’s satisfied and then, only then, he’d stop.

He realizes he’s staring and that’s how he knows that the high has started to set in. His eyes are growing a little dry and it’s getting harder to follow the conversation. Trevor feels like he’s moving through caramel.

He stares at Honey for another moment, then looks around the room. No one is watching him. He’s sandwiched between them, but Luke and Jack are talking around Trevor and debating one of the couples on this show. Cole is practically asleep on Honey’s lap, although Honey is currently holding the joint to his lips and he’s breathing in. Bea and Quinn– well, Bea and Quinn seem to be entangled.

As Trevor watches, a little horrified by just how much the two are touching, Quinn inhales and holds the smoke in his mouth until Bea ghosts her lips over his. It’s then that he exhales, letting the smoke fill Bea’s mouth. They’re shotgunning. Trevor crinkles his nose and frowns, appalled by the blatant show that they’re putting on.

At least he kept his musings to himself. Bea and Quinn have commenced some detailed, lavish, public foreplay journey. Trevor is disgusted.

And, if he is being honest, a little turned on. He wants to shotgun with Honey. How unfair is it that Bea and Quinn can just do all of this shit, and Trevor has to sit on an entirely separate couch than Honey in the interest of preserving the secrecy of their relationship? Bullshit.

Acting on an impulse, Trevor digs his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and searches for Honey’s messages. He leans forward and turns his brightness down, tapping out an honest, blunt message and sending it. He pockets his phone and waits for Honey to check her messages.

Wanna eat u out baby u look pretty today

She doesn’t react in a timely manner. Trevor frowns.

He tries again.

Maybe get my dick in u I know how much u like it when I fuck u

Still, nothing from Honey.

Trevor furrows his eyebrows and pulls his phone out for a third time. In his hazy mind, there’s some cloudy baseball metaphor floating about– if Honey doesn’t respond to this message, Trevor’s got his answer. Strike three. There it is– the metaphor makes it out of his high unscathed.

God, Trevor is lucky that everyone is caught up in their own thing. If the boys saw him smiling at his own joke while he types out a dirty message to a girl, they’d rag on him relentlessly.

Will u sleep over tn?

“Honey, baby, your phone won’t stop buzzing and it’s annoying me,” Bea whines, tugging at the pocket of the sweatshirt she’s wearing until she produces Honey’s phone. “You’re distracting me from Quinn.”

“Text them back and tell them to stop annoying you,” Honey replies, nonchalant and laughing. She’s holding the joint just above Cole’s lips, but raising it out of reach each time he tries to capture it for another hit.

Trevor wants to interrupt and shout, “No! No, don’t!” but Bea is already tapping out Honey’s password. Even worse, Quinn adjusts the girl on his lap so that he can see Honey’s phone, too.

Trevor watches in petrified slow motion as Bea’s and Quinn’s eyes dance along the length of his messages. He watches as they, in sync, let their eyes double-check his name in Honey’s phone. Then, he watches a devilish and gleeful grin coat Bea’s face. Quinn’s smirk is much more predatory. When Quinn looks at Trevor, the look in his eye is just: “I know something you don’t want me to know. I’m going to milk the fuck out of this.”

Trevor presses his lips together in a grimace. He closes his eyes for just long enough to acknowledge the humiliation he’s experiencing now. He’s sure his face is brick-red. It might be the high, but he can feel the tips of his ears bristling with shame.

He sees Quinn fit his mouth next to Bea’s ear, whispering something that has her giggling and then squirming when he blows cool air over her neck.

“I think you’ll want to answer these,” Bea announces to Honey when she recovers, piquing the interest of the other boys. She tosses the phone across to Honey, who catches it, and the boys follow the throw like a dog about to fetch a ball.

Honey turns the phone over in her hand and looks at the screen, brushing her hair out of her face with her pinkie, still holding the joint between her index and middle fingers. She had a smile on her face when her phone illuminated her features, but that dropped almost as soon as it appeared.

Trevor braces for the worst. Honey looks shocked. Despite her expression, a pretty pink blush blooms across her cheeks. He gulps when her eyes find him.

“What did it say?” Jack demands, bouncing a little bit in his seat.

“It’s– nothing,” Honey says, waving her hand and shutting her phone off.

She’s a terrible liar when she’s high. It just makes Jack more interested. Cole still isn’t that excited– he’s waking up from his weird limbo nap– and Trevor couldn’t be more glad. He’d be able to snatch Honey’s phone in an instant. Trevor can hear his heart beating way more rapidly than normal.

“What is it?” Jack asks, his voice growing more cartoonish. He looks like the fucking Cheshire Cat. He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward.

“A– guy,” Honey stammers out.

Trevor can tell that she’s trying not to lie, because she’s so shit at it, but she doesn’t want to reveal the whole truth. She’s better than him– he would have run away by now. The boys would’ve chased him, but he still would’ve ran.

“You’ve been seeing a guy?” Jack says, sounding incredulous. His head turns to Trevor, meeting his eyes.

For a second, Trevor thinks he’s been caught, but then Jack scoffs and claps him on the shoulder.

“Dude, I’m sorry,” Jack laughs. He sighs comically, then elbows Trevor in the ribs. Jack looks back at Honey. “What did this dude say that has you all bothered? Do we need to go beat him up, or is this a good look? I’m hoping it’s a good look by the little smile on your face.” He reaches forward, index finger waving over Honey’s face until it finds its mark at the corner of her mouth. He stumbles a little bit, almost falling forward off the couch when Honey bats him away.

“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Honey tells Jack with a practiced, but fake smile. She’s turning on the charm. Trevor despises the way she grabs Jack’s finger and wiggles it affectionately. “Really, he’s nothing to write home about. That’s why I didn’t tell you guys.”

Nothing to write home about, Trevor seethes. Yuh-huh!

“What was it?” Jack presses.

“He asked me to sleep over,” Honey reveals, rolling her eyes a bit like she’s unimpressed. Trevor disagrees. That was a pretty impressive line.

“What are you going to say?” Cole demands, piping in for the first time.

Now, Trevor’s heart freezes as Cole tries to feel for Honey’s phone. Partially because of the chance that he’ll find Honey’s phone, but also partially because Cole’s hand is getting awfully close to Honey’s tits, and those belong to Trevor.

Yes, he turns into a caveman when he’s high. He likes Honey. So what?

Honey just twists out from under him and stands, brushing her hands over the arm of the couch as she slinks away. “I was thinking,” she drawls. Her eyes slide over to meet Trevor’s and his heart starts again because she’s answering him in front of everyone. She licks her lower lip before continuing. He licks his subconsciously like he’s spellbound, following her every move. “That I’d tell him to come back to mine instead.”

Fuck, Trevor’s hard. He bundles up his fists and shoves his hands in his pockets, trying to mask his bulge. He looks up to find that Bea noticed and she’s holding back a laugh. Quinn just smiles. Man, Trevor wishes he could wipe it off Quinn’s face.

“Good answer,” Jack says, nodding. “We approve.”

“Go get laid, bro,” Cole adds, offering a fist-bump to the girl. She’s upside down in his vision, so they don’t connect first try.

Honey laughs. “Thanks,” she says. “I’m hoping to.”

And then she disappears up the stairs.

The air is still for a minute. Trevor flashes a glare at Bea and Quinn before collapsing into the cushions of the couch, covering his face with his hands.

“Bro, don’t worry about it,” Jack says. He pats Trevor on the stomach. “This is why you’re on Raya, remember? Just find some other girl to hook up with.”

Trevor spreads his fingers wide enough to nail Jack with a glare.

“Yeah, but that’s the difference between them,” Quinn says, jumping in where he’s not wanted. He’s still got that stupid, smug, knowing smirk on his face. “Trevor’s hooking up with other people because he has to. Honey’s hooking up with other people because she wants to.”

Bea frowns and flicks Quinn’s earlobe. “Be nice,” she chides, her words dripping with false pity. “Poor Trev just got his heart broken.” She turns to Trevor and quirks an eyebrow. “Will you be okay?” She mocks.

Quinn laughs quietly, splaying his fingers out over Bea’s stomach, his fingertips dipping beneath the fabric. He kisses her shoulder, then her neck. He’s still smirking. Trevor really wishes he could do something about it.

“I’ll be fine,” Trevor growls through his teeth. A lightbulb seems to turn on in his head– this is actually the perfect escape route. “Actually, I was thinking about inviting someone over. I’m waiting for her to text me back.”

“Atta boy!” Cole cheers.

Trevor stands, flashing his own smug smirk Quinn’s way. See, look how smart I am, he says to Quinn in his mind. The other boy is unbothered, which is annoying. “I’m going to go up to my room and get ready for her.”

“Make sure you put the nice sheets on,” Luke jokes dryly. “The 300-count.”

“Maybe after we’re done,” Trevor replies. He stumbles a bit while maneuvering around the coffee table, but he can’t be judged for that. None of them have stood up, except for Honey and Bea, since they started smoking. Trevor is brave for being the first. The first man to stand, technically, but that’s neither here nor there. He’s a warrior.

Honey seems to agree. She’s waiting for him by the front door, her arms crossed over her chest and leaning back against the wall. “You’re very brave for sending me those messages in a room full of all of our friends,” she teases, trying to hide a smile from him. When he gets close enough, she reaches out and pulls him in by his shirt, planting a kiss on his lips.

“I didn’t know Bea would have your phone,” Trevor tells her sheepishly, almost apologetic in his tone.

“It’s okay,” Honey says. She pulls him down for another kiss. “I think it’s cute when you’re all bold. You really just go for it, huh?”

“Go big or go home,” Trevor says, letting his hands make their way under the sides of her shirt. He fits his fingers along the curve of her waist on either side, moving slowly. She’s soft and warm and he really, really can’t imagine anything prettier. It could be the high talking. Or maybe Honey is that pretty, so pretty that the light from the bulb on the other side of the front door shines through the window and turns her golden.

“Speaking of home,” Honey says, pulling away from Trevor’s touch. She loops her pinkie with his index finger and reaches for the door with her other hand. “We have to move my car.”

“We can’t drive,” Trevor says, feeling suddenly alarmed. Surely she doesn’t expect him to get into a car with half a joint in his system.

“No, baby, we’re not going anywhere,” Honey corrects. “We just have to move it out of sight so the boys don’t know I’m here. I was thinking we’d go to the end of the driveway, then behind those trees. You can go up to your room if you want, or you can come with me.”

Honey could’ve said anything and Trevor would have agreed. All of his trepidation is gone. He’s melting into Honey’s touch and has been since the second she called him ‘baby.’ It was rushed and a little patronizing, and not at all like the way he says it to her, but it gave Trevor the same reaction.

He follows her through the front door and the beam from her smile at his decision is like a shot of adrenaline.

They’re careful not to slam her car doors or rev the engine too much as they creep up the driveway. They’re both being too slow and too careful and if anyone where to walk out of the house, they’d laugh and ask what the hell the couple was doing.

But they laugh like criminals getting away from a robbery scot-free. By the time Honey parks the car at the top of the driveway, sheltered from view, Trevor has lost his breath from how hard he’s laughing. He and Honey sigh at the same time, which sends them into a fresh fit of laughter.

Honey reaches into the waistband of her bottoms, where she was conveniently stashing a blunt. She holds it up to Trevor and wiggles a little in her seat, biting her lip to contain her excitement. “Got you a present,” she says. “Thought we could share.”

Trevor’s first thought is of Bea and Quinn passing smoke between them. His eyes drift down to Honey’s mouth, imagining doing the same thing. He doesn’t know if he could do it, hover there just millimeters from her lips. He’d be too eager. He’d want to kiss her too much to stay so, so close, but so far from her. It would be like torture.

“Will you let me kiss you every time you hit it?” Trevor asks, staring at the way the bow of her lips curves when she smiles.

“Only if you let me kiss you every time you hit it,” Honey replies, her tongue poking out as she laughs again.

Trevor groans, loving that answer. He leans forward to claim his prize, but Honey swerves him and his lips only catch the corner of hers. Trevor frowns.

“Easy there, big boy,” Honey laughs, planting her hand on Trevor’s chest and pushing him back. “You haven’t even taken the roach yet.”

Trevor eyes her, then plucks the blunt from her fingertips. “How are we even going to light it?” Trevor asks, inspecting the wrapping. Not a wrinkle in sight.

“Cigarette lighter,” Honey says like it’s obvious. She reaches toward her console. She pushes a button and waits. “Perks of having an old car, Z.”

Trevor startles at the nickname. It’s what his friends call him. Honey shouldn’t be using it. “Don’t ‘Z’ me,” he deadpans.

Honey raises her eyebrows at him.

“Don’t!” Trevor repeats, wanting to stomp one foot like a child when he complains.

“Or what?” Honey asks, unfazed by Trevor’s annoyance. She seems thrilled, even, as she laughs.

“Or else!” Trevor announces, then looks away from Honey with a huff. He can’t stay in that position long, missing her too much when she’s out of view.

She kisses him when he turns back, cradling his jaw in her hand with the most delicate touch of her fingertips. The pad of her index finger pets over the curve of Trevor’s jawline and he shivers.

“You’re so stupid,” Honey whispers fondly. Trevor can feel the weight of her gaze after she pulls away. He basks in it.

Then, the cigarette lighter pops out of its spot and bounces. The hot end brushes Honey’s knuckle, burning her.

She jumps, gasping and pulling her hand up. She flexes it, pressing her lips together to hold in any noises of pain, and she looks up and to the side, blinking in surprise. She grinds her teeth and her face goes grim, almost angry. She doesn’t want to check it to see what it looks like.

Trevor has her hand in his and his lips over the affected area in an instant, as if he can really kiss it better. “Oh, Honey,” he murmurs.

Honey shudders. “Ugh, that was– overdramatic,” she sighs in a self-deprecating way. She shakes her hand out of Trevor’s grasp like the wound was nothing. She checks the spot and sees the red mark, but shakes it off again. She finds the cigarette lighter, right at the scene of the crime, and picks it up like an old friend. She lights the blunt and it burns and crackles between Trevor’s fingers, but he never lifts it.

“You got burnt,” Trevor says, sounding stupid. His eyes follow the branding on Honey’s skin. It has to hurt.

Honey leans in, getting into Trevor’s gaze. She blinks at him like she’s waving hello. “Baby, I got my nipples pierced,” she says. “A little burn isn’t going to hurt me.”

There it is. That ‘baby’ again.

Trevor goes from one trance to another, reminded of the silver bars adorning her chest. She gets so responsive when he sucks them. That’s why he likes them so much. She whines and curses and tugs on his hair and squirms when he nibbles on the accessories. It’s the only time she loses her composure completely, all because of Trevor.

His eyes fix on the little bow keeping her shirt together. He considers it. Does he dare untie her now? This road is pretty secluded, and it’s getting late…

“You had better not try to untie this bow,” Honey threatens, sounding absolutely aghast. She clutches at the bow, covering the ties completely so that Trevor can’t even grab them. She inches away from him.

“I wasn’t!” Trevor denies. He’s not very convincing.

“Oh, you’re so–” Honey cuts herself off, shaking her head.

“I’m so what?” Trevor asks.

Honey, still covering the bow between her lovely tits, uses her free hand to crawl over the center console and into the back seat. “I have to get away from you,” she says.

“What?” Trevor grabs her ankle. “You can’t get away from me at a time like this,” he says, using his other hand to unbuckle his seatbelt. He goes to follow Honey. “You’re injured!”

Honey collapses on the back seat, pulling her legs back and dragging Trevor along. She laughs as he stumbles a little and kneels half-on the seat and half-on the ground. His hand is still attached to her ankle, spreading her thighs.

They seem to realize the position they’re in at the same time. Honey’s jaw drops and Trevor just smiles. He palms over her calves, then up to her thighs, pushing them even further apart. It’s like his three texts were three wishes from a genie, or three Herculean feats he has to overcome before getting Honey into his bed for the whole night.

I want to eat you out, Trevor had said then. And now, his wish is coming true.

Honey’s pants are in the way. Trevor’s too respectful to just rip them, so he just rubs over her clothed center with his thumb. He bites his lip.

“Make you feel better?” Trevor jokes feebly, not sure what line will work on Honey. It might be too cheesy.

It is.

Honey scoffs. “More like make it up to me,” she declares, shuffling around and pushing her waistband over her hips. Trevor takes over from there, getting his hands on her ass and helping her out. “Seem to remember that you didn’t make me come the other day.”

“Oh, are you ready to beg?” Trevor asks, perking up. He stops his movements, her lower half just short of exposed.

She wasn’t expecting him to one-up her, but she recovers quickly. “I don’t beg for the things that I’ve earned.”

“Earned?” Trevor scoffs. He pulls away, securing her waistband above her hips and covering her. “Baby, you didn’t even try.”

Now, it’s a game of wills.

“I’ll remind you how to follow the rules,” Trevor adds. He finally brings the joint, which he steals from Honey, to his mouth, crawling up her body as he inhales. He sits back, spreading his legs a bit, and pats his thigh. With his other hand, he takes the blunt from his lips and exhales. “Come gimme a kiss,” he invites, tapping the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t piss me off,” Honey replies like a warning. Still, despite the disapproving tilt of her mouth, she makes her way over to Trevor and crawls between his legs.

Instead of sitting on his lap, she just sits in a little ball, knees pressed against her chest between his legs. Her back is against his front and she plucks the joint from his fingers, placing it between her lips. He has to shift on the seat, moving so they’re sitting along the row instead of facing forward. Trevor’s legs are outstretched toward the opposing window, through which he can see a few tree trunks and then utter blackness.

“It’s kind of freaky, how alone we are out here,” Trevor ponders.

Honey crinkles her nose. “Sounds like something a serial killer would say.” She leans her head back on Trevor’s collarbone, blowing the smoke in the air like she did in the basement. It drifts right into Trevor’s space and he turns his head to avoid it. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Trevor says. “I don’t mind.”

Honey doesn’t reply to that. She scoffs a little and rolls her eyes, taking another hit of the joint. It’s a small one– probably the smallest one Honey rolled, but it’s plenty for them to share.

“I’m serious, though. It gets so dark up here. I’m still not used to it,” Trevor continues.

“You never get used to it,” Honey says. “But it’s nice, I think.”

“Yeah,” Trevor agrees. He bundles her up in his arms and presses a kiss to her temple.

She breathes in again. On her exhale, she speaks. Her voice has grown quieter, more thoughtful. “When I came up here as a kid, all I ever wanted was someone to play with,” she says. “But I like the silence and darkness up here, now. Sometimes I feel like nothing that happens here is real. It doesn’t count.”

Trevor gets what she’s saying. Litchton is like a bubble– the only things that exist in the bubble are the things that are actually here. Everything else is other-worldly. They train all the time, but sometimes even hockey doesn’t feel real to Trevor. The realest thing he has in Litchton is the girl in his arms.

“Is that why you came here?” Trevor asks. “After everything that happened?”

Honey shrugs, prodding Trevor’s hand with the blunt until he takes it back. “I just needed to get away.”

Trevor hums as he inhales.

Honey continues. “I’ve been thinking about that year a lot more often than normal, lately.”

“Oh, you have?”

“Mhm. I was talking with Bea after I told you everything, you know, and it was just, like, a weird realization. I think about then and I think about now and I think I’m so different. I’m not, really, but I changed fundamentally that year.”

“How could you not?” Trevor asks. “It sounded like it was really hard.”

“It wasn’t just that, though,” Honey says. She’s a little louder now, a little more angry. She struggles to find her words. “It’s like– I look back at the person I was then and I know it’s me, and I know it all happened to me, but none of it feels real because that version of me doesn’t exist anymore. I got rid of her when I came here. She wasn’t– necessary.” Honey laughs to herself, burying her face in her hands. “God, I sound like a crazy person. Forget I said any of that.”

The only way Trevor will ever forget what Honey said is if this weed knocks him on his ass tomorrow morning. He agrees, not wanting to start a fight, but how could he forget this? That Honey feels like she left herself behind when she moved to Litchton, and that all of her past seems fabricated?

“I can feel you still thinking about it,” Honey interrupts, turning her head so her nose nudges Trevor’s neck. “Guess neither of us are good at following rules.”

Trevor takes another hit from the blunt before passing it back to Honey. “Guess not,” he murmurs. He wonders if she can feel his heartbeat. He’s, all of a sudden, very aware of his racing heart against Honey’s back, and he blames the high. He should really be done for the day. Honey’s presence is making him stiff and warm and the weed is making him tired and lazy. The combination is not ideal.

“How many have I missed?” Honey asks, twisting the joint between her fingers.

“Hm?” Trevor answers. She pulled him from his thoughts, so he barely heard what she said.

Honey chuckles quietly. “How many times did you take a hit,” Honey clarifies. She brings the joint to her lips and breathes in. “Need to know how many kisses I owe you,” she continues on her exhale.

Trevor perks up. “A million,” he quips.

“Mm, wow,” Honey reacts sarcastically. She inspects the roll between her fingers, growing smaller by the second. “The never-ending joint. I didn’t know they made those.”

“Willy Wonka is opening a dispensary. Candy sales are going down and weed is a growing industry,” Trevor jokes. “He’s got the Oompa-Loompas in the greenhouse pruning the marijuana trees.”

Honey laughs, a loud one pulled from her chest. Trevor watches as her eyes squint shut and her throat moves with the sound. He brings a hand up to trace the line of her neck, just to feel her move. He doesn’t miss the shift of her breath when he makes contact, icy fingers skimming across warm skin.

Trevor looks at Honey when her breath hitches, tearing his eyes away from his fingers contrasting her neck, really looks at her. He likes the way she blinks up at him with his hand here. He likes that she stopped everything to look up at him with wide, awe-inspired eyes. At least, that’s what he thinks he’s seeing. Maybe he just really likes when his hand is on Honey’s neck.

He leans down to kiss her slightly, using his touch to pull her up the rest of the way. She sighs into his mouth, practically breathing into his lungs. The movement isn’t enough. Trevor needs to hear her say that she likes this. He’s so close to hearing her beg. He pulls away, breaking the moment.

Honey frowns.

Trevor takes his hand away, albeit a little reluctantly. It falls to her shoulder before settling in her lap, right next to her hand. He touches her knuckle, on the burn.

“Your hand okay?” He queries softly.

Honey frowns even more deeply. “My hand’s fine.”

“I feel bad that you burned yourself,” Trevor says.

“Nine hundred, ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine more kisses to go,” Honey implores impatiently.

It takes a minute for the number to comprehend in Trevor’s mind. He has to think over it five times before he is sure that he’s interpreting it right. One less than a million, he finally thinks. Got it.

Trevor laughs and pecks her mouth, quick as can be. He waits.

After a minute, Honey’s indignance increases. “999,998 more kisses to go,” she says.

The number is a lot easier to comprehend the second time around. Trevor plops another kiss on her mouth.

The more she pouts, the more he smiles. It’s an infinite loop that only breaks once Honey squirms in Trevor’s arms, twisting to face him. They lost the blunt in all of this. Trevor hopes Honey snuffed it out someplace. That would be bad if she didn’t. But she’s smart, so she probably did.

“I think we should go in the house,” Honey whispers conspiratorially. She leans to kiss Trevor, a little softer than the past few. It’s a ghost of her lips, really.

“999,997,” Trevor replies, pulling her down by the hem of her shirt. He steals another kiss before letting her pull away.

Honey makes herself all pretty in front of him– barely changing a thing, just looking at him through her lashes.

“What’s that look?” Trevor asks with a laugh, smearing his hand across her cheek to break her focus.

“Wanna go inside?” Honey invites, tilting her head. It’s a thinly veiled request.

It’s close enough to a plead, for now. Trevor nods, taking another kiss from the girl before she goes to the door on her side of the car. He has to roll a bit to exit on his side, rushing to get back to his spot near Honey.

She grabs her keys and phone, leaving everything else in the car. Trevor’s keys are in his pocket, probably, just in case the boys locked the door. Trevor doubts that they did– they’re probably still downstairs, watching some movie that they happened upon on cable. Maybe Family Feud. Cole has been loving Family Feud lately.

They make it back in the house easily, tiptoeing a bit over the creaky wooden steps and floorboards. Honey holds Trevor’s hand.

He has her on the bed in moments, his lips on hers. Trevor lays her head across his pillows, hovering above her. He wants her spread out below him, falling apart because of him.

“Can I?” Trevor asks, touching the string of her bow, twisting the end between his pinched fingers but never pulling.

Honey nods, arching her back so her chest presses into his touch. She’s kissing him again.

He tugs until her shirt is falling open. Her sternum appears, plus the curves along her breast, and Trevor jumps forward to mark the unblemished skin.

Her fingers find his hair and guide him. He pushes the fabric out of his way, feeling for her jewelry. His fumbling fingertips find it and rest, lightly pinching the skin.

Honey moans softly, grinding against his bulge, pressed right against her spread legs. Even with the clothes, he knows that she can feel him… and that she likes it. He doesn’t need to be cocky, but where’s the fun in that?

“Let me get my mouth on you,” Trevor says, letting his kisses fall lower and lower.

“Your mouth– is on me,” Honey sasses, breath hitching weakly in the middle of her sentence.

Trevor pauses and bites his lip to stop a laugh from escaping him. She’s really making him work for this. He rephrases. “Let me get my tongue in you.” He continues his path, kissing down Honey’s stomach.

Honey’s hips jump when his lips find her abdomen. He kisses as close as he can near the waistband of her bottoms, dipping his fingers underneath the fabric.

“Okay,” Honey breathes. She’s trembling a bit, trying to keep her hips still. Trevor can feel the effort.

He smooths his hands over her skin, then under the fabric of her panties. He lets his palm find her tramp stamp before he pulls her clothing off to reveal her lower half.

He can’t bear to wait any longer, but if he had more resolve, he’d kiss every inch of her again before finding her cunt. As much as Trevor wants to give her that reverence, he also wants to give her an orgasm.

He fits his mouth over her clit, licking over her bundle of nerves slowly. His index finger traces between her lips, spreading her folds and finding her entrance. This, Trevor takes his time with. He wants to taste her forever. He wants to touch her forever. If he could relive this moment over and over for the rest of time, he would.

He pushes his finger inside, burying himself in the tight squeeze of her walls. He blinks like he’s in a dream, long and slow, not sure whether it’s worse to look away from her or lean into the drowsiness of the moment. He feels drugged on Honey, not just off the weed they smoked.

His middle finger prods at Honey, slipping into her cunt with a slight stretch. She reacts to it, but only seeks more. Trevor would give her everything. That’s why his tongue leaves her clit to fulfill his original goal– to get inside of her. She moans when he does and Trevor nearly combusts on the spot.

Trevor laps at her wetness, fingers buried into her warm cunt almost lazily. He's pumping them in and out of her like it's nothing, like it's the natural instinct only-thing-he-can-do on an atomic level. Everything is amplified and red and pulsing because of the weed he consumed two hours prior and her warm, warm, and wet skin surrounding his fingers.

He pauses to bite his lip, feeling the glue of his permanent retainer scrape against his chapped skin. Then, he returns to Honey's clit, flicking it with the flat of his tongue, mouth closing over her and worshiping her. His fingers beckon her forward, towards him, and she moves beneath him.

She rolls her hips with the press of his fingertips to her insides, a stuttered little gasp breaking her whine.

Trevor's eyes flutter open and hazily, all clouded with lust, he finds her face. Her eyes are locked on his and her mouth is open. Her chest is heaving, smooth skin rising and falling in Trevor's view. The bars through her nipples catch the pale light from his lamplight in the corner of the room, glinting across his vision.

“Take your shirt off,” Trevor says.

Honey blinks at him, but pulls at the fabric anyway. It’s a hassle, but she removes the top. She’s wearing nothing, completely naked in front of him. Trevor realizes he’s wearing all of his clothes and decides he has to remedy that immediately.

He pulls back enough to shuffle his arm through the hole in his t-shirt. He can still kitten-lick over her clit, at least until his fingers are free again. He’s never able to part from her completely. It would just be cruel to derive her of his pleasure, if she’s feeling the same thing Trevor is feeling.

His fingers are inside her again and he uses the other hand to pull his shirt off and struggle with his sweatpants. Once his shirt is gone, he seals his lips over her clit again and sucks until she’s whining and lifting her hips off the bed. Her jewelry glints again.

"Touch your tits," Trevor mumbles, barely lifting his head from between her legs.

"What?" Honey asks, just barely audible to Trevor over the sound of her fingers running through his hair, clenching down behind his ear to lead his tongue across her clit again.

Trevor groans, not wanting to part with her skin. "Touch your tits," he directs louder, diving back to gather the liquid that drips between his fingers with his tongue. It settles on his tongue and he hums, eyes closing. His eyes open again, lids heavier than before.

Honey's listening so intently, but the words aren't registering. She's too caught up in the feeling of Trevor's mouth against her, eager to please her. He's glad to know he's not the only one who is losing himself in the moment, feeling like no time is passing at all despite every second feeling so long.

Trevor's happy to help her out. He’s managed to get his pants down to his knees, along with his boxers now. He’s got an occupied hand.

With his free hand, he reaches up from her thigh and feels out her body. He traces the curves of her hips and stomach to her waist and chest, slowing down as he nears her peaks. Carefully, even removing his mouth from her clit to make sure he isn’t distracted, Trevor sweeps a thumb over her pierced nipple.

She springs to action, feeling it immediately. His pinch has her squeaking, both hands in his hair as she drags him up to her mouth.

He comes willingly, smiling until her mouth clashes against his. He's laughing a little bit at the ferocity, his fingers dancing inside her merrily, making the kiss all the more messy when Honey groans. Then she clenches down when his hand meets her other nipple. It's a vicious cycle, one that quickens when Honey starts grinding her hips. Trevor slows his movements and lets her sweat a little, working herself up with furious twitches of her hips.

"Trevor," Honey pouts, pulling him out of his trance. She insistently rolls her hips again, her bottom lip jetting out as she looks up at him.

Trevor pulls back, eyes widening a little as he comes back to himself. Honey's face clears in his sight like he's fixing a telescope. Her eyes are starry like the sky, too.

He's trying to identify the look on her face, blinking blankly.

Her eyelashes are so dark, he realizes. She must have put on mascara today.

"Trevor," Honey whines again, her hips circling.

He notices his fingers have stilled inside her and that she's whining at the loss.

Like she's begging for him.

She confirms it with one word. A beautiful, whispered “Please.”

Trevor's fingers are out and the tip of his cock is in without hesitation. His lips slide against hers as she breathes in and he breathes out. He presses further, fingers splayed across her back to pull her up, chest against chest.

They're touching everywhere and Trevor can do nothing but hope and pray that she's feeling the same way he is right now. Bea's church trips might actually be rubbing off on him.

There's no other way to describe it: Trevor must have earned a miracle, somehow. He only ever feels like he fits in the world when he's playing hockey and that pales in comparison to being inside Honey, to feeling her come while wrapped in his arms.

Nothing has ever felt so right in his life. Something changes in Trevor in that instant– everything aligns. It’s like what Honey said before– about leaving her old self behind when she came to Litchton. Trevor understands now because he feels the same way. Now that he’s been here– now that he’s been with her, he knows he can never be without her again.

44:90 – HONEY

She wakes up with Trevor leaking out of her. He's still pressed against her, like the night before, but this time he's plastered against her back rather than pulling her up to his chest. He's still pulling. It's her hips this time, back so that his morning wood can slide between her dripping lips.

It's nice for a minute as her drowsy sleep wears off, the last remnants of her high trickling away like fairy dust into the night. She feels quite floaty with it, but allows the last wisp of her high to go on without her.

Her eyes register the light and she flinches, overcome with energy. She frantically finds the old alarm clock on Trevor's bedside table, the numbers flashing in the corner with each second. It's early, early enough for the sun to be a sliver on the horizon and a thought in a baker's head, but later than Honey intended to stay. She has to get out of here.

She goes to move, but Trevor's arm keeps her in place. He tilts his hips forward. “Baby,” he breathes in his slumber, like a dream. His nose nudges her ear. She melts back against him, then catches herself. She has to get out of this house before Quinn gets up to take a shower.

Honey wakes Trevor when she escapes his grasp, leaving him to blink up sleepily as she gathers up her clothes: a shirt, bottoms and her underwear from the night before. She scrambles to get them on, sparing a glance at the dimly smiling Trevor, who is stretching under the covers.

He's admiring her so intently, a daft and tiny smile on his face that distracts Honey and makes her shiver. He's always so– pleased. It's the moments like these that make Honey wonder if she's getting sucked too far into his world. She keeps chasing these looks like a drug, addicted to her next hit.

“I'll see you on Friday,” she whispers to him, bending down to smooth his hair out of his face. She’s pretty busy until then, with work and such. Today, she’s meant to go out with Quinn.

Trevor tilts his head up and his nose pokes the corner of her lip. She catches his jaw in her hands and fixes his face so his lips are poised in front of her. She pecks his pursed, chapped bottom lip and pulls away so quick that it leaves him frowning.

He's thinking, hard, even as her touch leaves him and she tiptoes to the door. “Friday?” He asks. “That's not enough to tide me over until Friday,” he complains, pulling Honey's pillow down to hug against his chest. He presses the corner of the pillow to his lips, smiling at her when she sighs.

Honey comes back and kisses him once more, with tongue, just to leave him stupid enough to stay quiet until she's gone.

At least she's not covered in marks this time, since she's meeting Quinn in a few hours to shop for Bea's birthday gift. She doesn’t have to pull out her sleeveless turtleneck again. Realistically, she can go open The Reading Nook in this outfit and work until Bea appears. It’s then that she’ll switch places with the girl and plant herself in the passenger seat of Quinn’s car.

Honey decides to drive straight to the Nook. She and Bea stashed a box in one of the cabinets years ago with deodorant and toothpaste and the other essentials for life as a girl.

Ada made fun of them, but once she got a paper cut and didn’t have a band-aid in her purse, so she dipped into their stash. The tables turned then– Honey and Bea gained the upper hand. They gifted Ada her own box the following week, smirking like they were acting smart. She nearly sent them running with her disapproving eye roll, but she thanked them afterward.

Honey unlocks the door and scoops up the magazine from the stoop. She nods and smiles at a man jogging by. He returns the look. The sun is nearly risen now and everything is pink. The brick wall of the Nook seems to glow. She locks the door behind her again.

The Nook has gathered more dust since they took such a long weekend. It takes Honey a little while longer than it normally does to sweep and dust the shelves. She opens the store as quickly as she can– but she still doesn’t have enough time to herself before the Founding Women come knocking.

Three minutes is all she has to brush her teeth, her hair, and throw on some deodorant. Honey rushes to do so, multitasking as best she can. With one hand, she’s brushing her teeth and with the other, she’s scrambling to find the handheld mirror that Bea set in the bin after checking her teeth for seeds the other day.

“Damn it, where are you,” Honey asks aloud, as if the mirror can reply.

Her hand brushes the handle and she pulls it out, catching the glare of the light and blinding herself for a second. She blinks to clear her vision, shaking her head a bit. She finally looks in the mirror, bracing herself for the likely appalling state of her hair.

Oh. Okay. It’s not that bad.

She puts the mirror down and finishes brushing her teeth, spitting the toothpaste and applying deodorant before picking up the mirror again. She fluffs the hair on the back of her head, cocking her head to the side and pursing her lips at her own reflection. Her eyes go lower, to inspect her neck and make sure Trevor didn’t leave anything behind that she couldn’t see before in the dark.

It’s then that she regrets driving straight to her place of work. In her fervor this morning to escape the rental house before Quinn woke up, Honey didn’t grab the right clothes. She grabbed her underwear and her favorite athletic skirt, but the shirt she threw on was not hers. It’s the second time she’s worn Trevor’s shirt after hooking up with him and Honey is starting to wonder if she’s accidentally-doing-it-on-purpose.

It’s a plain white t-shirt, pretty much. There’s a logo on the front breastbone of a platypus-looking duck mask in the center of an upside-down triangle. Honey squints at it in the mirror, then looks down at her chest with her own two eyes. The shirt is big, sure, and she had absentmindedly tucked the back of it into the waistband of her shorts while she was dusting, so she should’ve known it wasn’t hers. She showed up to Trevor’s place yesterday in a shirt that ties in the front. Yes, that was on purpose.

This mishap was not. Now she’s having to scramble to make the shirt look natural and hers before Sacha comes knocking at the door.

Honey uses the mirror to tuck and untuck the back of the top into something a person might see an influencer wearing at the gym. She doesn’t like the style, but it’s necessary. She can’t look as out of place as she feels, wearing Trevor’s clothing. People will really start to suspect something. She knows the ladies suspect– but she can’t have it getting out.

Honey frowns and whines at herself in the mirror, tossing her head back on her shoulders and feeling her face crumble. She places the mirror down and covers her face with both hands.

She’s so stupid. This is exactly what Honey sought to avoid after Thomas. She knows herself. She knows that she gets caught up in what’s happening and she starts to neglect the other parts of her life. She came to Litchton to be independent and put-together, not like the child that sent her naked pictures out just for it to come back and bite her in the butt. Wearing Trevor’s shirt is not the same as that, but Honey can’t believe that she made this mistake. One mistake like this just leads to more, which leads to a snowball effect, which ends in Honey moving towns and starting over. She’s done this before and she refuses to do it again.

Honey is stuck in her head as she lets Sacha and Gillian in, mumbling some incoherent response and giving the half-hearted kisses on the cheek when they enter The Reading Nook. As Vera, Scarlett, and Rosalind make their way into the Nook, she greets them the same way. Then, she hides behind the cash register, reading her book. She’s still reading that romance book.

Twenty minutes of flustered page-flipping and fake reading later, Bea walks in the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Honey sighs, hopping down from her stool and stashing her book underneath the counter.

“Is that–” Bea starts, having barely let the door shut behind her.

“Don’t,” Honey interrupts, pointing a finger in Bea’s face as she passes her. She wrenches open the door, despising the cheerful, twinkling bell that she installed years ago. She stomps to Quinn’s car, throwing open the passenger door and climbing in. She slams the door behind her.

“Good morning, Honey,” Quinn greets quietly, his voice gruff like he’s still fighting off sleep. Honey doesn’t reply– he doesn’t need it, and she’s still feeling weird. He peels away from the curb, heading back down the mountain. They pass the rental house and Honey’s pulse spikes when they do.

She feels abnormally sick as they drive down the mountain, still stuck on the fact that she’s wearing Trevor’s shirt. Now, she’s worried about how it looks to be wearing Trevor’s shirt in front of Quinn, in public.

It’s one thing in the comfort of her own home. That’s why she didn’t freak out last time she accidentally stole Trevor’s shirt– or, at least, not verbally. She barely spoke the whole time Trevor was there, humming occasionally to answer his questions and reading a sentence aloud of her book when he asked. He didn’t notice her discomfort. He doesn’t know that she took his shirt off as soon as he closed the front door behind him, shoving it deep in the back of her closet and hoping to forget about the incident entirely.

Trevor also doesn’t know that she’s slept in his shirt twice since then. It’s supposed to be some form of exposure therapy, but Honey just feels icky each morning after.

And now, she doesn’t even have a change of clothes. At home, she can rip off his shirt and replace it with her own, but here? In the Nook? In Quinn’s car? There’s nothing. Honey just has to face it. It’s not going well.

She’s gone silent and she doesn’t think Quinn minds, but the silence is starting to suffocate her.

“Where are we going?” Honey asks, clearing her throat. There’s a lump in her throat that won’t disappear.

“The mall in Charlotte,” Quinn replies.

“Charlotte,” Honey repeats, feeling light-headed all of a sudden. “Why Charlotte?”

“Because the store I googled was there,” Quinn says curtly.

“I told you that there’s a store she’d like in Winston,” Honey says.

“I found something I thought she’d like,” Quinn says.

“Then why am I here?” Honey snaps.

Quinn looks over at Honey, a perturbed side-eye that has her glowering. He raises his eyebrows, then faces the street again. “We can go to Winston. We’re not even on the highway yet. We have time.”

“Well, good, because we’re going to Winston,” Honey says in a huff. She crosses her arms over her chest and sits back in the passenger seat. It’s obvious that Bea sat there last because the seat is practically laying back. She must have tried to sleep on the short car ride over. How futile.

Quinn scoffs and laughs a bit, rolling his eyes. Honey takes the consolation, but she doesn’t like being laughed at.

She cranks up the radio as loud as she can stand and rolls her window down. She lets the wind whip at her hair until it’s tangled, and gross, and she has to tie it up. Then, she rolls up her window and lays back in the seat, throwing her hands over her eyes.

Quinn is perfectly content to sit in silence during the drive to Winston-Salem. He sings along softly with the radio, just enough that Honey can hear him. At first, she wonders if he’s singing at all and if she’s just hearing the backup singers and harmonies like they’re 3D, but then she looks over and sees his lips moving and his thumbs tapping the wheel.

He looks handsome. In this light, laying down in his passenger seat, Honey wishes life was as easy for her as it is for Bea. She knows that Bea has her own problems and her own sorrows, but Honey wishes that her life could be so simple. Bea was never traumatized by an evil ex and never had her nudes leaked. She’s able to wear Quinn’s clothes without overthinking it. Better yet, she’s able to have sex with anyone she wants, including her boyfriend’s brother.

Honey realizes, in that moment, that she detests Bea. It’s not a permanent hatred. She’s just so jealous. Trevor would never take Bea out to go shopping for Honey’s birthday, and yet, here she is, wearing his shirt.

Honey breaks, tugging at the hem of the too-big shirt.

“Can we stop somewhere and get me a new shirt while we’re out?” Honey asks.

Quinn draws his eyebrows together before he looks over. “Why?” He takes his eyes off the road for just a second to inspect Honey’s shirt. “Is it stained or something?”

As soon as he looks away, he does a double-take, and Honey wishes she had never brought it up.

“Are you wearing–”

“Don’t,” Honey growls.

“Trevor’s shirt?” Quinn finishes, smirking evilly. “So I guess your relationship isn’t all that secret.”

“I’m not wearing it on purpose,” Honey hisses. “I accidentally grabbed it this morning.”

“This morning?” Quinn asks, a crooked smile overtaking his face. “Where were you this morning?”

Honey snarls in his direction, grinding her teeth.

“I thought you were inviting your, uh, dating app guy over to your place. Don’t you have clothes at your place?” Quinn teases.

He means well, is the thing. Honey knows that he’s just joking with her like he would with any of his friends, but he doesn’t know that she’s seeing red.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey tells him resolutely.

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says easily. Honey doesn’t believe that he’ll let it go, just based on the quirk of his lips as he continues to drive.

Honey’s lucky because they’re only a few minutes outside of Winston now and Quinn can hold his tongue for a few minutes. Soon enough, they’ll be surrounded by jewelry and he’ll be so confused that he has to let it go, unless he doesn’t want Honey to help him.

When they pull into the parking lot and Honey lets herself out of the vehicle, Trevor’s shirt falls even more loosely around her. Or, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s just Quinn’s laughter that makes her feel like she’s drowning in the fabric. Even Trevor’s scent around her isn’t comforting. It’s just making her feel worse, reminding her that this shirt is not hers and it does not belong on her body.

Honey tugs at the hem of the shirt almost constantly, untucking it and retucking it until she understands how foolish she must look. She stands more stiffly as Quinn talks to the sales associate, describing what he would like to buy. There’s a moment when the associate asks if the bracelet is for Honey, which leaves them both denying her in earnest.

“Her shirt might be my size, but it’s not mine,” Quinn says, which throws Honey back into her silence and makes her frown. It’s not what he said, because that’s completely true, but it’s the disdain in his voice when she says it.

His words are an answer to the question that she rarely ever lets her ask herself. Honey is not desirable. Trevor is a fluke. Ordinarily, Honey would remind herself that Trevor’s leaving in six weeks anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Today, for some fucked up reason, Trevor’s opinion matters a lot to Honey. She’d be positively shattered if he’s only fucking her because he can. When he leaves at the end of the summer, he’ll probably move on and start fucking other girls, and he’ll completely forget about Honey and Litchton altogether.

Honey can’t let that happen. She can’t let herself fall apart for a second time over another fucking boy. She and Trevor are just hooking up– and if she can’t get that through her head, then it’ll have to stop. She’ll just have to stop seeing him before he stops seeing her.

Yeah, that’ll work.

Honey is satisfied with the decision. She’ll stop seeing Trevor. She’ll get home, take this shirt off, and deliver it back to him later this week, along with the other one that she accidentally stole. It’ll be like when you give another child a gift at a birthday party, just so that they don’t feel left out.

She feels better for a little while. She’s able to shop around with Quinn, looking at the bracelets he likes and telling him which ones Bea would certainly not like. She even identifies the ones that Bea would like… but wouldn’t wear.

Eventually, they settle on a tiny gold bracelet decorated with five equidistant pink heart-shaped charms. It’s more expensive than anything Honey has ever bought for Bea, but hey, she’s not Bea’s suitor. Nor is she a rich man, and Quinn is a premier athlete. He’s sitting on some big bucks and Honey knows it.

She ignores every time Quinn makes a comment about the shirt, which he does each chance he gets. He mentions it in the store, while they shop around, as Honey models bracelets to see how they would fit on Bea, when they get in the car, and even while he drives them back towards Litchton and towards Trevor, who is the source of all of Honey’s anxiety at the moment.

She knows that Quinn is just teasing. She knows that he’s poking fun at her the way an older brother would. She knows that it isn’t meant to hurt her feelings and that he doesn’t know that she’s freaking out, completely surrounded in her mind by evil doubts and nagging, gremlin-like voices.

She can’t hear it any longer. Honey physically cannot bear to hear another quip from Quinn about her borrowed t-shirt. She cannot hear another mention of Trevor’s name. It only makes her feel worse, reminding her that she has decided to end this for her own good. The look on Trevor’s face when she tells him that it has to be over– oh, Honey might be sick. Honey might be sick if Quinn keeps talking, too.

After a final mumbled, snorted comment from Quinn, Honey slams her fist down on the arm rest and lifts her eyes to the ceiling of his car. Her eyes are stinging and it takes everything in Honey not to burst into tears right there.

“God, Quinn, would you quit it with the comments?” She demands.

Her throat is tight and she has to talk through her teeth to keep herself from chattering. She hugs herself, rubbing over the goosebumps on her triceps. She has to reach under Trevor’s sleeve to get to her skin– that’s how big and wrong his shirt feels on her body. The fabric is too long and too baggy and the part that she tucked into her skirt is digging into the small of her back. Honey brings her thumb up to her mouth and bites the pad of the digit, pinching her skin together. She stares stubbornly out the window, glaring at the trees along the highway. She sees Quinn look at her in her reflection and Honey avoids eye contact, biting her skin even harder. It’s stopping her lip from wobbling. She couldn’t bear to cry in front of Quinn, but today has just been– really, really hard for her.

First, she woke up wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, she had to be seen in public wearing Trevor’s clothes. Then, Quinn teased her for wearing Trevor’s clothes. Now, the shirt is digging into her back and she’s about to cry because she really, really doesn’t want to give it back. She really, really doesn’t want her relationships to be so hard, but she can’t stop herself. She’s still not patched back up from Thomas and that’s why she can’t be with Trevor. She wants so badly to be with Trevor the way that Bea is with Quinn, but she just can’t.

Quinn stays silent for a few minutes. Honey hears the song on the radio change twice.

The silence becomes too uncomfortable for her after Quinn checks in on her a second time, this time taking a hand off the steering wheel like he meant to touch her and comfort her. He lets it drop to the gearshift when he thinks better of touching her.

“And it smells in here,” Honey complains, voicing up about the thought that’s been running through her head since she got in the car outside of The Reading Nook this morning. She’s grumbling by the end of her sentiment. “I thought Trevor’s car was the equipment car.”

“Always thinking about Trevor, huh,” Quinn says quietly.

“Stop,” Honey says.

“Okay.” Quinn shrugs.

Silence.

Quinn looks her way again, less than thirty seconds later. “No. Not okay,” he decides. “What’s wrong with you? What did he do that has you so upset?”

“He didn’t do anything,” Honey mumbles, still facing the window.

“Honey, come on,” Quinn scoffs. “What’s the deal? You’re wearing his shirt and you look more uncomfortable than I’ve ever seen you. That’s not right.”

“Right,” Honey repeats. She finally turns to him, incredulous and fired up. He doesn’t know when to stop. He’s crossing all these lines and Honey can’t stand it. “What the fuck do you know about ‘right?’ Your girlfriend is fucking everyone else in that damn house.”

“You don’t know shit about our relationship,” Quinn replies, an edge in his voice.

“And you don’t know shit about mine,” Honey snaps. She glares at him, grinding her teeth and fighting back a burning threat of tears at her waterline.

“Well, fucking explain it to me,” Quinn snarls. “That’s why I asked in the first place.”

Honey is taken aback by his response. She hesitates.

“Look, Bea won’t tell me anything about– what happened to you,” Quinn says, his tone disjointed and careful. “And I haven’t asked about it more than once, but I have to ask now. Why are you so– hesitant to like him? We can all tell that he likes you and you… feel something for him, but I can tell you’re not committing to this. Why not?”

“It’s complicated,” Honey deflects, voice hard.

“Honey.”

Quinn’s voice is insistent. He pinches his lips together and tilts his head at her, imploring her with just a blink of his eyes.

“My last boyfriend sucked, okay?” Honey exclaims, turning to face the window again. She means to hide her tears, but her sniffle gives it away. She really should’ve considered that before she did it. “He sucked,” she says quieter. “And I really, really loved him. I really, really trusted him.”

Quinn stays quiet, letting Honey ruminate on her words.

“He–” Honey takes a sharp breath, shaking her head to herself. “He did everything he could to ruin my life.”

Honey can hear Quinn’s blinks and his consistent breath. He keeps taking deep inhales like he’s going to say something, then decides against it and lets the inhale go.

“So I have trouble–” her voice breaks on the word, “–committing to Trevor. If that’s the word we’re using. Not that you know anything about commitment.”

“I’m committed,” Quinn replies, the first thing he’s said in minutes. He says it with a defensive edge. “I’m committed.”

The repetition rubs Honey the wrong way, just for a moment before Quinn interrupts the process of Honey forming a confused expression.

“So’s Trevor, by the way,” Quinn adds. “Don’t let his douchey texts fool you. He’s not ‘just fucking’ you. He’s just a moron that doesn’t know how to talk to a girl he really likes.”

“Trevor is leaving at the end of the summer,” Honey says carefully. “I can’t–” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. She takes a breath and picks right back up. “I can’t let myself get my hopes up. I’m not gonna– like some guy just to be left in the dirt again.”

“What is it with you guys and thinking we’d leave you?” Quinn asks, shaking his head like he’s in disbelief, eyes still on the road. The words come out of him in a rush and his subsequent sealed lips tell Honey everything she needs to know.

Honey pauses, mind seeming to clear for a split second. “You’ve talked about this with Bea,” she observes, feeling like her voice is far away.

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose, then moves his hair off of his forehead. “Yeah,” he says.

“What did…? She’s…?” Honey isn’t sure which question is the right one, so she gives up on both.

Quinn forces a little smile onto his face. Honey’s body turns cold because she knows that face. He’s picked up Bea’s idiosyncracy, where she tries to deliver terrible news in a positive way so she doesn’t hurt the other person’s feelings. “She won’t leave Litchton until she knows you’re okay,” Quinn tells Honey.

“I’m okay,” Honey says.

“You’re not.” Quinn’s smile tilts with laughter, making it much more real. “She knows you’re not.”

Honey falters. “I’m– being in a new relationship after that is hard,” she insists. “But I’m doing it. I’m fine.”

Quinn nods at Honey in concession. When his eyes turn back to meet hers, Honey knows that he doesn’t blame her for this. It’s not something he has to tell her, which comforts her slightly. It calms her. He’s not angry or upset with her. He doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong.

They fall silent for another few minutes.

“Whatever, um, he did to you,” Quinn says after a while, treading lightly with his words and clearing his throat when he’s not sure he’s saying the right thing. “It wasn’t– you didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t your fault.”

Honey breathes out a weak laugh. “I know.”

“I mean it,” Quinn says, reaching over and taking her hand, squeezing it when he talks again. “You didn’t– that never should’ve happened to you.”

Honey blinks, touched by how genuine and sincere he sounds. He’s still holding her hand. She shakes him free. “I know,” she repeats, her voice feeling strange in her mouth. She can practically feel the words forming and falling off her tongue. They’re so– tangible.

Silence, again. This one is swifter. It’s Quinn who breaks it. Evidently, he feels as though the moment has passed and he can start teasing her again.

“Imagine how things would be if you weren’t all fucked up,” he says with a shit-eating smile.

Honey’s jaw drops and she starts to laugh, so thrown off by how blatant his statement is.

Quinn raises his pitch and speaks in a high voice, mocking Trevor. “‘Wanna eat u out baby’ and you would’ve let him! You would’ve run up those stairs with him in an instant!”

“Shut up!” Honey faux-gasps, reaching across the console to swat Quinn’s arm. “I would not have!”

“No, you’re right, you would’ve gone in the fucking closet!” Quinn shouts, pointing a finger in Honey’s direction. With his other hand, he clicks the turn signal on and takes the exit. Honey didn’t realize they’d been talking for so long. They’re almost home. “Don’t think I don’t know that you blew him in there!”

“I would never!” Honey shrieks, covering her mouth with her palm and squeezing her eyes shut from her laughter. Of course Bea told him about that.

Now that they’re laughing like real friends, Honey can’t stop. She also can’t bring herself to care that Quinn is teasing her. Now, she’s in on the joke. It’s– freeing.

“With the look on that fucker’s face?” Quinn tosses his thumb to the side like he’s pointing to an invisible Trevor. “It’s a miracle the other boys don’t know.”

Honey is able to reign in her giggles. “Thank you,” she says. “For not telling them, by the way. I don’t think Trevor or I have said that to you.”

Quinn’s laughter trails off, too. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs sincerely. The side of his lips tug up briefly before falling back into a serious line. He makes eye contact with Honey at the final light before home, ready to turn onto the main road that will carry them up the mountain. “I’m… happy for you guys.”

Honey smiles back, feeling her chest well up a little bit by how sweet he is. He deserves Bea, Honey thinks. She can’t think of anyone more deserving of her best friend. Quinn is special. Honey gets it. “I’m happy for you,” she replies. “You look really happy.”

Quinn blushes a bit, his gaze turning sheepish. He nods, a pout fighting and failing to obscure his smile. “She makes me happy.”

Honey nods. They don’t talk the rest of the way home.

45:90 – TREVOR

“I need you to go buy some stuff.”

Trevor looks up from his breakfast sandwich, still chewing his most recent bite. “What?” He asks, not sure if he heard Quinn correctly.

“I need you to go buy some stuff,” Quinn repeats. He produces a handwritten list from his pocket, tossing the crumpled paper at Trevor.

“Why?” Trevor asks.

“Because you can either go buy the supplies or you can decorate for the party,” Quinn says. “And I don’t think you want to decorate for the party.”

“What party?” Trevor takes another bite of his sandwich. This bite has an especially good amount of cheese in it. He hums in contentment.

Quinn furrows his eyebrows at Trevor. “Bea’s birthday party?” He reveals like it’s obvious.

“It’s Bea’s birthday?”

Quinn takes another pregnant pause before replying. “Yes.”

“Oh,” Trevor hums, taking another bite. “Cool.”

“Not today,” Quinn corrects. “Sunday. But the party is Friday.”

“Okay, well, it’s Wednesday. Why do I need to go shopping today?” Trevor asks.

Quinn scoffs and shakes his head. “Because I asked you to?”

Trevor makes a face. That’s not a good reason. He doesn’t want to buy anything for Bea’s party. He didn’t agree to throw a party for her. “Why do we have to throw?” Trevor questions. “She’s over here all the time anyway. Why do we have to decorate?”

Quinn clenches his jaw. “Because,” he explains through gritted teeth. “I want it to be special.”

Trevor looks at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay.” He returns to his sandwich, ignoring Quinn, who is still standing across from him. Over a minute later, Quinn is still there. Trevor shoves the last bite in his mouth and dusts off his hands, chewing harshly before speaking again.

“What else?” He asks.

“You need to dig out a suit,” Quinn says.

“A suit?” Trevor demands. “Why?”

“It’s the theme,” Quinn explains.

Trevor blanches. “It’s just the seven of us. Why do we need a theme?”

“What is this, twenty questions?” Quinn says, rolling his eyes. “I can play, too. Don’t you know that this will benefit you, too?”

“How?” Trevor asks.

“Trevor,” Quinn sighs, scrubbing his face with both of his hands. “It’s a black-tie event. Honey’s going to wear a tight, black dress. You are going to get to see her in this tight, black dress. She will wear high heels. She will do her makeup and her hair. You get to see her all done up.”

Oh.

Trevor can picture it now and he’s salivating. He’s already plotting all of the ways that he can take her dress off.

“So if you don’t mind,” Quinn continues. “I need you to go get the decorations and I need you to find your suit.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Trevor decides, still a little starry eyed at the idea of Honey in a pretty, fancy dress. “I’ll go grab the stuff before hockey later.”

They’re going down to Charlotte for a late night practice at the arena, running with some of the Checkers’ players as a mid-summer treat for the members of the team that stayed in Charlotte for the summer. It should be fun– especially since they’re able to play a full-strength scrimmage for the first time all summer. Trevor’s been looking forward to it since last week.

“Thanks,” Quinn tells Trevor as the boy walks past him. His appreciation is dry, but it’s said with a quirk of a smile. “Hey, by the way.” He touches Trevor’s elbow as he passes. “Honey’s a little, well, concerned.”

Trevor stops in his tracks and furrows his brow. “What do you mean, she’s concerned? About what? When did you talk to her?”

“Yesterday. We went to Winston-Salem. She told me about her ex,” Quinn says.

Thomas. Trevor’s face contorts. He feels disgusted every time he thinks of that guy. How could he take someone as perfect as Honey and make her feel so terrible that she left town? If he could get his hands on Thomas…

“She’s just nervous about it,” Quinn finishes, shrugging. “Being with you after all of that.”

“I know,” Trevor says, his lip curled. He doesn’t need Quinn to tell him all of this. He doesn’t need Quinn to explain Honey’s feelings to him. Quinn doesn’t even know her– not as well as Trevor does, at least. Honey already told him everything. They’re moving at her pace already. Trevor isn’t doing anything to pressure her, yet, here Quinn is, talking to Trevor like he’s scolding him. “I don’t need you to tell me anything about Honey. We’ve got it all figured out.”

Quinn laughs. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

“She cried in my car,” Quinn says. “She cried in my car, Trevor.”

Trevor swallows a comeback and sets his jaw. He stalks past Quinn and out the door, moving in lurching movements as he climbs into his car and drives off, towards town.

What do you mean she cried in your car? Trevor asks Quinn in his head. What did you say that made her cry? She was fine the other night. Things have been fine. There’s nothing for her to worry about.

While driving, Trevor calls Honey. She doesn’t pick up the first time, but he calls her again. And again. He has to ask her why she cried and why she’s worried. What won’t Honey tell him and why not?

She picks up on his fourth call. Before she can say hello, Trevor is talking. “Why did you cry in Quinn’s car yesterday?” He asks.

There’s a brief silence on the other end. “Good morning, Trevor,” Bea says. “Honey’s not able to come to the phone at the moment.”

“Why not?” Trevor demands. “And why do you always have her fucking phone when I’m trying to reach her?”

“You mean when you’re trying to sext her?” Bea replies. “She just doesn’t have pockets, bud. She’s out in the store right now.”

“I’m coming over.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Bea says.

Trevor laughs dryly. “Why not,” he asks, voice so despondent that the question presents as a statement.

“She’s…” Bea hums, trying to decide what to say. “She’s having a bad day, Trev. Quinn did what he could yesterday. Once she was alone again, she got back in her head. Don’t come to the store today. I’m trying to convince her not to break up with you.”

“Break up with me?” Trevor repeats, his jaw dropping. “No.” He outright refuses. She can’t break up with him.

“I know, okay?” Bea says, lowering her voice. “She went farther than she’s ready to, so she’s trying to overcorrect by backing off completely. I’m going to take care of it. I’m not going to let her break it off with you. I need you to, just, God, Trev– I have to go. Just don’t come to the store today. I’m handling it.”

Bea hangs up and leaves Trevor with more questions than he had before he called.

Honey wants to break up with him? Does she consider them ‘together’ like… boyfriend-girlfriend? Not anymore, he guesses. He’ll stay away, even if he hates it. He’d like to be the one comforting her– not Bea or Quinn. He should be the one holding Honey and taking care of her, like that night that she first kissed him and he slept with her while she cried. Bea may think that she’s got things under control, but Honey was calm after Trevor slept in her bed. She was able to explain everything about Thomas without crying. She was soft and sweet and rational when she explained things to Trevor. He expects that she would act the same way if he could just talk to her.

Trevor’s at war with himself. He wants to go to the Nook, but he won’t. He won’t. He’ll listen to Bea because he wants Honey to be okay and Bea says she’s got it under control. Plus, he’d rather not get broken up with. If he sees Honey and she ends things, Trevor knows that she’ll commit herself to never seeing him again.

The idea of seeing Honey in the distance and having her turn away instead of smiling softly, like Trevor has grown used to, has his chest growing cold. He sags in his seat, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he always sees Honey do. Trevor won’t go. He’ll stay away so that he can be by her side for the rest of their lives. As determined as Honey would be to stay away from Trevor if they broke up– Trevor’s more determined to keep her by his side.

Trevor’s preoccupied as he shops for Quinn. He spends probably hundreds of dollars on liquor and food and decorations for Bea’s party. He’s a little bit more content to splurge for Bea now that she’s trying to save his relationship. A pretty party seems like an apt way to repay her for the trouble.

Trevor’s also still banking on seeing Honey in a pretty dress on Friday. The party needs to be perfect.

46:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes up in Bea’s bed, snuggled up with the girl because she’s hogging all the blankets. Her head is a little foggy after yesterday. She thought she was fine after talking to Quinn in the car, but that was just a mirage. Wearing Trevor’s shirt in public was big, a disaster even, after Bea rolled into The Reading Nook yesterday and said that Honey looked cute in her soft launch.

It turns out, Quinn had been tagged in something on an Instagram story on Tuesday. When he looked at it, it was a picture of him and Honey in Winston, shopping for Bea. The picture was harmless, but the speculation was not– and Honey didn’t like being back on social media without her permission. It made her think of– well. It made her think of her very short stint on that porn website.

It was really hard for her to breathe after seeing the picture. Quinn reported it and had it taken down after he had seen it, but he had taken a screenshot so that he could show Bea and they could laugh about it. Bea hadn’t expected for Honey to be so effected by the picture, considering you can’t even see her face, which is why she had brought it up. Honey feels a little guilty– Bea had wanted a laugh and instead, she had gotten one of Honey’s Category Four freakouts.

By the time the store closed, Bea had calmed Honey down to a Category One, but she had asked Honey to stay the night with her just to make sure she was okay. Bea practically babysat Honey all night, which is probably not how she wanted her evening to go. She probably had plans to meet up with one of the boys, but she was relegated to hanging out with Honey instead. It’s another reason why Honey feels guilty.

Poor Bea. She didn’t sign up for such drama when she became friends with Honey in grade school. If she could go back, Honey wonders if she would change it.

Bea stirs when Honey tries to take back some of her covers. “No,” she whines, blinking blearily. “Don’t take my blankets.”

“You can’t have all of them,” Honey insists, able to secure a corner of the topsheet. She bundles herself in the thin linen.

Bea squeezes her eyes shut and whines again, turning away from Honey and trying to fall back asleep.

“Hey,” Honey says.

“What,” Bea replies, her voice an annoyed grumble. She’s never been a morning person.

“Never mind,” Honey decides, thinking better of asking the question. It’s too early and Bea will think she’s still in a bad headspace.

Bea tosses her head back and turns over, glaring at Honey before reaching up to rub the sleep out of one eye. “Say it. You can’t just start your sentence and then say ‘never mind.’”

Now it’s Honey’s turn to roll her eyes. “You do it all the time.”

“Well, it’s different when I do it.”

Honey scoffs. “It��s only different because you think you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

“Because I’m special,” Bea brags.

“You think so.”

“Hey, it’s my birthday week, you have to listen to me.”

Honey sighs. “Fine. I was wondering if, if you could go back in time, you’d still choose to be my friend.”

Bea widens her eyes, an alarmed look taking over her features. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, ‘cause…” Honey shrugs. “Everything with Thomas? Everything with Trevor?”

Bea scoffs. “If I could go back in time and change anything, I’d stop you from dating Thomas in the first place. But, then we wouldn’t be here, and you wouldn’t have met Trevor. Who, by the way, you’re still not breaking up with.”

“I know,” Honey drawls, rolling her head back on her shoulders. Bea spent a good portion of yesterday trying to talk Honey down from making a ‘rash decision that she’ll regret.’

“Good, I’m glad we’re still on the same page about that,” Bea says. She brings her hands out from under the covers and stretches, then sits up. The sheets pool around her waist. “He’s our guest reader today.”

“What?” Honey asks. She sits up too.

“He’s our guest reader for Story Time,” Bea says again.

Honey’s mouth opens in surprise and a little bit of anger. “When did you organize that?”

“After you fell asleep last night,” Bea reveals with a shrug.

“Why?” Honey demands.

Bea smiles. “He wanted to see you yesterday.”

Honey gestures for her to continue, not satisfied by that answer.

“Don’t act like your boyfriend needs an excuse to see you,” Bea says.

Honey frowns. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Whatever you say.”

“He’s not.”

“Okay.”

“Bea.”

“I said okay, Hon. If he’s not your boyfriend, then he’s not your boyfriend.”

“We’re just hooking up.”

“For now,” Bea mumbles.

“Yes, Bea, for now,” Honey says, practically pleading for the girl to understand what she’s explaining. “He leaves at the end of the summer.”

“You don’t have to remind me that they’re leaving,” Bea says, sighing.

“Well, they are, which is why he’s not my boyfriend. He’ll never be my boyfriend. He’s just– stress relief.” Honey has climbed out of the bed by now, gathering clothes from Bea’s dresser so that she can head to the Nook soon.

Bea laughs. “This is your way of not breaking up with him? Reducing him to ‘stress relief’ and pacing around my bedroom?”

“Bea!” Honey exclaims, halting her movements and facing the girl. “He’s not my boyfriend because he doesn’t deserve all of that pressure. You, of all people, know how much work it is to keep up with my constant mood swings and take care of me. It sucks, taking care of me. I ruined your night last night and the joke you wanted to make yesterday, and that’s just within the past twenty-four hours.”

“You’re not hard to take care of,” Bea says.

“You only say that because you’ve gotten used to it after the past five years,” Honey sneers. “Plus, you and I were friends for twelve years before Thomas, too. You’ve got experience. Trevor has no experience.”

Bea raises her eyebrows. “He might not have experience, but he has plenty of patience. Plus–”

“Look,” Honey interrupts. “I am not going to put a label on this. If he’s my boyfriend, then he’s partially responsible for me. It’s part of the package. He’s leaving at the end of the summer anyway and we both know, after last night, that I can’t handle being seen in public with an NHL player. He’s not my boyfriend because I don’t want him to resent me by the end of the summer.”

“Why would he resent you?” Bea asks.

Honey throws her hands up in exasperation. “Because I’m hard work and I can’t give him what he wants! I can’t even tell Jack and Cole and Luke about this relationship. That’s a shitty way to live.”

Bea leans forward, holding eye contact with Honey. “Honey, Trevor is obsessed with you,” she says, speaking clearly as if Honey can’t hear her. “He’s not going to leave you. He’s not going to resent you. He wants you.”

“Yeah, now,” Honey scoffs. “He won’t want me when–”

“All the time,” Bea insists. “He wanted to eat you out because you looked pretty on Monday. You looked like a fucking bum.”

“Hey!” Honey complains. “So did you,” she grumbles.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Bea waves her off. “The point is, Honey, he really likes you. Even Quinn says it and he’s always annoyed with Trevor. He never says anything nice about Z if he can help it.”

“Well, whatever,” Honey replies. “I’m going to the Nook.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in like fifteen,” Bea says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and heading towards her bathroom. “I gotta tame this bedhead.”

It’s a wonder that Bea is late to work almost every day. She lives, like, a five minute walk from The Reading Nook, in a townhouse just off the main street. It’s the best piece of real estate that Litchton has seen in years, in Honey’s humble opinion. Her building was a repurposed government building and the apartments were split up by department. Bea lives on the second floor in the brick building, in the old Parks and Rec department. Now, the Parks and Rec department resides in the only real building in Litchton’s only park.

Honey joins Ada in the Nook, busying herself with some of the opening tasks that she knows Ada hates. Sweeping under the shelves, mostly. Honey likes that she’s left alone to do her sweeping. She’s able to avoid Bea when she comes into the store and she’s able to sneak off before the start of Story Time.

She restocks the stacks until there are no books left. She’s searching high and low for a book out of place, but Honey can’t find any. The only other thing to do in the store is take up her spot behind the counter and listen to Story Time, waiting for the parents and kids to be done. No one buys anything during Story Time. They’re just there to listen. It’s afterward that they mingle and look around– maybe because school is starting in about two months, people will be doing summer reading, and they’ll need a book.

Honey is praying for something to intervene. She's praying. Honey doesn't pray. She also doesn’t want to see Trevor after everything she’s felt over the past few days. She’s still not sure what she wants to do. Does she want to hook up with him like everything’s normal? Does she want to end it now and save herself the hurt later?

Or, does she want to take the jump and do more, like Trevor is always asking? Dinner, drinks, wearing his shirt in public, shit like holding hands. Is Honey ready for that? Is Trevor the right person to trust with that?

As much as she’d like to avoid making a decision on that front, Honey’s distracted by Trevor’s voice as he reads The Giving Tree. Of course he chose to read The Giving Tree, too– it’s such a cliché book. Honey never liked it as a kid. She always thought that the boy was selfish and the tree gave up too much. She knows that the whole point of the giving tree is that the tree gives everything it can selflessly, but she just hated it. Her mom loved it, so they read it a lot. There’s probably a worn copy of the book in Honey’s home, come to think of it.

She doesn’t like the book, but Trevor’s making these silly voices for the tree and the boy… and Honey just wants to melt into a puddle. She’s able to make it over to the counter without looking at him. She’s able to pick up her book and skim the words on the page, not really reading them. She’s too distracted by Trevor’s voice and his conspiratorial whisper.

“‘Come, boy,’ She whispered,” Trevor says. “‘Come and play.’” His voice changes to something deeper, more gruff. “‘I am too old and sad to play,’ said the boy. ‘I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?’”

Honey closes her eyes and bites the insides of her cheeks. She shakes her head to herself, pushing her tongue against the back of her top teeth.

“You okay?” Bea asks, touching Honey’s shoulder and making her jump. She could’ve sworn that a minute ago, Bea was loitering at the back of the group of parents, listening to Trevor speak.

Honey forces a smile on her face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says. She nods at Bea, shooing her away.

Bea watches her for a second longer, walking backwards to rejoin the group. She offers Honey a shaky thumbs-up on the walk back, waiting for Honey to give her a signal that she’s not fine. Honey refuses. She already caused enough problems for Bea lately. She doesn’t want to be the emotionally unstable friend that needs to be watched every minute of every day.

She catches a glimpse of Trevor behind Bea and through the parents. Like a car crash, she’s unable to look away. He’s wearing golf clothes, like he’s about to go on the greens with the boys after Story Time. His hair is tucked up into a cap and he’s smiling widely at the crowd gathered around his feet. There’s a little, baby girl using Trevor’s leg to pull herself into a standing position. He turns the page and shows her the illustration, mouth wide open in a showman-like gasp before he starts again.

“‘Well,’” he reads. “‘Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.’ And the boy did!” He exclaims, smiling at the little girl. She reaches up to try and touch his teeth.

Honey’s heart suddenly feels like it’s being thrown through a meat grinder. She’s taking deep breaths like it can level her head. She’s touched by Trevor’s dedication to the book and to his audience. She catches one of the moms whispering and pulling out her phone, taking a video and zooming in on the girl as she stomps a foot like she’s ready to walk. She doesn’t, but she’s standing.

“She’s never done that before,” Honey catches as the mother starts to whisper again.

Her eyes return to Trevor. He’s closing the book, placing it gently in his lap. Trevor’s eyes find Honey and his eyes soften. So do the edges of his lips, turning upward like an instinct. “And the tree was happy,” He says with that same soft smile.

The parents break into applause, prompting their children to do the same. Trevor continues to look at Honey, but she can feel her frown deepen into something almost comical. She looks away and shakes her head again, biting her lower lip so hard that she wonders if she’ll leave a mark. She covers her face with both hands, then drops them. She shakes out her wrists and takes an unsteady breath.

Fuck. She’s going to cry right here behind the cash register.

In order to prevent the embarrassment and to save herself from further content that will make her emotional, Honey hops off her stool and ducks into the back room. She closes the door behind her, sitting down at the little wooden table where she and Bea normally eat lunch, folding her arms and cradling her forehead against the skin. Her nose is brushing the wooden tabletop, so Honey shifts lower until her arms are resting against the edge of the table.

She takes a few breaths, swallowing hard as she winces and shakes her head some more. She feels like a fucking bobblehead. She hates that book. She hates that it always applies in every situation.

She’s the boy. Trevor is the tree. She takes, he gives, and nothing will change for her except age and he’ll be left gutted and stoopy from all of her taking.

Honey’s getting a migraine. This week has been too emotional and turbulent for her.

The door opens and shuts. Honey doesn’t have to look up. He’s been following her around for weeks. Why would this be any different?

“I can’t do that to you,” Honey whispers. “And if you stay with me, I’m gonna do that to you. I don’t want you to give up everything because of me.” If her eyes were open, they’d be stinging with tears. She decides to brave it. Honey picks her head up and faces him.

The look on Trevor’s face is one of deep thought. He’s pouting just a tad, just enough that Honey can tell. He looks at her, takes his time examining every detail of her outfit and her body and her face. When he finally speaks, his words follow the same volume Honey used.

“I’m not giving up anything,” Trevor says. “I’m– I’m getting you.”

Honey grimaces and looks away, sniffing and wiping under her nose.

Trevor walks closer. He crouches, then kneels next to her chair. “Baby,” he breathes, putting a hand on her knee.

Honey fixes him with a miserable glare, a tear running down her cheek before she can stop it.

Trevor reaches up and wipes it away. “I’ll give everything I have,” he murmurs. He brushes her hair out of her face. “If you’re the company by my side at the end of the story.”

Honey crumples and cries. ��I’m sorry,” she says through the tears.

“Sorry for what, Honey?” Trevor prods, tilting his head at her and looking up through those sad puppy-dog eyes. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

Even though he’s right, Honey is still sorry for everything. She still feels like she’s weighing on him, like her past is weighing on them. She thought she was healing because she didn’t think about Thomas as much anymore at the beginning of the summer. It was just denial– five fat years of denial and repression that’s bubbling up now that she’s got this sweet, caring, and devoted boy at her feet. She wishes she could give him everything. Unfortunately, she’s never been the giving kind.

She’s hoping that can change.

“I– I do like you,” Honey stammers out, trying to sound as convincing as she can through the tears. “You know I do.”

Trevor nods seriously. “The sex gave it away.”

Honey bursts into a fresh round of tears, spurred on by the sudden laughter that Trevor inspired. She wipes under her eyes. “I’m really trying,” she insists.

“I know you are,” Trevor says.

“Sometimes I think it doesn’t seem like it, but I am,” Honey says again. “I know you’re not– him. He never tried this hard.”

“He didn’t know what he was missing,” Trevor says. “You are sweet, and smart, and quick, and you challenge me. I’ve never had to try so hard for someone.” He shrugs. “You’re just– worth it.”

“How do you– how do you know that?” Honey asks, feeling silly and embarrassed to ask such a stupid question.

Trevor shrugs, touching her face down to her neck and shoulders. “I don’t know it. It’s just natural. Like, of course I’m trying this hard for you. It’s you.”

Honey understands the sentiment, even though Trevor is the worst at explaining his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” he says, reading her mind. “That probably sounded stupid. I’m really bad at talking about stuff like this.”

Honey breathes out a laugh and reaches down to cradle Trevor’s face. “You’re sweet,” she says, leaning forward to kiss him. “Thank you for trying so hard. I wish I didn’t make it so hard for you.”

“I don’t care, baby, don’t worry about all of that.”

“I worry,” Honey says, thumbing over Trevor’s bottom lip to wipe her lipgloss away. She only put it on because Bea handed it to her when she walked into The Reading Nook, wordlessly. They always share lipgloss and chapstick and have for years. It’s second nature and now Bea’s cherry lip gloss is smeared along Trevor’s lips. “I always worry.”

“How about this,” Trevor starts.

Bea knocks on the door, popping her head into the room. “Hey, Hon?” She says softly. “Jessie’s wondering if she and Luca can say goodbye to you before they go.”

Honey sniffs and wipes under her eyes. “Yeah, no problem. I’ll be right out.” Bea nods and leaves the back room. Honey pats the side of Trevor’s face and gestures for him to move so that she can stand.

He does, taking her hand and squeezing it. He uses his other hand to wipe her eyes once more. “I’ll come over later and we can talk, yeah? I’ll bring you a bunch of trashy food and we can do a whole lot of nothing until you feel better.”

Honey nods. “Okay. Do you want to sleep over?”

She wants Trevor to sleep over, but she won’t tell him to stay outright. Honey wants it to be his choice. She knows that his answer is yes, always yes to sleeping over, but she doesn’t want to assume.

He tries to stop his face from lighting up, but Honey notices anyway. She’s unable to hold back a smile and an eye roll.

“I’ll see you after you get off work, yeah?” Trevor says, touching her fingers like a promise.

Honey can only nod. She leaves the room first, bidding Jessie and little Luca a goodbye. She bounces the toddler on her hip after he reaches for her, still attached to her from the year and a half of babysitting she did for Jessie and Tyler when Luca was first born. When she finishes saying goodbye to the boy and once she heads back to the back room to see how puffy her eyes are, Trevor is gone.

He stays true to his word and shows up at her house after work. He’s changed into his comfy clothes after golfing, but he loses his shirt once he sees that Honey is already in her pajamas. He lost to Quinn and Jack in the final few holes, but beat Cole and Luke. He tells Honey that he’s happy being the middle of the pack, which she makes fun of him for saying.

They watch a movie on Honey’s couch, some new terrible rom-com that Trevor swears was good when Cole watched it. Once Honey decides that the movie stinks, Trevor makes it his mission to kiss every inch of her exposed skin until she’s squirming and pushing him away. He just laughs and keeps going while she squeals, placing his hand against the side of her neck to caress her skin.

Honey relaxes over the course of the film, comforted by the weight of Trevor’s hand on her neck and the way he’s laying half-on-top of her. His lips continue to kiss her skin and brush against her, keeping Honey on her toes and making her body feel charged with electricity. It’s lazy and sweet and it’s actually very comforting– Honey doesn’t think about Thomas or her fear and anxiety about her relationship with Trevor once. She just watches the poorly-made film and plays with Trevor’s hair.

They talk in murmured and hushed whispers as the night passes, even after the movie ends and the food Trevor brought over goes cold. They don’t even fuck, despite the fact that Honey can feel Trevor’s dick pressing into her hip the whole night long. He puts his hand up her shirt to cup her boob, another comforting weight.

They sleep on Honey’s couch. It’s thinner than a twin bed and probably a lot less comfortable in the long run, but Honey and Trevor fall asleep right there, too comfortable and content to move. Trevor falls asleep first, his breath fanning out and raising goosebumps on her skin. Honey continues to pet through his hair until she, too, closes her eyes and succumbs to calm dreams. It’s the most secure she’s felt in days and that’s all thanks to Trevor.

Honey wishes that she could express it outright, that Trevor is the right person to trust with all of this. It’s just a matter of getting all of it out.

47:90 – TREVOR

They’ve been decorating all day. Trevor is about at his wit’s end with Quinn and no matter how much he’s begged Honey over text, she won’t send him a picture of her dress. She won’t tell him how she’s doing her hair, or even what lip color she’s wearing. He’s asked over and over, since they’re back to normal after Honey’s freakout the other day, and since they’re back to normal… she’s teasing him. The only detail she’s offered is what he already knew: her dress is black. It has offered him absolutely no relief.

But, finally, it’s time for Trevor to get dressed. The closest thing he has to a black suit, which is what Quinn wanted him to wear, is his navy suit with the thin white checkered lines on it.

He actually should get another one ahead of Shoulder Check– maybe he can swing by his home in New York before the media starts for the game. It’s in about two weeks and Trevor has barely thought about his participation– really, he was having so much fun in Litchton and with Honey that he forgot about his other responsibilities. He loves the Shoulder Check Showcase and everything it stands for. Maybe he can bring Honey with him.

Meh. He thinks. That’s a question for another time.

He suits up in his fancy outfit, having steamed his shirt ahead of time to get rid of the wrinkles. Trevor runs a comb through his hair, touching the flow to make sure it’s in place. He folds his collar over and considers adding a tie, but decides against it. He’ll probably lose the suit jacket by the end of the night anyway, so what’s the tie worth?

Quinn seems to think otherwise. He’s wearing that same dark suit he always wears, with the same shirt he always wears, and the same tie he always wears. Trevor would rag on him, but Jack and Luke are already teasing him. Luke can barely speak though– he’s not even showered.

He’s wearing the same clothes he’s been wearing all day and he got out of decorating because he stayed away from the house and played hockey all day. He got up at the ass-crack of dawn and snuck out of the house, driving himself and his gear to Charlotte. He just got back about twenty minutes ago. Trevor wishes he had thought of disappearing first– Quinn promised that if Trevor bought the supplies, he wouldn’t have to decorate, and yet he was the one tasked with blowing up balloons to scatter throughout the basement.

Everyone else is ready, though. Jack is playing some game on the basement TV while Cole hangs up even more streamers along the pool table, just for fun. Quinn is delicately filling and balancing plastic champagne flutes atop each other, creating an impressive tower that Trevor’s sure will fall apart before the end of the night. That’s why he bought plastic flutes instead of deciding to use the ones in the cabinet upstairs.

Luke lumbers downstairs in his NHL Awards suit, tie and all. He joins Jack on the couch and leans back, throwing his feet up on the coffee table.

Trevor busies himself at the makeshift bar they’ve set up. It’s more of a big cooler that they usually use on the boat, filled with ice and beers and the seltzers that Bea likes so much. He doesn’t know why he bought so much liquor if no one is going to drink it. There’s a full bottle of everyone’s favorite kinds of liquor, and not the cheap ones– Bea and Cole like tequila. Honey prefers vodka, but she’s not averse to a gin and tonic when the moment calls for it. Trevor likes keeping both on hand for her. Luke and Jack are vodka folks too, although they’re slowly warming up to scotch and whiskey. Jim likes whiskey, as does Quinn, and Quinn started getting into bourbon before he started focusing on his diet for hockey again. This might be one of his last nights to go crazy before he cuts drinking out completely again.

He was so annoying last summer when he did it– although Trevor did like the fact that Quinn was always their DD. This summer has been better. He indulges and parties with them, but he’s not a stickler about their own habits. It’s another way that Litchton has mellowed Quinn.

“Yoohoo!” Trevor hears from the foyer upstairs. “Anybody home?”

He grins to himself. With Bea comes Honey– and the clicking of high-heeled feet on the floor above him is proof. Trevor’s face feels split from how he’s trying to hold back his smile and stay calm, busying himself with the drinks. He digs for a Modelo that is completely submerged in the ice.

“We’re down here,” Quinn calls, balancing that final champagne flute on the tippy-top of his pyramid.

“Good job, Q. Looks good. Makes me want to take a flute from the bottom,” Jack says. “Send it all crashing down.”

“I’ll kill you if you do,” Quinn replies with a quirk of his eyebrow. Then, his eyes fall toward the steps, towards the clatter of feet. Bea is bounding down the stairs with graceful ease, whereas Honey is stepping carefully and holding onto the railing.

Bea comes first, but once Trevor gets eyes on his girl, he can’t look away. The dress is black, alright. So are the high heels. After that detail, Trevor’s mind goes blank. It’s tight on her waist and hips, and long. It’s scrunchy towards the middle of her chest, accentuating her lovely tits. Trevor likes the straps of the dress too– a see-through ribbon material that she’s tied into this elegant bows. It’s how Trevor’s going to undo the dress later tonight, if he ends up undoing it at all. He might just crawl up under the fabric and get his mouth on her with it still on her body.

Honey’s lips are painted in a dark red. Her lips perk up when she catches Trevor staring, but she’s quick to turn away and greet Cole, who’s taking her hand and lifting it up for her to spin underneath. Her hair is up and curled and beautiful and a breath of laughter escapes Trevor. He quickly stifles it and goes back to his beer, twisting the cap off. He picks a seltzer from the cooler, Honey’s favorite kind.

Trevor sets it on the edge of the bar, next to the fruit board that he organized just for Honey. She’ll know it’s meant for her and that it’s from him.

After he wanders over to the sofa, after he’s had a few sips of his beer, and after he’s eaten some chips and dip, Trevor sees Honey pick up the seltzer and read the label. She smiles to herself and picks up a raspberry, popping it into her mouth. She glances at Trevor and tips the can at him like a toast. Then, she turns away.

They don’t interact for most of the night. Honey keeps a safe distance away– it’s part of what they talked about last night. She told him that she’s worried that they’re being too obvious. Trevor’s solution was that he’d leave her alone. He’d stop giving her those “forlorn puppy eyes”, as she calls them, and he’d stop following her around until she gives him The Signal.

It took them about an hour to decide on what the signal would be. Trevor’s bad at code words and Honey refused to be so obvious and agree to some hand signal. They eventually decided that she’d play with her hair for an extended period of time, and if that didn’t work, she’d send him a text. They decided that she’d send him the seeing-eye-dog emoji, since Trevor made the joke that he’d be blind if he didn’t notice that Honey wanted to hook up with him. She had replied that it’ll probably be her most-used emoji by the end of the summer.

They drink, they’re merry, and Honey catches Trevor watching her more times than he’d like to admit. She shakes her head at him like she’s disappointed in him, but Trevor’s not too hurt. After all, he’s caught her staring, too.

The party goes into the night and Cole is the drunkest of them all. He’s commandeered a bag of pretzel rods from upstairs, which Trevor had tucked away in case they needed more food. He’s not sure how Cole found them. He thought he put them in a high-enough cabinet. It’s probably a good thing that Cole found something to soak up all the drinks, though, because if he hadn’t, his words would be even more absurd than what he’s saying now.

It started as an evaluation of all of their outfits, with proper ratings after he forced them to strut across the room. Now, they’re all tired and talking deliriously, and Cole is talking about how pretty each of the girls are. Trevor’s not even mad– it’s just funny.

“Honey, you’re like small-town-girl pretty. When I saw you, I thought: what the fuck is she doing here?” Cole says.

Honey scoffs out a laugh, raising her drink to her lips. “Gee, thanks, Coley.” Her lipstick is smudging the rim of the can.

Cole continues. “No, like… you’re the kind of pretty where I could imagine someone meeting you in college and when you tell them that you’re from Litchton, they’d be all ‘Oh, no way, I thought you were from Raleigh’ or something.”

“Well, I’m from Charlotte,” Honey corrects under her breath. Trevor chuckles into his beer.

Cole talks on like he didn’t hear her. Maybe he didn’t. “You’re state capital level pretty, but some of the charm is that you’re from a small town.”

“Sick,” Honey says sarcastically. “I really appreciate that clarification.”

“And Bea’s like an actress that always wears an evening gown and holds a champagne flute in every role she plays,” Cole says. Trevor wonders if it’s because she’s conveniently holding a champagne flute between her fingers now. “Just because it’s so perfect. You’re, like, regal-hot, Buzz.”

Trevor rolls his eyes. That’s Honey’s nickname for Bea. Cole using it is like when Honey called Trevor ‘Z.’ Bea doesn’t seem to mind.

“You could model if you weren’t living in Litchton, Bea,” Cole says. He’s started hiccuping and now he’s pointing his pretzel at Quinn. Quinn and Bea are sitting on the floor, with Bea between his legs. Her back is against his front and his arms are hugging her. Cole pipes up again. “Dude, she should talk to Liv. Didn’t she say that whoever-the-fuck was always looking for people? Bea could be their champagne girl.”

Oh. Trevor cringes. Cole has completely lost track of anything that is socially acceptable. He’s entering uncharted territory, a very dangerous topic: past relationships that didn’t end necessarily well.

Cole doesn’t notice anything, even when Quinn glares at him. “Yeah, she did say that,” Quinn replies.

“Bea, I’m serious. You really should talk to Liv.”

“Who’s Liv?” Honey interrupts, looking around the room.

Trevor’s honestly surprised that Bea hasn’t told Honey about Olivia yet– he knows that Quinn has told Bea about his recent ex-relationship.

An awkward silence falls over the room with each of the boys looking at each other. Who’s going to be brave enough to speak? Quinn doesn’t want to. Cole is oblivious.

“Quinn’s ex,” Luke eventually murmurs. “She’s, uh, a model in New York.”

“Oh,” Honey says, turning to look at Bea.

Trevor watches Quinn nudge his forehead against the back of Bea’s head, then his arms drop. He leans back, planting his palms on the ground behind him. Bea shuffles to the side a bit– and they’re no longer touching at all.

“Coley, let’s play pool,” Honey suddenly says. “I bet I could whoop you right now. You probably can’t even do a break.”

“I can do a break!” Cole defends himself, sounding much more upset than he normally would be at the weak jibe. He clambers to his feet and deposits his bag of pretzel rods in Jack’s lap, setting his drink on the coffee table without a coaster.

Honey joins him at the pool table and Trevor smiles at the sight of the duo in their fancy clothes, playing on their dingy table in their rustic room.

Bea murmurs something to Quinn quietly, then she stands. She smooths out her white dress, adjusting the line of feathers that act as her neckline. It’s a strapless dress with a low back, and with how Quinn’s hand had been resting on the small of her back all night, he wasn’t expecting this evening to take this turn.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Bea announces unnecessarily, sounding awkward. “J, will you…?”

Trevor furrows his brow and looks at Quinn. The boy’s head is hanging and his fingers are picking at the fabric of the carpet. When Trevor looks at Jack, the boy’s lips are parted in surprise and his eyes are wide.

“Yeah,” Jack agrees, downing his beer and grabbing his jacket when he stands. He and Bea head upstairs, disappearing from sight.

The group kind of disintegrates after that. Cole and Honey play pool and Luke and Trevor watch them. Quinn returns to the television, throwing ESPN on and sipping his beer. He doesn’t talk, but he joins them once Honey schools Cole in pool. He takes the cue from Honey and Luke takes Cole’s, and Cole goes up to bed.

“I think I’m gonna go home,” Honey says quietly to Trevor, touching his lapel. “See you later?”

“Want me to come over?” Trevor asks.

“No. Gotta keep my schedule open for Bea. She might want to talk about this Liv thing. You can walk me to the door, though,” Honey decides. She looks over his shoulders to the other boys. “Bye, Lu. Bye, Quinn. Good luck with the Liv thing.”

“Thanks, Hon,” Quinn replies. He sends a ball into the corner pocket with a crack.

“See you, Honey,” Luke echoes.

She and Trevor walk upstairs and stop at the door. “Love this dress,” Trevor says. “Was hoping I’d take it off of you later.”

“Mm, I’ll wear it again before the summer is over,” Honey hums, unbuttoning one of the buttons on Trevor’s white dress shirt. She pulls the collar open more, so that his chest is starting to show. “Didn’t know you cleaned up so nice.”

“Well, I’ve heard good things about suits,” Trevor says noncommittally.

Honey hums again. She leans up on her tiptoes to give Trevor a kiss. “Would rather see you without it. I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow?”

“Sounds fun,” Trevor replies. “I’ll tell the guys.”

Honey shakes her head. “I was thinking we could use the hot tub tomorrow.”

“Might be hard to chase Cole away.”

“Okay, then a late-night rendezvous. We’ll tire ‘em out over dinner, all of them, and then we can use the hot tub while Bea celebrates her birthday with her man of choice.”

“For Quinn’s sake, let’s hope it’s him.”

“Mhm.” Another kiss. “Bye, darlin’.”

“Bye.”

Honey shuts the door behind her and Trevor holds his chin in the space between his index finger and thumb. His lips are tingling and his stomach is flying with butterflies. He loves when Honey calls him pet names. After a few days of trepidation, they’re back on track. Everything is exactly how it should be.

48:90 – HONEY

“How are you feeling?” Honey asks, digging through Bea’s purse for her lip gloss.

They’re driving to the boys’ house now, since the guys just got back from practicing in Charlotte. Trevor says that they’re all pretty tired, so they’ll hopefully be alone in the hot tub later tonight. Trevor’s last text read that they’re all doing showers in a rotation and dinner is on the stove, ready to eat. Promptly, he stopped replying. Honey thinks he went to take a nap before they showed up, since he’ll be up late.

“About what?” Bea asks, avoiding eye contact.

Honey clicks her tongue and pauses her search for a moment. “‘About what,’” she repeats, mocking the girl. “About Quinn? About what was brought up yesterday? You went upstairs with Jack.”

“I feel fine,” Bea says.

Honey purses her lips. “No shot.”

“We talked about it last night,” Bea says. “After everything with Jack. Jack gave me info on Liv, I… rewarded him… in the least coercive way possible, I guess. Then I went to Quinn’s room. We talked it out and everything is fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Honey observes. “You still seem upset. What was it? Just the fact that they brought her up at all?”

“No, it wasn’t that,” Bea sighs. She pauses, grinding her teeth together. “It was the model thing.”

“You know Cole was drunk and–”

“No, not that. I think it’s sweet that Cole thinks I could model. It’s the fact that Quinn dated this girl, was completely in love with her, and she was a model. You know I’m not insecure, but, like, she’s a model.” Bea itches her temple, then gestures aimlessly in the air. “And now he’s with me?”

“Buzzy. You’re hot,” Honey says.

“I know,” Bea drawls, rolling her eyes as she drags the word out. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You just still seem upset,” Honey says with a shrug.

“I’m not upset. Our talk was actually really helpful. Everything is back to normal.”

Bea is insistent and her tone is final. Honey decides to let the matter go, although she can tell that Bea is still affected by everything. Even though she talked it out with Quinn, Bea must have something nagging at her. Honey can tell by the way she’s gnawing at her bottom lip.

Honey’s suspicion doesn’t improve once they get to the house. Bea descends on the liquor cabinet, breaking out the tequila and declaring that it’s her birthday tomorrow, so everyone has to drink with her.

It doesn’t take much to convince Cole and Jack. Luke is quick to agree as well, then Quinn agrees once Bea bats her eyelashes at him, swearing with a pinky promise that he’ll keep up with her. While Quinn puts the finishing touches on dinner, an on-theme skillet of fajitas, Bea measures out the ingredients for margaritas and seems to forget about Honey’s allergy, because she throws a handful of strawberries into the blender for flavoring.

It all works out, remarkably– Honey’s not offended by Bea’s oversight. The girl apologizes profusely, threatening to throw the blended goods away and wash the blender and start over completely, but Honey manages to convince her not to. She just takes one of Trevor’s beers from the fridge and twists the top off, saying she’ll drink that. Trevor waves his own beer, already half-empty, and declares he’s also got his own.

Honey laughs to herself quietly, very fond of Trevor’s commitment to avoiding strawberries. He actually asked her the other day, when they were high and Trevor suddenly remembered that the fruit stand was open on Mondays and they ‘missed it!’, if he could eat strawberries and then kiss her. Just for fun, Honey had told him that if he did, her throat would close up and she’d swell up like that scene in Meet The Robinsons, and Trevor was so perfectly high that he believed her every word. He swore off strawberries and, apparently, he meant permanently.

They eat dinner and watch a few episodes of Bea and Cole’s favorite reality show. Honey and Jack share the loveseat and after the clock strikes 9, Jack is out. He falls asleep right on Honey’s shoulder, mouth open and head tipped back.

Honey actually defends the boy from his younger brother and Cole, who wanted to see how many straws they could fit into Jack’s mouth before waking him up. She hugs her arm around his shoulders and Jack turns into her neck and snores softly.

It’s a true testament to how much Honey has grown since meeting the guys– Jack used to get on her nerves, and still sometimes does, but she noticed that he’d been yawning all day. Once they had turned the TV on, his blinks had grown more and more slow, so Honey figured he needed a good sleep.

Plus, it’s one less guy that she’ll have to kick out of the hot tub later.

Trevor volunteers to carry Jack upstairs to his bed, which Honey thinks is sweet. She also suspects that he doesn’t like the way Jack was cuddling up to her, nor the way she was petting through his hair maternally.

“Hot tub?” Honey asks once the most recent episode of Cole’s reality show is over.

The shorter boy perks up from his lazy position on the couch. “Hot tub?” He asks. “Yeah!” He bounds up and is out the sliding glass door before anyone else can agree. Honey can see, and hear, him taking the cover off of the tub and starting the jets.

Bea looks at Quinn. “Do you want to?” She asks. She’s sitting on his lap again in their recliner chair.

Quinn pats her thigh. “If you do.” He kisses her jaw. “We can have a couple more drinks then go upstairs, hm?”

“Sounds good.” Bea nods, then turns to Honey. “Will you do some shots with us?”

“I will!” Cole calls from outside.

Bea looks over at him, then back to Honey. She prompts the girl again with a nod.

“Yeah, I’ll do a shot,” Honey agrees. “If Luke does.”

Luke’s already drunk off of his third margarita, so it doesn’t take much to convince him to do another shot. By the time they make it outside, Cole has stripped down to his underwear and he’s in the tub. Luke and Quinn go upstairs to change into swimsuits, whereas Honey and Bea wore their own underneath their clothes, and Trevor comes back in his own swimsuit. He says that Jack woke up shortly after they made it up the stairs and demanded that Trevor “unhand him,” so he’ll be down in his own trunks soon enough.

“Feels nice,” Bea sighs, lowering herself into the bubbling waters. She sags once she’s on the ledge, sitting as far in the water as she can without putting her head underneath.

Honey does the same, checking her watch to start her fifteen-minute count. Bea has tried to tell her over and over again that it doesn’t matter if she stays in the water for longer than fifteen minutes, but Honey once read a lifeguarding handbook and the recommendation to split up your time in a hot tub always stuck with her.

“I love this hot tub,” Cole announces, a dopey smile overtaking his face. “We should use it more. I can’t believe we’ve only used it twice.”

“We’ll use it more,” Bea says, an empty promise that could be easily filled, but probably won’t come to fruition.

As Quinn returns, Bea asks him to grab some plastic shot glasses and her almost-empty bottle of tequila. She pours shots for everyone, emptying the bottle on the fourth. Quinn switches over to the open bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a shot and two additional ones. Honey offers to take one of those, as does Luke.

They all cheer together.

“To Quinn’s last night with liquor,” Bea cheers, lifting her glass higher than the rest of them.

Quinn smiles with his teeth, eyes a little bleary. “To Bea’s birthday,” he says, trumping her toast. Everyone echos what he says before throwing back their drinks.

Bea smacks her lips contentedly, smiling wide and pointing to the sky like a rock star. “To Bea’s birthday,” she simpers, floating over to pull herself onto Quinn’s lap. She settles there, kissing him until his brothers start booing. “Don’t be losers,” Bea chastises.

“We wouldn’t hate so much if you were kissing each of us like that,” Jack teases, puckering his lips at the end of the statement.

Bea fixes him with a look. “Maybe he’s the best kisser.”

“Don’t worry,” Jack says with a shit-eating smile. “You can admit that he’s your favorite. He’s already Mom and Dad’s favorite.”

“Well, much like your mom and dad, I have to insist that I don’t have a favorite,” Bea says, sticking her nose into the air. Quinn squeezes her sides and she shrieks, laughing.

They shoot the shit for nearly an hour before anyone decides to leave the tub– except for Honey. She leaves the tub every fifteen minutes, like always, and she’s usually tasked with grabbing snacks or a drink refill for her friends.

Luke is so drunk that he’s starting to fall asleep, so he’s the first to leave the tub, at Quinn’s request. He makes it all the way to the sliding glass door before Quinn tells him to sleep on the couch in the living room. Luke is too tired to argue, which Honey thinks is both sweet and sad that he doesn’t go to his own bed.

Luckily, though, Quinn and Bea aren’t far behind. They must have a secret language and code like Honey and Trevor do, because all Quinn does is pat Bea’s hip and she’s moving out of the tub and saying that they’ll see everyone tomorrow.

Their departure leaves Honey, Trevor, Cole and Jack in the tub. Cole is content with his back against one of the jets, practically massaging the area. He won’t stop raving about it. Jack is still yawning and rubbing his eyes, but he’s joking around with Honey and Trevor as they talk. It isn’t long until Honey starts to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers, eying Trevor pointedly.

Which works– he notices quickly and starts to talk about how tired he is and how he can’t wait to go to bed.

Unfortunately, his friends don’t catch the hint.

“So go to bed,” Jack says dryly, making a face at Trevor. “I don’t want to hear about how tired you are. You’ve got a perfectly comfortable king size bed up there, Z. Use it.”

“Yeah, Z,” Cole agrees, eyes closed. “Also, maybe if you weren’t sneaking out at night to go sleep at all of your Raya girls’ houses, then you’d be less tired.”

Trevor shares a look with Honey. She plays it off with an interested quirk of her eyebrows, blinking at him. “Is that so?” She asks, sing-songy.

“Yeah, he’s been leaving the house at weird hours and he doesn’t come back until the next day,” Cole says, opening his eyes a bit at the chance to gossip. “And I checked Raya. I don’t know who these girls are. He might be going all the way down the mountain to see them.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Trevor replies, smiling smugly at the ‘clever’ quip.

“Yeah, you’re magic alright.” Jack nods sarcastically. He raises his voice. “‘Oh, Trevor. Trevor, Trevor. Please,’” he mocks.

“Oh my God,” Cole laughs, sitting up. “Dude, she was so loud on Monday. I thought I couldn’t sleep because we were high, but then all of that noise.”

Honey’s eyes widen. That ‘noise’ must have been from her. She was the girl in the house on Monday.

The boys continue cajoling, splashing each other and getting into a little spat over the mocking of her moans. Trevor doesn’t think it’s funny, but Jack and Cole find his lack of humor about the situation even funnier, so it just gets worse. Honey checks her watch and sees that it’s time for her to take a break, so she starts to climb out of the tub.

She turns to face the sliding glass door, gathering up some trash from around the tub, and spots movement inside.

Bea is walking down the stairs, the only clothes on her body being the bottom of her bikini. Her boobs are free and she’s glowering as she walks across the basement, stomping towards her white board in the corner.

“Oh my God,” Honey exclaims, caught off guard by the sight.

“What?” Trevor asks, looking her way. Honey catches the moment he spots Bea because his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline and he looks away. “Oh my God!”

It’s like a chain reaction. Both Cole and Jack utter their own “What?” before turning to look at Bea. She’s scribbled something onto the whiteboard and is making her way to the hot tub, throwing the sliding door open and crossing her arms over her chest.

“You,” she says, pointing at Jack. “Upstairs, now.” She looks over at Cole, squinting. He smiles and waves, just wiggling his fingers with a little wink. Bea sucks her top teeth, then snaps her fingers at Cole. “Yeah. You too. Upstairs, please.”

Cole turns to Jack, both boys already making their way out of the hot tub. They drip on the concrete. Jack wraps his towel around his waist and Cole uses his to dry his hair.

“Ha,” Cole says to Jack. “I got a please. All you got was a ‘now.’ Bitch-boy.”

“Yeah, well, she asked for me first,” Jack replies, bickering in full swing.

“You okay?” Honey asks Bea. The glare she gets is answer enough. Honey does not press any further.

Both boys disappear upstairs, scampering along the steps like they’re racing each other to get into Bea’s bed. Honey doesn’t know if they know where they’re actually going, but she does know that they’re in for a long night. Bea’s scowl means that she needs some intense TLC.

“Is she gone?” Trevor asks, eyes still averted from where Bea once stood.

“Yeah, she’s gone,” Honey says.

“What do you think that was about?” Trevor turns to Honey, reaching out and touching her arm. He grabs at her playfully, pursing his lips and making kissing noises.

Honey rolls her eyes, but she gets back in the hot tub and straddles Trevor’s lap, touching his hair with her wet hands until he shakes her off like a dog. “Dunno,” Honey says. “I’ll ask her tomorrow. She seemed upset.”

“She walked down here naked,” Trevor says. “That’s crazy.”

“Well, she’s hooking up with three of the guys in this house,” Honey surmises. “It’s nothing they haven’t seen before.”

“It’s something I never planned on seeing,” Trevor says.

“Well, I appreciate that,” Honey jokes. “You’re a one girl kind of guy, huh, Trev?”

He places his hands on her behind and pulls her closer, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. “Yeah, I really like my Raya girl. I can’t believe she was so loud that the boys heard her the other night.”

“Wasn’t she high, though?” Honey teases, touching Trevor’s bottom lip. “That might be why she was so loud.”

“You don’t think I can do it again?” Trevor asks, brushing his fingers beneath the thin ties of her bathing suit.

Honey shivers a bit on his lap at the touch, but she stays planted. “No, probably not. I hear you’re not that good in bed.”

“What?” Trevor lifts his hips and grinds against her. “Who told you that?”

“No one had to tell me,” Honey replies. “I’m the one who didn’t come twice because of you.”

Trevor gasps. “When?” He questions, affronted. “I would never do that to you.”

“Well, you did,” Honey insists. She tugs Trevor’s hair until he snaps the band of her swimsuit against her back.

“Mm, I’m sorry, baby,” Trevor muses, nuzzling under Honey’s neck and kissing the skin. “Won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, let’s hope not,” Honey agrees. “Especially not tonight. I wouldn’t want to get blue balled.”

Trevor chuckles out a laugh but doesn’t afford Honey a reply. Instead, he sucks a wet kiss under Honey’s jaw, touching the base of her neck. He repeats the motion until Honey is sagging against him, twisting her hips as she grows more and more wet in the tub. His hard-on is equally as insistent.

“Oh, gross!” The sliding door had opened without either of them noticing. Quinn stands there, wincing and glaring at the duo. “God, it’s like you want to get caught.”

Honey turns to him, still sat on Trevor’s lap. Even if she wanted to get off of him, Trevor’s hands keep her securely atop him.

“What are you doing down here?” Trevor asks, voice monotone and frustrated at the interruption.

Quinn cuts his eyes at the boy. “I’m not upstairs with Bea, so I thought I’d come down here. I didn’t realize she’d have taken everyone else from the hot tub in my absence.”

Trevor shrugs. “Guess you just weren’t enough for the birthday girl.”

Honey touches Trevor’s chest. “Don’t be mean,” she says. She turns to Quinn. “What happened up there?”

Quinn turns red, looking uncomfortable in his own skin. “I’m sure Bea will tell you later.”

Trevor hums. “Why don’t you want to tell us? You’re here, after all.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “As if I’ll tell you anything, Z. Whatever. I’ll leave you lovebirds alone. Wouldn’t have come down here if I knew you were fucking in the hot tub.”

“You can stay if you want to,” Honey offers. Trevor and Quinn make the same face at her– clearly wondering why she’s extending an invitation to the other boy. Honey defends herself. “Not like that,” she says. “I’m not going to fuck you if Quinn is in the hot tub with us, Trevor.”

“Thanks for that,” Quinn says. “Good to know that someone here has respect for me.”

Trevor goes to open his mouth and rebut, but Honey presses her fingers to his lips. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll just head back upstairs,” Quinn decides. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow for Bea’s birthday lunch.”

“Bea’s having a birthday lunch?” Trevor asks. “Will the celebrations ever end?”

“Well, it’s her actual birthday tomorrow,” Honey says. “So yes, the celebrations will end tomorrow. Goodnight, Quinn.”

“Goodnight, Honey. Use protection, Trevor.” Quinn leaves.

Trevor’s lips are on Honey once again, as soon as Quinn turns away. “Should we tell him that we don’t use that sort of thing?” Trevor asks, joking.

“I think he’d have a heart attack and ask me if I’m trying to ruin my life,” Honey says, sharing a smile with the boy beneath her. “Since I’m obviously the one being baby-trapped by you if anything happens, not the other way around.”

“Hey, anything to get you to stay in my life forever,” Trevor says. It makes Honey pause, because even though he moved on to feel the peaks of her nipples through her top, Trevor didn’t sound like he was joking as much as before.

Honey decides to ignore it and escalate the situation further– she reaches behind herself and undoes the bow keeping her swimsuit together. The bikini top falls loose under Trevor’s fingers, where he’s pinching her nipples over the fabric, but he makes quick work of the swimsuit. He removes it entirely, dropping the top over the edge of the tub. It falls with a thwap against the pavement surrounding them.

“Now I’m just like Bea,” Honey jokes as Trevor weighs her breasts in his hands, grinning at the flesh that he’s kneading.

Trevor snorts out a laugh. “Mhm, you’re two peas in a pod.”

“Be honest with me, now,” Honey says. She’s goading Trevor into an argument, seeing if she can catch him. “Whose tits are prettier, mine or Bea’s?”

“Yours,” Trevor replies instantly, thumbing over the piercing adorning one of her nipples.

Honey faux-gasps, having lured him right into her trap. “You looked at Bea’s boobs?”

Trevor scoffs against Honey’s skin. “Kind of hard to avoid when they’re just out like that.”

“I can’t believe you looked,” Honey admonishes. “How could you?”

Trevor rolls his eyes and circles his fingers around Honey’s throat. “That’s enough out of you,” he scolds softly. “You know I don’t care about any tits except yours.”

Honey’s hand slides up to cover his, over her throat. “I like this.”

“I thought you would,” Trevor says. “When we kissed on the balcony that night, I touched your neck and you made the prettiest little noise.”

“Well, apparently all my noises are pretty,” Honey replies with a pout. “And mockable.”

Trevor kisses the pout off of her face. “That’s just the boys being stupid, baby. They’re jealous that they’re not fucking a pretty girl every night.”

“Every night?” Honey asks, laughing incredulously. “We have not been fucking every night.”

“A guy can dream,” Trevor quips back. He grins at Honey and she kisses him instead of replying. It takes only a sweep of her tongue for Trevor to open his mouth, letting Honey take control of the kiss as he touches over her breasts and hips. It isn’t long before his fingers shift the crotch of her bikini bottoms to the side, petting through her wet folds.

“You know, it’s actually really gross to hook up in a hot tub,” Honey murmurs.

“Yeah, it’s like a petri dish of disease,” Trevor agrees.

Neither of them make a move to get out of the tub. They just stay– Honey is grinding down on Trevor’s calloused fingers and fiddling with the hair at the nape of his neck. Trevor is touching her neck, her piercings, and the tramp stamp on the small of her back, all while fingering her with the others.

Honey tries to keep quiet– now having heard that Jack and Cole overheard her moans on Monday, she’s determined to be subtle. After all, they’re making waves in this hot tub with all of their grinding and all of Trevor’s thrusting. Moans and screams would be too far, even with Jack and Cole occupied upstairs. Quinn could hear, although Honey knows he doesn’t want to, and hopefully Luke has been passed out since he left the tub in the first place.

Trevor fingers Honey until she’s squirming. “Ready to sit on my cock?” He probes, tweaking her nipple with his other hand.

“Yes,” Honey agrees easily, greedy for an orgasm. Her body feels overheated, probably from the hot tub and the heat of the moment, but there’s nothing that will stop her from getting off now that they’ve started the process.

“That’s my girl,” Trevor breathes out. He takes his fingers from inside of her and uses that hand to pull his shorts down, just enough to expose himself.

Honey is far too eager, knocking his hand from the base of his cock and aligning herself with his member. She sinks down much more quickly than she expects Trevor would have, his goal always being to tease her as much as he can before she either snaps at him or, in the rarest of moments, actually begs for him to move. It’s only happened once. Honey is determined to only ever beg him again when it’s on her terms– not because he asked.

Trevor’s hands find her hips and he bites his bottom lip as she starts to move her hips, rolling them in sensual circles as she gets used to his length. Honey never noticed his chipped tooth before. She touches it before freeing his lip from the confines of his bite. Trevor kisses the pad of her thumb.

“Ride me good, baby,” Trevor encourages. “Wanna see your eyes roll back.” He snaps his hips up, thrusting into Honey in one sharp move that completely throws her off her rhythm.

“Trev,” she says with a frown, touching his chest. “You’re throwing off my concentration. Shut up.”

Trevor growls playfully. “So mean,” he says, snapping his hips up again.

“Do you want me to do it, or do you?” Honey asks. “Since you’re unable to stop yourself from fucking me, evidently.”

“Guess you just feel too good,” Trevor replies, kissing over her neck again. “Can’t help myself. This pussy was made for me.”

Honey’s heart flutters a little bit at his mumbled, possessive statement. She brings his hand back to her neck, moving her hips forward and backward in a fast rocking motion. “Made for you,” she says. “Is that right?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor says, licking his bottom lip. “It’s all mine.”

Honey stops moving. She sits heavily on his lap, dick buried inside of her. It’s throbbing and pulsing, filling her well, but Honey stays still. She touches Trevor’s collarbones, leaning down to kiss over them and up his neck. When she reaches his ear, she whispers, “Show me.”

When she pulls back, Trevor’s eyes are wide. His hand twitches around her neck, drifting lower to squeeze her left tit. “What?” He asks.

“Show me how good you are at fucking this pussy,” Honey says. “Since it’s ‘yours.’”

Trevor’s eyes grow darker.

“Honestly, Trevor,” Honey continues. “My cunt was made for you? Prove it.”

The challenge finally gets through his head, with Trevor jumping into action. It’s the exact response Honey wanted from him: wild, quick, desperate rutting from Trevor’s hips and his hands clutching her body so hard that they’ll definitely leave marks. If not marks, they’ll leave the ghost of a memory for Honey to think about over the next few days.

The tip of his cock bumps her walls with each thrust. Trevor’s even at the point where both of his hands are holding her ass cheeks, bouncing Honey on his cock in time with the thrusts. It makes the sex that much more electrifying, especially once Trevor angles himself in a way that has him brushing against Honey’s g-spot.

Honey closes her eyes and focuses on feeling, throwing her head back in pleasure. Trevor bites over her neck, then seals his mouth over her chest, and Honey holds his bicep tightly to keep herself grounded. The steam from the hot tub is like a sauna, stifling her a bit and making her sweat more than she would in a normal sexual environment.

Still, although the heat from the tub should make this experience worse, Honey just finds herself overtaken by gratification. Trevor’s making these choked groans and gasps in her ear and against her skin, which she feels are painting her body like a tattoo. Trevor’s pleasure is a part of her now. Knowing that he’s feeling good makes Honey feel even better– and when he comes, spilling inside of her like he’s physically unable to remove himself from her cunt long enough to come in his hand, Honey comes too.

She shudders with him inside of her, still fucking up into her lazily. Trevor’s eyes are half-closed, a smile gracing his face. He kisses her lips slowly, guiding her hips in smooth motions until Honey pats his chest and removes herself from his lap.

Honey climbs out of the tub, feeling water and Trevor’s cum slide down her legs. “Ew,” she murmurs to herself, reaching for a towel and wrapping it around herself.

“I hope that wasn’t a review,” Trevor pipes up with a laugh. “‘Ew’ is a terrible thing to say after sex, baby. Bruising my ego a bit.”

Honey sticks out her tongue at the boy. “Gonna go to the bathroom,” she says in lieu of an answer. “Steal some clothes from you. Are they still in a pile in your hamper?”

“Take some of my nice folded clothes in the dresser,” Trevor replies. He winks before adding, “Feel free to spray some of my cologne on the shirt so it smells that much more like me.”

Honey fake laughs at the boy: “Hardy har, Trevor.” She enters the house and heads up to his bedroom, tiptoeing around as if she’ll run into any of the boys. Luke is asleep on the couch in the living room, like she thought, and Quinn has disappeared. She can hear Cole and Jack behind Jack’s closed bedroom door, bickering about something still. Honey rolls her eyes. How they can fight when they’re both subbing in for Quinn tonight, she doesn’t know.

Once in Trevor’s room, Honey ties her hair up into a messy updo. She pees and hops in the shower to rinse herself off, using Trevor’s handheld shower head to clean her more intimate areas. Honey emerges shortly after, feeling much more refreshed and clean. The heat from the tub is no longer affecting her mind’s clarity.

She digs through Trevor’s dresser and finds a pair of boxers that resemble her favorite pair at home, which she throws on. On top of that, she wears one of Trevor’s hoodies. The sleeves cover her hands and she ties the strings into a little bow before she climbs into Trevor’s bed and cocoons herself under the covers.

A short while later, the boy finds her. He’s absolutely elated to have her in his bed, that much Honey can tell even without Trevor saying it aloud. It’s written all over his face when he jumps onto the bed and peppers kisses all over her face, and in the way that he snuggles up against her chest once he’s ready for bed.

With one last kiss to her neck, Trevor is out like a light. Honey isn’t far behind him. Waking up and sneaking out of the house before church is the farthest thing from Honey’s mind with her sweet, doting boy breathing evenly next to her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, for them to be sharing a bed.

49:90 – TREVOR

“Why are you texting me when you know I stayed over?” Bea demands, barging into Trevor’s room.

Trevor immediately pulls the covers to his chest. “Jesus Christ, Bea,” he exclaims. “All I did was wish you a happy birthday. Is that not allowed?”

Bea narrows her eyes at Trevor, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what,” she says. “We’re friends now?”

Trevor scoffs, sitting up in his bed. “I just thought it would be nice. It’s your birthday. I see you almost every day. Why wouldn’t I wish you a happy birthday?”

Bea remains skeptical, squinting at the boy. She taps her foot while she thinks. “I’ll allow it,” she decides. She drops her arms to her sides and looks around. “Where’s Honey?”

Trevor looks to her side of the bed. He frowns, a little confused at the empty space that should be occupied by the girl who went to sleep there. “I don’t– I dunno. I guess she snuck out while I was asleep.”

“Call her.”

“Call her?” Trevor repeats.

“Call her,” Bea insists, like it’s an argument.

Trevor blanches. “You call her.”

“She doesn’t pick up my calls this early anymore. You call her.” Bea points at his phone, jabbing the digit at it impatiently. “C’mon, Trevor, I need to talk to her.”

“Won’t you see her at lunch?” Trevor asks.

Bea takes a breath, closing her eyes and pushing her hair out of her face. “Trevor,” she says. She blinks open and her face is blank, impassive. “Please. Call her.”

Trevor reaches for his phone and holds it in his palm, biting his lip as he looks at Bea. She looks like she’s in pain while asking the boy for his help, reluctant, but certain that her decision is the correct one. Trevor slaps his phone against his palm and scrunches his nose. “You call her,” he reiterates, tossing the phone to Bea.

She catches it, face contorted with confusion.

“What happened last night, anyway?” Trevor asks. “You seem…”

Bea glares at Trevor, causing him to snap his mouth shut. She turns his phone over and fiddles around a bit before putting the phone on speaker and throwing it back onto Trevor’s messy blankets. She joins him on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed. She places her hands on her ankles and straightens her back, watching as the phone rings and vibrates while they wait for Honey.

Trevor is a little uncomfortable, to be honest– Bea makes herself at home and he’s not wearing a shirt. No, she doesn’t care, and she’s wearing her pajamas too, but Trevor feels bare.

“Hello?”

Trevor looks at Bea when Honey picks up, but the girl gestures at him to speak. Trevor, thrown off by the motion, says the only thing he can think of. “Hi, baby,” he greets quickly. He makes a face at Bea when she rolls her eyes, mouthing a defensive ‘what?’ at her.

“What’s up?” Honey asks.

“Um–” Trevor loses his train of thought, fighting silently with Bea as she motions for him to carry on the conversation before it’s her turn. “I was just, uh, calling to chat.”

Honey laughs. “Trev, I’m going to see you in three hours.”

“You didn’t say goodbye when you snuck out this morning,” Trevor says, making Bea faux-gag. ‘Fuck off,” Trevor mouths at her, sneering slightly.

‘You didn’t say goodbye,’ Bea mocks, sticking her tongue out.

“I did. You were half asleep and tried to hold me back by the pocket of the sweatshirt I was wearing,” Honey replies, amusement bleeding into her voice.

Oh, yeah. Trevor was there for that. He thought it was a dream. “Oh,” he says lamely.

Bea shakes her head, then picks up the phone so that she’s holding it flat in her palm, screen facing the ceiling. She speaks into the charging port, where the speakers are. “Are you coming to church?”

Honey pauses. “No.”

Bea groans, whining like a child. “Honey,” she drawls.

“Bea,” Honey replies, imitating the girl.

“I need you.” Bea pouts. Now, it’s Trevor’s turn to glare. He doesn’t like sharing, even with Honey’s best friend.

“Why do you need me?” Honey asks, her voice growing distant then returning like she switched which ear she was listening with mid-sentence.

Bea side-eyes Trevor before she speaks. “Q couldn’t get it up last night.”

Trevor can’t describe the feeling that overtakes him. This tidbit of information equally balances the scale again– when Quinn read Trevor’s sexts to Honey on Monday, the scale was thrown out of whack and Quinn had all the power. Now, Trevor knows something that Quinn doesn’t want him to know. It’s perfect.

“Quinn– what?” Honey demands. There’s a clatter on her side of the line. She must have set something down so that she could hear better.

“He couldn’t get it up,” Bea hisses. “He had whiskey dick!”

The gossip is salacious. Trevor is delighted. He is so glad Bea didn’t take his phone and have this conversation privately. All of a sudden, his shirtlessness doesn’t matter. It’s irrelevant. The only thing that matters is that Trevor is winning.

“No,” Honey breathes out. “On your birthday?”

“He couldn’t help it,” Bea explains with a frown, eyebrows turning down sympathetically. “We drank too much and, like, I know it happens sometimes, but it was just so jarring.”

“Oh, I bet.”

“Especially after we talked about Liv the night before,” Bea adds, turning and laying perpendicular from Trevor on his bed, knees bent over the edge and feet dangling. She places his phone on her chest, using both hands to cover her eyes in exasperation. “Also, yes, I overreacted and I had a threesome with Jack and Cole, but it wasn’t even fun for me. I was so in my head the whole time.”

Honey hums.

Trevor doesn’t understand. Quinn’s dick flagged, so Jack and Cole tagged in. That makes sense. Bea’s whole goal this summer was to get laid as many times as she could, with all of her partners. That’s solid– Trevor can work with that. But… being in your head during sex? Having sex ruined because you’re thinking? Trevor’s never had that problem before.

“What do you mean, you were in your head?” Trevor asks, interrupting.

Bea removes a hand from her face to glare at Trevor with her one visible eye. She groans, covering her face again. “Just– Trevor,” she says shortly. “Who’s the hottest man you can think of?”

“Ryan Reynolds,” Trevor responds instantly. He and the boys have talked about this before.

Bea sighs. “Of course you think that.” She takes another deep breath. “Such a fucking man response. Imagine Honey was seriously involved with Ryan Reynolds before you–”

“No, Blake would never allow that,” Trevor interrupts.

“Baby, that’s why it’s in your imagination,” Honey says patiently, whereas Bea had already thrown her hands down and turned her head to scowl at Trevor for interrupting her.

“And then imagine that the next time you go to hook up with Honey, after having a long conversation about her ex-boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, she’s not wet at all.” Bea states, over-enunciating her words. “How would you feel about that?”

Trevor is shocked by the comparison and how much it would affect him. “Oh, I’d be pissed,” he says.

Bea nods, her voice turning bitter and sarcastic. “Yeah, uh-huh. Then, to make things worse, you’re going to start comparing yourself to Ryan. ‘She’d be wet for Ryan,’ you’ll think. ‘Maybe he’s better for her. Maybe she should go back to him.’” She pauses, staring at him. “Now do you get it?”

“Yeah, I get it,” Trevor concedes, clenching his jaw a bit.

Bea raises a finger. “One more thing. You’ll wonder if she thinks the same thing, so now you’re afraid that she’ll drop you to get him back.”

“Mhm,” Honey adds.

“Well, don’t agree like you would,” Trevor complains, scoffing and frowning at Honey’s contact name on his phone screen.

“I’m not agreeing like I would,” Honey argues, exaggerating the same word as Trevor in the same tone. “I’m agreeing like Bea is making a good point. It’s a hypothetical, Trevor.”

“Well, it’s not fun,” Trevor says.

“No,” Bea interrupts. “It’s not.” She snaps her mouth shut and stares at Trevor, unblinking. Her nostrils flare briefly, then she breaks eye contact and returns to the phone, sitting up and resuming her previous position. She’s antsy, Trevor realizes. She’s jittery and anxious, not just pissed off.

“I thought you and Quinn were just hooking up,” Trevor says.

“We are,” Bea says, her voice a bit darker in that old reluctant way. “It’s just a little different. Quinn and I get each other more than Jack and me, or Cole and me.” She spits out the latter pairings like they’re sharp and piercing her mouth if they ruminate for too long on her tongue.

“But– you wanted to hook up with all of them.” There’s still a bit of confusing lacing his words. “And you are. And you’ve enjoyed it.”

“Mm,” Honey hums. It’s a reminder that she’s still there, listening in, and Trevor and Bea aren’t having this discussion alone. “He’s right, Bea. You have enjoyed hooking up with them, just not last night.”

“I know,” Bea drones on. “That’s why it’s so hard. I, like, don’t even want to talk to him because it’s so stupid that I feel this way. I like hooking up with everyone. We decided that we wouldn’t be monogamous because he wasn’t over Liv yet.”

Trevor makes a face. He didn’t know that Quinn had said that. He seems fine all the time, but especially when Bea is there. They haven’t talked about Liv, or the breakup, since Jack originally informed Trevor and Cole that the relationship had ended in the first place.

“You didn’t tell me that,” Honey says, but Bea interrupts, reacting to Trevor’s expression.

“Don’t make a face at me,” Bea chides. “Trevor, I feel bad. I like him! I think he’s awesome, but then he’ll say something offhandedly about missing her or something like this will happen–”

“This has happened before?” Trevor asks. “He's gotten whiskey dick before?”

Bea talks over him, ignoring him, except for a wave of her hand to silence him. “And I’m reminded that his ex-girlfriend is a model and that he’s looking to settle down with a wife and have babies!” She flounders, stammering a bit. “It’s just, like, so… so overwhelming. And it’s my fucking fault that I feel this way, because I’m the one who wanted to keep it casual and polyamorous when it could’ve gone the other way and I could’ve been happier with just Quinn. But then, he might not have enjoyed it because he just got out of this relationship so he also wanted something casual–”

“Bea, baby, you’re spiraling,” Honey murmurs.

“I know, Honey,” Bea replies. “But, still, what am I supposed to do about this? I– fuck. I like being with him, and I think we’re a really good match, but it’s just not working out like I thought it would. Probably because I like him. But I also like what we’re doing and I don’t want to change it that much. Things just aren’t working the way that I thought they were and it’s my own fucking fault..”

“Buzzy,” Honey sighs. “He knows what he got into at the start of the summer. You told him and he agreed and endorsed your Slut Summer.”

“What if he regrets that?” Bea asks, eyes wide and growing faraway due to her frustration. She looks like she’s seconds away from crying. “Like– I don’t regret this, but I shouldn’t have made it such a deal. I’m worried Quinn is having second thoughts, too.”

Trevor hopes that she doesn’t cry, to be honest– he doesn't want to be sitting in his bed with Bea at the foot of it, bawling over Quinn and their confusing relationship.

“Fuck, not the what-ifs,” Honey teases, laughing.

Trevor’s not sure that’s what he would’ve said, but it seems to make Bea deflate a bit. She’s not as pent-up.

“Why did you have to go home so early?” Bea asks helplessly, cracking her knuckles. “I wish you were here to give me a hug.”

Honey is silent for a split second before her voice rings through the speakers. “Trevor, give Bea a hug.”

Trevor and Bea look at each other, side-eying the other person warily. Trevor raises an eyebrow. Bea rolls her head back on her shoulders and Trevor hears her neck crack, too.

Too much time seems to pass for Honey, because she takes a deep breath. Trevor can practically hear the eye roll. “You guys are so annoying. Bea– you want a hug and I’m not there to give one to you. Trevor’s there. Trevor– you love a cuddle and you’d be equally as upset if you had to deal with Ryan Reynolds showing you up, even though his relationship with me is long dead. Not that that’s what Liv is doing,” she clarifies. “Quinn likes you too, Bea. Stop worrying so much.”

“I can’t help it,” Bea whines. “You’re the same way, Honey.”

Honey slows her speech. “Calm down. Take a break from all of this for a minute. Give Trevor a hug and then go enjoy your birthday. I will see you in a couple hours and I’ll give you a hug then, okay?”

“Okay,” Bea agrees miserably.

“Okay,” Honey repeats. “I’m hanging up now. I’m trying to bake a cake and you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“Sorry,” Bea apologizes, going back to gnawing on her bottom lip. “Love you.”

“I love you too. Hug Trevor. I hope you feel better, babe.”

Honey hangs up and Bea returns Trevor’s phone to his hand. She looks up at him from under her eyelashes reluctantly, wincing a bit. “I didn’t expect you to hear that much. Didn’t realize we’d be getting so deep on my birthday.”

Trevor shrugs. “It’s okay.”

Bea twists her hands together awkwardly. “We don’t have to hug.”

“Well, Honey said so,” Trevor replies.

Bea laughs. “Trev, I know you’re, like, in love with her, but you don’t have to do everything she says.”

Trevor feels his face grow red. “‘m not in love with her,” he mumbles. “I just–” He shakes his head with a breath and stops himself. “I think she’s right. She thinks you need a hug, so I’ll give you a hug. She’s smart, we should listen to her.”

Bea rolls her eyes, then shifts on the bed and leans into Trevor’s side. He wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her tightly against his torso before releasing her. It’s a brief hug, and not a full one, but it seems to be fine for now. Honey can give Bea a real hug later.

“Do you think she was right about all of it?” Bea asks when they break apart. She itches the tip of her nose with her knuckle.

Trevor makes a nonchalant noise, trying to decide what to say. “What, uh, part? All of her advice was good.”

Bea scoffs. “Yeah, because you’re not biased at all.” She pauses, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to ask. “Just– the break part. Should I take a break? Is that even what she meant?” She scrunches her face up and Trevor is surprised that she’s actually asking his opinion. She came in here to talk to Honey, but now that Honey’s gone, she’s still talking to him.

So, Trevor thinks on it. “I think… I don’t think it could hurt,” he tells Bea. “You’ve got a lot on your mind. Leaving Quinn alone for a couple of days might help you figure out what you want.”

Bea nods tentatively. “Okay,” she says. “I– yeah, I guess. Might as well try it, right?”

Trevor nods. “You guys are good, though,” he offers. It’s a weak statement. “You’re not the same as Liv. He seems happier with you.”

Bea forces a tight smile onto her face. “Thanks, Trev.”

A silence falls between them for a beat.

Bea breaks it. “We should probably get ready for church.” Her eyes fall to Trevor’s chest and she grimaces, judging him. “You’re underdressed, I think.”

Trevor falls back into their normal dynamic at her words, reacting with apt defense for himself. “Dude, you’re the one who charged in here.”

“Well, I was in crisis.”

“Okay, well, don’t let Quinn see you leaving my room so early in the morning in your pajamas,” Trevor sasses. “I think that’ll make your crisis worse.”

Bea climbs off the bed. “You might be patient zero of the sassy man apocalypse,” Bea snaps, although Trevor can tell that they’re still joking with each other. “And that’s not a compliment.”

With that, she leaves the room.

Annoyed that he didn’t get the last word, Trevor grumbles to himself while he gets ready for the day. He goes through the motions at church, side-eying Bea throughout the mass and checking his watch and phone as often as he can without the Litchton residents calling him out for being disrespectful in “the Lord’s house.”

It’s happened before, just once. That was when he was in the parking lot after mass was over– so Trevor can’t imagine how they’d feel about seeing his phone in the middle of something so sacred to them. He’s willing to risk it, but only because he’s itching to see Honey. Now that they’re together, in a sense, Trevor can barely stay away from her for more than a few hours. He’ll do it if he has to, but God, he doesn’t want to.

Even once they make it through church and head to lunch, drawing closer to Honey, Trevor doesn’t miss the way that Bea brushes Quinn off as nonchalantly as she can. She doesn’t want to make a deal of it and it’s making Quinn more and more quiet throughout the day. He holds the door for Bea, but they sit on opposite ends of the table at lunch. Quinn doesn’t even hand over the little square box that he spent so long trying to wrap perfectly when Honey reveals her present and Bea’s cake.

It’s too late to go back now, but Trevor is starting to wonder if he should’ve advised Bea to take a break at all. She and Quinn look out of place, looking away from each other whenever their eyes meet. Yet, they can’t seem to ignore the other. They’re always trying to sneak glances and they always look seconds away from calling out to the other before looking down, which is when the other person will sneak their peek and the process repeats.

It’s sad, really. Trevor feels bad. This probably wasn’t how Bea wanted her birthday to go. At least she got a hug from Honey, though, as promised.

In brighter news, Trevor is able to sneak a kiss with Honey when they pass each other in the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. It’s a quick peck, but it leaves Trevor smiling stupidly for the rest of the meal.

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction #tz11 #qh43 #jh86 #lh43 #cc13

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puck-luck · 5 months ago

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new beginnings | june 10 - june 16

note: this chapter FINALLY includes some NSFW content. you have been forewarned. i do believe every chapter beyond this will also include NSFW content. y'all follow my blog– this should not come as a surprise. WELCOME TO THE FIC JAMIE DRYSDALEEEEEEE! another forewarning: this is the longest chapter yet at 24.6k words. the google doc is 54 pages long. be aware of this fact when reading.

15:90 – TREVOR

“You’re burning, Trevor.”

Trevor startles, flinching and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun. His shirt falls to his lap and his hands instinctively come to his chest to cover his nipples– years of being woken up on the boat by the Hughes boys and Cole.

Honey laughs with her head thrown back at his reaction, her hands finding his and pulling them down. She brings them around her body, letting go of his arms when they pass her waist.

Trevor was too taken by Honey’s face, lit up by the sun and shining in front of him to notice anything else, at least not for a second. When his hands drop to his sides, knuckles grazing Honey’s calves on the way down, he registers where they are and where she’s sitting.

Her knees bracket his thighs, straddling his lap. Her hands are already reaching for his again, a fond smile and the roll of her eyes stunning Trevor. She brings his palms to her hips, then slides one further, down to the curve of her ass. She closes her fingers around his palm, forcing him to grab her cheek and squeeze. She bites her lip and grins down at him as she does it and Trevor twitches in his boardshorts.

His mouth drops open and Honey giggles, her nose crinkling like a little rabbit. Oh God, Trevor thinks. She’s so cute that I compared her to a woodland creature.

“I told you that you needed to grab the sunscreen, but you were too excited to fuck me on the boat to listen to me?” Honey asks. She licks her lips and smiles down at Trevor. One of her hands comes up to twist through Trevor’s hair. She pouts, mocking him. “And now I’m going to have to rub aloe on your chest because you’re a big fucking baby.”

Trevor blinks in shock. There’s no fucking way.

“Do you like making me do all the work, Trevor?” Honey asks. No, accuses.

“I drove you out here,” Trevor stammers out, frozen underneath the girl. He doesn’t remember doing that, but he’s probably still groggy from the sudden burst of light when his shirt fell off his face. He shakes his head, blinking a few times to orient himself.

He squeezes Honey’s bottom again, his fingers digging into her skin to ensure she’s really there. That she’s really letting him do this.

She seems to know his motivations immediately as he does it. She presses into his touch, her eyes flashing with a playfulness he’s never seen before. She rolls her hips down towards his, brushing against the tent in his shorts. She’s smug, confident in her movements, and it’s like everything is in slow-motion, that it’s sensual and electric.

She leans in, her lips nearing Trevor’s. She tilts her head, ready to slot their lips together. She hovers, stopping when Trevor’s lips parted in a silent gasp. He pulled back only a millimeter in surprise, and she noticed.

Honey pushes away from Trevor’s chest, sitting back on his lap. He groans and pitches forward as her weight settles against his aching cock. His lips follow hers and she laughs him off, turning her cheek.

“Maybe I shouldn’t let you fuck me,” Honey teases. “Since you’re so bad at listening to instructions.”

“Honey,” Trevor whines, his other hand dropping to her ass and pulling her forward, rocking her hips against his bulge. The fabric of her swimsuit barely grazes him, with Honey resisting Trevor’s movements.

“Are you begging me?”Her voice is high-pitched. Her fingers dance over Trevor’s clavicles, where she licked the whipped cream from his body the night before.

Trevor stares at her mouth, the plush, pink lips that are intimately close to his. Suddenly, it’s like he’s watching himself, pulling away from his body to view the scene from afar.

It gets darker, and darker, and farther and farther away, and Trevor nearly jumps out of his skin when he realizes that he was dreaming. He wants to shove his pillow over his face and scream into it.

He’s been having this dream every night since Honey talked to him on the boat. He thought the whipped cream dream was bad, where she pushed her hands into his waistband and reached for him. As soon as she made contact, just as her fingers curled around his weeping cock, he’d jolt awake like he’d been punched.

But having Honey on top of him, teasing him in her devoted way… it’s tearing Trevor apart. Every time he wakes up, he’s practically bursting at the seams.

He hasn’t gotten much sleep these past few days. He thinks the lack of sleep might be making him hallucinate. And the nerves are making him dream about it more, desperate for relief.

And the boys haven’t left him alone. It’s like they’re taking shifts throughout the night– someone is up in the kitchen at 3am, someone wakes up early to work out, someone stays up late playing pool against himself, and someone skating in the rink after midnight and shooting pucks at his window.

Someone is always awake and Trevor thinks they’re doing it on purpose. They’re taking shifts, Trevor knows it, but he just hasn’t caught them. He’s paranoid.

He hasn’t been able to jack off.

They’re listening. He knows they are. They want to bully him some more, cut into him like they did after he pussied out on the boat on Saturday. Quinn is particularly relentless, ragging on Trevor to no end. He can’t make it worse.

But today– today– everyone’s out. Miraculously, Trevor is alone.

Cole is down at the hardware store, helping Vera with a shipment while Earl is out fishing. Luke and Jack went out to buy a water tube for the next lake day. Quinn is at Bea’s– it’s their day off. Bea and Honey don’t have work on Mondays, so Bea invited Trevor’s greatest enemy over.

Trevor could sing.

He’s gotten past the point of guilt, past the point of pushing his desire away. Trevor just wants to come.

He reaches under the covers and pushes his boxers down with one hand, reaching down to stroke himself with the other. It’s quick and desperate and Trevor stumbles over himself a little bit, his head dropping back against his pillow.

Trevor pictures Honey grinding down against him, her pussy dripping all over him. He spits on his hand, slicking it up to make the glide easier. He groans, throat tight. He imagines her hands pressing against his chest, fingernails digging into his pecs. His fist flies over the length of his cock, squeezing precum from the tip.

Trevor’s balls are tight and heavy and he pictures Honey reaching down to fondle the skin. He chokes out a whimper as he starts to spill over his hand, his hips twitching up like he’s trying to fuck into Honey’s imaginary and distant heat.

Trevor slows, then withdraws his hand from his boxers. He takes a few deep breaths, then swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He stands and walks into the bathroom, tossing his boxers in the hamper before wiping himself down and washing his hands.

He turns on the shower and keeps it cold, shaking away the guilt that comes crashing back. He shudders under the water, making it the quickest shower of his life. Trevor shakes his hair out as he exits the shower, wrapping his towel around his wait.

Someone pounds at the front door and Trevor scoffs in disbelief. He makes his way down the stairs, running his fingers through his hair so it stops drooping in his face. He bets it’s Cole, who likely forgot to grab the house keys when he went out to help Vera.

Trevor swings the door open and a brown bag hits his chest.

“You motherfucker,” Honey snarls, pushing Trevor back into the house and slamming the door behind her. “What’s your problem, huh?” She pokes a finger in Trevor’s chest. “You flirt with me for two weeks and then you ignore me? After I licked your fucking body? What’s your problem, Zegras?”

“Honey?” Trevor asks, incredulous. He stumbles back into the wall, knocking into the corner of a table and wincing.

“It was just a dare, you don’t have to act like I have the fucking plague,” Honey continues, her voice hard.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why weren’t you at the fruit stand?”

Trevor flinches back. “Why weren’t I at the… what?”

“I cannot believe you don’t want to flirt with me after all of that shit you said.” Honey stomps her foot and turns on her heel, slamming the front door behind her.

Trevor is left with his back against the wall, droplets of water falling onto his shoulders and moistening the paper bag in his arms. He looks down into the back and finds raspberries, flour, sugar, eggs, all of the fixings for raspberry tarts. The recipe Honey wrote out is laid to the side of the ingredients, tucked into the folds of the bag.

He’s still in the same position when Cole does come home, and only snaps out of it when the boy pretends to box against his stomach. In retaliation, Trevor drops the groceries on his toes. The boy wore flip flops to the hardware store to carry in shipment.

He’s far away for the rest of the night, flickering between Honey’s rage when she entered the house for reasons he doesn’t know and the arousal he feels from seeing her right after he had come thinking of her.

He eventually decides to go see Honey as soon as The Reading Nook opens tomorrow. He doesn’t get it. She hates him, then she’s mad at him for not flirting with her? And not going to the fruit stand? Is he supposed to bake these tarts to win her over?

He does just in case, and Jack laughs at him the whole time.

16:90 – HONEY

Honey is still fuming from the moment she wakes up. She practically throws herself out of bed when her first alarm rings, then speeds to work when she’s finished getting ready for the day. Her knuckles are white against the steering wheel and she thinks she’s mumbling to herself, but she can’t be sure.

She’s not even mad at Trevor, is the thing. She took it out on him last night and he definitely didn’t deserve the yells and the borderline assault from when she threw her grocery bag against his chest, but she’s not mad at him.

No, Honey is furious at herself.

How she managed to convince herself that Trevor would show up at the fruit stand last night and everything would be like normal, Honey doesn’t know. She should’ve workshopped it with Bea, to be fair, but Bea was busy.

Busy with Quinn, because everything is easy for them.

A fresh round of grumbling falls from Honey’s mouth, a scowl marring her face.

Somehow, Trevor might be the only person that Honey is not mad at right now.

When she got home last night, she had gone over every interaction she and Trevor have had. She wrote down every fact of the matter: he approached her first. he sought her out at the bookstore. he made her carry his beer, and hand it to him, and admitted that he did it on purpose. he bought strawberries for her so that they could bake pastries together. he had pushed Jack up against the wall when he went upstairs with Honey, alone, just for going upstairs with her?

That one was less than a fact, but Bea swears it’s true.

And the other less-than-facts: that Trevor had seemed just as affected by the whipped cream dare as Honey was.

She’s doubting that more and more with every interaction.

Then, after making her list, Honey had driven over to Bea’s and knocked on the door until Quinn answered it in his boxers, disgruntled and messy like he’d just rolled out of bed. He had, and Honey wasn’t ashamed that she had interrupted them. Good, even– they needed something to come between them. She even locked him out of the bedroom, but Bea allowed him back in after a few minutes.

Quinn had thrown his shirt and pants back on and glared at Honey, sitting on the other side of the room while Honey paced and ranted. Eventually, Bea waved him over and he settled between her legs, laying so his head rested against her stomach.

Bea had started to pet her fingers through Quinn’s hair, but she stopped when Honey let out a series of insults and swears at the sight. Oh, and things had only gotten worse when Quinn asked Honey what her “fucking problem” was. He had laughed when Bea shushed him and explained that it was about Trevor, which is when they kicked him out for the night.

He slept on the couch until Honey left. Bea definitely rewarded him for his patience afterward. Honey wishes she didn’t know her friend so well.

But now Honey is at The Reading Nook, and it’s a new day. She sweeps the store, even though she swept it on Friday night. She dusts the windowsills, restocks some books, and unlocks the door when Scarlett knocks, knitting in hand.

The woman shuffles past Honey with a hug and a smile and takes her normal seat at the table. They make small talk for a few minutes and Scarlett shows Honey her project– a blue cardigan for her daughter, whose birthday is coming up.

Fuck, so is Bea’s. Honey has to buy her a present.

She’s about to ask Scarlett for her knitting pattern when the door to The Reading Nook swings open and slams against the doorstop.

“I need to talk to you.” Trevor stomps toward Honey, shoving a tupperware into her hands. The door swings shut again behind him, rattling in its frame.

It’s a mirror image of what happened the night before and Honey abruptly understands the shock that overtook Trevor’s face. It’s the exact expression on her face, and when she looks over, it’s the expression on Scarlett’s face, too.

“I’m at work,” Honey replies, eyes wide.

“Then I’ll wait for you until you’re done,” Trevor says. He’s staring into Honey’s eyes, overenunciating his words. His jaw clenches, green irises hard and determined. He finds a chair at Scarlett’s table and sits, the tight smile on his face reaching only the edges of his lips. It makes Honey uneasy.

“You don’t have to do that.” Honey plasters the same tight smile on her face and blinks at Trevor. Please, God, don’t do that.

“That’s alright, he can join us,” Scarlett coos, patting a hand against Trevor’s arm. “Hello, darling, I’m Scarlett.”

Trevor quirks his eyebrows at Honey in an ‘I-told-you-so’ sort of motion, then smiles charmingly and introduces himself to Scarlett. He dotes on her cardigan for a moment and she reaches into her bag, finding another set of knitting needles and a skein of yarn for Trevor. Scarlett starts to teach him how to cast-on stitches, and Honey watches on in something akin to horror.

He’s really planning on staying here until I’m ready to talk.

She looks down at the tupperware she’s cradling, the translucent lid revealing a neat pile of pastries. Honey’s mouth drops open and she looks between Trevor and her hands, then to the door. The bell above the door jingles as Sacha and Vera walk in, and Honey watches Vera’s face light up.

“Oh, Bear!” Vera chirps, extending her arms to Trevor.

Trevor lights up and stands, leaving his knitting in a knot on the table to hug the small woman. He kisses her cheek, then pulls out the chair next to him and helps her down. He then extends his hand to Sacha, introducing himself.

“You know, Trevor, Sweetie helped me with my shipment yesterday,” Vera continues, her gaze pointed and disappointed. “Why didn’t you come and help me, too?”

“I…” Trevor trails off, his gaze finding Honey and then snapping back to Vera. “Was busy.”

“Well, in the future, you ought to know that some people might find it rude to not help an old lady,” Vera pouts, digging for her own knitting project.

Trevor chuckles and replies, “I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll give my number to Earl next time I come by the hardware store. Your Sweetie will probably break something at the house and he’ll make me fix it.” He finishes his statement with a little wink.

Honey breathes out a surprised little laugh, involuntary like it was pulled from her throat on a fishing wire. It’s quiet, quiet enough that Honey is the only one who notices, and when she does… she bolts.

She flees to the back room, tossing the tupperware of pastries onto the table with a clatter. She pushes her hair away from her face and takes a deep breath, staring at the ground. A real laugh escapes her this time. Honey feels hysterical.

Trevor is at her place of work. He’s sitting with the founding ladies of Litchton and they’re teaching him how to knit. He has a nickname from Vera and he is going to leave his number at the hardware store for Earl.

Earl, the grumpiest, most traditional man in Litchton. The man who hasn’t updated his store in forty years because he likes things the way they are is accepting an outsider. Trevor managed to win over Earl.

Honey can’t believe it. She gave them a week, and they’re still here, three weeks into the summer.

It is pure torture– at first because Trevor was flirting with her even though she didn’t want it, but now because Trevor cannot seem to make up his mind, and she does want it. Honey is confused. Beyond confused, because what the fuck is he doing here and why is her heart beating so fucking fast?

Someone knocks on the doorframe and Honey whirls around.

Trevor seems smaller here, shoulders hunched. A grimace is half-formed on his face and when he opens his mouth, Honey can’t bear it.

“Don’t,” Honey says. “Please.”

“Honey.” Trevor breathes out, tilting his head, then shaking it from left to right. “I don’t know what you want from me.” He brings his hands up like he’s holding a tray, palms out.

Honey sputters, looking everywhere but at the boy. “I– I want you to leave,” she says, stumbling over her words. “I want you to… to not show up at my work and- and mingle with my customers just for a chance to talk to me.”

Trevor winces and rubs the back of his head, sheepish.

Honey continues before he can say a word. “You had chances to talk to me and you took those,” Honey explains, speaking with her hands. She places her index finger in the center of her outstretched palm and raises an eyebrow at Trevor. “Didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Trevor responds, like it’s obvious.

Honey motions for him to zip-it when he goes to speak again. She brings her middle finger to the palm of her hand as well, counting off while poking her own hand. “And not only did you reassure me when I put whipped cream on your nipples–” Honey’s voice breaks with disbelief, a laugh that is bubbling up due to the bewilderment of the situation. “– but you also got a little hard when I licked it off of you.”

Trevor’s jaw drops and he flushes. He nods once, shakily, slamming his mouth shut and biting the inside of his lower lip.

“And then, you don’t talk to me and you don’t show up when you’re supposed to,” Honey finishes, grinding her teeth. Her tone is cool and calm, glaring daggers in his direction. “You don’t know what I want from you? How about this: I don’t know what you want from me, Trevor!”

Trevor fishmouths, shrugging with one shoulder.

Honey waits, prompting him with a wave of her hand.

“I just need to talk to you,” Trevor relents, his voice low. Honey is shocked by the torment that washes over his features. “I need to understand what you want.”

“I just told you what I want,” Honey says, sass dripping from her words despite the shake of her voice.

Trevor holds a hand up and takes a breath. “I need to understand if you want me to keep flirting with you or if you want me to stop,” he corrects. “Because I don’t get you.”

“You don’t get me,” Honey repeats.

“You act like you’re not interested and you couldn’t care less, then you tuck your little fingers in my waistband and run your tongue all over my body,” Trevor exclaims. “That’s confusing!”

“More confusing than constantly seeking me out, then dropping me in an instant?”

“It’s not a competition,” Trevor hisses. He pauses and his eyes dart around the room, before finally returning to Honey. He shrugs and his voice goes from biting to embarrassed, a shy admittance. “I baked for you… twice.”

He pouts a little bit and Honey almost collapses into one of the chairs at the table. He’s precious. He’s just a boy.

She catches herself and presses a hand over her eyes. “Oh my God,” she laughs. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Trevor asks, alarm ringing in his eyes. He repeats it, searching Honey’s face. “Can’t do what?”

Honey gestures between them. “This,” she says. “I don’t want something… confusing and hard and– and annoying.”

It’s a weak insult and Trevor is unimpressed. Honey can tell from his look.

“If I’m going to do… this,” Honey pauses for emphasis, waving her fingers in a circle, trying to grasp something that isn’t there. The wave turns into a rapid brush shooing Trevor away when he steps forward, words on the tip of his tongue. “It can’t be hard, Trevor.”

“Well, I’m gonna be hard,” Trevor mumbles, shrugging.

“Are you trying to kid around with me right now?” Honey asks, incredulous. She feels suddenly calm, suddenly murderous at the idea that Trevor can laugh and think to joke in this very serious moment. “Was that a joke?”

Trevor seals his lips shut and clasps his hands in front of him.

“Good choice,” Honey praises sarcastically. She grinds her teeth before speaking again. “You could not be more wrong for me, Trevor. That’s what I’ve decided.” Her voice shakes. “I want you to leave.”

“I don’t think you do,” Trevor erupts, his eyes flooded with doubt. “You wanted something that night and it scared you and I don’t think that it has anything to do with me.”

Honey stands tall. “You’re wrong,” she lies.

Trevor steps forward.

Honey steps back.

Trevor’s voice is nearly a whisper now, as sincere and genuine as Honey has ever heard it. He’s unblinking as he takes another step forward and says, “I have never wanted anyone the way I want you. It scares me, too.”

Honey clears her throat and looks away. “I’m not scared.”

Trevor hums, disapproving.

There’s not much more room behind Honey. She can’t back any farther away from him, and he’s blocking the exit.

“Trevor,” Honey warns.

He comes to a stop right in front of her. He taps his foot, staring at Honey. “Do you want me to stop flirting with you?”

“Yes,” Honey declares, pinching her lips together. She looks past Trevor to the door, unable to find his eyes and see what they hold.

Trevor huffs out a little laugh and brings a knuckle to Honey’s chin, the contact electrifying.

She’s forced to look up into his eyes. She suffers at the sight of the quirk of his lips.

“Do you want me to stop flirting with you?” Trevor repeats.

Honey finds herself pausing, hesitating. She more so sees his lips move than hears the words leave his mouth. She blinks.

“Yes.” Honey’s breath catches in her throat, but she holds her chin up in defiance, away from his hand.

It drops to his side. Trevor hums again, lighter this time, almost inquisitive. Pondering.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I don’t believe you.”

He turns and leaves the room, leaves Honey shaking with her back pressed against the counter.

When she gets it together and returns to the main store, ready to wait for Bea by the door, Honey finds Trevor seated with the knitters. His eyes meet hers and he offers her a little smirk.

Honey returns to the back room. When Bea finds her an hour later, Honey stutters out a goodbye and a worthless explanation before shoving past her best friend and running out of The Reading Nook. She doesn’t dare take another look behind her.

17:90 – TREVOR

The puck hits the boards with an angry clatter. Trevor misses another shot, just going wide. He curses to himself, watching it fly awry from the second the puck leaves his stick.

Quinn pushes into him, hip checking Trevor and causing him to stumble. He doesn’t go flying, but Quinn does manage to make him fall, and he laughs at Trevor as he skates away.

Trevor curses again, pounding his fist against the ice. He’s been off for weeks and it’s not getting better. He can’t blame it on his injury, since that healed before the season even ended. He can’t blame it on the other guys, because he’s been playing with them almost seamlessly for years. He can’t blame anything but the truth– that he’s distracted because of Honey.

He likes her too much. He hasn’t been able to get her off his mind since their conversation yesterday, or maybe the day before that when he got off to the thought of her… or maybe last week when he felt so consumed by the tension between them that he almost exploded on the spot. Well, maybe since the first day that he bumped into her at the fruit stand and decided to go back to introduce himself.

Yeah. He’s distracted because he hasn’t stopped thinking about Honey since the moment he met her.

Seeing her gaze grow dreamy when she looked down at his lips… Trevor was sold. It was an unconscious reaction, so unconscious that he doesn’t even think it registered in her mind. He read through the lie as soon as it left Honey’s mouth the first time, but the tiny poke of her tongue licking her lips before she spoke the second time cemented its falsity in stone. He snapped.

“Fuck you, Quinn,” Trevor shouts, picking himself up but leaving his stick and gloves behind. He lifts his helmet and places it on the ground.

Quinn spins around and skates backwards, shedding his own gear quickly. He loops around behind Trevor, but Trevor turns around to face him.

“Stop.” Luke skates between them and puts his hands out in front of Trevor, pushing his chest back. He feels behind him for Quinn, fisting his jersey when he catches him. He’s looking between the two boys wildly, trying to capture their eyes. “What’s going on?”

Trevor catches Luke’s gaze for a millisecond and Luke leans in, studying him. He pulls back, and comes to a sharp stop.

“Oh my God,” Luke breathes, pushing Quinn back into the boards. He drops his hand and faces Trevor, squishing Quinn. He raises his voice. “Trevor fucked Bea!”

“What?” Trevor exclaims, stepping back in surprise. “No, I didn’t!”

Cole skates up and grabs Trevor’s arm, stopping behind him. “You did what?”

“You did what?” Quinn demands at the same time, reaching for Trevor and nearly catching his hair. He’s turned murderous, lunging farther around Luke than before.

Jack approaches leisurely, but turns to crash into Quinn back-first. He creates further space between the boys, back to back with Luke. He stops Quinn, forcing him to skate backwards. “No shit,” Jack bites back with a smile. He’s laughing a little bit. “So that’s why you’ve been ragging on Trevor so much. He fucked your girl.”

“Don’t fucking talk about Bea,” Quinn argues.

Jack rolls his eyes and knocks Quinn’s helmet back, covering his face with his red glove. “Dude. She told you that she’s sleeping with everyone.”

Quinn pulls back. “How do you know that?” He asks, stunned.

“She told me,” Jack replies, tsking at the boy. He scoffs. “Quinn, she told you,” he says again.

“She’s sleeping with everyone?” Cole interjects, and he sounds just as clueless as Trevor feels.

“When did Bea have the time to tell you that she’s sleeping with everyone?” Quinn asks, his focus only on Jack now.

The brothers stare at each other. Quinn searches Jack’s face for information and his own face grows stony.

“Bea and I talk,” Jack says coyly, then his expression loses its cockiness when Quinn’s fists enclose on the collar of his jersey.

“This isn’t about Bea.” Trevor shakes his head, wanting to escape the scruffle. Cole holds onto him for a second longer before he slips away. “Quinn just needs to stop messing with me.”

Quinn smirks at Trevor for a split second before turning his attention back to his younger brother.

Trevor loses his head at the sight of that and speeds off the ice, not bothering to shower before leaving the locker room. He takes off in the car, leaving the guys and the gear behind.

He drives to the rental house in a frenzy, stopping in the driveway and taking a breath. It feels like the first one he’s sucked in since getting behind the wheel.

He reaches into his phone and dials a number, knowing it by heart. He raises a shaky hand to his ear, counting the rings.

Jamie picks up on the fourth. “Hey, buddy. What’s going on?”

“I need you to fly out to Litchton, North Carolina right now.”

Jamie coughs, a question stuttering his breaths. “Where?”

Trevor shakes his head. Duh, he didn’t tell Jamie where he was. He’s not going to see him until the season. Jamie’s in Philly now. “Fly to Winston-Salem,” he explains. It’s the closest airport to Litchton, he’s learned. Earl told him the other day.

“Again, where?” Jamie repeats.

Trevor rolls his eyes. He thinks. “Fine, fly into Charlotte. I’ll drive down and get you tomorrow.”

Jamie is silent on the other end.

“Please, Jim, I need an ally,” Trevor begs. “The guys are killing me here.”

Jamie speaks after another moment of hesitation. “Okay. What time do you want me to come down?”

“Early,” Trevor says. “As early as you can.”

“Z, that’s not realistic,” Jamie tells him and Trevor can practically hear the roll of his eyes through the phone. “I have to pack and shit, and I have practice in the morning.”

“I will pay for your flight,” Trevor announces, cutting him off. “I don’t care. You can have the most expensive, bougiest flight and I will pay for it as long as you get here as fast as you can.”

Jamie sighs, taking in a deep breath. “Fine, Trev. Find me a flight and I’ll be on the way.”

“I’ll text you,” Trevor says as a goodbye and hangs up.

He’s still sitting in the driveway of the rental house, but he thinks he’s got time before the other boys make it home. The usual setup for practices on the ice was that Trevor drove to Charlotte alone with the gear and Quinn drove all of the other boys in the car, but now Quinn has to figure out some way to pack the gear in the vehicle and still have room for the boys. With Luke’s lanky legs, he doesn’t stand a chance.

Trevor can’t believe that Luke assumed he hooked up with Bea. Isn’t it obvious that he couldn’t care less about the girl? Sure, he has her phone number, but he only got that when he was trying to get insider knowledge about Honey.

He thought the boys knew that he wanted Honey, with how often they’ve been teasing him. Now that he thinks about it, the only one who’s been messing with him more often is Quinn. Even the shifts they seemed to be taking could just be coincidence.

Trevor suddenly realizes that he had too much faith in his friends. They’re not doing anything on purpose. They’re all idiots who think with their dicks.

So is he, most of the time, but that’s neither here nor there. He wasn’t thinking with his dick when he went to The Reading Nook yesterday. How could he have been– he told Honey exactly how he felt. He could’ve made a pass at her, could’ve just flirted with her until she was taken by his charm, but no. Trevor took a risk and for the first time in his life, told a girl just how badly he wants her. He told her how badly it scares him.

Honey had rejected the notion, but she couldn’t have been clearer about what she really wanted. She wouldn’t even look at him at first, trying to stay strong, but when Trevor tilted her chin up and she met him halfway, it all clicked.

Honey had been trying to run away from her feelings for a long time. When they showed up right in front of her– no, when Trevor appeared right in front of her, she felt that same indescribable pull that Trevor felt for her.

They’re drawn together and while Trevor has accepted it, Honey is still fighting it.

He’s going to keep flirting with her. He’s going to make it happen. Honey wants him, he knows that she does. He really hopes that she does.

Trevor searches for a plane ticket and buys the first one he sees– a flight that arrives in Charlotte around midday tomorrow. Jamie will just have to get to the airport by 9:30 if he wants to board on time. Maybe he can leave practice early.

He purchases a window seat for the boy, a first class ticket to make up for the short notice and to properly portray his desperation. He sends the ticket to Jamie and the boy responds with a simple thumbs-up.

The least Jamie could do is give Trevor a better thank you for the $400 ticket than a thumbs up, but Trevor decides he’s not going to press the issue. Jamie is doing him a favor, coming up and hanging with him for a few days. It will be good. It’ll be fun.

Trevor finally enters the house and showers, planning to hole himself up in his room for the rest of the day.

Mid-evening, Jack knocks on his door.

“Z, I got you dinner,” Jack calls. “Let me in.”

“It’s unlocked,” Trevor replies, scrolling on his phone in his bed.

Jack cracks the door open, slipping inside. He’s got a plate in one hand and he closes the door quietly behind him. He hands the plate off to Trevor, who sat up to greet him, and then flops on the bed and pulls out his own phone.

Trevor takes in the meal– a home cooked steak, potatoes, and asparagus meal that Quinn likely whipped up when they got back.

“How’d you get back from Charlotte?” Trevor asks, spearing the asparagus and bringing it to his mouth.

“Quinn rented a U-Haul,” Jack replies. “The little one. He attached it to the tailgate and threw all the gear in there. He also wanted me to ride in there, but Luke managed to convince him that I’d die due to the fumes. He said it was like a gas chamber and that Mom and Dad would be mad if Quinn killed me.”

Jack shrugs as if he didn’t just say one of the weirdest sentences Trevor has ever heard. It’s par for the course with the Hughes boys– these weird stories. They’re close, but they butt heads all the time, and they always need to think of new and creative ways to get under each others’ skin. Jack seems to have found something that makes Quinn furious.

“What did you do to Quinn to make him so mad?”

“Same thing you did,” Jack scoffs. “I made a move on Bea.”

Trevor chokes on a potato, taken aback. “I didn’t make a move on Bea,” he denies. “When the fuck did you make a move on Bea?”

“At the lake, dude.” Jack pats Trevor on the back as he coughs. “Did you really not notice?”

“No,” Trevor replies.

“Huh.” Jack frowns. “I guess that makes sense. It was when you were driving and Quinn was surfing. I asked her what was going on between her and Quinn, and she said they were just hooking up and it wasn’t a ‘super serious, committed thing.’” Jack uses air-quotes, raising his voice to mimic Bea’s. He drops his hands. “And I thought that was it, but then Honey jumped in and told me that Bea wanted to have a ‘Slut Summer’ and we were all her victims.”

Trevor makes a face. “What?” He’s more surprised that Honey called Bea a slut with the girl right next to her than the fact that Bea wants to hook up with everyone in the house.

No, thanks. Trevor is not interested in hooking up with Bea.

She’s too loud, too comfortable with them. She’s not a challenge. Trevor wants a challenge– the challenge that Honey is giving him– because the reward will be so much sweeter. Trevor already feels a warmth in his chest at the mere idea of Honey cuddling up to him on the couch in front of the other guys– he can’t imagine how he’ll feel when it actually happens. He’ll probably have a nice tent in his pants from just her head on his shoulder, or her fingers intertwining with his own.

God, he feels like a virgin with their first girlfriend. Everything is new and exciting and each touch, no matter how innocent, makes him think of how great their chemistry will be in bed.

Oh my God, shut up, Trevor thinks to himself, adjusting his position so that Jack doesn’t notice his arousal. It’s barely a semi. It’s fine. Just stop thinking about Honey.

“Yeah, she wants to hook up with everyone in the house,” Jack continues. “She said that dating in Litchton sucks and when a bunch of eligible bachelors showed up, she knew it was her chance to have a really fun summer.”

“So you hooked up?”

“No, not yet. Next time we hang out, I think. I told her that my bed’s always open, that it’s bigger than Quinn’s, and that I have my own room. Did you know they’ve been kicking Luke out every time she sleeps over?” Jack asks, bouncing to face Trevor like it’s the juiciest piece of gossip in the world. “He’s been sleeping in the bunk beds in that spare room. I think he’s a top bunker, too, even though he’s the only one in there.”

“Well, he’ll be sharing with Jamie if Quinn kicks him out this week,” Trevor acknowledges, rolling his eyes. He forks a piece of steak and brings it to his mouth.

“Drysdale is coming?” Jack asks, sounding surprised. His upper lip curls briefly. “Why?”

Trevor glares at Jack from his peripheral. “Dude, fuck off. I don’t get why you don’t like him.”

“He’s so shy,” Jack complains. “He’s worse than Luke.”

“He’s not that shy, you’re just a dick to him because he’s quiet,” Trevor argues. “Plus, you’re being a dick to everyone lately and I need an ally.”

“Yeah, ally is right, because you’re fucking gay for each other,” Jack laughs, chirping. He raises his palms in surrender, standing and backing away from Trevor towards the door. He’s still got a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. Happy pride month and all, Trev. I’m just saying that Bea’s going to be very disappointed that two of her potential hookups are off the market ‘cause they’re in love with each other.”

“Dude,” Trevor scoffs, pissed off. “Get the fuck out of my room.”

Jack laughs and slips out of the room. As soon as he closes the door, Trevor hears him shout: “Trevor’s boyfriend is coming to visit! Everyone dig out your best clothes! It’s a special occasion!”

Not for the first time this summer, Trevor considers wringing Jack’s neck. He’ll be surprised if he makes it to preseason without killing Jack and burying him in bumfuck, Litchton, North Carolina. They’ll never find his body.

18:90 – HONEY

“Honey, come look at this book,” Bea calls from within the stacks. She’s in charge of their newest shipment of books and she’s been complaining all day about how they should just organize the stacks based on “how recently they got the damn thing,” so Honey is itching to hear something from Bea that isn’t a complaint.

She hops down from her stool behind the cash register and follows Bea’s voice, toward the ‘K-L’ stacks.

“What’s up?” Honey asks, rounding the corner.

Bea holds up a deep blue paperback book, its cover illustrated with holographic and shimmering lines that reveal a few images: twins, a centaur shooting a bow and arrow, a scorpion, a jar pouring out water. She shakes it and the images twinkle at Honey.

“That’s gorgeous,” Honey says, reaching out to take the book.

Bea snatches it back. “Aht,” she corrects, smacking Honey’s hand with the cover. “Not for you.” She takes a circular orange sticker and applies it to the spine, marking the book as Non-Fiction.

Honey makes a face. “Then why did you call me over here?”

“I just thought it was pretty,” Bea explains, her voice pitching upward. She shrugs one of her shoulders and shakes her head, her eyes widening then returning to normal size.

Honey knows all of Bea’s tells by now.

“What else?” Honey sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. Bea can never hide when she’s up to trouble.

Bea shelves the book, standing up on her tippy-toes to do so. She brushes her hands against each other when she finishes, turning to face Honey.

“I was talking to someone last night and he’s looking for a book,” Bea introduces, her voice slow. She tilts her head down with an eyebrow raised and Honey steps back, unimpressed. She sets her jaw.

“And I’m a little busy tonight, so I can’t bring the book over myself.” Bea pulls her lips back in a wary smile. “But I told him that you could bring it over instead.”

Honey doesn’t react. She’s reminded of Edward Tronick’s still-face experiment and hopes that Bea will become just as uncomfortable as those babies did when their mothers didn’t react to their behavior.

Bea is unperturbed.

“Anyway, I thought that would be the perfect book for him. Can you bring it over after we close?”

“Why can’t you?” Honey asks, voice devoid of any emotion. “What’s your big plan?”

“Well, Quinn is concerned that I slept with Trevor.” Bea clasps her hands together like a cheerleader. “And I didn’t, nor do I have any interest in doing so… so I’m making Quinn dinner.”

“Are you dating yet?” Honey asks, meaning for her insult to come out as less of an actual question, but she fails.

Bea shakes her head, her ponytail flopping around behind her. “Mm-mm. We’re having fun. I actually have to tell him that I’m going to take his brother out for a ride this weekend.”

“Why the sudden switch-up?” Honey asks, grabbing another new book from Bea’s stack and marking it with a yellow sticker– YA Fiction.

“No reason, I’ve just been spending a lot of time with Quinn and I need to make moves,” Bea expresses, taking the book from Honey and shelving it. They do the same thing with the next book, and the next, working in tandem. “I have to fuck all the guys and we’re, like, a fifth of the way through the summer and I’ve only fucked one. It’s time to move along.”

“But you like Quinn,” Honey argues, not understanding. “If you like him, why not just stick with him?”

“Of course I like Quinn, he’s perfect,” Bea replies. “But I made a goal for the summer and I revealed it to him and Jack. It’s out now. I don’t expect Jack to keep his mouth shut. I’d look like a chump if I only fucked Quinn after setting my sights so high.”

“Maybe Quinn would just look like a really good lay,” Honey says.

“Ugh, and he is,” Bea sighs dreamily, like she’s reminiscing. She presses a hand over her heart and smiles, then pats her chest to bring her out of her thoughts. “Which is why I’m cooking him dinner tonight.”

Honey rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

Bea smiles, smug and sweet, then picks up her box of books. She only has about twenty more to shelve, but they’re all in different rows. “So?” She prompts.

“So, what?”

“Can you take that book to Trevor?” Bea looks at Honey expectantly.

“I can.” Honey puts emphasis on the word like a teacher trying to correct her students’ grammar. “I don’t want to, but technically, I am able to.”

“Good!” Bea exclaims. “That’s a relief. I was worried I’d have to send it back with Quinn.” She starts to walk off, briskly.

“Wait a second, why don’t you send it back with Quinn?” Honey demands, stomping after Bea.

“He’s very angry with Trevor at the moment,” Bea says lightly, choosing her words carefully. “There’s a chance he’ll hurl the book at Trevor’s head and then burn it while Trevor watches.” She reaches up and itches the tip of her nose. After another pause, she speaks. “They’re at a point of contention right now.”

Honey stares at Bea, perplexed and disbelieving. She blinks slowly, taking in the words. “I didn’t realize we were going to have the most dramatic summer of our lives when they drove into town.”

Bea clicks her tongue, nodding with pursed lips. “They’re very dramatic.”

The girls stand in silence for a moment longer and Bea presses her lips together awkwardly.

“Well, thanks for bringing the book over.” She winks at Honey. “I think it’ll be nice. It’s by Kerod, by the way.”

Honey shakes her head and fixes Bea with a glare, retreating to the stack to find the book with the gorgeous cover. Bea giggles a little as she walks away and Honey resents her for it.

She hasn’t told Bea about what went down on Tuesday, but the memory pops into her mind and brings a furious red blush with it at least four times a day. She has been avoiding the back room like it’s the origin point of the apocalypse, just because she can’t stand how easily Trevor saw through her. She ran away then, and she still wants to run away now. If she’s lucky, Jack will answer the door and she can hand him the book and stalk away. Trevor will be none the wiser.

Honey traces her finger over the blue spine, feeling the silver lines swirl underneath her fingers. She pulls the book out and reads the title: ‘Tales of the Night Sky: Revealing the Mythologies and Folklore Behind Constellations.’

Oh, hell, Trevor’s going to love it.

Honey dreads seeing him. but she can’t imagine allowing anyone else to see the grand smile that’s going to overtake his face at the sight of the book. He’s going to be so excited and Honey doesn’t want Bea to be the one to receive that smile. No, it’s hers. She’s the only one who can make Trevor smile like that.

What? No, she’s not.

Honey cringes at the thought, shivering in disgust at her own imagination. She meant what she said the other day: Trevor couldn’t be more wrong for her.

He’s a West Coast boy, even if he’s from New York originally. He’s a traveler, an athlete. He’s got an attitude like he’s hot shit and he knows it, and even if she’s seen softer moments from him, she knows in her gut that he’s the kind to ditch a girl after getting in her pants.

So what if he matches her wit? So what if he is blatantly obvious about his flirting? So what if he says he’s never wanted anyone as much as he wants Honey?

He could be lying. He’s a boy in his twenties. He’s just thinking with his dick, looking to say anything right to get Honey into his bed. She’s not going to fall for it, even if he’s pretty and passionate about the things that he likes. He even cares deeply for his friends, especially when they annoy him.

Honey runs her fingers over the illustration of the fish on the cover. She bites the inside of her cheek, then slaps the back cover of the book against her other hand in a satisfying clap. She returns to the counter and picks up her own book, removing her bookmark and assuming her post.

There’s about an hour until The Reading Nook officially closes. Bea starts on their chores as soon as she finishes stocking the new books, leaving Honey to man the entire store in case someone walks in. They won’t, because they never do.

Honey finishes her book with twenty minutes to go and decides that that’s not enough time to find another and take it home with her.

The cover of the constellations book tempts her.

She stares at it, and the silver illustrations stare back. Honey frowns at the book, annoyed at her own interest. How dare Trevor like something as interesting as astronomy.

Finally, Honey relents. She picks up the book and turns to the introduction, her eyes raking over the page.

“When you go stargazing on a clear, dark night, the star-studded heavens form a vast, dark dome over your head. It is the same everywhere on Earth.”

Honey blinks and hums to herself, adjusting atop her stool. She might have to borrow this book after Trevor is done with it, if the rest of the writing is as captivating as the first two sentences. She buries herself back in the pages, getting all the way through the introductory scientific sections.

When Bea comes out of the back carrying Honey’s bag and sweatshirt, Honey is almost upset that she couldn’t start the section about constellations and the Zodiac. She’s been meaning to learn more about astrology lately, and this book is just interesting enough that she nearly forgot it was Non-Fiction.

The girls walk out together, making their way down the sidewalk as the sun finally fades behind the mountains in the distance. When they reach the point where they have to say goodbye, Bea reaches out and squeezes Honey’s hand.

“Thank you,” Bea says sincerely.

“You owe me,” Honey replies. She squeezes Bea’s hand back. “Enjoy your very late dinner.”

“I owe you so big,” Bea confirms, leaning in to plant a kiss on Honey’s cheek.

Honey watches her go for an extra moment, seeing her approach a car in the dark. Under the streetlight, Quinn leans against the driver’s side door, a smile curving his lips as Bea skips over to him. He connects with Bea in a sweet hug, lifting his chin so it rests on the crown of her head. He lifts a hand to wave at Honey, letting it hover before it falls back on Bea’s shoulder.

Honey smiles, waving back in the same way. She takes the sight in for a second– her best friend bouncing over to a guy and wiggling her way into his space. Quinn’s a quiet, generally grumpy guy from what Honey has seen, but he’s soft and comfortable when he’s around Bea.

The smile fades into a slight frown after a moment, and Honey turns away. She’s forlorn suddenly, hit by the desire to have someone act like that with her. She wishes someone was waiting for her by the car, that someone was holding her like she’s something precious. Honey shakes her head, willing the feeling away.

She unlocks her car and climbs behind the wheel, pulling out of her spot and driving down the mountain, almost missing the boys’ driveway in the dark. She pulls up to the wooden front door, knocking on the surface a few times.

Honey chews her bottom lip as she waits for someone to come answer the door. She taps nervously on the front cover of the book, listening for the approaching footsteps of someone on the other side.

Please, don’t be Trevor.

Then, fuck. Please be Trevor.

It’s not Trevor when the door swings open, and Honey is ashamed to admit that she’s a little disappointed. She also feels a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of the other boy. She catches a glimpse of dark hair and sighs, thinking it’s Jack.

At a second look, Honey blinks to make sure she’s seeing things right. There’s the foyer, all covered in wood and terribly designed. There’s the chandelier of antlers, hanging above his head.

The man, however, Honey has never seen in her entire life.

He’s got a square face. Honey’s eyes are drawn to his jaw immediately, the curve of it sharp and flat, further embellished by the dusting of dark stubble on his face. His hair flops over his forehead in dark waves, parted messily just off-center. She can’t tell the color of his eyes, but his dark eyebrows are just as strong as his jaw and his mouth tilts down a little bit, even though he’s plastering a polite smile on his face. He’s wearing a plain gray sweatshirt with the hood above his head, and one of the strings is longer than the other.

Honey feels a bit like she’s forgotten to breathe. Who the fuck is this guy?

“Hi,” Honey breathes out, caught off guard.

“How can I help you?” The man asks.

His voice is higher than she expected, but it’s cute. He’s cute.

“I’m, uh, dropping a book off for Z,” Honey says, her voice higher than normal. She clears her throat and forces a smile on her face to rectify her stunned, probably obviously stupid, expression. She used Trevor’s nickname. Why is she so much unsteadier than normal?

She blames it on Quinn and Bea.

The man looks Honey up and down and his smile turns sweeter. She damn near blushes. “You’re here for Z?” He asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

Honey shakes her head. “Not really, just… dropping off the book.” She fumbles with the paperback. She shoves it into the man’s hands, pausing when his fingers brush over hers. He holds them there for a second longer, just long enough for Honey to look down at the point of contact, smiling knowingly when she looks back up at him.

“I’ll give it to him.” He nods at her, his eyes soft and genuine. “Have a good night.”

“You, too,” Honey replies, standing there for a moment. The boy starts to close the door and gives her a little look when she doesn’t step away. They make eye contact and Honey opens her mouth to say something, but she’s cut off by another voice, one that’s growing closer with each syllable.

“Jim, who was it?” Trevor calls.

Honey’s eyes widen and she turns to her car, practically jumping in the vehicle and speeding away.

Nope. No Trevor for her tonight.

If she’s acting awestruck by some pretty boy she’s never seen before, she doesn’t even want to know how she’d act around the infuriating boy who “has never wanted anyone as much as he wants her.” She just can’t do it.

19:90 – TREVOR

Things are looking up. The reasons are threefold. One, that Trevor’s best friend is in town, staying in the house with him and his other best friends. Two, that Quinn had dinner with Bea last night and no longer wants to kill Trevor. Three, that he has a new book to read and it’s cool.

It’s a short book, something that would take him less than a day if he had all the time in the world, but between workouts and hanging out with his friends, it’ll probably take him a week or so to finish it. He’s eager to read more, having finished the introduction last night. The book is clear without dumbing down any of the information and Trevor feels like a real astronomer.

He wants to cancel their plans tonight and just sit on his balcony and search for each constellation he reads about, but he’s looking forward to tonight. He hasn’t seen Honey since Tuesday, three full days, and he can’t wait to introduce her to Jamie.

He’s been debating telling Jamie the whole deal about Honey– about how Trevor had to go back and talk to her after he met her, about how she terrorized him on the pool table and overjoyed the goons by making him do a Zulu Run, how she decimated Jack in one breath, how she and Trevor have this indescribable, insurmountable tension between them, and how much he likes her…

…but he just couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Instead, when Quinn left the night before, Jack launched into planner mode. He stole Trevor’s phone and texted Bea about coming over for beer night and bringing Honey with her. Jamie had asked about the girls and Jack assured him that he would meet them soon enough and not to worry about it.

Trevor understands why Jamie gets quiet around Jack when the boy says dismissive replies like that.

After Jack’s impromptu planning session, Jamie had gone to bed, and Trevor had lost his chance.

Then, this morning, he and Jamie had played a little roller-hockey in the rink, and they were having too much fun laughing to talk about Honey at all.

Then, Jamie had gone upstairs for a shower and a nap and Trevor read his book.

Other than that, they haven’t really been alone. Someone is always in the room with them, whether it be Quinn making himself a sandwich for lunch, Cole and Luke running a game of ping pong in the basement, or Jack recruiting Trevor to run to the store with him to buy more liquor and “beer night supplies.”

Trevor suspects that Jack might have an ulterior motive for the evening.

Now, it’s past dinnertime, and Jack’s only just putting a frozen pizza in the oven. He’s got a big, fluffy oven mitt on his hand, and Luke can’t stop taking pictures to send to their Mom. Jack’s hair is back in a baseball cap and he’s shirtless. He claims he was out back tanning before Trevor came downstairs, but Trevor doesn’t believe him.

No, Jack is shirtless so that he can draw Bea’s eyes when she walks through the door. What a slut.

Jack, that is, not Bea.

The girls are a few minutes away, as per Bea’s text on Trevor’s phone, when Jamie patters down the stairs. He’s wearing an old Flyers t-shirt, something he probably got from a teammate when he was traded there.

Jamie approaches Trevor in the kitchen, sliding onto the stool next to him, and Trevor goes to wipe the logo off of his shirt. The attempts are futile, obviously, but Jamie gets the message.

“Hey, the girls coming tonight,” Jamie begins. “Are they the same girls you guys were talking about?”

Trevor shrugs. “Yeah, we don’t really know anyone else in town. I’m not even sure there’s anyone else our age in town.”

Jamie nods, a thoughtful look on his face. “Is one of them the girl that dropped off your book last night?”

Trevor laughs. “Yeah, that was Bea. She’s the one who’s hooking up with all the guys.”

Surprise causes Jamie’s lips to part, blinking like he’s taken aback. “Her?” He furrows his eyebrows. “I thought Quinn was going to meet Bea last night.”

“Oh, yeah,” Trevor remembers. “He was.”

Trevor pauses, his features knitted in confusion. Bea wouldn’t have had the time to drive all the way down to the house, especially since Quinn had left to go into town right as her shift ended. She was cooking him dinner and, Trevor had assumed, talking to him about the hookup situation. It wouldn’t have made sense for Bea to drop off the book and then go all the way back to her place with Quinn.

“I guess Honey must have dropped the book off last night,” Trevor realizes quietly, speaking more to think aloud to himself rather than to explain the event to Jamie. Honey was here and he didn’t even realize?

“Honey,” Jamie repeats, feeling the name out.

Trevor nods. “Yeah, I meant to tell you about her. She’s a townie and she’s really great. I think I’m going to–”

He’s cut off by the sound of the front door banging open and Bea tumbling through it. Honey follows behind her, swinging her keys around her finger and giggling when Bea trips over her own foot.

“Bambi,” Honey chides, looping her arm around Bea’s and walking with her to the kitchen. “Still can’t walk after last night?”

“I missed a step,” Bea complains. She turns to the boys in the kitchen. “I swear.”

“Whatever you say, Bambi,” Trevor replies, teasing the girl.

“Hey,” Honey says, her voice soft.

Trevor’s back straightens and his eyes light up, turning to face his girl and greet her, but when he looks at her, Honey is already looking at Jamie.

“Hey,” Jamie parrots back. He holds eye contact with Honey for a second too long and Trevor starts to frown. Then, his eyes turn toward Bea and Jamie sticks his hand out. “I’m Jamie.”

Bea takes his hand and shakes it, surveying him. “I’m Bea.” She wets her lips. “This is Honey.”

“We met,” Jamie replies, looking over to Honey again.

Trevor doesn’t like how he takes her in from head to toe. He especially doesn’t like how Honey bites back a smile and looks away from the dark-haired boy. Her eyes meet Trevor’s for a second and they grow wide before she drops her gaze completely.

Trevor’s seen that look before– it’s the same deer in headlights look that Jack adopted when Quinn walked in on him talking to Cole about Bea this morning.

Honey turns to Bea and nods. “Yeah, Jamie answered the door when I dropped that book off last night.”

There’s the confirmation that Trevor needed– so it was Honey at the door last night. He wishes he could go back in time and hop up from the couch before Jamie did so that he could answer the door himself.

“The rest of the guys are downstairs,” Trevor says, changing the subject and hopping up from his stool. He starts to gesture towards the stairs, his hand hovering above Honey’s side but not quite touching her. “Jack planned a spectacular party for you girls.”

“Oh, God,” Bea laughs, taking a step towards the steps. “Here I was, thinking this was just another beer night at the boys’ house. I would’ve dressed up if I knew it was a party.”

Honey presses her lips together for a split second, then grins at Bea. Her tone is playful and teasing, but still biting. “I don’t think it matters what you wear, Bea.”

Bea pulls back with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrows. “Why not? I’m allowed to look nice.”

“It all looks the same on the floor, wouldn’t you agree?”

Trevor’s jaw drops open and he laughs, catching himself off guard with the sound. “Holy fuck, Honey.”

Honey shrugs. “It’s true.”

“You can’t just say shit like that–”

“I mean, she’s right,” Bea agrees, interrupting Trevor and grinning like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “It all ends in a pile anyway.”

Jamie snickers, standing partially behind Trevor.

Trevor loathes the way Honey looks past him to smile at the quiet boy. He presses his fingertips into the small of Honey’s back, guiding her towards the basement. Ha. Suck on that, Jamie. I’m touching Honey and you’re not.

Honey pulls away from his touch and shoots him a sharp look. She shakes her head minutely, making a face at Trevor. It stuns him, and when she bounds down the stairs after Bea, Jamie bumps into the stationary boy with an “oof.”

“Dude,” Jamie complains.

“What happened last night?” Trevor asks. “When you answered the door and picked up my book?”

“Nothing.” Jamie shrugs. “Honey and I talked for like two seconds, I took the book from her, and then you came to check on me, and she left.”

“Huh,” Trevor replies. Why didn’t she want to see me?

“She’s cute,” Jamie says, sounding far away.

Trevor whirls around to face him. Jamie’s got this distant smile on his face, eyes looking down the stairs where the girls disappeared.

“I know,” Trevor states. He stares at Jamie, frowning a little. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees. He meets Trevor’s eyes and grins. “Wanna go party?”

Trevor relaxes a little. It’s hard to be suspicious of Jamie, since the kid is so happy all the time. It’s fine if he thinks Honey is cute. Trevor and Honey already have something going on and that isn’t just going to change because Jamie is here. Trevor’s going to continue flirting with the girl, going to keep trying to win her over. Jamie’s presence is a comfort to him, not a threat to his flirtationship with Honey.

Right.

With a deep breath, Trevor and Jamie make their way down the stairs. Jamie heads to the couch, striking up a conversation with Luke about the movie on the big TV. Cole is tossing a football up and down, laying on the loveseat with his feet dangling over the edge. Jack and Quinn are playing pool, and Honey and Bea are sitting on the stools giggling with each other.

Trevor wanders over and catches the tail end of what Bea’s saying, a snide remark about one of the shots that Quinn took.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Quinn replies, looking unimpressed. He holds the cue out towards Bea, but she waves him off.

“I’m okay watching, actually.”

Trevor leans on the windowsill behind Honey, one of his arms resting on the edge of her stool. “Why don’t you show him how it’s done?” He asks, tilting his chin up at Honey in a little nod.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I’m okay.”

Trevor shrugs in assent, not pressing the matter. “How was your day?”

Honey pauses and shares a glance with Bea. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Better now that I’m seeing you,” Trevor bites back with his most charming grin.

Honey raises her eyebrows in surprise and chuckles out of the side of her mouth. She opens her mouth to say something, cut back with a snarky remark like she always does, but it never comes.

Jack sinks the 8-ball with an interrupting clink and cheers, whooping in a circle around Quinn.

Quinn glares at him, reracking his stick. He snatches the stick out of Jack’s hand and adds it to the line of cues.

“Sore loser,” Jack teases, playing with fire.

“Sore winner,” Quinn replies, his face dark.

“Oh, cut it out,” Luke groans from the couch. “No one wants to hear another fight between you two. Quinn, c’mere, we’re going to play Mario.”

With one last threatening glance at Jack, Quinn joins his brother on the couch and grabs a controller. They’re starting up the game now, picking characters, and Trevor turns to Honey.

“Do you want to play?” He asks. “I’d love to see you kick some ass in Mario.”

He sees Bea roll her eyes out of his peripheral vision, clearly unimpressed by his compliment. Jack sidles up next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his hand on her hip. “Wanna do a shot with me?”

Bea hops up and nods. “Sure.”

Trevor looks at Honey expectantly, waiting for her to answer.

“I think I’m just going to stick with Bea, but thank you for the compliment, Trevor.” Honey reaches up and pats Trevor’s cheek, a little harder than he thinks is necessary. “Why don’t you go play for the both of us?”

“Will you cheer for me when I win?” Trevor smiles, trying not to feel hurt by the rejection.

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Sure, Trev. I’ll cheer for you when you win.”

“Cool,” Trevor says. “Keep an eye on me, yeah?”

Honey fixes him with a look. “It’s very hard to take my eyes off of you, Trevor.”

Even though she says it sarcastically, Trevor grins like she meant it. His chest warms like she meant it. At least she admits to looking at him, even if she’s teasing him when she does. He’s worried about nothing– Honey is getting comfortable and Trevor isn’t doing anything to push her away. She’ll be his girl in no time.

Trevor nods and taps her knee in farewell, turning to hop over the couch and settle in next to Jamie.

The boys are racing with the screen split into four. Jamie’s playing as Luigi, Luke is Yoshi, Cole is Bowser, and Quinn is a Shy Guy. They’re playing some castle circuit, and the game quickly gets heated.

Cole, as a testament to how peculiar he is, wins each game. He can’t play pool for shit, but he can dominate in Mario Kart. It’s his one calling card and he never stops bragging when they play.

Eventually, they finish the circuit. Trevor had kept an ear out for Honey and Bea in the area behind him, laughing and giggling. Occasionally, they’ll clink tiny shot glasses together with Jack and down them, and Bea winces every time.

Quinn looks over his shoulder with each cough that leaves Bea’s mouth, but bites his cheeks instead of wandering up to her when Jack rubs her shoulders soothingly.

Honestly? Trevor admires his restraint. He’s taking Bea’s ‘Slut Summer’ very well, now that it seems to be in full swing.

Trevor doesn’t notice Jamie grow quieter and quieter with each time one of the boys yells over him. He had procured Cole’s controller when he left to take a leak and a few shots with the other three “partygoers,” so Trevor’s focus is his kart and Peach’s position on the leaderboard.

They’re in the middle of Rainbow Road when Cole comes back and demands to take the final lap. He snatches his controller back from Trevor, since Trevor was in second and “it was his controller first!”

Trevor blanches and complains, and Jamie silently passes over his own controller. Fifth place isn’t bad, but Trevor can do better. He thanks Jamie for the controller, remembering why Jamie’s his best buddy, and Jamie sinks into the couch. He sets his feet up on the coffee table and stretches his arms out over the back of the couch. Trevor leans forward, focusing.

“Trevy-baby,” Bea’s voice calls from behind him. Trevor bites his lip as he takes a turn on the difficult course, managing to swipe an item box while drifting. “Will you come here a minute?”

“Kind of in the middle of something, Bea,” Trevor replies.

Quinn makes a noise of disapproval, but his eyes stay focused on the screen and he throws out a red shell, hitting Luke’s kart.

“Okay, well, we need another person,” Bea bites back, sounding a little annoyed.

Trevor nudges Jamie with his elbow. “Can you go see what they’re talking about?” Trevor has just climbed into second place, and he has eyes on the back of Cole’s kart.

“Yeah, bud, no problem,” Jamie agrees easily, standing from the couch and disappearing from Trevor’s eyeline.

Trevor refocuses on the game, eying an item box that will hopefully afford him a blue shell, giving him the chance to knock Cole out of the running and win, so he can listen to Honey cheer for him.

Just as Trevor gets the box and triumphantly shouts out a “Yes!”, Luke strikes them all with lightning from fourth place and ruins Trevor’s chances. Luke even speeds up and beats Trevor out for second place, but it wasn’t as tight as it was for Cole.

“You know that was my fucking controller, dude,” Trevor grumbles at the other boy. “I was in second, I could’ve won. You’re an impatient fuck.”

He tosses his controller on the table in front of him and crosses his arms over his chest. He wanted Honey to cheer for him, wanted her attention on him again.

I guess I can see what Bea wanted now.

Trevor turns, looking over the back of the couch towards the girls and Jack and Jamie. “What did you need from me, Bea?” He asks, voice still pouty from his loss.

He’s met with the sight of Honey and Bea sitting on the edge of the pool table and his jaw slackens. They’ve both lost their shirts, left in bras and shorts. Trevor’s eyes fix on Honey’s chest and he can already feel his mind turning. Her skin looks soft and smooth and the curves of her cleavage are visible in the bra, but not bulging up like a corset. She looks like she would if she were lazing around in Trevor’s bathroom while he takes a shower, getting ready for the day. He can imagine talking to her over the spray of the shower, begging her to come wash his hair even though she’s already said no three times.

Trevor notices the shot glass resting between her breasts, balancing against the band of her bra. She’s looking down, fixing it and trying not to spill a drop. She has no idea that Trevor is practically salivating at the sight of her.

There’s a lime between her lips, facing outward.

Oh, fuck.

Jamie licks the back of his hand, sprinkling some salt on the patch of wetness. Jack does the same thing, standing between Bea’s parted legs, and Trevor’s head whips toward Quinn.

The older boy’s expression is nonchalant, barely passing over Bea and Honey before returning to the television. The only sign that he could be bothered is the clench of his jaw and the hard stare of his eyes, but Trevor receives that look every day, so he quickly realizes that he’s not going to find any shared outrage from Quinn.

Trevor frowns. He feels like he’s turning sour, rotting from the inside out as Honey brushes her hair back and looks up at Jamie, the edges of her mouth turned up in a smile. The lime wobbles between her lips, but doesn’t fall.

“Cole,” Bea calls, distracted. She pushes her boobs together and Jack plops the shot glass securely in her cleavage, letting his hand linger there. “Can you count us down, please?”

“No problem,” Cole replies, not even looking at the scene in front of them. “From three? Or do you want, like, a ten count?”

When Trevor looks around, he realizes that he’s the only one staring at the four people. Quinn’s facing forward, debating a new circuit with Luke. Cole is tossing a piece of popcorn up in the air and trying to catch it.

“Three’s fine,” Bea replies, bringing a lime up to her own lips.

“Whenever you’re ready, Coley,” Jack adds, fitting his hand into the curve of Bea’s waist. He stares down at her and she stares right back, the air between them heated.

Trevor looks back at Honey and Jamie, at the way Jamie is slightly bent over so that his eyes are even with Honey’s. She carefully reaches her arm up and removes his ball cap, turning it backwards atop her own head. She smiles at Jamie when she does so, and Trevor’s vision turns red at the edges.

That’s his smile. Honey is his girl, not Jamie’s.

Cole starts to count down from three, and Trevor can’t look away. When Cole says “go!”, Jack licks the salt off of his hand and lunges forward to retrieve the shot glass from Bea’s cleavage, throwing his head back and downing the liquor without using his hands. Bea reaches up to remove the glass from his mouth, then his teeth bite into her lime. He spits it out after the citrus bursts over his tongue and it lands with a plop on the floor, but neither of them care. Bea’s eyes are wide when Jack’s lips close over her own and his tongue slips into her mouth, but they quickly flutter shut and she pulls him close.

Quinn is not looking. If he was, Trevor thinks he might rip Jack’s hair out.

Jamie is much more delicate with his body shot, taking his time. Trevor grinds his teeth, watching how Honey’s eyes sparkle as they take in the dark-haired boy in front of her. She inches forward a little when Jamie laps at the salt on his hand, then she pushes her chest out so he can take the glass from her body with ease. Jamie brings his hand to his mouth to take the glass out, setting it neatly on the edge of the table beside Honey, and leans in, plucking the lime from Honey’s mouth. He pulls away from her, giving her a goofy lime-rind-covered smile and Honey matches it.

Trevor is aghast– his mouth is wide open and he’s staring at the big hand that’s palming Honey’s thigh. He wants to rip Jamie’s hand off of her skin and replace it with his own, lean in and kiss her the way that Jack is kissing Bea.

Fuck, why didn’t he listen when Bea called his name? Why did he send Jamie over to see what they needed? That could’ve been him between Honey’s legs.

He’s never playing Mario Kart again.

The moment is over in under a minute, but Trevor feels like he’s been watching it for years on end. He can feel the muscles on his face clenching, his eyebrows narrowing at the sight of his ex-best friend and his girl so close together.

In an instant, Honey is looking at him, and Trevor just knows that she’s startled by the anger she sees written all over his face. She looks at Trevor, then to Jamie, then back to Trevor. Her lips part and her chest heaves, but Trevor refuses to let his eyes fall. No, he’s keeping his gaze locked on Honey’s until she starts to squirm, feeling behind her for her shirt and pulling it on.

She looks at Trevor again when she’s finished covering herself up, and Trevor nods.

Then he stands and goes upstairs, locking himself in his bedroom and punching his pillow until he feels better (and until the pillow stops bearing a striking resemblance to Jamie’s face).

20:90 – HONEY

Honey wakes in an unfamiliar bed, groaning at the soreness of her muscles. It’s a twin sized bed, smaller than the one she has at home, and she feels squished. It was this or the couch, and Honey didn’t want to sleep on the couch, so Jamie took that instead.

She was too drunk to drive home last night, even though it’s less than ten minutes on the road and she knows this mountain by heart. She slept at the boys’ house, in the spare room. Jamie had found a big shirt for her to wear and helped her pull it over her head. He had messily braided her hair out of her face, then wished her goodnight, and left the room.

That was it.

Honey’s stunned by how gentlemanly it all was, even now, hours later.

She didn’t dream the night before– she never does when she goes to bed drunk.

She swings her legs over the edge of the bed and sways with dizziness, blinking hard to clear the spots of darkness from her vision. The sun seems to be just peeking over the mountains, bright and harsh against her eyes, even when they’re closed.

“Ugh,” she mutters, knowing that now that she’s awake, there’s no way she can fall back asleep. Her stomach growls, loud and embarrassing even though she’s the only person in the room. She clutches at her middle, rubbing over the skin to soothe it.

Honey stands, taking a moment to gather her bearings. The hangover is hitting her hard, even though she didn’t drink that much.

Well.

After Trevor stormed upstairs, Honey was upset and annoyed. She let Jack mix her drinks until Bea dragged him upstairs, and then she employed Cole as her personal bartender.

Together, they learned that Cole is a terrible mixologist, but he is able to juggle. He and Honey tossed a lime back and forth for almost an hour without dropping it, all the while giggling and chatting. When Honey finally dropped the lime, Cole grabbed three and threw them up in the air, laughing until he figured out how to stagger the limes properly.

She had almost fallen asleep on the couch, tucked into Luke’s side. She had crawled up to him and tousled his curls with a pout on her face before turning and facing the TV to watch the movie he had thrown on. She also remembers Quinn snorting with laughter after Honey laid her head on Luke’s shoulder, to which she had slurred: “What are you laughing at?”

Before she could slur out something embarrassing and mean about Bea hooking up with Jack instead of Quinn, Jamie had appeared in front of her and helped her up, saying that it was late and she looked ready for bed.

Everything else comes to her in little flashes and there are gaps missing. Honey’s not too concerned. She’s never been an embarrassing drunk.

Plus, after three weeks, she might actually consider these guys to be her friends.

Honey wanders upstairs to the kitchen, finding a pot of fresh coffee in the maker and pouring herself a mug. She finds milk in the fridge and cereal in the cabinets, pouring herself a bowl. With her cereal in one hand and her coffee in the other, Honey approaches the sliding glass door to the balcony.

She makes it to the door and frowns to herself, trying to find a way to open the door without putting down one of her items.

As she’s tucking her mug into her elbow, burning herself a little bit on the ceramic, Jamie appears on the other side of the door.

He jumps back a little, just like Honey does. They both let out a laugh at their mirrored actions, and Jamie reaches out to slide the glass door open.

“Coming to join me?” He asks.

“What are you doing up?” Honey asks at the same time.

They laugh again.

“I did a quick workout this morning,” Jamie explains. “I missed my practice yesterday, so I wanted to get up and get some extra work in.”

“Cool,” Honey muses, setting her cereal bowl on the armrest of one of the rocking chairs. “I didn’t realize anyone else would be up.”

“I’m surprised you’re up,” Jamie says. “You were pretty out of it last night.”

Honey crinkles her nose. “Was I?”

“It’s not every day that Luke has a pretty girl trying to figure out his curl pattern from touch alone.” Jamie smiles, lines appearing on his cheeks, but not dimpling like Cole’s.

“Well, if that’s the worst thing, at least I remember it,” Honey replies. She eats a spoonful of her cereal, waving her spoon towards Jamie. A splash of milk flies at him, but he brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “You were really quiet last night,” Honey notices. “Why is that?”

“These guys aren’t, like… my guys,” Jamie explains, shrugging and making a face. “Trevor knows that I’m not the best with this crowd, but he said he needed an ally. So, I came as fast as I could.”

“Why don’t you like the guys?” Honey asks, furrowing her brow.

Jamie shrugs again. “Jack doesn’t like how quiet I am, Cole and Luke like Jack more than me ‘cause they've known him longer, so that makes sense, and Quinn just doesn’t really like to stray from his normal group of friends.”

“Well, what about Trevor?”

“We’re close because we were on the same team in California. We became fast friends when I was drafted to the Ducks, but I’m not childhood friends with Trevor like the other guys are. Now, I’m in Philly, so Z and I aren’t even together all the time anymore.”

“Does he prioritize Jack over you?”

“Jack’s needier than me,” Jamie explains, shaking his head. “Trevor tends to him more. It’s really important to keep Jack happy.”

“I’ve noticed that he can be a little… full of himself,” Honey agrees.

“Yeah.” Jamie cracks a smile. “I’m a little easier to get along with, I think.”

Easier.

It triggers something in her. Honey straightens up like an electric current ran through her.

“Do you want to go on a hike, Jamie? With me?” She asks, the idea clicking in her head half-formed.

The easiest way to get over someone is to get under someone else, Bea says.

They can talk and get to know each other. It’ll be like another workout for Jamie, making up for the missed practice even more. Plus, Honey wants something easy. She wants to be as happy as Quinn and Bea. Jamie’s sweet and they clicked last night, and she wants to learn more things about him. He’s not as volatile as Trevor and Honey doesn’t think that he would upset her as much as Trevor does, all the time.

“Just the two of you?” comes the voice from behind Honey, the creak of a floorboard signaling the arrival of another person.

Honey spins around in her chair, looking at the sliding door. Of course, it’s Trevor. Just when she thinks about him, he appears, and of course he heard her invitation. His tone is a little judgmental, a little sad, and a little hopeful.

“Just the two of us,” Honey doubles down, pummeling all hope Trevor had of joining them.

Jamie smiles at Honey, grateful that she’s willing to prioritize him over everyone else in the house and willing to invite him out. “That would be awesome, thanks, Honey. I’ll go pack some waters and make some sandwiches.”

He stands from his chair, then reaches down and clasps Honey’s hand, giving it a squeeze before walking back into the house.

Trevor watches Jamie walk past him through the balcony door, then turns back to Honey.

“You can’t go out with him,” Trevor says.

“Why not?” Honey asks, affronted.

“Because he’s not me,” Trevor replies.

“I know. That’s why I should go out with him. He wasn’t afraid to full-send a body shot, unlike you. He also helped me to bed when I was drunk last night, and you locked yourself in your bedroom because you were pouting,” Honey bites back, still stewing about the way Trevor had ignored Bea's wave over.

She really had wanted Trevor to take the body shot off her, wanting to test their chemistry again after the whipped cream incident. She had expected him to want to do the same. She was wrong, again, and she hates being wrong.

“Jamie isn’t very wishy-washy about his intentions, Trevor.”

“Do you want to know my intentions?” Trevor demands. “I intend to get you to go out with me. I intend to make you like me. I’m not going to ruin that by rushing into this too fast. I saw how you looked the other night.”

Honey blanches at Trevor’s words. “Don’t bring that shit up.”

“Honey, you ran out of the house and took Bea with you. You looked horrified,” Trevor presses.

“Does it look like I’m reacting the same way now?” Honey replies, incredulous. “Clearly, things have changed and you need to accept that. I’ve decided I want something different, Trevor.”

“Like Jamie.”

Trevor’s voice is chilling. His volume is low and definite. He glares at Honey, crossing his arms over his chest. He bites his tongue and taps his foot.

Honey looks him up and down, a little nervous at the sudden change up. Did she go too far?

No, she decides. She hasn’t gone too far. Trevor won't let her run away from this right now, and she has to get him to let her go. She hasn’t gone far enough.

“Yes, like Jamie,” Honey confirms. She crosses her own arms over her chest.

Trevor glares at Honey a moment longer, and his anger flashes, but Honey catches a glimpse of resignation.

“Fine,” Trevor spits out, shaking his head. “Do what you want. Don’t let me or my feelings fucking stop you.”

Honey opens her mouth to retort, but he’s already closing the balcony door behind him.

She doesn’t have much of an appetite anymore.

Honey returns to the kitchen and dumps her cereal down the sink, turning on the garbage disposal. Jamie asks if she wants anything particular on her sandwich, and she says no. She walks to Jack’s room, remembering where it was from Cole’s tour, and knocks quietly.

There’s no movement inside, so Honey cracks the door open. She sees Bea stir and blink an eye open, becoming more alert when she spots Honey in the doorway. Jack lays fast asleep, his arm over Bea’s stomach.

“I’m going hiking with Jamie,” Honey whispers.

“Okay,” Bea mouths. She side-eyes Jack, then widens her eyes at Honey.

“How was it?” Honey says, voice still low. She’s wary, knowing that look.

“So. Fast.” Bea rolls her eyes back and sticks her tongue out, pretending to be dead. “I need to go to Quinn’s room.”

Honey snickers behind her fingers, a loud snort escaping her.

Bea opens her mouth in a silent scream, her shoulders shaking with laughter. She has to squeeze her eyes shut and mouth “Go away!” to Honey so that she doesn’t wake up the sleeping boy beside her.

Honey slips from the room and meets Jamie down by the front door, a backpack on his shoulders full of water and their lunch. He tells her that he even packed a blanket for when they stop to eat, so they don’t have to sit on the ground.

She spots Trevor over his shoulder, the back of his head unmoving, but Honey can tell that he’s still seething. She feels a pull to him, wanting to brush a kiss behind his ear and tell him that she’ll be back soon, but the feeling is overtaken by guilt and she almost gags.

That’s right– she’s still hungover.

“We’ll just have to stop by my place really fast so I can get into some hiking clothes,” Honey tells Jamie, sliding her shoes on and grabbing her keys from the table next to the door.

Trevor releases a breath and seems to shake his head, listening in on them. Honey wobbles a little bit at the noise, frowning deeply. She grasps the door handle and allows Jamie to lead the way out of the house, relishing in the fact that she can slam the heavy door behind her and show Trevor that he’s not bothering her.

Jamie talks a little bit on the drive and offers to wait in the vehicle while Honey changes inside. She comes back in athletic shorts and an old wrinkled practice jersey from Bea’s volleyball days. It’s supposed to be a hot day, otherwise Honey would be wearing one of her favorite ratty tees and her best leggings. The jersey falls like a muscle tee and she knows Jamie can see her black sports bra when she walks, but it’s no different than when Trevor felt over the lace around her ribs last Friday.

They go to Honey’s favorite spot, twenty minutes up the road. A few years ago, she got really into running and used to run this trail all the time. It’s two and a half miles up to the outlook from the parking lot, so she figures that she and Jamie can hike up and stop for lunch at the top.

“I have a proposal for you,” Honey says.

“What’s up?” Jamie asks, hooking his backpack over his shoulders and making sure his shoes are tied.

“Tell me about you on the way up and I’ll tell you about me on the way down.” Honey presents the idea with a big smile, shrugging enticingly at Jamie.

“Like what?”

They start to make their way toward the mouth of the trail, and Jamie motions for Honey to go first.

“I don’t know. Where’d you grow up? What’s your family like? What’s the deal with you guys and hockey? Stuff like that,” Honey says, looking ahead of her but calling over her shoulder. “I’ll lead the way up and listen, and then you can lead the way down and ask me whatever you want.”

“Okay,” Jamie agrees. “I grew up in Toronto, moved to California when I was drafted, lived with Z for a while. That was fun. I was traded to Philly this past year and I’ll be playing there for a while, I guess.”

“What do you like most about Toronto?” Honey asks.

Jamie responds and they trek on, filling the trail with the sounds of soft steps and chatter. They reach the peak in a little under an hour and a half, making great time. Jamie sets out the blanket for them facing the rest of the mountains, and Honey sits cross-legged on the edge of the fabric. She toes her shoes off and leaves them off to the side, giving her feet a rest.

Jamie hands her a sandwich and a water, which they eat in silence. After finishing the first half of his sandwich, Jamie pauses, leaning back on his hands. He looks out over the horizon, squinting at the brightness of the sun. He adjusts his white ballcap on his head, trying to shade himself from the light a bit.

“It’s really pretty,” Jamie says. “I get why you would want to live here.”

“It’s the best place in the world,” Honey says simply, following his gaze. She breathes in, feeling the fresh, crisp, mountain air fill her lungs.

She looks over at Jamie and he meets her there, smiling softly. His eyes glint in the sun and Honey notices his freckles, sprinkled all across his nose and the apples of his cheeks. They break eye contact simultaneously, looking back out. Honey adjusts so she’s sitting the same way Jamie is, leaning back on her hands.

“You can see so far,” Jamie observes.

Honey nods. “Yeah. My dad used to say that if you could count ten rows back, then you could see all the way to Tennessee. That was at my house, so maybe it’s eight here.”

They pause and Jamie raises a hand, pointing at each layer and counting quietly. He points to a faded, barely visible row to the right of Honey’s vision. “Nine,” he says confidently. “We’re practically in the central time zone already.”

His hand drops, next to Honey’s. His pinky covers hers, splayed out on the blanket.

Honey’s stomach flips a little bit and she feels the tips of her ears grow hot. She bites back a grin and looks down at her lap, then reaches for her bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Can I start asking you questions yet?” Jamie teases, knocking his shoulder against hers, tilting his head down to catch Honey’s eye. “Or do we have to wait until we’re actually walking down the mountain?”

“Whatever you want, Jam,” Honey says.

Jamie teases her, forming an ‘o’ with his mouth and wiggling his eyebrows. “Whatever I want.” He grins.

“You sound like Bea.” Honey rolls her eyes and lengthens her neck from side to side, hoping to crack it.

“Let’s start there,” Jamie suggests. “How did you guys become friends?”

“We met in preschool. She had a pack of pink markers and a boy named Will stole mine because he was a dick and Bea shared hers.” Honey smiles fondly at the memory. “We’ve been friends ever since.”

“You still have beef with this Will kid?”

“Absolutely, he sucks.”

“Was that here? In Litchton?”

Honey’s smile fades. She pauses, then shakes her head. “No, we grew up in Charlotte. Litchton was my dad’s vacation home when he was a kid and he wanted me to have a similar experience as him.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Are you and your dad close?”

Honey grimaces. Jamie doesn’t know. He’s just asking about Honey’s past, the same way Honey asked about his on the walk up here. He doesn’t mean any harm.

“Um… we used to be,” Honey replies. She looks back out at the mountains. “When Bea and I chose to move up here, I bought the house from my dad for a cheaper price– I spent every paycheck for like a year on the place, plus all the money I had saved up from my high school job, and most of Bea’s paycheck since she was living with me. We stayed in touch until I handed him the last check.”

Jamie hums, listening intently. It’s a neutral sound, non-judgmental. Honey’s lips quirk up and she continues.

“My parents didn’t love when I decided to move up here and decline my college acceptances. I wasn’t willing to budge and neither were they, so we… lost touch.” Honey trails off, taking a deep breath.

“Do you miss them?” Jamie asks, thoughtful. “Do you miss Charlotte?”

“I miss them on, like, my birthday.” Honey shrugs. She extends her legs and crosses her ankles. Her fingers twitch under Jamie’s. “Their anniversary, and whatnot. As for Charlotte, I don’t miss that place at all.”

“Not a city girl?”

“Not at all. Charlotte was too rigid for me. People are busybodies there and they have great jobs and drive nice cars and go to good schools… I just wanted to live somewhere where I could relax and no one would bat an eye.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, nodding. He frowns, jutting his bottom lip out in thought. “I get it.”

They sit in silence a little longer and Jamie moves his hand so it completely covers Honey’s. She smiles and turns her head to the right, away from Jamie. She bites her tongue between her teeth and takes a deep breath. Her stomach is flopping all over the place.

God, does Bea feel like this all the fucking time? It’s miserable.

“Here’s a lighter question,” Jamie chuckles, shuffling closer to Honey. “What curl pattern did you decide on for Luke?”

Honey throws her head back laughing, pulling her hand out from under Jamie’s and reaching for her shoes. “I think it’s time we head back down,” she says. “Since you’re starting to ask me questions that I can’t answer.”

“Do you mind if I take my shirt off? It’s hot out here,” Jamie complains, removing his hat from his head with a dazzling grin and placing it on Honey’s head. “Hold that for me, will you?”

“I don’t mind,” Honey replies, fixing the hat on her head. She grins over at Jamie, then reaches down to tie her shoelaces again.

Jamie pulls his shirt over the back of his head, stuffing it into his backpack. He takes Honey’s trash and his own, pushing them into the side pocket of his bag, then sliding his water bottle on top of them.

Honey helps him pack up the blanket and they head down the mountain. Jamie peppers her with questions, both easy and funny and hard and deep. He makes her laugh, he makes her think, and they have fun.

They make a good pace and Jamie does a good job of leading the way. He stops with half a mile to go, and Honey bumps into him, trying to watch her step.

“What?” Honey asks, peering around him to see if there’s something blocking the way.

Jamie turns to face her and Honey gets an eyeful of pale torso due to their proximity. She looks up at Jamie, stepping back. She stumbles back, tripping over a root, and Jamie catches her waist, steadying her.

He opens his mouth in question, then closes it. He looks down at Honey’s lips and she feels her mouth go dry. His eyes are wide, clear, and light and they’re regarding Honey, swirling with an unidentifiable emotion.

Honey takes in a breath.

“New question,” Jamie murmurs.

Honey nods, and Jamie’s other hand sweeps her hair off her shoulder, thumbing the side of her neck.

“I really want to kiss you.”

“That’s not a question,” Honey comments, voice hushed.

Jamie licks his lips, breathing out a laugh. “Can I kiss you?” he corrects.

Honey gulps, her heart stuttering in her chest. Her hand makes its way to Jamie’s traps, his muscle hard beneath her palm. His skin is pinking a little bit, affected by the sun and the heat, and Honey tilts her head. It’s peculiar. She just feels… like she’s an inch out of place.

She looks into his eyes and he’s gazing at her so patiently that Honey can’t help but lean up and slot her bottom lip between his.

There’s relief washing over her, taking all the tension from her shoulders. She loses herself in the kiss, overwhelmed by how good it feels to be doing this.

It’s not because of Jamie, Honey realizes. It’s because she’s finally ready to do this sort of thing again. Maybe she is looking for this, searching hard.

He swipes his tongue across Honey’s bottom lip and she opens for him. Honey brings her hand from his traps up into his hair, raking through the strands. He smiles against her lips and Honey repeats the motion.

And then it hits her again– she’s just an inch too far to the left. This isn’t right.

There’s nothing wrong, Honey reassures herself, using Jamie’s hair as a crutch to keep her in place. It fails, because the strands are too short and too thin and too straight, and it all clicks.

Honey pulls away.

Aw, hell.

“Jamie,” Honey sighs, closing her eyes. She bites her lip and covers her eyes with one of her hands.

“Nope, it’s okay,” Jamie replies, surprisingly upbeat. He plucks his hat off Honey’s head, hiding his own hair underneath it. He wraps his arms around Honey’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her head. “I know that tone.”

Honey groans, frustrated. She presses her face into Jamie’s pec, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I have my next question for you,” Jamie teases, poking her arm when he pulls away.

“What?” Honey snaps, miserably.

“How long have you been fucking Trevor?”

“Fuck off,” Honey mewls, sagging like the weight of the world just fell on her shoulders.

“Nah, I saw that look between you two.” Jamie grabs Honey’s hand and starts to lead her along the trail again.

She follows, rolling her eyes and shaky on her legs. “I’m not fucking Trevor.”

“Why not?”

Honey opens her mouth, then stumbles when she realizes she has no answer for him. She thinks, searching her mind, and she misses the smirk that grows on Jamie’s face with each minute of passing silence.

Honey still doesn’t have an answer when they make it back to the mouth of the trailhead, parking lot visible.

“I don’t know,” she whispers when Jamie comes to a stop, swinging his backpack around to his front and digging for Honey’s keys.

He looks up at her through his lashes, pausing. Then, his lips pinch like he’s trying not to laugh. “Maybe you should,” he suggests.

Honey pauses, her brain feeling fried. “Yeah,” she agrees, the word forming slowly in her mouth.

Jamie fishes the keys out and unlocks the car. He pulls his shirt out of the bag, then hesitates. “It would kill him if I drove us back to the house shirtless,” Jamie considers. He looks up at Honey, waiting.

Honey feels a smile start to take over her face. “Don’t fucking wear that shirt back.”

Jamie breaks out in laughter and opens the passenger door for Honey, helping her into her own vehicle. He rounds the car and starts it up, dropping a hand on Honey’s knee. He gives her joint a squeeze and flashes a dazzling smile. “He’s cooked.”

Honey laughs and rolls the window down, feeling the wind dance over her face as Jamie starts to drive down the mountain.

When they pull into the driveway, the boys are skating along the patio. Cole’s trying to do a backwards one-legged glide, and keeps wobbling off the concrete. Jamie comes to a stop a good ten feet from the boys, leaning over Honey to open her door from the inside of the vehicle. As Honey steps out, he unbuckles and rounds the vehicle, pressing the keys into her hand. He wraps an arm around her neck in a hug and pulls her forehead to his lips, pecking it quickly.

“Make sure you give me a wave on the way out,” Jamie conspires in a whisper, then pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Bring Bea.” He walks backwards away from her, pointing in farewell.

Honey goes to the driver’s side of the vehicle and climbs in. Quinn skates up next to the car, tapping for her to roll down the window.

“What’s up?” She asks.

Quinn just nods for a few seconds before he answers, pressing his lips together. “Bring Bea tomorrow,” he repeats.

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

“Tell her I found the stopwatch she wanted.”

Honey laughs aloud at that, looking over to Jack. Quinn’s follows her gaze and snickers.

“Figures,” he says.

“Bye, Quinn,” Honey bids, and shifts the car into drive.

He waves and skates away, and she inches forward.

The rest of the boys part the driveway for her. Cole waves goodbye enthusiastically, and Jack, Luke, and Trevor just stand there. Honey looks back and finds Jamie, raising her hand with a smile. As she pulls away, her eyes slide over Trevor and she can’t hide the smug grin that overtakes her face at the sight of him.

He has no idea what’s coming.

21:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t talked to Jamie since before he left for his hike yesterday. He’s wallowing, admittedly, and the boys are getting a kick out of it. Trevor was consoled by the fact that no one else saw the body shot last night except Jack, but Jack had to preach his tale of triumph to the crowd.

Over brunch, after walking Bea to the door– Quinn was waiting in the car to drive her home– Jack launched into a dramatic recreation of the event, using Cole as his mannequin. He didn’t do an actual shot, nor did he touch Cole’s body the way he did Bea’s. Cole even puckered up, pretending to hold a lime in his mouth, but Jack didn’t kiss him.

Cole feigned disappointment until Trevor laughed, then he just hopped off the counter and kept eating his food.

After brunch, Cole and Luke filled Trevor and Jack in on what they missed after they disappeared upstairs the previous night: Cole learned how to juggle, Luke and Quinn watched a movie, and Jamie took Honey to bed when she cuddled up into Luke’s side and pushed her fingers through his hair, slurring about curl patterns.

“‘Righ’now you’re a 2C, but we can make your hair pretty like a 3B if y’use the right products an’ procedures,’” Cole mocked, making sure to slur his words and hiccup over the longer syllables.

Trevor had tried not to smile at their caricature of Honey, but the thought of the girl slurring and falling over herself and still using words like ‘procedures’ made Trevor feel warm inside.

Luke just blushed and shook his head at the mockery, grinning to himself and rubbing the back of his head.

Shortly after, Quinn had joined them again and proposed that they skate around a bit. They weren’t playing road hockey or anything, so the skating became a game of driveway tag until Cole got mad that he couldn’t catch anyone and quit. He started trying to do figure-skating tricks instead, and the rest of the boys just hung out.

Trevor had felt fine until Jamie pulled up in Honey’s car, behind the wheel and shirtless. Honey had looked a little dazed and pink in the cheeks, but Trevor blamed it on the heat. Who hikes in this weather?

He had bit his tongue when Jamie opened the door for Honey, leaning over her. He had clenched his jaw when Jamie gave Honey a hug and a kiss on the forehead, and scowled when Honey waved goodbye to Jamie, and only Jamie. Then, she had had the audacity to smirk at Trevor when she drove away.

So, suffice to say, Trevor wasn’t all that interested in what happened on the hike. He wasn’t excited that Jamie was in town anymore, he wasn’t in the mood to congratulate Jack on bagging Bea– although he did notice the smirk that Quinn tried to hide when Jack brought it up again, and he was not looking forward to the next time Honey and Bea hang out with them.

Which, apparently, is today.

Jamie had invited Honey over for a fun, lazy Sunday at the house and he had told her to bring Bea along.

Quinn was the one who revealed the plan to Trevor when he came up to Trevor around noon and asked him very quietly if he would text Bea on Quinn’s behalf.

In the end, the message said “Quinn wants to know what time you’re coming over? He says he has your stopwatch. Also, GIVE HIM YOUR NUMBER ALREADY SO I DON’T HAVE TO BE YOUR MESSENGER PIGEON!”

Bea texted him back within minutes and said: “Just got out of church u ratty bitch don’t tell me how to live my life” and “H and I are coming over at like 3 we need to debrief the Jack thing from last night first.”

“Why do you have to debrief? Was he bad”

“he wasn’t BAD”

“... He came early didn’t he”

“No comment. Leave me alone this is why I can’t give anyone else my number… bc you’re BLOWING UP MY DAMN PHONE!!!!!”

Trevor didn’t dignify Bea with a response then, but it’s almost four o’clock in the afternoon now, and the girls still haven’t shown up. Trevor is getting impatient and the other boys are getting antsy, tired of waiting for the girls to show. Cole has started pacing, mumbling about how they could’ve done something in the time they’ve spent waiting. He blames Trevor for it and bothers him until he puts down his book, which is still very good, and texts Bea again.

“Tick tock Bea”

Bea laughs at the message, but doesn’t give Trevor a real response until he asks if they want Quinn to cook dinner for them: “yes we’re leaving now”

Trevor passes the message along and Quinn adds two burgers to the grill. Trevor reopens his book and dives back into the world of astronomy.

Quinn’s burgers are done and plated in fifteen minutes, ready for the boys to descend on the platter and assemble their burgers.

The girls arrive just as Trevor sits at the dining room table with Luke and Cole. They wave into the dining room as they pass it and Trevor notices that Bea is still wearing her sundress from church, while Honey is wearing some red gingham shorts and a tiny little tank top. There’s a little sliver of her lower back showing as she walks away and Trevor swoons.

He covers it up by biting into his burger and starting at one divot on the wooden table.

Quinn joins them soon after and sits at the head of the table. He starts eating silently, ignoring the other boys. Bea and Jack walk into the room together and sit down at the only two seats next to each other that are left open– the one next to Quinn and the empty one next to it.

Bea sits between the brothers and Trevor smirks into his burger, chewing the meat and eying the girl. She catches his gaze and glares at him, a deathly look that doesn’t bother Trevor in the slightest. Bea can’t do any harm to him– all of her looks are just empty threats. Maybe if Trevor were hooking up with her, he’d be a little more afraid, but that will never happen.

When Jamie and Honey enter the room, giggling quietly between the two of them, Bea turns Trevor’s smirk against him and sticks her tongue out before taking a sip of her water.

Luck is on Trevor’s side, because the only two remaining chairs aren’t next to each other. There’s one on his left and one at the other head of the table between Luke and Cole. Jamie gestures for Honey to take her pick of the seats and, to Trevor’s disappointment, she walks toward the head of the table.

Jamie takes his seat next to Trevor and bumps into him good-naturedly, giving him a smile. Trevor side-eyes him and glares, taking another bite of his burger.

They eat in silence for a little while, until Luke finishes his burger and throws his napkin atop his empty plate.

“This is miserable,” Luke complains. “Can we do something?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing nothing all day and Trevor is getting on my nerves,” Cole agrees.

Trevor places his burger on his plate and slams his hands down on the table. “Why me? I haven’t even done anything to annoy you.”

“You haven’t talked to me all day,” Jamie mumbles off-handedly, fixing the bun of his burger so it stops sliding away.

Honey coughs, then clears her throat. “You haven’t talked to Jamie all day?” She asks, frowning at Trevor.

Cole looks up to the ceiling and claps his hands together like he’s praying, his cheeks dimpling as he mouths a “thank you” towards the sky.

Trevor flashes a threatening finger at Cole and swallows the bite he’d been chewing.

“No, I haven’t,” Trevor answers simply. He swallows again and intertwines his fingers, pushing his plate away. He lifts the corners of his mouth, but his eyes stay disinterested and annoyed, the same way he’s been feeling about Jamie since his hand found his way to Honey’s thigh on Friday night.

Honey’s lip curls and her nose crinkles, visibly ruffled. “What’s your problem?”

“Honey,” Bea interrupts, shaking her head with a pointed look.

Jack throws his arm over the back of Bea’s chair. “No, I want to see this. Give it to him, Honey.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow at Bea when Jack’s fingers brush her shoulder. Trevor notices his arm moving under the table, flexing like he’s reaching for Bea’s leg. Bea shrugs Jack off, pouting at Quinn. Quinn nods at the girl, then brings both his hands to his burger and lifts it to his mouth. He looks up at Honey, chewing.

“Don’t jump in on this, Jack. It doesn’t involve you,” Honey snaps. “Quickshot.”

Cole’s jaw drops, then he claps both hands over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut and his shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Oh, do you think this is funny?” Honey asks, rounding on Cole. “Do you really believe that your little honky ass is innocent? Should I bring up all the ways you’ve pissed me off these past few weeks?”

Cole freezes, paling.

Trevor knows that he’s only escaping Honey’s wrath temporarily, but it’s still a treat to see. Cole had been on Honey’s nerves since he thought up the whipped cream dare the week before, and Trevor is a little turned on seeing Honey gives Cole his comeuppance.

“The only people in this house that haven’t pissed me off are Luke and Jamie, and you’re on thin fucking ice because you don’t talk to Jamie either,” Honey continues, pointing a finger at Luke.

He leans back, away from Honey’s finger, looking stunned.

“Still feeling miserable, Luke?” Honey demands. “Or are things starting to look up for you?”

“Honey,” Bea repeats, harsher this time. She clears her throat, coughing loudly to mask the “enough” that slips from her lips.

Honey glares at Bea.

Now that’s a murderous look that Trevor never wants to receive.

Honey sits back in her chair and bites into her burger, chewing angrily as she places the burger back on her plate. She crosses her arms over her chest, then gestures at Trevor.

“Jamie has spent more time trying to get to know me, and Bea, in the past two days than any of y’all have in three weeks,” Honey declares.

Quinn opens his mouth to retort, but Honey holds a finger up to silence him and Bea rests a hand on his. He closes his mouth and goes back to his burger.

“Where am I from, Trevor?” Honey asks, calm and pointed.

Trevor blinks, taken aback. “Here,” he replies, shrugging obviously. “You’re from Litchton. You’re a townie.”

“No. I’m not.” Honey merely states. She returns to her burger and eats it in silence.

Trevor stares at her, following her movements. His mouth is slightly open and his throat feels sort of dry.

She’s right, Trevor thinks. I don’t actually know all that much about her.

Honey sneaks a peak at Jamie and smiles at him, then returns to her food.

Trevor pushes his plate even further away, not feeling hungry anymore. Luke grabs it and stacks his plate underneath Trevor’s, doing the same with Cole’s empty dish. He stands and takes their plates to the kitchen, scraping the leftover pieces into the trash and then starting to wash the dishes.

“You know what we never did,” Bea says, breaking the silence and putting a positive spin on her words. She turns to Jack. “We never played Seven Minutes in Heaven.”

“I could be down for Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Honey says, her voice a bit muffled as she tries to dig food out from between her teeth with her tongue.

“I’ll play too,” Jamie agrees, wiping his lips with a napkin and winking at Honey.

“That’s a really good idea,” Jack says, humming to himself. “I like how you think.”

Trevor doesn’t miss the way Bea glances at Quinn and holds a smile at bay. “Thanks, Jacky.”

Cole claps and stands, pushing his chair back. “I’ll get a bottle.”

“There’s an empty one downstairs,” Honey tells him. “We polished it off during the body shots.”

It’s like she’s trying to rile Trevor up on purpose. She’s sharing looks with Jamie, which makes Trevor want to act out to get her attention. She’s shooting retorts at each of the boys, which is making Trevor a little stiff in his shorts. She’s outspoken, finally coming out of her shell, and it’s affecting him.

But it’s also pissing him off because Trevor doesn’t enjoy being spoken to this way. He doesn’t like being reminded that he’s not doing as much as he could– the fact that he didn’t even know that Honey’s not originally from Litchton is a travesty. What’s next? She has a twin that he doesn’t know about?

And worse, Jamie is putting in the effort. He’s reaping the rewards, too, the rewards that Trevor should receive because he’s the one who flirted with Honey first. He knows that she’s attracted to him. He knows that she wants him.

Trevor is fuming because she’s pushing her feelings away. Maybe she does think that Jamie is hot, but she’s throwing it back in Trevor’s face and flourishing it in a way that makes Trevor want to tear his hair out. She wanted Trevor first. Why is Jamie making it further than Trevor has?

Why did Honey invite Jamie on a date instead of Trevor?

A date that Jamie didn’t even tell Trevor about. Trevor might not be talking to Jamie because he went on a date with Honey, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want Jamie to tell him what happened on the date.

If he plays Seven Minutes in Heaven, there’s a 15% chance that he’ll get Honey alone, and then he can ask her. And he’ll have Honey alone for seven minutes.

Trevor’s chubbing up at the thought of it.

“I’ll play,” Trevor adds, belated. Cole already has a foot out of the room and Honey is polishing off her burger.

She flicks the crumbs off her fingers, in Trevor’s direction. “Joy,” she replies, sarcastic and biting.

Trevor scowls when she smiles wide at Quinn and he returns the look.

Honey, Bea, Jack, and Quinn head downstairs to the basement to join Cole. Trevor and Jamie help Luke with the rest of the dishes. Luke grabs a beer from the fridge when they’re done and shuffles down the stairs himself, leaving Trevor and Jamie to grab the rest of the drinks.

They fill their arms and Jamie kicks the refrigerator door shut behind them.

“Hey, man,” Jamie calls.

Trevor stops and turns to him at the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“You’ve gotta stop freezing me out. Honey hates it.”

Trevor grinds his teeth. “I don’t like how close you are with her.”

“Dude, I’m only here for a week. You have the whole summer. Me and Honey becoming friends is not the end of the world,” Jamie says, nodding at Trevor. He pushes past Trevor and descends into the basement, leaving Trevor to follow after him.

The crew rearranged the sitting area while the boys did the dishes upstairs. They pushed the coffee table up against the wall and moved the couches back so there’s plenty of room for everyone to sit on the floor. Jack and Cole are missing from the circle.

“Did you start without us?” Trevor asks.

Jamie passes drinks to Honey, Bea, and Quinn, sitting cross-legged in the circle next to Honey.

Trevor takes the spot next to Luke, almost perfectly across from Honey.

Bea nods. “Jack and Cole are in the closet.”

As if on cue, Jack storms out of the closet and Cole follows.

“The whole thing about Seven Minutes in Heaven is that we have seven minutes to do whatever we want in the closet,” Cole carps, trailing just a step behind Jack. “I want to see if you manscaped before you hooked up with Bea!”

“I don’t want to show you my dick,” Jack retorts, plopping down in the circle and taking a beer from Trevor. He twists the cap off and takes a swig.

“Cole, if you spin and get me, I’ll tell you all about it,” Bea promises. “It’s not your turn, though. Jamie, go.”

“You’re so bossy, Bea,” Jamie teases. He spins the bottle in front of him and it nearly lands on the girl he just addressed, but it points to Quinn instead. Good-naturedly, Jamie continues. “Alright, Quinn. Let’s do this thing.”

“Go ahead and start that timer for me, sweet Bea,” Quinn murmurs, pressing a kiss to her cheek before shuffling to his feet.

Bea glows a little at the contact and Trevor chortles when he sees the little necklace Bea’s wearing. It’s the same kind that Jim uses when he helps the boys train in Michigan. Trevor is not surprised that Quinn had an extra of the same kind lying around, one that he’s now giving to Bea.

Honey watches the boys walk away, leaning back on one of her hands and taking a sip of her drink. “Do you think they’ll talk at all in there?” She asks, bottom lip still pressed against the mouth of the bottle in her hand.

“No way,” Cole jumps in. “They’re both so quiet.”

“I think they’ll both be very happy to sit in silence,” Bea agrees, sounding fond. “It’ll be a nice break for them.”

“Are you calling us annoying?” Jack teases, grinning at Bea.

“Well…” She trails off, coy.

“You, Cole, and Trevor at least,” Honey finishes, smiling so big that her tongue pokes between her teeth.

“Ha-ha,” Luke laughs, beaming a little.

Jack pouts.

Bea reaches out and pinches Luke’s cheek, which makes him blush and push her away. “Yeah, how could this sweet face be annoying?”

“Alright, cut it out,” Luke groans, but he’s still glowing at the compliment.

Seven minutes passes in a flash and before Trevor knows it, Jamie is putting his arm around Honey and pulling her into his side. She makes herself comfortable there and Trevor clenches his jaw, feeling like he could growl at the sight.

“Who wants to go next?” Jamie asks, looking around the circle.

“I’ll go,” Luke offers, reaching out to spin the bottle.

Mercifully, the neck of the bottle points at Honey and she has to pull away from Jamie. She stands and smooths out her shorts. They’re puffy and Honey can’t fix that, but Trevor loves that they reveal Honey’s long, smooth legs. He wishes that he were the only one in the room with her, selfishly, so that no one else would be able to get any ideas.

Jamie’s staring up at her too, biting his bottom lip and admiring the girl standing above him, and the only thing keeping Trevor from lunging at him is the fact that Luke is entering the closet with Honey instead of Jamie.

Honey holds her hand out for Luke to take. She pulls him to his feet and he stands, the inches he has on Honey seeming to dwarf her.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” Honey notices, then leads Luke into the closet and shuts the door behind them.

“Does Honey actually know anything about haircare?” Cole asks Bea, slighting the absent girl.

“She moonlights as a hairdresser,” Bea replies, playing along. “She used to cut my hair when we lived together.”

“You guys used to live together?” Trevor asks, genuinely curious. He can’t imagine that– Honey is independent and quiet, a lover of alone time. Bea is loud and cuddly and just as annoying as Cole, Jack, and Trevor are in her own eyes.

On second thought, maybe they worked as roommates. Quinn is quiet and independent like Honey, but he’s taken with Bea. Even if she’s hooking up with other guys, it’s clear that she and Quinn have a special relationship.

“Yeah, we slept in the same bed for about a year,” Bea confirms, waving Jack off when his face brightens. “She hogs the covers.”

Bea reminisces for a couple of minutes about the year they spent in Honey’s house. Her stories are broken up by Jack and Cole’s probing questions. The timer goes off as she assures them that yes, she and Honey would make a beautiful pair, but neither of them are interested in each other like that. She calls for Honey and Luke and holds a finger to her lips when Jack goes to rag on the other girl, seeking more details.

“Quit,” Bea tells him. “Or I’m kicking you out of the game.”

Jack clamps his mouth shut and pouts, whining a little.

“I’m going next,” Bea decides, crawling forward to spin the bottle.

Trevor rolls his eyes, not seeing that Honey does the exact same when she sits down. Jack’s mouth quirks in a smirk as he eyes Bea’s chest, missing Quinn’s hand slide up the back of Bea’s thigh and rest just under the hemline of her dress.

Despite the scenarios that are no doubt running through both Hugheses’ minds, the bottle lands on neither of them.

The mouth of the bottle stares at Cole, who lets a smile creep over his face. He stands and walks over to the closet, swinging the door open and holding it for Bea. “Ma’am,” he teases, sweeping an arm out to further emphasize the doorway.

“Loser,” Bea jibes, but she’s laughing when she hops up and pulls the hem of her dress a little lower. She curtsies when she makes it to Cole, then loops her hand over the collar of his shirt and pulls him into the closet, effectively closing the door behind them.

Jack grumbles, eying the bottle in front of him. “I feel like that’s pointed more at me than it was at Cole,” he complains.

“Get a grip, dude,” Quinn says. “She’s sleeping with everyone, remember?”

Trevor and Luke laugh out loud, delighted in Quinn’s use of Jack’s own words against him.

Jack is stewing on the spot, clenching his fists and glaring at his older brother. Quinn is smirking and Luke reaches forward, pulling the bottle towards himself and out of the middle of the circle. Jack’s eyes flicker over to Luke, his gaze grim.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Jack reaches forward and snags Quinn’s shirt, whereas Quinn traps Jack in a headlock. They squabble and Honey scoots away from the two of them, burrowing into Jamie’s side. Trevor sees red when he wraps his arm around Honey’s waist and lifts her over his lap, setting her on his other side. Honey shrieks a little when she leaves the ground, her eyes wide with surprise when she stares up at Jamie.

Oh, he’s not special, Trevor could shout. I can do that easily!

“Do they do this often?” Honey asks when Luke reaches over and pulls his brothers apart.

“They’re only allowed to fight if they haven’t gotten over their problem for three or more days,” Luke explains. “Mom didn’t want us to fight at all, but Dad said the forced hugs weren’t cutting it. This is only, like, the fourth time they’ve fought. The fight has a five-minute time limit.”

Quinn snickers, thumbing over his bottom lip and grinning devilishly at Jack.

Jack is still grumbling, but his attention suddenly catches on the closet door. Bea is stumbling on her feet, holding a hand on the doorknob while her other is looped over Cole’s shoulders.

With all eyes on them, Cole just grins.

“We’re gonna go upstairs for a sec,” Bea says, a bit starry-eyed as she explains herself. Her cheeks are pink and one of her sleeves is slipping down, revealing her bra strap.

No one speaks, but Cole sticks his tongue out at Jack and wiggles it. He tosses his head back with a laugh, then takes Bea’s hand and pulls her toward the stairs.

“We’ll be back!” Bea calls, allowing herself to be pulled up the stairs and out of sight.

For a moment, the air is still.

Then, Honey starts to giggle. She covers her mouth, but it does very little to muffle the endearing noises she’s omitting. “Didn’t see that coming, huh?” She asks Jack between laughs. “But you don’t see much coming, do you?”

“There’s a reason his nickname is The Cock,” Trevor adds, relishing in Jack’s annoyance.

Honey’s eyes make their way to Trevor and she’s still giggling. Trevor shares a smile with her, then winks. The moment fades when she buries her face in Jamie’s shirt and Trevor remembers that they’re not the only two in the room.

“Are you calling me stupid?” Jack asks Honey, frowning.

Luke places the bottle back in the middle of the circle.

“No.” Honey shakes her head, blinking innocently at Trevor. “I would never call you stupid.”

Trevor’s breath seems to stop when Honey leans forward and spins the bottle. It spins quick, rattling on the ground before it comes to a stop.

Honey frowns. “Well, that’s no fun,” she complains. “I don’t want to go in the closet alone.”

Jamie rubs her back. “Spin it again, who gives a shit?” He asks, looking around the circle. “Do any of you care if Honey gets another turn?”

“Why, you hoping it points at you?” Trevor hears himself reply, reaching up to itch his nose. He drops his hand back to his lap and tilts his head at Jamie.

“I should be so lucky,” Jamie replies easily, laying his head atop Honey’s for a moment. “She’s excellent company.”

There’s something about the way he says it. Trevor furrows his eyebrows, looking between Honey and the dark-haired boy. They’re too comfortable together. In an instant, it all clicks. Something happened between them on the hike yesterday.

Honey is already reaching forward to spin the bottle again, but Trevor’s gaze is fixed on Jamie’s.

The look in Jamie’s eyes is pure arrogance. He’s bragging without saying a word and Trevor can practically hear Jamie’s voice in his head. I know something you don’t.

“Trevor.”

Honey’s soft voice snaps him out of it and her sweet smile causes all his suspicion and anger to fade away. Honey nods toward the bottle.

It’s pointed squarely at Trevor. There’s no question about it. The bottle doesn’t even consider Jack or Luke on either of Trevor’s sides– and Trevor mentally thanks whatever divine being controlled the spin of the bottle.

“This is gonna be funny,” Jack mutters to Jamie, who is now sitting next to him in Cole’s absence. “They’ve been beefing for weeks.”

“Yeah, we hate each other,” Honey agrees, climbing to her feet. “We’re going to pull a Hughes and scuffle for seven minutes.”

“Let us know who wins,” Quinn chirps, grabbing Honey’s hand as she passes him. He tugs her down and she bends at the waist, putting her ear next to his mouth. Trevor climbs to his own feet and catches the word “ankle” as it leaves Quinn’s lips.

Trevor shakes his head, smiling to himself. Honey’s a firecracker, sure, but she’d never actually beat him up.

He pauses, approaching the closet door. Wait.

Maybe she would.

Trevor looks at Honey and finds only sweetness in her eyes. He watches as she casts a look back at Jamie, then taking in the nod from the boy.

And wouldn’t you know it, he’s mad again. Trevor enters the closet regardless, already feeling a little claustrophobic.

Honey closes the door behind them and plunges them into darkness.

It takes a minute for Trevor’s eyes to adjust. He blinks a few times, then Honey’s figure comes into view. She’s leaning against the back of the door, her arms crossed, and her head is tilted to the side.

“Are you thinking about the best way to take me down?” Trevor asks. “You look like there’s something on your mind.”

“I’m thinking about what I’m going to do with you,” Honey replies. “You’re being so mean to Jamie. He misses you.”

“I’m not being mean to him,” Trevor argues.

“But you’re not talking to him, either,” Honey says. “He said you asked for him to be here, but now that he’s here, you’re acting like Jack.”

Trevor feels a flash of guilt run through his system and he slouches a bit. She’s right– he hasn’t really protected Jamie from Jack’s ire, but things didn’t seem so bad. Jamie is still hanging out with them. He’s just a quiet guy. He doesn’t really speak unless spoken to, and Trevor is normally the one who speaks to him, but he’s been so mad about Jamie and Honey. Trevor rubs his arm, feeling goosebumps prickle over his skin.

“Why are you treating him like this?” Honey asks.

Because of you.

Trevor’s mouth opens immediately like he wants to tell his thought to Honey, but he knows it’s not a good enough explanation for the girl. She’ll resent it, even, that Trevor is treating his best friend poorly because of her.

“He got to touch you,” Trevor says.

Honey makes a face and a disapproving noise.

“He got to touch you the way I want to,” Trevor tries again. “He got to spend time alone with you.”

“Oh,” Honey breathes out, straightening up from the door.

“Honey, I want that.” Trevor steps forward. He searches her face for discomfort, any sign that he’s going too far. “If you really want Jamie,” he says, forcing his words out. His throat feels like it’s closing up. “Then I want you to have him. I would be a bad friend if I got between you and him. Honey, I just–”

Trevor cuts himself off with a shake of his head. He looks down and runs his fingers through his hair, grinding his teeth.

“You what?” Honey asks, so quiet that Trevor can barely hear her. Her eyebrows are curved in concern and there’s dislike tugging at the corner of her lips.

Trevor’s hands fall helplessly to his sides. He wishes he could touch Honey, that he could intertwine their fingers to ground himself.

“I thought you wanted me,” Trevor mutters, feeling his cheeks turn red at the admission. He cringes, squeezing his eyes shut. “I thought you lied the other day and that you were just holding back, but now you’re all close with Jamie and I guess I was wrong. I was wrong to assume there was something between us.”

“Trevor,” Honey laments. His eyes shoot open when the pads of her fingers come into contact with his hand and he’s surprised by how close she is. She looks sad, so sad, and Trevor mistakes her look for pity.

“I’m sorry about… all this,” Trevor says, looking away from Honey. He can’t meet her eyes like this.

“Don’t be,” Honey says. She runs her thumb over his and the movement makes Trevor shiver.

He pulls away. “But I was wrong, and more wrong to act the way I’ve been acting.” Trevor looks up to the ceiling, biting his tongue in hopes that the sharp pain will distract him from how foolish he feels.

Honey’s hands find him again, curving over his waist. They’re warm as they run down towards his hips and it makes Trevor squirm.

“You weren’t wrong,” Honey whispers. She shakes her head.

Trevor’s eyes snap to hers.

“You weren’t wrong,” She repeats now that she has his attention.

Trevor feels her hands move again, her fingers inching into his waistband just like they did over a week ago. They’re just as delicate and careful, the pressure light enough that Trevor wants to beg her for more, but his voice is caught in his chest. He looks down, losing his breath at the sight of her fingers hooking over his shorts, tugging at them.

Honey drops to her knees effortlessly and Trevor gasps like he’s been shocked by an AED.

Maybe he is being shocked by an AED. Maybe he died and they’re trying to bring him back to life.

Honey tugs at Trevor’s shorts, inching them lower.

He’s motionless, absolutely powerless when it comes to Honey. He can’t move. He’s frozen in place.

“What are you doing?” Trevor chokes out. One of his hands finds the shelf of board games next to him, scrambling for something to ground himself.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” Honey says. She blinks up at Trevor through her eyelashes.

Trevor can see down her tank top. The space between her tits is like a void and Trevor is tumbling deeper and deeper into it. There’s no saving him. He might permanently warp the wood of the shelf with how hard he’s gripping it.

“You–” Trevor’s voice is high. He coughs. “I–”

“Have you thought about it?” Honey asks, tilting her head and licking her lips. “Did you think about this after Cole’s dare?”

Trevor can only nod. He didn’t think about this, but he thought about Honey. He dreamt about her. He yearned to feel her hands on him again, her tongue on his skin or in his mouth, but he never thought it would go down like this.

“We should thank him, really,” Honey says like an afterthought, her eyes raking down Trevor’s body until they fix on the tent in his shorts. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to do this that night.”

She leans closer, brushing her lips in an almost non-existent kiss over the front of Trevor’s shorts.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Honey continues. One of her hands inches toward Trevor’s bulge and he lets out an involuntary whimper, biting hard on his lower lip. Honey looks up at Trevor again and he wishes the lights were on so he could see her better. Her eyes are bright in the darkness, shining with desire, and Trevor might die. “Are you going to let me blow you, Trevor?”

Trevor keens, nodding. “Yes,” he gasps out.

A smile creeps onto Honey’s face and she stares up at him for a second. She almost looks evil, drinking him in like a succubus.

But then her attention turns back to Trevor’s cock, so hard that he’s leaking from the tip and certainly moistening the fabric of his underwear. Honey drags his shorts down to his ankles, capturing the head of his cock in her mouth as soon as she frees him from the confines of his clothes.

Trevor groans, his mouth dropping open at the feeling of Honey’s warm, wet mouth closing around him. He almost weeps when she pulls away.

“You have to be quiet, Trevor,” Honey chastises. “The boys are just on the other side of the door.”

Trevor nods helplessly, unable to deny Honey. He wants this so bad. He’s needed her since the second he bumped into her at the fruit stand, scrolling on his phone and not paying attention. He’d do anything for her to take his cock in her mouth again.

Her hand finds his base, squeezing his shaft and pumping it in an easy rhythm. She traces the head of his cock over her bottom lip, rubbing it back and forth, and a little precum blurts out of his slit. She spreads the precum along her lips like a coat of lipgloss, then Honey’s tongue pokes out and licks the salty liquid away, closing her eyes and moaning lowly at the taste.

Trevor’s knees shake a little. If he wasn’t holding himself up, he’d collapse right on top of her.

“Tastes good,” Honey murmurs. For a second, Trevor feels like he’s impeding, like he wasn’t supposed to hear that, like he’s not supposed to be here– because this can’t be real.

All of those feelings fade away when Honey takes him in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and sucking him in. Trevor’s other hand lurches forward like a marionette and he gathers Honey’s hair into a makeshift ponytail. He needs to see her face. He needs to see her eyes.

As if Honey knows what he’s thinking, her irises find his face. Trevor is stunned by how blown out her pupils are. They’re dark and wide and swirling with lust. Trevor loses himself, feeling his hips stutter forward.

Honey takes as much of him as she can, gagging on the length in her throat. Her gag squeezes Trevor and he whimpers, pulling on her hair. He’s close, he’s so close even though it’s been only a minute or two since Honey attached herself to his cock.

“Honey, fuck, I’m going to come,” Trevor whines, struggling to stay still and let her control the pace.

Honey pulls off, a line of saliva tying her mouth to Trevor’s dripping length. It breaks as she continues to pump him, thumbing over the tip of his cock. “Isn’t that the point?” She asks. She plants a chaste kiss over his slit, kitten-licking the opening with little flicks of the tip of her tongue.

Trevor groans, trying to keep his voice low like she wanted, but he’s not doing the best job. He brings his hand to his mouth and bites his knuckle, just as Honey lowers her head back down. She bobs on his length, sucking harshly and swirling her tongue in all the right ways to make Trevor unravel. As she lays her other hand on Trevor’s thigh, Trevor loses his breath. He pitches forward, shaking underneath her touch as he comes. Her thumb on his thigh is his anchor, keeping him from passing away then and there.

Marvelously, just when Trevor thinks that things can’t get any better, Honey swallows his come like she’d been starving.

Trevor is speechless, unable to look away from Honey. He’s never come like that before, never been so completely overtaken by an orgasm that he can’t speak.

Honey smirks and licks her lips, wiping her thumb on the sides of her mouth to clean up any stray fluids.

Trevor’s eyes are fixed on her mouth, her beautiful, beautiful mouth.

He sinks to his knees like he’s melting and plants his hands on her body, one on her waist and one cupping her jaw. He kisses her with everything he has, licking into her mouth and tasting himself until he’s breathless and lightheaded and has to pull away. Stars dance across his vision, framing Honey’s face.

She’s dazzling. Trevor can barely remember that there was a time when he didn’t know she existed. He can’t imagine a time after her. He’s stuck in the current moment, where Honey is absolutely everything, and he leans in to kiss her again.

Honey presses a hand to his mouth, keeping him in place.

Trevor’s lips are pursed in a kiss against her fingers and he frowns.

“You need to pull your pants up before they open the door,” Honey tells him.

It’s like whiplash. Trevor feels slapped across the face by how quickly she recovered after that blowjob. He’s still moving slowly, like he’s not in control of all of his muscles because they’re so relaxed, but Honey is making her way to her feet.

Trevor scrambles to meet her, rising to his normal height and bringing his bottoms with him. He tucks himself away and straightens his clothing. He watches Honey flick her hair out of her face and pull the strap of her tank top back into place. Trevor follows her hand, daring to look a little lower. He nearly drools at the sight of Honey’s hard nipples poking against the fabric of her top.

Honey snaps her fingers in front of Trevor’s face. He’s dazed, but meets her eyes.

“This never happened,” Honey tells him, voice hard. She tilts her head down, prompting Trevor. “You can’t tell anyone.”

Trevor nods, feeling far away. Whatever Honey wants.

“Trevor,” Honey groans, reaching up to fix his hair. “I’m serious. You can’t tell the boys.”

“I won’t,” Trevor agrees, leaning into her touch. He’ll do anything Honey asks, just as long as he gets to kiss her again. He’d chop his hand off right now if that’s what she wanted, just so he could get another taste of her sweetness. He stares at her lips, truly stares, leaning forward again. He’s a breath away from her mouth when she pulls back, stepping away.

Trevor actually whines like a child at the loss of her. His hands feel empty without her skin underneath his palms and he’s running cold as her warmth steps away.

Honey shows him a little mercy with a slight smile and a breath of a laugh. “Pull yourself together, Trevor,” she says, a playful lilt in her tone. “You’re a mess.”

Jamie calls for Honey on the other side of the door and she opens it, the light stunning Trevor. It snaps him back into reality and the gravity of the situation dawns on him as he takes in the fluorescent light. He just came down Honey’s throat in a dark closet and kissed her so hard that his lips might be bruised and swollen.

Then he agreed not to tell anyone, because he was so drunk on Honey that he lost control of himself.

Honey’s fine, seamlessly fitting back into the group and telling Quinn that she was the obvious winner of her and Trevor’s scuffle. She doesn’t give Trevor a second look.

He’s so fucked.

85 notes · View notes

puck-luck · 4 months ago

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new beginnings | june 24 - june 30

note: welcome to the start of honey and trevor's very complicated relationship and some of my favorite subplots ;) we've officially surpassed the 100k mark for total words on this fic and we've got a while to go. apologies but also– this is the extended-extended cut !!

29:90 – TREVOR

They say you learn something new every day.

Today, Trevor has learned that he should really check out the window before he walks outside in nothing but his compression shorts. He also learned that he should really do his laundry before he runs out of clothes– or that he should just steal clothes from Jack when he runs out of shorts.

Why, you ask? Why did Trevor learn these tidbits on a Monday in Litchton, North Carolina?

Well, because on this particular Monday in Litchton, North Carolina, there are two girls laying in Trevor’s backyard.

No one had told him that the girls were coming over. If they had, maybe Trevor would have stayed inside. Of course, that would’ve been hard with Honey just a hundred yards away in a bikini top, but he could’ve at least waited until his laundry was done. Honey has seen him in less than the compression shorts, but Bea has not.

And Bea made Trevor’s outfit her problem as soon as she spotted him. She sat up from the flat deck chair that she dragged out from under the covered patio and whistled, pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head. Her hair is pulled up into a knot and she’s wearing a thin strip that is a sad excuse for a tube top.

“Hoo-wee, Trevor!” She calls. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Trevor scowls, glaring at Bea from the side of his eye as he pulls on his skates and laces them. “Fuck off, Bea. I’m doing laundry right now.”

“And we’re honored, really,” Bea continues, sarcastic and biting. She folds her hands in a prayer in front of her chest and nods at Trevor, eyes wide.

Honey giggles at her comment, leaning up on her elbows. Her hair is braided into two pigtails and she’s in a bright pink strappy bikini and her tiny daisy dukes that Trevor likes so much. She squints against the sun, one of her eyes completely shut under the shadow of her hand.

Quinn uses his stick to pick up the wiffle-ball they’ve been using for their scrimmages and tosses it in a high arc towards Bea. It lands in her lap, resulting in an exclamation from Bea, and the girl hands the ball off to Honey. Trevor’s girl positively launches the ball at Quinn, a wicked whistle sounding as the ball makes its way towards Quinn and hits him in the stomach with a resounding thwap.

Quinn groans and doubles over, catching the ball in his palm before it drops to the ground. “Fuck, Honey.”

Honey just shrugs and closes her eyes, laying back down on the deck chair and covering her eyes with the bend of her elbow.

“Bea-girl, come play hockey,” Jack calls. “We need a sixth. You can be on the Hughes team. We’ll sub Luke out since you’re probably shit.”

“Hey, I was an athlete!” Bea exclaims. She stands up and pulls one of Quinn’s Bauer shirts over her head, tying the front into a little knot. “You have no idea.”

“No idea,” Honey echoes.

Trevor looks at the girl and gives her a secret kind of smile, one that’s reserved specifically for her, but Honey doesn’t look his way. She’s still hidden beneath her elbow.

“Come show us your athleticism then,” Jack challenges. “You don’t even have to wear skates.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we don’t have a pair of blades for a girl,” Cole teases, skating up to the edge of the rink and taking Bea’s hand to help her step over the wall.

“I hope you won’t go easy on me just because I’m a girl,” Bea replies, her steps careful and calculated as she makes her way onto the rink. She looks around like she’s sizing up the court, surveying end to end.

Luke skates up with an extra one of Cole’s sticks, handing the item off to Bea. He toes the ground with his skate and does a spin, circling around the girl. “I won’t go easy on you, Bea.”

“He’s only saying that because Jack kicked him off the team with his brothers,” Trevor warns. “He’s going to get you.”

Luke offers Bea a coy little smile and skates away, stealing the wiffle-ball from Quinn with an agile poke of his stick.

“First to 21, cornhole rules,” Cole tells Bea, skating up to knock shoulders with Quinn.

“Cornhole rules?” Bea exclaims. “You fuckers think I want to play for that long? I came over here to tan and get laid before my work week starts.”

“Buzzy, just get in front of the goal and stop complaining,” Honey calls. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

“Exactly, Buzzy,” Cole adds, bouncing a little.

Jack and Trevor meet at the center of their rink, knocking heads before pulling back and setting up for the face-off. They did it accidentally once when they were kids, then it became like tradition for their summer scrimmages. Luke holds the wiffle-ball with an ungloved hand, then drops it, and the boys fight for it. Jack wins and Luke is already blocking Bea from getting open, maneuvering around her easily in his skates.

It quickly becomes evident that Bea will be no help to the team of the Hughes brothers, to the point that Trevor, Luke, and Cole don’t even need to defend against her. Even when Quinn sends her the ball, encouraging her to shoot at the open goal, she struggles with the stick.

“My sport didn’t have a stick,” Bea grumbles when she misses another pass and Luke scoops it away from her, flicking the wiffle-ball up so that it sails through the air and bounces into the opposing net. “If we played volleyball, I’d fuck you all up.”

“I’m sure you would,” Quinn commiserates, skating up to plant a slap on Bea’s ass. She snarls at him and spanks him with her stick in retaliation. He laughs and kisses her cheek, mid-game, then skates off to fight with Luke.

The game doesn’t make it to 21 points– well, technically Trevor’s team wins because he and Cole continue to shoot at the net after Bea quits. They’re maybe halfway through the game when she huffs and puffs and tries to step over the wall to exit the rink, but Jack skates up and wraps his arms around her middle. He carries her over to the center of the rink and sets her down, putting the stick back in her hands and reaching for a puck.

“Pass with me, Bea. I’ll teach you so you’re not so shit next time we play, yeah?” Jack says, dribbling a loose puck between his legs. He’s just showing off now.

“One sec,” Bea replies, turning around and settling her hands on her hips. She eyes Trevor, then beckons him over.

Dutifully, Trevor skates over. He towers over Bea with the blades laced up around his ankles and it’s particularly satisfying to look down at her. That is, until Bea wraps her fist in the cloth of his shirt and tugs him down so his ear is next to her mouth.

“I know she told you about Thomas,” Bea murmurs, quiet enough that Jack can’t hear her. “And she’s embarrassed that you know, so she’s going to ignore you today, probably. You can’t let her push you away.”

Trevor pulls back, making eye contact with Bea. He’s sure he looks alarmed. He thought that Honey’s revelation would result in them getting closer, in her sharing more stuff about her life with Trevor, but he supposes he was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Bea pulls him back down. “Let me explain it like this: do you know that tweet where that girl said ‘In order to date me, you have to defeat my seven evil exes’ or something?”

She waits until he nods to continue. He doesn’t think he should correct her and tell her that the seven evil exes are actually from Scott Pilgrim, not some chronically online girl’s imagination.

“Honey doesn’t have seven evil exes. She has one, but he fucked her over seven ways to Sunday, and she’s going to push you away a hundred times before she realizes her mistake. It’s just the way she acts. Trauma, and whatnot. Don’t fucking back off, dude. Your fragile little ego can’t be your priority here, not when you’re the first person that Honey’s been remotely interested in since Thomas ruined her fucking life.”

Bea pushes him away and Trevor rolls backwards due to the momentum. He’s nodding in assent, but Bea has already turned to Jack and reached her stick out to poke at the puck, which he’s doing a spectacular job of keeping from the girl.

Trevor returns to his own shooting, aiming for the crossbar and hoping to deflect the pucks into the goal. It’s completely precision-shooting, although normally there’s a goalie’s big head in his way, hiding the crossbar from view.

Quinn is passing with Luke, flicks of their sticks sending the puck from one end of the rink to the other without effort. Cole has completely abandoned the rink, opting instead to wander over to Honey’s chair and take Bea’s spot. He’s sitting with his legs stretched toward Honey, driving the blades of his wheels back and forth over her thighs. Honey is rubbing her face in exasperation, but she’s not pushing him away.

Trevor thinks she secretly likes the attention that the boys give her. They don’t flirt with her, which is great for Trevor, and she doesn’t want them to, which is even better for Trevor. He thinks that Honey enjoys having more friends than just Bea, even if she pretends to be annoyed by the antics of the guys. It’s easy and normal.

This same feeling washes over Trevor more and more frequently lately: that this would be a life where he’s perfectly happy. His whole life, he’s felt like he’s needed hockey. He made his friends through hockey, made his career by playing hockey, and enjoyed life because of his sport.

Spending the summer in Litchton, even just so far, has taught Trevor that he would be fine in this life that Bea and Honey live. They go to work on the weekdays, they hang with their friends on the weekend, and they don’t get caught up in the outside world. It’s a nice life, simple and easy, and Trevor envies them a little bit.

At the end of the summer, he has to return home to Anaheim, or maybe even to a new home if the trade rumors are anything to go off of. No one from Anaheim has called him to say that they’re considering trading him, so Trevor isn’t worried, but the whole world seems to believe he won’t be back. It would be harder to have to move away from Anaheim in addition to leaving Honey on this side of the country.

He’s mourning the moment already, he realizes. Lately he’s been filled with that painstaking dread that comes with having the best summer of your life and knowing it will just come to a close in two months time.

Not wanting to get caught up in his own thoughts, Trevor shakes his head. He leaves the rink and sets his stick against the edge of the house, sitting down in a juvenile plop like a child to unlace his blades.

He remembers that he’s just in his compression shorts, and his laundry is probably finished, so he heads inside instead of going to kick Cole off Bea’s chair like he wants to. He’ll talk to Honey later. For now, he’d like to make himself decent.

Trevor gathers his dry laundry into a clump, holding it in his arms and hoping he’s not dropping socks all over the place on his trek from the laundry room to his bedroom. He dumps the load onto his bed and starts to fold the laundry, making a mental note to pick up the items he lost later. It won’t be the first time one of the boys let their laundry lay out until they went back to get it.

He’s not even sure all of this will fit in his dresser, to be honest. At one point it did, but now he’s not sure. Maybe the drawers will just be overfilled and hard to shut.

There’s a slight method to his madness, but it’s not all that real. He usually starts with the clothes that go in his bottom drawer, like his pants and shorts. He folds all of those up into a neat pile, then he starts on his shirts.

A timid knock reaches his door before it creaks open.

“Hey,” Honey says. She holds up two fistfuls of laundry– mostly socks, but a pair of Trevor’s briefs are dangling from her hand. “You dropped some stuff.”

“Thanks,” Trevor said, gesturing towards the pile of unfolded laundry. “You can just toss them on there.”

Honey obliges, leaving the socks and briefs in a jumbled pile atop his other clothes. She then reaches for one of his shirts, lifting it into the air to smooth the wrinkles before folding it.

Oh. She’s staying to help him, then.

She adds to his pile, although she doesn’t focus on the shirts like Trevor does. She varies throughout and she’s not exactly shy when she picks up his underwear and folds it into a little square.

Trevor’s not sure what to say, so he says nothing at all.

“Bea and Jack are hooking up,” Honey says eventually.

“Oh,” Trevor replies. He’s matching up socks now, only a few left. He’s down to a bunch that don’t match, but he might just pack them away together and wear them mismatched. Cole has always loved a mismatched sock, but Trevor isn’t necessarily a fan.

“She thought of a solution for his, uh… lack of endurance,” Honey continues. She picks up the pile of Trevor’s shirts and walks over to his dresser, opening the drawer and setting the pile down, then pushes the drawer shut with her hip. “Do you want to know what it is?”

“Sure,” Trevor says. He takes two ankle socks and folds them together into a little ball. “What’s she doing with him?”

“She’s setting a timer while he fucks her,” Honey explains, a devilish smirk growing on her face.

Trevor balks. “She’s doing what?” He exclaims, jaw hanging open.

Honey’s smile only grows, delighted to get a reaction out of Trevor. “She’s timing him, and– and–” she waves her finger in front of Trevor’s face. “If he beats his personal record, then she’s going to give him a treat.”

“What kind of treat?” Trevor asks, laughing at the idea of it.

Jack’s always been quick in bed– Trevor would know, after that failed threesome he and Jack considered back when they were on the same team– but Trevor never expected that to be a mainstay in his sexual life. He had hoped it was just once, or maybe just the first time Jack hooks up with a girl– allegedly, the boy “gets nervous.” It seems as though Bea is searching for her own conclusions, treating Jack’s incompetence as grounds for an experiment.

Trevor will have to tell Bea that he likes how she thinks. Later, when she’s done– but probably after the girls leave. He’ll text her.

“I’m not really sure,” Honey says with a shrug. “I think she bought a pack of M&Ms to give him. Like she’ll give him five M&Ms if he beats his record– it’s a resealable bag of candy– and she’ll only give him one if he gets close but doesn’t beat it.”

Trevor feels like he’s floating with how ecstatic this news makes him. “She’s bribing him with candy until he starts lasting long enough,” Trevor summarizes, a crooked smile taking over his face. “That’s sick.”

“I know. She’s funny.”

A silence falls between them, growing more and more awkward with each passing second. Honey stands near the door, crossing her arms over her chest and rubbing her opposite tricep like she’s cold.

Trevor puts the last of his clothes away, then turns to smile softly at Honey. “Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah, well,” Honey says, sheepish all of a sudden. “When I saw all the socks and underwear on the ground, I thought you’d need it.”

Trevor nods, debating whether or not he should walk over and touch her the way that he wants to– but now that she’s shy and reaching for the door, he decides against it.

Instead, he turns to the dresser and finds a pair of sweats to pull over his compression shorts. The shorts are doing him no favors and he doesn’t need to embarrass himself by growing a little stiff at the thought of the easy domesticity he and Honey just experienced, folding his clothes together. He gets a flashing vision of Honey’s clothes sprinkled amongst his own, and Trevor turns to say something to her, but she’s already gone.

30:90 – HONEY

For the first time in a while, Honey gathers her knitting bag and sets out to open The Reading Nook. She’s planning to join the ladies at their knitting circle today and continue her big blanket. She only really knows how to knit squares and rectangles, despite Gillian offering to teach her time and time again. She’s made more scarves and blankets than she needs and usually donates them to the Salvation Army in Winston before the winter sets in.

The Reading Nook is cold when Honey unlocks the door and steps through the threshold, which is fine by her. The ladies might complain, but Honey thinks it’s refreshing. She’s wearing a ribbed t-shirt, cropped close to the hem of her long skirt. It falls around mid-calf and she got it from the little thrift store down the street last spring. It’s green and floral with cream trimming on the bottom and Honey loves how it swishes.

She opens the store quickly. There’s not much to do during openings except sweep, but even that is barely necessary. Honey’s bored almost from the get-go, but the ladies start to file in just as the store opens.

Rosalind appears first, with Scarlett and Vera not far behind her. Honey joins them at the table, sitting at the head of the long surface. She unfurls a little bit of her yarn and sets the skein on the table, adjusting in her chair to get down to business.

When Sacha and Gillian join their group, they’re delighted to see Honey at the table. Sacha kisses her cheeks and insists that Honey stays seated rather than standing to hug the woman. Gillian brought bagels, freshly made. She also brings cream cheese, which is “unfortunately store-bought.”

Honey supplies a fresh patch of blackberries, washed and dumped carefully in a little ceramic bowl that the ladies pass around. She got them from the fruit stand yesterday after she left the boys’ house, and although she had meant to ask Trevor if he wanted to ride in the car with her to the store, she never actually did. Instead, she just folded his laundry with him and they talked about Jack and Bea for a split second– it was the only thing Honey could think of that might get a reaction out of Trevor. He was so quiet the day before, but Honey also thinks she might be going crazy.

It’s been a long time since she wanted to hook up with a guy consistently and she feels seventeen again, toxic and overthinking each of her interactions with the boy. It’s the exact same behavior that she loathed so much as a teen, part of the behavior that she vowed to drop when she left Charlotte and moved to Litchton.

So, she left without inviting Trevor to the fruit stand. He must have forgotten that it was a Monday, because he didn’t show. Not that she was looking– she was in and out quickly, ready to go home and take a shower and go to bed. She had almost forgotten how Cole rubbed his grimy-ass rollerblades along her leg while she was tanning, but when she spotted the streak of dirt along her thigh, she was itching to get in the shower and wash it away.

The women gossip about sweet nothings– so-and-so didn’t show up to church on Sunday, this person’s cousin visited from out of town and treated the staff at Scruffy’s like trash (probably a side effect of when said cousin moved up north for college and they lost all their southern hospitality), and other small-town travesties that really aren’t so large in the long run.

The conversation veers toward the upcoming July 4th holiday and what Honey is planning to do– nothing yet, but probably the lake with Bea like every other year. The ladies ask about Bea’s birthday, which is coming up in about two weeks, reminding Honey that she has to go present shopping soon.

That conversation, devolving from Bea’s birthday into a scandalous tale of how Rosalind saw Bea and a “young brunet” walking down Main Street after church on Sunday hand-in-hand, turns toward the boys.

Honey keeps her mouth shut as Vera raves about Cole, using her adopted nickname for the boy and gushing about how kind he is. She does not mention his evil streak or his annoying tendencies.

Scarlett mentions that she had seen two of the others around, buying water tubes and toys a few weeks ago. Honey assumes she means Luke and Jack. Scarlett had not spoken to the boys, but she did think they were handsome, and she once again expressed that if she were younger and more available, she might try to scoop one of them up. Honey holds back a laugh at that, thinking that Bea is doing the exact same thing, but she’s scooping each of them. In another life, Scarlett and Bea are best friends who have a body count competition and, possibly, are sister wives.

No one seems to have met Quinn, although they’ve evidently spotted him when he’s with Bea, so Honey fills in a few of the blanks.

Just as they get to Trevor, who Vera calls ‘Bear’ and speaks about with slightly less intense praise, the bell on the door jingles and they all have to shut up because their chatter seems to have summoned the boy.

“You all started without me?” Trevor asks with a faux-pout, crossing his arms over his chest pointedly at Scarlett. “After you taught me how to knit two weeks ago?”

“Well, young man, when you didn’t show up last week, we didn’t know what to do with ourselves!” Sacha exclaims, wagging a finger at Trevor like she’s actually scolding him.

“I didn’t realize you were such a knitter,” Honey teases, a polite smile etched across her face.

Trevor matches it and Honey doesn’t miss how the edges of his face soften when he makes eye contact with her. “I didn’t realize that you could’ve been teaching me how to knit all along,” he says.

Honey rolls her eyes. “Yes, Trevor, because I have the patience to teach you how to knit.”

She’s being sarcastic, a little mean even, just because Trevor’s face makes it so obvious how he feels about her. Ada punished Honey for being mean to him a few days prior, but Ada’s not here right now. The other ladies are and Honey doesn’t want them getting any ideas or spreading any gossip– Trevor’s features, all filled with admiration for Honey, are almost as dangerous as his words could be. There’s a chance that anyone who looks hard enough would be able to deduce that Honey and Trevor have a particular relationship and Honey is determined to keep that from happening.

It appears as though, yet again, Trevor doesn’t give a shit about her desired discretion.

“You left something at the house yesterday,” Trevor says. “I figured I’d bring it to you.”

Honey makes a face. “Did I? Maybe it’s Bea’s. I don’t think I left anything.”

Trevor shrugs, hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I’ll just put it in the back room and you can look at it later.”

“You don’t work here,” Honey denies with a laugh. “You can’t just go in the back room.” She stands from her chair. “C’mon.”

She’s too busy leading Trevor to the back room to notice the self-satisfied little smile that grows on Trevor’s face.

When she opens the door and walks through it, Trevor follows and closes the door behind him with a quiet click. He takes his hands out of his pockets and he’s holding nothing– nor does it look like he has anything in his pockets.

Aw, shit. Honey realizes. I’ve walked right into his little trap.

She tilts her head to the side and takes a deep breath, quirking an eyebrow at the boy. “Don’t tell me that you’re only here because you wanted to see me,” she says.

“I wouldn’t say that’s the only reason,” Trevor says. He reaches for Honey and she backs up. He rolls his eyes and follows her forward, placing them back in the same position as they were two weeks ago. Honey’s back is against the counter and Trevor stands in front of her, arms on either side of her body, hands along the counter.

It reminds her of the whipped cream incident, which is not the thing to be thinking about right now.

Trevor’s smirking a little when she meets his eyes. “Hi,” he says quietly.

The change is so abrupt that Honey blinks in surprise. “Hi?” She replies, uncertain.

Trevor raises a hand and pushes a strand of Honey’s hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”

“You missed me.”

“Terribly.”

“And so you concocted a plan to get me alone?”

“Well, I knew Bea wouldn’t be in yet and those old ladies out there don’t need your attention,” Trevor surmises. He leans closer, whispering into Honey’s ear. “I need your attention.” He brushes a kiss against Honey’s earlobe before pulling away, smug.

Honey can feel her cheeks growing red. “You need my attention. Is that your way of saying that your dick is broken? Because I can refer you to the doctor– he’s just down the street.”

Trevor laughs out loud. “God, Honey, you never let my lines work, huh?”

“You need new lines,” she says. “It’s a shame these ones have gotten you this far. But, say what you will about Californians and puck bunnies–”

“Puck bunnies,” Trevor repeats, glee lighting up his eyes. “Have you been doing research, Honey? Been reading about hockey lingo lately?”

“No,” Honey denies, growing even more red. “Absolutely not.”

Trevor hums, clearly not believing her. “Okay.”

That’s all he says. Honey gawks at him. “What do you want?” She asks.

“I realized last night that I haven’t returned the favor yet,” Trevor says. “You’ve made me come twice and I haven’t made you come at all.” He frowns, hoping to draw her sympathy, but his eyes are still dancing with a little laughter and a lot of confidence.

Honey’s mouth makes a little ‘o’ and she raises her eyebrows. Her head is tilted up, looking at Trevor from her smaller stature, and she fumbles a little when Trevor’s hands close on her waist. His thumbs stroke over her clothed skin and Honey allows herself to be pulled closer, or maybe Trevor just steps in and traps her against the counter. She can’t be too sure.

Until he lifts her by the waist and sets her on the counter, her long skirt folded underneath her. It’s too thin and Honey realizes that she’s a little warm and damp in her underwear just from Trevor’s proximity– yet another unconscious reaction that she’d put an end to if she could. How dare she grow wet from absolutely nothing.

“You want to know how I realized that?” Trevor asks, nudging her nose with his.

Honey leans back before his lips can touch hers. “Realized what?” She asks, voice heavy. Her eyelids feel droopy, like when she and Bea booked a two-hour couples-massage two years back that was so relaxing that they both had to sit in the car and nap before driving back to the house.

Trevor chuckles, just air leaving his mouth instead of real noise. His eyes are zeroed in on her lips, Honey notices, and she licks them because they suddenly feel very, very dry. “Realized that I hadn’t made you come yet, Honey. Do you want to know how I realized?”

“Um,” is the intelligent reply that Honey comes up with. She might as well be a PhD student when she comes up with a shrug, barely constituting an agreement. Trevor’s so close to her. She can smell him– she can’t place the scent, but she knows that Trevor smells rich. Like, money-rich, not strong-and-overwhelmingly-potent-rich.

“I was thinking about how delicately you were folding my laundry,” Trevor says. “At first. Then, I was reminded that your fingers once wrapped around my dick and made me come without any of our friends knowing. Your fingers looked so good around me, and I was thinking about how badly I wanted to see them there again…”

Honey lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She wants to stare at Trevor’s eyes, but instead she’s drawn to the way his mouth forms his words and the tiny peeks of his tongue against his teeth as he speaks.

“Which is when I thought to myself, I haven’t shown Honey what my fingers can do,” Trevor continues. He licks his lips, then bites down on the lower. It’s a little chapped, maybe from sun. He needs to wear more chapstick.

Honey’s chest is heaving, her stomach pushing against the band of her skirt in this position in an uncomfortable way. Maybe Trevor should just take it off. HUH? Nope, nope–

“So now I’m here, and I thought I’d tell you that you left an orgasm at the house because it’s stupid and I thought you’d laugh at me,” Trevor finishes. “And I know how much you like laughing at me.”

“Because I hate you,” Honey supplies, sounding entirely unconvincing.

“Duh,” Trevor agrees. “But I just can’t get enough of you.”

He noses at her nose again before his mouth seals over her own. He kisses her deeply, like she’s sinking into a warm bath after a long day, and Honey sighs against him.

She’s leaning forward into him, touching his sides over his cotton shirt. Trevor’s hand is sliding over her cheek, the other bunching up her skirt over her knee so that he can get a grip on her skin. When she pulls away, he asks for permission.

“Can I make you come on my fingers, Honey?” Trevor asks, index finger toeing the line and digging a burning path into her skin as he runs it over her inner thigh. “Please?”

“Only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” Honey replies, pulling him in again. Her teeth knock against his when he laughs, but he wastes no time to flip her skirt up and reach his hand underneath the fabric.

“Do I need to start saying “yes ma’am” and “no ma’am” when I’m in your presence?” Trevor teases. “Just to keep up my good manners?”

“If you want to keep getting laid,” Honey affirms, practically spoon-feeding the words onto his tongue. Her eyes are closed, but she can feel the way Trevor’s smiling against her lips.

“Oh, baby, I want to keep getting laid,” Trevor assures her. His fingers tap over her clothed mound, sliding his nail along the seam of her panties.

“Don’t call me baby,” Honey admonishes.

“What can I call you?” Trevor asks.

“My name,” Honey answers. “Or ‘your Royal Highness.’”

Trevor hums in acknowledgement, petting over Honey’s core. He’s still kissing her, just brushing his lips against hers in cute pecks that leave her whining for more and looping her arms around Trevor’s neck to keep him close.

“Your Royal Highness sounds perfect,” Trevor mumbles.

“Would you hurry the fuck up and finger me already?” Honey berates, tugging the hair at the nape of Trevor’s neck.

“Yes, your Royal Highness.”

Trevor pets over her panties twice more, running his finger all the way from her slit to the patch of skin just past her clit, then he removes his hand. Honey nearly growls, but Trevor shifts his other hand under her skirt and uses both to pull her panties down her legs. He taps her hip so that she shifts on the counter, able to slide her underwear off and place them in his pocket for safekeeping. His fingers, callused and rough against her wet skin, spread her folds and rub over her entrance.

Honey shudders, her mouth opening against Trevor’s when he presses two into her from the get-go, up to the first knuckle. She swerves his next kiss, gasping with her breath fanning across his cheeks and rolling her hips against his fingers.

“Sorry,” Trevor whispers. He presses his lips to her cheekbone, further embellishing her blush with the sweet gesture. “We have to be quick. I have a feeling some old ladies might come looking for us if we’re gone too long.”

“Don’t talk about them right now,” Honey groans, patting her hand against Trevor’s hand with an ounce of force behind it.

“Yes, ma’am,” Trevor agrees.

“Just make me come,” Honey bosses, sliding forward on the counter. She spreads her knees and Trevor steps closer, his fingers filling her up. His fingers are thin, and long, and Honey’s fingers are stiff with how tight she’s holding him against her. She moans aloud when the wide, bulbous second knuckles of his fingers work past her entrance, then slaps a hand over her mouth. It brings Trevor even closer, with the bend of her elbow securely against the back of his neck.

He laughs at the noise, shushing her quietly. He brings his other hand up to her chin and meets her lips. “You make some pretty noises, Honey, but we can’t let anyone else hear them,” Trevor whispers like it’s a shared joke between them. “Those are just for me.”

“You wish,” Honey bites back, just as Trevor draws another noise out of her with a pointed stroke of his fingers.

“Mmm, I do,” Trevor murmurs. “You feel even better than I thought you would.”

“Trevor.” Honey grinds against him, tugging at the chest of his t-shirt.

“So warm and wet for me,” Trevor continues.

“Maybe I’m not thinking about you,” Honey gasps out. “Maybe I’m thinking about someone else.”

“Doesn’t matter– no one else is here,” Trevor replies. “Just me and my pretty girl.”

“Your Royal Highness,” Honey corrects, feeling Trevor’s fingers prod at her in a way that’s making her teeter along the edge of an orgasm– the first orgasm she’s experienced with a man since Thomas, she realizes. Sure, she’s had them alone, but she’d forgotten how mind-numbingly good it was to relinquish control and let someone else bring her pleasure.

“Exactly, my Royal Highness. Why don’t you focus on coming instead of bossing me around?” Trevor increases his tempo then, rubbing the heel of his hand not-quite over her clit, but close enough and with enough pressure to make Honey keen and arch her back into him.

Her nipples are hard, practically poking through her shirt. The fabric of her top, against the fabric of his top, with the hard muscle of his torso beneath it sends a rush through Honey’s body. Her mouth hangs open as she comes, bouncing a little bit with quivering thighs on Trevor’s fingers to prolong the feeling that comes over her. Honey’s head lolls back against the cabinets, the knob digging into the skin at the base of her skull in an uncomfortable way. Normally, Honey would be bothered, but she can’t care less about the pain in her neck when Trevor’s fingers are still moving inside of her and his lips are molded against hers, swallowing each sound she makes.

When she comes down, Trevor kisses her one last time and pulls her skirt back down. He reaches over and runs his fingers under the faucet, wiping them with a paper towel once he deems them clean enough.

“Not hungry?” Honey asks, her vision a little blurry after squeezing them so tight when she came.

“If you think the first time I’m going to taste you is by licking my fingers, you’re sorely mistaken,” Trevor chides. He draws her panties out of his pocket and holds them up. “Can I keep these?”

“No way!” Honey exclaims, a laugh escaping her. “I am not letting you keep my underwear, you freak. I’m definitely not walking around this store all day with no panties on, Trevor. Give ‘em back.”

Trevor just wiggles his eyebrows and bites down on the waistband of the panties, leaving them dangling from his mouth as he slides to his knees. He pulls Honey’s ankles through the leg holes, then releases his grip on the waistband to draw them up her legs.

Honey shifts her hips again so he can pull them up, laughing as Trevor’s head disappears and makes a lump under her skirt. She pops him on the head like a Whack-A-Mole and Trevor lets out a little “hey!” when she does.

Just before he retreats, he pats her hips goodbye and brushes a kiss against her clit. Honey can hear him whisper something under his breath before he kisses there again, then he pulls her skirt off until his head is free. He smiles up at Honey, that same stupid smile on his face, and the dipshit has the nerve to wink at her.

“You are such a loser,” Honey tells him, exasperated. Once he’s far enough away, she slides down from the counter and onto her feet.

“Mmm, you like it,” Trevor says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Honey just pushes him away.

“Get outta here,” she commands, trying to hold back a smile and failing. She pushes him to the door and he stumbles through it, laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Vera asks, pausing her knitting.

“Trevor thinks he’s got jokes,” Honey says with a frown, her palms pressed against the small of Trevor’s back as she pushes him towards the entrance to The Reading Nook. He does not make it very easy for her. She’s able to wrench the door open and use her shoulder to push him out of the building, which makes him laugh again. He waves goodbye before he walks away.

After returning to the table, a lethal eye roll on Honey’s face in plain view for all the women to see, Scarlett speaks up. “What did he give you?”

“Nothing but grief,” Honey says with a nod and a huff of annoyance. “Here’s your scoop for the gossip circle, ladies– that boy is nothing but a loser.”

She’s overplaying it, but he really is. She just hopes that her voice doesn’t sound as fond about his loserish tendencies as the pitter-patter of her heart makes them out to be.

Honey returns to her own project, head down and avoiding the eyes of the ladies. They certainly have more questions, but Honey will not entertain the teases that these women are capable of. She already gets teased enough, even if their statements are made out of love and belonging.

The bell jingles above the door again and Bea walks in, sipping at the straw of her coffee. Later, when she goes to assemble her lunch on the counter, Honey is going to have to politely steer her towards the table. Then, Honey will have to explain why Bea can’t make her lunch on the counter until after Honey cleans it, and then they’ll squeal in the back room until Ada pops her head in and tells them to quiet down.

For now, though, Honey just wants to sit with her secret and feel her lips buzz with the mesmerizing phantom press of Trevor’s.

31:90 – TREVOR

Trevor doesn’t wake up to an alarm. He set one, he did, but instead, he wakes up to text after text from Bea.

what time are the guys leaving today

is quinn getting his haircut before or after he leaves

why aren’t you awake yet

when is the flight

which airport are they flying out of???

where are the awards again?

trevor get UP it’s almost 9 and i actually went to work on time today i’m BORED

oh and another thing

don’t think we’re not having a conversation about how you fingered honey on MYYYYY counter

with the ladies in the next room over?? you are an exhibitionist and i do not like the bad influence you have on honey

my workplace should not be brought into your sexcapades IDIOT

omg WAKE UPPPPPP

trevor

She’s still typing when Trevor finally wakes up and grabs his phone, irate and ready to chuck it across the room so that he can get that last twenty minutes of sleep before Quinn says it’s time to head to Charlotte.

will you stop by the nook before you leave so i can say goodbye

The thin line of Trevor’s patience finally snaps. He clicks through his phone, clicking on the blue number under Bea’s contact and bringing the phone to his ear. She picks up on the fourth ring and Trevor doesn’t let her take a breath before he snaps at her. “Give Quinn your fucking phone number so you don’t wake me up with a shit ton of pointless messages, Bea McLean.”

He’s pissed off and the girl has the nerve to laugh. “At least I got your attention.”

From a distance, Honey voice reaches the telephone. “Who is that?”

“It’s Trevor.”

“Oh.”

Trevor shakes off Honey’s “oh” as best he can. He’s hoping that her face conveyed more excitement about Trevor’s presence on the phone than her voice did.

She seemed to like it when he fingered her on the counter. She was just as sassy as always, something Trevor wouldn’t trade for shit, and he cataloged every second of it for later– later, as in, when he got home and wrapped the same hand that was inside of her around his dick and stroked himself to a very quick release.

Trevor speaks again. “Why are you so against giving him your number?”

“Not him, dummy. If the other boys catch wind that I gave him my number, they’ll start demanding it.”

“The other boys?” Trevor asks.

“Jack.”

“Yeah.” Trevor pauses, rubbing his hand over his face. “So you need us to come to your work so you can give Quinn’s hair a goodbye kiss?”

“Tell him he’s not allowed in the store,” Honey says.

Trevor assumes she’s joking, but if she wasn’t, he’d be mad that she said that. He knows what Bea said about her one hundred attempts to push him away, but that’s just plain mean. What if he wanted to read a book? Would he have to send Cole to pick it up for him?

Luckily, Bea has Trevor’s back. “You didn’t seem to mind him being in the store yesterday.”

At the same time, Trevor doesn’t want to push his luck. Sometimes, with Honey, it seems like he goes one step forward and two steps back. He doesn’t want to give her a reason to pull away from him. “Tell her I can stay in the car.”

“What if I don’t want you to stay in the car? What if I want all of you to come into the store so Quinn and I can have a quickie in the back?” Bea asks, her tone pointed not at Trevor, but at Honey, who Trevor assumes is still hovering in the background.

“In public?” Honey exclaims.

“As if you’re any better,” Bea says.

“Can you focus on me for a second? I don’t want to talk to you any longer than I have to,” Trevor says, speaking up so that Bea certainly can hear him. He snaps his fingers next to the speaker for a couple of seconds just to annoy the girl. “We’re headed to the Charlotte airport in like ten. I don’t think we have time to stop by and see you.”

“Well, how early will you be?” Bea sasses, a frown evident from the tone of her voice. “At the airport.”

“Q is on Dad Mode and wants to go two hours early.”

“Tell him that’s fucked. And then tell him that I’ll be mad at him if he doesn’t see me before he leaves.”

“Didn’t you come over yesterday and take a nap with him?” Trevor pinches his bottom lip and speaks through the muffle.

Bea hums over the phone, high-pitched and obvious.

“No one wants to hear about that,” Honey admonishes.

“Go away. I’m talking to Trevor.”

“You’re barely talking to Trevor!” Trevor snaps. “You can’t just send me twenty texts and then talk more to Honey than to me–”

“So you’re jealous…”

“I want you to stop annoying me. Give Quinn your phone number–”

“That’s not going to happen…”

“And get out of my business!”

Trevor pulls the phone away from his ear and hangs up. He tosses it with a loud clatter onto the floor and experiences a brief moment of reprieve and silence before someone in the kitchen hits the ceiling with the broom. He bets it’s Cole. He recently watched the episode of Friends where Mr. Heckles died and he’s starting banging the broom against the ceiling “in memoriam” of the side character.

Trevor rolls out of bed and pulls on a shirt, swapping his boxers for a new pair and pulling his jeans on.

When he walks down the hall, he bangs on Luke and Quinn’s door. “Bea says she doesn't give a shit if you're late to the airport, she wants to say goodbye before your stupid haircut,” he announces through the wood of the door, hoping that the boys are doing their normal last-minute packing. He’s proven right when a muffled “okay” comes through the door and Trevor retreats, but not after he tells the boys that they’re leaving in five minutes and they’d better be in the car by then, or Trevor will make sure they never make it to the award show.

They don't make it to the car in time and, although he’s annoyed, Trevor’s threat was an empty one. He already abandoned Quinn in Charlotte once and he thinks Quinn might kill him if he pulls the same thing (but opposite) a second time.

Both Trevor and Cole tag along for the ride to the airport. They take Trevor’s car and the two non-Hughes ride in the front seat. The short ride to The Reading Nook reminds Trevor why they don’t normally allow the brothers to ride together in the backseat– because they’re annoying. Luke wasn’t even helpful this time– the mediator of the family refused to sit in the middle because his legs are too long, which left Quinn or Jack to take the middle and Quinn outright refused, despite being the shortest.

Trevor can’t believe they have to drive all the way to Charlotte with the Hughes brothers in the back. It’s no wonder their parents bought a car with a third row and banished Jack to the “way-way back.” Trevor is considering trading his car in for Quinn’s rental car on the way out of town– the third row would give him reprieve. There’s only so many times Cole can turn up the music to drown out the brotherly bickering before the stereo is turned to maximum volume.

Jack spills out of the car when they make it to The Reading Nook, barely letting Trevor shift the car into park before he’s climbing out and spreading his arms wide just because he can. He does the same with his feet, standing wide and starfishing vertically in the middle of the sidewalk, his head tilted back and eyes closed. There’s no regard for the passersby, nor for the brothers that are climbing out of the car after him.

Luke reminds him of his existence quickly with a sharp pat to the back of Jack’s head, knocking his hat off and taking it with him into the store. Jack chases after him, the front bell ringing as they barge through the door and disturb the quiet atmosphere of the Nook that Trevor has come to enjoy.

Cole and Quinn follow behind the boys at a normal pace and Cole holds the door open for Quinn, who gets an armful of Bea as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Trevor watches from the car, true to his word. He catches Bea’s million-dollar-smile (her words, not his) as she throws her arms around Quinn’s neck and automatically intertwines her fingers in his hair. She blows a kiss at Trevor when she sees him, barely looking past Quinn to acknowledge the boy before she turns back to the man she’s all over. Trevor can’t see Quinn’s face, but he can imagine the content on Quinn’s features as Bea fusses over him and ignores the other boys.

Cole eventually makes his way into the store as well, leaving the door to close behind him. Trevor sees his own reflection against the glass, then turns back to the wheel.

He runs his fingernails along the stitching of the wheel. He goes around the whole circle, then traces the logo in the center of the wheel over and over. Eventually, he tires of that, and closes his eyes. He leans back against the headrest and plans the week out in his head– today, the Hughes boys leave. Tomorrow is the award show, then on Friday, Cole wants to bust out the hot tub since they haven’t used it yet. The boys come back on Saturday morning, filling the house again.

Trevor has two days of peace. He’s happy for Quinn and Luke, nominated for the Norris and the Calder respectively, but he can’t wait to get some peace and quiet. If he’s lucky, Bea won’t bother him until Saturday when the boys get back.

His eyes are still closed when the passenger door opens and someone shuffles in. Assuming it’s Cole, or maybe even Luke, Trevor keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t acknowledge them.

“I wasn’t serious, you know. You’re allowed to come in the store.”

Trevor startles at Honey’s voice, his hands accidentally making contact with the horn and honking it. When he looks at her, she’s smiling, and he blushes.

“I wasn’t sure,” Trevor replies. “I didn’t want to overstep.”

Honey stares at him, unimpressed. “You fingered me in the back room of my work with the ladies in the other room and then asked to keep my panties. You’re either at zero or one hundred, aren’t you, Trevor?”

Trevor smiles, a little sheepish. “So you liked it?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip after the question leaves him. One of his hands rubs over the hem of his shorts, fingers dipping under the fabric to toy with it.

Honey hesitates, tapping her finger to her chin and looking up at the ceiling of the car to delay her answer even further, but Trevor knows that she’s just doing so to get on his nerves. “You were fine.”

“Fine?” Trevor demands.

Honey shrugs.

“You’re a dirty liar, Honey,” Trevor says. “I made you come in minutes and I barely touched your clit.”

“That was your problem. It could’ve gone faster.”

Trevor’s jaw is slack, then he laughs a little. “So you didn’t like it?”

Honey shrugs again, but there’s a little smile pulling at her lips. Trevor takes that as a good sign.

“You’re being mean to me when we both know that when I fingerfucked you, you couldn’t stop moaning for me,” Trevor says with an ounce of pride leaking into his statement.

“Just because you and I were the only two people in the room doesn’t mean I was moaning for you. How do you know for sure that I was thinking about you? I believe I brought this up yesterday, too.” Honey raises her eyebrows like a challenge.

Trevor leans into her space, over the center console. His elbows dig into the barely-cushioned leather and he knows his eyes are half-lidded from the way Honey leans back and tilts her chin up, appearing unaffected by his movements. She never falls for his sultry, go-to flirtatious expressions. “You definitely weren’t thinking about what would happen if we got caught,” Trevor says. “And who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had?”

Honey purses her lips, eyebrows turned down as she presses her tongue to the back of her front teeth. She stares at Trevor for a moment, evaluating him, then she turns and lets herself out of the car. She slams the passenger door in Trevor’s face and stomps toward the entrance of the store.

Trevor rolls down the window and calls after her. “Too much?”

“You’re really banned from my store now,” Honey replies, not turning to look back. She wrenches the door open, bell jangling merrily in sharp contrast to the scowl that Trevor is sure adorns her face, then slams that behind her.

Within a minute, the boys shuffle out of the store awkwardly and clamber into the car. Jack ends up in the middle seat again, waiting for Quinn to climb in after him.

Quinn hesitates before getting in the car, reluctant to let go of Bea’s hand. Trevor watches as he gives her a soft little smile and mumbles something before leaning over to kiss her cheek.

Bea nods and puts her hand in his hair again, tilting his head down so she can kiss the brown mess. Then, she squeezes his hand and wishes him luck. She peers into the car. “You too, Lukey. Good luck.”

Quinn lets her go, then climbs into the car. Bea shuts the door for him, then waves goodbye. She turns and walks back into the store, and not five minutes later, Trevor gets a text from the girl.

thank you good sir i’ll make sure honey doesn’t ban you entirely

Then, another few minutes later, a picture of the front window of the shop that now hosts a “No Trevors Allowed” sign in the bottom corner of the window. Trevor saves the picture to his phone with a little smile. Honey’s dramatic. He likes her so much.

32:90 – HONEY

Honey was hoping that with Quinn, Luke, and Jack gone for the next few days, she’d be free to sit at home and ignore Trevor’s looming presence. She could start her newest book– a romance, because she’s had a desire to read something trashy lately. She could bake something, or keep working on her knitting, or just go to bed early and rest.

But Honey should’ve known that that would be too much to ask.

Bea wants to watch the award show and she wants to watch it with the boys, since her libido has increased by leaps and bounds since she started hooking up with people regularly again and Cole’s the only boy left in town. Honey is sure that Bea will put him to use over the next two days.

Honey tried to hide in the Nook again before closing, but she failed for a second time. She likes to think that she can outwit Bea, but the girls know each other so well that neither of them can get very far into something secret without the other finding out– or finding their hiding place. Next time she wants to avoid hanging out with the boys at Bea’s request, she’ll just ask Ada if she can leave early. If that doesn’t work, she’ll just escape when Bea isn’t looking and skip out on the end of her shift.

What’s Ada going to do? Fire her?

The worst part about Bea dragging Honey to the boys’ house is that Bea walked to work and Honey had only enough gas to get home before filling up the following morning… so she had to fill up her tank and Bea did not offer to pay, although it was her idea to go to the rental house in the first place.

Now, Honey is sat between Bea and Cole with a full hand of Uno cards, trying to shield her cards from the prying eyes of the blond boy on one side and ignore the girl on her other. Trevor is sat on the loveseat, flicking through the channels before finding ESPN and tossing the remote onto the table before them. He’s got his own hand of cards, but he’s left them out on the table for everyone to see. Bea has been reaching over and plucking his worst cards out of the pile on his turn. She’s also been working overtime to make sure Trevor receives every +4 card that she can find.

“When does the show start?” Bea asks, reaching forward to spread Trevor’s cards out even further.

“Seven,” Trevor replies, checking his watch and sounding bored. He hugs a pillow against his chest and yawns. Instead of returning to the game of Uno, he keeps his eyes on the television and lets Bea do whatever she wants with his cards.

Honey frowns, but then focuses back on her cards. She bats Cole away, then picks one of her cards and lays it down. She covers her hand, hiding it from view, and looks at the television.

The announcers seem to be discussing various sports, just talking back and forth about stats and statistics. A lot of it is focused on hockey, with the awards coming up, and Honey raises her eyebrows when she sees a clip of Quinn hitting an opposing player, rocking the guy and spinning in a one-legged circle with the momentum. Other than the spin, he barely moved on the ice. He didn’t stumble at all from the weight of the other man crashing into him.

Honey finds herself nodding at the sight of it, as if in a trance, then she shakes herself out of it. She returns to the Uno game, catching a side eye from Cole that was much too obvious to be a serious action as she reviews her cards.

Bea wins the game, because of course she does. She and her family are by-the-rulebook Uno players, so Bea almost always wins just by her sheer knowledge of what you can and cannot do in the game.

Honey also thinks she might just be a very convincing liar.

Before they know it, the announcers are signing off for the night and ESPN is segueing into the NHL Awards. There’s impressive animations on the channel, clips of the players that are tastefully thrown together by the production team, and a live look at some of the families walking down the carpet.

Honey is more excited about the creation of the broadcast than the contents of the broadcast itself, if you can’t tell.

Bea slams the pack of cards on the table just as the cameramen start to show players and their guests.

“Wow, they’re a gorgeous couple,” Bea marvels, drinking in the mint-colored suit and dress on a pair.

The woman is blonde with some of the longest, possibly heaviest earrings Honey has ever seen and the man has a bright smile. His cheeks and nose seem a little sunburnt, but only in a way that glows.

“That’s one of the guys Quinn is up against,” Trevor says.

Bea immediately frowns. “Then I hate their outfits and any talent he possesses,” she gripes, crossing her arms over her chest.

She holds that position until a man with a mustache comes on the screen wearing the most jarring outfit Honey has ever seen. Whoever styled this man did not realize they were styling a premier athlete– they were told that his aesthetic was Cape-Cod Grandmother. Honey hopes that’s the case at least– she’d never get over it if this was the man’s actual style.

Bea agrees, speaking as if she can read Honey’s thoughts. “Holy shit, Emily Gilmore,” she breathes out.

Cole chokes on his yawn, whacking himself on the chest as his breath stutters. He looks up at the TV and starts laughing, rolling on the couch and clutching at his stomach. His face is contorted like he’s miserable from laughing so hard, growing red in the face.

Trevor casts him a glare, bewildered. “Who’s Emily Gilmore?”

The way Trevor says her name sends Cole into another fit of giggles and Honey can barely suppress a smile. The boy’s smile is contagious.

“She’s, like, an old money Connecticut grandma,” Bea exclaims, grinning wildly as Cole chortles. “It’s from a show. What’s so funny, Co-Ca?”

“He’s making the Leafs look fucking stupid,” Cole forces out between laughs. He gulps down a few deep breaths to calm himself, then giggles again.

“You’re lucky the Hughes boys didn’t hear you say that,” Trevor says. “You know how they hate when you poke fun at their childhood team just because they’re your rival.”

Bea shushes them all. “Speaking of the Hughes!” She points at the TV, eyes glued to the screen. She won’t even blink.

Honey shakes her head fondly, then turns to catch what Bea’s looking at.

She sees Luke first, with a sleek black suit and a tie that Honey can’t quite decide the color of– beige? gold? tan? Regardless of the color, it looks good on him, adding a pop of color to the outfit that’s just classy enough on Luke to not be overkill. He’s smiling wide, looking charming at the camera. Honey has never seen him turn on the charm like this before– but it’s impressive. He looks at home, even though once his smile fades between photos he looks back to his normal self. Maybe it finally set in that he was at the NHL Awards and that he’s nominated for once, not just attending with family. Honey hopes he’s not too nervous.

Quinn is next, looking mature in his black suit with the black tie. Whereas a colorful tie helped Luke out, color would just distract from the pure confidence Quinn exudes. He’s walking around like he’s already won the title of Best Defenseman, smirking at cameras and fixing his jacket. His hands go in his pockets after that and Honey admires his belt, a smooth black leather with a silver buckle. They’re simple and he looks smug, almost, in the outfit.

Honey looks over at Bea, who is biting the side of her bottom lip.

She returns to Quinn. She notices that his hair was cropped much shorter, to an almost corporate length. Honey recalls the first time she met Trevor, when he said that all the buys were business partners. Quinn could definitely pass as an executive of a company, raking in the big bucks in a high-level office.

“Has he always had that scar on his cheek?” Honey asks.

Bea shakes her head, still facing forward. “He just got it this past season, during the playoffs,” she tells Honey before Trevor or Cole can supply the information.

Jack isn’t shown right away, which is kind of disappointing for Honey. She would’ve liked to see all the boys right away. Honey leans forward to grab a handful of pretzels from Cole’s bowl of snacks. She catches Trevor watching her out of the corner of his eye when she sits back on the couch. She frowns, then chews a pretzel.

“Has their mom always been that gorgeous?” Bea asks, sounding awed.

Honey looks to the TV and catches a blonde woman in a loose white shirt and black pants, looking delighted but reserved on the screen. Honey can imagine her as someone who would bake some brownies as a housewarming gift for her new neighbors upon their move into the neighborhood. Her hands are aged with love and although there are lines starting to peek at the corners of her eyes and cheeks, Honey immediately has nothing but respect for Mrs. Hughes.

She’s standing with an older man and Jack, holding onto the arm of Mr. Hughes with a casual intimacy that Honey audibly murmurs at. Mr. Hughes is smiling, close-lipped but proud as his sons join them.

“She has Jack’s smile,” Bea says softly, sounding touched. “That’s so special.”

Speaking of Jack, Honey admires his outfit. He’s wearing a steely, almost metallic-iron suit with a black button-up beneath it. His suit wouldn’t be so eye-catching if he were wearing a white button-up, plus it would wash him out. He’s not wearing a tie, which makes him stand out, but his only problem is that Honey wishes he had taken more time with his hair. It doesn’t look as good as she knows it can, which is frustrating.

The camera cuts away from the family after they catch that initial shot, so Honey loses the boys. Bea sighs at the same time, laying back as if she can bury herself between couch cushions. She frowns at the loss of the Hughes brothers and Trevor chuckles out a little laugh.

“You know you get to meet them for Fourth of July,” he mentions, smirking at Bea.

The girl’s expression drops with her jaw, her eyes flashing. “What?” She asks, blinking rapidly. She sits forward again. “His parents are coming for the Fourth?”

Trevor laughs sharply and nods. “Yeah, Quinn didn’t tell you yet? They decided to come last week. They said the Michigan house seemed too empty this summer without them.”

Cole jumps in. “Plus, once they heard Jamie got invited on our ‘top-secret-vacation,’ they didn’t believe the excuse that we wanted to be alone this summer,” he laughs. “But you can’t really complain when Ellen and Jim are around. That reminds me, we have to find a new golf course for when Big J comes.” He’s speaking solely to Trevor and Honey rolls her eyes at the nickname– Mr. Hughes must hate it when Cole calls him ‘Big J.’

“Why didn’t you guys tell me sooner?” Bea cries, throwing her hands up. She runs one of her hands through her hair, gathering it out of her face. She ties her hair up with the elastic on her wrist and fans herself like she’s sweating. “I can’t meet their parents when I’m fucking all three of them.”

“Four if you count me,” Cole adds. “I’m like their adopted son. I’ve met their grandma and she loves me.”

Honey laughs aloud at that.

“All grandmas seem to like you, eh, Coley?” Trevor teases. “Vera loves you more than anyone else in Litchton.”

“Oh, God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “You can never bring him to Knitting Circle.”

Everyone grows quiet for a second and Honey seems to realize what she said. She laughed with Trevor.

Noooooooooo–

“Has Trevor gone to Knitting Circle with all the old ladies?” Bea asks, giggling. She looks elated to have found yet another thing to bother Trevor about and Cole looks mildly interested, a smile growing on his face.

“You know how to knit?” Cole asks, poking his tongue between his teeth and sticking it out at Trevor with a crinkle of his nose.

Trevor shrugs. “I needed a hobby for the summer. I was bored and stumbled on it one morning. Honey hates it when I show up.”

He looks over at her, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head in a tiny nod. His lips quirk, but barely.

Honey suddenly realizes that he’s staying true to his promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone. She doesn’t know why she doubted him, except for that flower incident outside the fruit stand, and she feels like it’s unbearable to look at him any longer. She blinks quickly and wrenches her gaze away from him before she can do something stupid like smile.

“Maybe I have to come to Knitting Circle,” Cole threatens, smiling wildly. “I have been looking for something to do this summer.”

“No, you can’t come,” Trevor says. “It’s my special thing.”

“Yours and Honey’s special thing,” Cole groans. “That’s not fair. Why do you want to exclude me so bad?”

“It’s not a Trevor and Honey thing,” Honey insists. “He just shows up and I have to be there because I’m the only one who shows up to work on time.”

“Not true!” Bea denies, upset. “I showed up on time yesterday.”

“And that was the first time since…?” Honey asks, reaching over and pinching Bea’s thigh.

Bea bats her hand away and pouts, curling up into a ball on the couch. She’s still sitting upright, but she nestles herself in the corner of the cushions and the armchair, her knees pulled tight to her chest. She steals Honey’s blanket and wraps it around herself.

“Shut up,” Bea says. “The show is starting.”

Honey returns her attention to the screen and the group of four grows quiet. Bea audibly coos and pinches her fingers at the TV when she sees all three brothers sitting on a couch together.

The foursome doesn’t talk much throughout the show– Trevor and Cole make a few comments about the attendees, explaining who they are and why they’re important to the girls. Bea makes a comment about the announcer, about how she doesn’t like his jokes. Honey just shrugs, but she silently agrees. The attendees just look uncomfortable when he talks, especially a younger looking boy with brown hair.

It takes a while for the awards to actually get going, but Luke’s is one of the first. Honey is surprised to know that he’s in his first year in the league. When she was watching their scrimmage the other day, pretending to tan while Trevor pranced around in his little compression shorts, Luke seemed well-practiced and mature when handling the puck.

She supposes it makes sense– he’s had twenty years of puck-handling under his belt. The boy could skate before he could walk and had a stick in hand like a silver spoon when he was born. All of the boys did– not that it’s a bad thing. They’re lucky that they love hockey so much– it’s their destiny.

Bea stands and shrieks at the television when Luke doesn’t win the Calder Trophy, waving a finger wildly and stomping her feet with a frown. She had the same reaction when she would attend Honey’s softball games and the umpires would make a bad call. It makes Honey laugh.

The boys try to explain the voting system to Bea, as well as Luke’s stats. Bea doesn’t care.

“It’s unfair is what it is,” Bea says petulantly. “Who is this Connor Bedard kid anyway?”

That makes Trevor laugh, tossing his head back. “He’s a first overall pick and he got to enter the minors in Canada a year early because he’s just that good, Bea. Luke wasn’t going to get the Trophy, but it’s an honor to have been nominated. There are a lot of rookies in the league. Luke is top three– that’s sick.”

“Luke is top one,” Bea insists.

Trevor rolls his eyes and holds his hands up in surrender. “Whatever you say.”

Bea nods, satisfied with Trevor’s cession. She makes little comments here and there about each person on the screen, each winner of each award, and even continues to gripe about the announcer. She’s surprised to see celebrity announcers on stage who reveal the winners of the trophies.

Finally, it’s Quinn’s turn, and Bea shushes everyone, even though she was the only one talking. She sits forward and folds her hands together, her fingertips pressing against her bottom lip. Her eyes are trained on the screen, drinking in the introductions and smiling a little when they show Quinn’s image in the corner of the screen.

“C’mon, Q,” Cole breathes out, anxiously biting a hangnail on his thumb. He waits with baited breath, as does Honey. Trevor pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and middle finger and stares at the TV.

The pause between the announcers’ words seems to stretch eternally. The celebrity announcers do not speak in unison, the girl hesitating when the boy lags behind, making the announcement frustrating for Honey.

When they announce Quinn’s name, Bea jumps to her feet and screams, bouncing up and down. Cole joins her and they bounce around the room hugging and cheering while Quinn accepts his award. Bea reaches for Honey and pulls her into the circle, while Trevor laughs from his loveseat and tries to focus on Quinn’s speech. In celebration, Bea kisses Cole’s cheek, Honey’s cheek, and Trevor’s forehead, collapsing across his legs and grabbing his wrists to clap his hands together in applause. She pinches Trevor’s cheeks too, then holds her hand out flat in front of his face.

“What?” Trevor asks, clapping his hand down on hers and dapping her up.

Bea drops his dap and flattens her hand in front of him again.

Trevor goes to spit his gum out in her hand, but Bea wrenches it back. “Ew!”

“What?” Trevor repeats, laughing.

“I need your phone,” Bea tells him.

“Why?” Trevor asks.

“I want to call Quinn and congratulate him,” Bea says.

Trevor rolls his eyes. “He won’t be able to talk to you until later tonight. The show’s going to last for a little while, then they have to do photos after. You’d be better off calling him tomorrow. Can I interest you in putting his number in your phone?”

Bea pushes Trevor’s head back so it knocks against the cushions, then climbs off of him. She pulls on his belt loops until he’s teetering on the edge of the couch and kicking his legs out to get Bea to let go. “Give me your phone or I’ll beat you up.”

Trevor laughs, so Bea pops him on the hip with a sharp hand. He winces at that and shakes her off. “Dude, you can call him later. Get off me.”

“Yeah, Bea, leave him alone,” Honey says.

“But I want to call Quinn to tell him how pretty he looks,” Bea whines, pouting.

“Call him later. Trevor can text him and make sure that Quinn calls when he’s back at his hotel room. Right, Trevor?” Honey says. She turns to the boy, who is situating himself on the loveseat again. He looks surprised that Honey addressed him, but pleased nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’ll shoot him a text now,” Trevor says, nodding along at Honey’s suggestion.

She wants to roll her eyes at how willing he is to text Quinn when she says it, although he would have continued to fight Bea as long as she kept pestering him. He dutifully pulls his phone out of his back pocket and taps away at the screen, eventually locking it and putting it away. He smiles at Honey when he’s done, but she only catches it out of the corner of her eye. She’s turned back to the TV by now.

The night passes with little more interest, except for the boys. They nod along with most of the remaining winners, unsurprised by the award recipients. Bea and Honey play Uno again between themselves and Bea wins for the millionth time. Honey asks her to play pool, which she won’t because she doesn’t want to lose, but Cole does. Bea eventually takes Trevor’s phone with a “hi, Q-baby!” and heads upstairs with it, squealing excitedly into the phone. Trevor joins the remaining pair at the pool table, perching himself upon one of the saddle-stools and watching Honey playfully tease Cole throughout the loss. Cole demands a rematch, which Honey grants him, and after he loses that round, Trevor grabs his own cue and proposes a game of 9-ball.

They play a few rounds, the game much easier given that there are so many fewer balls on the felt. Honey wins a few and so do Trevor and Cole, but no one is keeping track. No one is updating the board. They’re just having a good time– and it’s a night that Honey knows she’ll remember for the rest of her life.

33:90 – TREVOR

It feels like as soon as the girls leave, they’re back. Bea might’ve slept over, to be honest, but Trevor doesn’t know. He knows Honey left because she never made it to his bedroom (and yes, he did go looking for her).

But now she’s back to soak in the hot tub with them, since Cole mentioned uncovering it last night and Honey said Bea would like that. She brought Bea with her, obviously, although Trevor would have liked to see just Honey.

On the bright side, he has a plan to get Bea out of the picture– Quinn did an interview today for the Four Nations Face-Off, since he was named to Team USA, and Trevor expects Bea to be very interested in how his hair looks after he hasn’t showered in a day. She’ll be even more interested to hear about how the brothers went gambling and they had to sneak Luke in since he’s under the legal limit. He’s actually ready to hand over his phone and allow the girl to disappear if it means that he can have Honey alone– Cole is the only other person he needs to take care of.

That shouldn’t be hard. All he has to do is keep feeding Cole beers and the boy will grow tired sooner rather than later. Trevor actually already started the process– Cole’s been drinking all day and so has Trevor, but Trevor’s been able to keep a grip on himself by eating plenty and drinking water.

When the girls walk through the front door, they’re already wearing their swimsuits. Trevor can tell because Honey’s got a sweatshirt on, the same one that she wore on the boat a few weeks ago, and Trevor can see her long, long legs beneath it. The sweatshirt is just long enough that Trevor knows she’s not hiding shorts under there– just the swimsuit.

Bea’s the opposite. She’s got a knitted wrap around her body, like a long cardigan, but it doesn’t open in the front like a cardigan. It’s also threadbare on purpose– Trevor can see right through it. She’s got a blue flowery bikini on underneath it, which Cole compliments right away.

“Bea, you look good in blue,” Cole says, tongue loose from all the beer.

Trevor smirks against the lip of his own bottle and takes a sip to hide it, although he catches Honey’s eye and knows that she’s figured him out immediately.

But she doesn’t say anything, to Trevor’s excitement.

“Thanks, Coley,” Bea says. “I’ve been told it’s my signature color.”

“For good reason.”

Trevor takes another swig of his beer bottle before leaning to set it on the table. “Hot tub?”

Cole’s face lights up when Trevor mentions it. He scrambles to his feet and nearly forgets to grab his drink but circles back around. “Yes! I uncovered it this afternoon.” He walks toward the back porch, then Honey grabs his arm.

“Cole, we’re upstairs. The hot tub is on the patio. Let’s go out from the basement door, yeah?” She says, leading him towards the basement steps. Cole goes happily, shifting Honey’s hand down so that he can intertwine fingers with her, and he looks very pleased about it.

Trevor rolls his eyes. If Cole could hold hands with someone all day long, he would. It doesn’t matter who.

Bea and Trevor follow along, with the girl shedding her cover up as soon as they make it down the stairs. She tosses the white article of clothing onto the couch, toeing off her shoes when they reach the door.

Honey is laughing as Cole starts to pull his shirt off, struggling with the fabric when it gets stuck on his neck. She helps him take it off, then tosses it aside. It hits Trevor in the chest and he catches it when it falls.

“Cole, you’re not wearing a swimsuit,” Bea says. “Wouldn’t you prefer it if you went to change?”

Cole’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “No?” He replies. “I can just wear my underwear. It’s the same thing, pretty much.”

Bea’s mouth quirks up at the edges and she raises her hands, backing up a step. “Whatever you say.”

Cole nods with a “hmph”, dropping his shorts and stepping out of them. He climbs into the hot tub, grinning to himself as he settles in.

Bea joins him, sitting across from the boy. He starts talking about something– Trevor can’t be bothered to listen to what– and Bea engages with him.

Honey walks over towards the house and places a hand on the doorframe to balance herself as she toes her own shoes off next to Bea’s.

Trevor joins her, draping Cole’s shirt over one of her shoulders. He leans into her space and says quietly, “Want to undress me, too?”

Honey startles back at his words, her head snapping up and her expression growing dark. She slaps Trevor’s arm repeatedly, gritting her teeth and hissing at him. “Get– away– from me!” Honey exclaims between hits, finally using Cole’s shirt as an added weapon. She twists the shirt and snaps it at him like a dishtowel. “You are so fucking annoying!”

She pulls her sweatshirt over her head and stomps away from Trevor before he can really take in the view, but he’s perfectly content watching her walk away. She’s wearing a purple swimsuit, almost like the plum of his alternate jersey, and her bottoms are quite cheeky– Trevor chooses to believe she wore that just for him.

He pulls his shirt over his head and sheds his shorts, leaving him just in his underwear like Cole. He climbs into the tub, stretching his legs out and laying his feet flat on the edge of the step where Honey sits, on either side of her legs. Cole stacks his legs on top of Trevor’s, then Bea on top of Cole’s and Trevor’s. Honey stays still, arms crossed over her chest and glaring at Trevor.

“Let’s play a game,” Honey says, voice hard and eyes never leaving Trevor’s own. “It’s called ‘everyone say one thing you hate about Trevor.’ I’ll start: he sucks.”

“I love this game!” Cole exclaims. “I’ve got a list for all the boys. I hate Trevor because he’s too loud. Bea, your turn!”

“I’m too loud?” Trevor interrupts, letting out a little laugh. “You barely ever shut up, Cole.”

“And yet, somehow you talk more than me. I have another: Trevor snores. I hate sharing a room with you at the lake house.” Cole sticks his tongue out at the other boy.

“Well, good thing we’re not there this summer,” Trevor bites back.

“My turn!” Bea says, splashing Cole. “You said I could go. You can’t get two turns. Now you have to lose a turn next round. I hate that Trevor thinks he can tell me what to do.”

“I never tell you what to do,” Trevor says.

“‘Bea, put your number in Quinn’s phone!’ ‘Bea, stop texting me!’ ‘Bea,’ blah, blah, blah,” Bea mimics, pulling her hands out of the water to make a talking motion with her fingers. “You’re always whining about me.”

“I don’t like this game,” Trevor says. He takes his legs out from under Cole’s and they drop, bringing Bea’s along with them. The water splashes and spills over the edges of the tub a little bit.

“Oh,” Cole says, a lightbulb practically appearing over his head. “Should we turn on the jets?”

Trevor shrugs, as does Honey. Bea nods. “If you want,” she says.

“I want,” Cole replies, twisting in his seat and leaning over the edge of the tub to find the button for the jets. He presses a few buttons that do nothing, seemingly, before he finds the jets.

Trevor moves so there’s one pushing water out and hitting the small of his back. It’s soothing and it inches him closer to Bea, who crinkles her nose at the proximity. She crosses the tub and cuddles up next to Cole. The boy throws his arm over Bea’s shoulders and leans his head against hers.

And now, Trevor is sitting next to Honey. She doesn’t say anything to him, instead opting to talk to Bea about some memory from the long-ago, distant past, talking about the first time they got to go in a hot tub. Bea ruins the story for Trevor by mentioning the boy who stole Honey’s first kiss from Trevor– no, he’s not delusional– on the same vacation.

Honey starts to climb out of the tub after the story ends and Trevor watches the water drip off of her.

“Where are you going?” He asks. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go– Bea was supposed to go inside to talk to Quinn, then Cole was supposed to go to sleep. Honey wasn’t supposed to leave first.

Honey fixes him with a reproachful look. “I wouldn’t expect you to know, but you’re not supposed to stay in a hot tub for more than fifteen minutes. It messes with the regulation of heat in your body. Fifteen minutes in, fifteen minutes out.”

“That’s a hoax, Hon,” Bea says.

“It is not,” Honey replies with her chin held high. She opens the closet near the outdoor shower and digs out a towel. She wraps it around herself and lets herself into the house, pausing at the door. “Would anyone like anything?”

“Beer?” Cole asks. “And can you check the draft to see what they’re on? Montréal picks fifth.”

Trevor forgot that the draft was today– they’re using the Sphere, which is kind of fun, and Trevor is a little jealous. His draft was in Rogers Arena, in Vancouver, a place where he had been plenty of times before because Quinn had been drafted there the year prior. It doesn’t seem very special.

“Yeah, can you check the draft? It’s on ESPN. Can you put it on the outside speakers, too?” Trevor asks.

Honey frowns. “I will check the draft for Cole. I will not put it on the outside speakers because I do not wish to listen to hockey all night.” She turns with a dramatic flourish and her towel swishes like a cape.

Trevor watches her retreat, eyes trained on those long, long legs as she goes. He’s smiling, way too big for someone who was told ‘no’ by the girl he likes.

He’s mostly quiet while she’s gone, listening to Bea and Cole chitchat about nothingness. He does manage to tell Bea about Quinn’s hair, which she demands to see, and Trevor hands over his phone, which is open to Quinn’s Instagram. He posted his own thirst trap, probably just for Bea despite knowing that she doesn’t have an Instagram. Trevor overheard them talking the other night about the possibility of Bea redownloading the app and making a new account so that she can follow Quinn– just Quinn– and this thirst trap might be the nail in the coffin.

Annoyingly, it doesn’t have the effect that he wants. Bea does not climb out of the tub with Trevor’s phone to go call Quinn and tell him how gorgeous he looks– she must’ve gotten her fill yesterday.

Or she’s just focused on getting Cole in bed again, giving him a second go-around. Trevor doesn’t understand why– she’s so taken with Quinn that they might as well make it official. He thinks it might be an experiment for her, like the Jack thing and his timer. She’s very scientific, isn’t she?

Honey comes back with two beers in hand, a Budweiser and a Modelo. Trevor smiles– she remembered that Modelo is his favorite.

Honey twists the top off both beers and hands the Bud to Cole. She slides into the tub as far away from Trevor as she can get, with Cole putting his other arm around her and pulling her to his side just like Bea.

Trevor reaches out for the Modelo, waiting for Honey to hand it over. She gives him a look with one raised eyebrow and brings the bottle to her mouth, taking a drink. Trevor takes his hand back.

“What, you thought that I was bringing you a drink?” Honey asks. “Did you ask for one?”

“No, but–”

“Then it’s not for you.” She purses her lips and waits to see if Trevor has a response, which he doesn’t. Instead, he looks at the water, where his hands have folded over his stomach. He’s grateful that the jets are creating waves that distort the image of everything under the water– he’d hate for Honey and the rest of the tub-dwellers to see that he chubs up a bit each time Honey gets sassy with him. She’s such a brat. One of these days, he’s really going to fuck all of that attitude out of her. If she lets him. She might not, but he’s determined to get to that point.

“How’s the draft?” Cole asks.

Honey recites the first few picks off the top of her head. Trevor watches her do so, a tiny smile on his face. The only thing that he likes more than when Honey yells at him is when she talks about hockey; even though she pretends she doesn’t care, she sure pays a lot of attention to the sport in recent weeks. She’s even up to date on the lingo. Her use of ‘puck bunny’ the other day had Trevor smiling for hours after.

“The sweetest looking kid went third and he very clearly had no idea that he would be the bronze pick of the draft based on the way he said ‘what the fuck’ twice to his parents after his name was called,” Honey says. “It was so precious. I want to put him in my pocket.”

Trevor looks down to hide his smile. The Ducks picked third. This kid is his new teammate. He’ll have to convince Honey to visit him in Anaheim later this year and introduce her to the rookie– so she can really adopt him as her own.

“What about the fifth pick?” Cole asks.

“Ivan Demidov,” Honey says. “Celine Dion announced the pick.”

“Celine Dion?” Bea repeats.

“Ivan Demidov,” Cole murmurs thoughtfully. “That’s a good pick. We needed a right winger. Slaf’s our best one. I thought the analysts said Demidov would go to Chicago.”

The last part of his statement is directed at Trevor, who just shrugs. He hadn’t paid attention to the analysis this year. It doesn’t really matter, since each team is working for what’s best for them and ignoring the speculation from the analysts.

Trevor is doing the same thing about trade rumors. He’s ignoring until something official comes through. It would be annoying to be traded and lose his upper hand over Honey– introducing her to that rookie, of whom she is now a fan.

The next time Honey leaves the tub, Trevor follows her.

“Would you quit following me around?” Honey asks, climbing the stairs into the kitchen.

“No,” Trevor replies. “I like being around you.”

“Too much, I think,” Honey says. “You’re breathing down my neck.”

“I’m too far away to be doing that,” Trevor says.

Honey’s back is to him as she opens the fridge and the freezer at the same time, frowning as she scans the shelves for something. She hasn’t told Trevor what she’s looking for, although he could probably help her find whatever it is much quicker than she could. She bends a little at the waist, craning her neck to evaluate a shelf.

Trevor comes closer, pressing his hips against her behind. She stands, stiff against him, but there’s nowhere for her to move unless she wants to climb into the fridge and shut herself in.

“Now I’m breathing down your neck,” Trevor murmurs, moving her hair to one side and kissing her neck. For extra emphasis, he exhales on the skin. “I hope you can tell the difference.”

“You’re being obvious,” Honey chastises. “You shouldn’t be following me around. Someone’s going to find out. You need to work on your subtlety.”

“Bea already knows,” Trevor says. “And the only other person here is Cole. He doesn’t notice anything unless it’s right in front of him. As long as you don’t climb onto my lap– which I know is very hard for you– you’ll be fine.”

Honey frowns and opens her mouth to rebut, but Trevor manages to silence her by sucking a little on her neck, right below her hairline on the side of her neck. He can feel her head tilting back at the sensation and he smirks.

“You like that spot, huh?” Trevor mumbles against her skin. “Or do you just like the boy who’s kissing you there?”

That makes Honey laugh and push him off. “I do not like the boy who’s kissing me, especially when he doesn’t listen. I don’t want Cole to find out.”

“He’ll be off to bed soon and Bea will be busy talking to Quinn, he did an interview that I think she’ll find particularly enticing,” Trevor says, fixing Honey’s hair so it covers the mark blooming on her neck. “I’ve never made a girl come in a hot tub before, but I think tonight is my lucky night.”

Honey hums. “Probably not, unless you want a load of blood to taint your hot tub water.” She fixes Trevor with an evil smile. “I’m on my period.”

“I thought you were ovulating last week,” Trevor says. “Doesn’t it usually take two weeks for your period to start after that? You’re not lying to me, are you, Honey?”

Her distraction tactic didn’t work– she seems to think that Trevor would be put off by her period talk, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The truth being that he doesn’t care– he’s attracted to her all the time.

“My hormones are out of whack and someone fingered me for the first time in years, and he wasn’t exactly gentle about it,” Honey replies, making a face at Trevor. “So I, for one, am not surprised that my period came early.”

“Well I’ll make a note that we should be fine for the next month,” Trevor teases with a grin. “And that you’ll be trying to jump me two weeks from now because you’ll be ovulating again.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “I can’t wait until the boys get back so that Quinn can bruise your ego and keep you in check,” she says. “But, really, Trevor. You can’t follow me around and be all close to me. It’s too obvious.”

“But I like you and I can’t hide my feelings,” Trevor says innocently, blinking at her with wide eyes and a little pout.

“Learn to,” Honey snaps. Her voice is hard, but she pats Trevor’s hip as she walks away, snapping the waistband of his underwear before she gets out of arm’s reach.

Trevor rejoins the group in the hot tub shortly after, but he takes his time getting there. Contrary to Honey’s belief, he does care about his own subtlety because it makes her happy when he’s not being obvious. Just like how it should make her happy when she gives into his advances– because it makes him happy.

Cole makes it until 10pm. By then, he’s far too drunk to stay in the hot tub. Bea goes to bed with him, although she takes Trevor’s phone with her so that she can talk to Quinn into the night. They’re coming back in the morning, but Bea and Quinn are impatient. They enjoy talking to each other too much to spend a night away from the other.

It leaves Honey and Trevor in the hot tub, but Honey just pushes him away when he gets close and climbs out.

“Really, Trev, I’m not in the mood,” Honey says.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Trevor says. “Do you want to hang out?”

“Not particularly,” Honey replies with a little laugh. “We only really hang out when we’re hooking up, don’t we?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not how it has to be,” Trevor says. “We can hang out without hooking up.”

Honey hums. “You know, I don’t think we can,” she tells him. “Especially in a world where you don’t care about our privacy.”

Trevor’s taken aback at that. “What do you mean?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Honey mocks his voice– “‘Who’s to say I would’ve stopped even if we had been caught?’” She says, voice deep and stupid-sounding. “Your hoes might’ve found that hot, Trevor, but I don’t really think our interests align if you’re looking to keep fucking me when someone else walks in.”

Trevor stares at her, not sure what to say.

Honey clears her throat and continues. “Considering… everything.”

Trevor’s not sure what she’s referring to. “Considering… what? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just said it because, like, I wanted to make you feel good…”

Honey sighs, then nods. She forces her first couple words out, then pauses again. “You did. It’s just– I mean, I don’t want people seeing me like that. I already had one whole ‘leaked nudes’ thing, Trevor.”

Trevor’s stomach drops. He didn’t realize that his line in the car the other day had implied that he would be okay with other people seeing Honey so intimately. That’s not what he meant.

“I’m not really looking to be so exposed when people walk in on us.”

“I didn’t mean that, Honey, no,” Trevor scrambles to tell her. “I didn’t mean, like, I’d keep fucking you with them watching, it was just… heat of the moment. I wanted you to come.”

Honey presses her lips together into a line and flares her nostrils. “I get that, Trevor, I do, but it’s the way that you didn’t even think about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes. “I really didn’t mean anything by it.”

Honey ducks her head and raises a finger to silence him. She’s already climbed out of the tub and donned her sweatshirt, hiding herself from Trevor’s wandering eyes. “I know you didn’t. That’s why I didn’t blow up at you in the car. You just need to think before you speak, Trevor.”

She crosses her arm over her stomach and Trevor climbs out of the tub, sopping wet. He nears her, but makes sure that he’s not dripping on her. “I will,” he promises. “I’m just not used to– well, having to try so hard.” He ducks his head.

Honey scoffs, a breath of laughter leaving her lips. She tucks her index finger into Trevor’s waistband and pulls him closer. He’s standing right in her space and she slots her lips over his, pressing against him for a sweet, blissful, too-short taste. “Just– don’t be such a fuckboy,” she says. “I hate you less when you’re an idiot.”

“So, all the time?” Trevor jokes, finding her hand and holding it. He’s holding back, but only because he’s uncertain. Honey has that effect over him– she knows exactly what she wants always, even though she doesn’t always explain it, and Trevor is just trying the best he can. He won’t say it out loud, but he knows that she likes him and she won’t admit it. He’s just not sure how to make her like him all the time.

Honey fixes him with an unimpressed look and smiles when she shakes her head. “You’re not an idiot all the time,” she says. “You’re very perceptive. I’m the difficult one.”

Trevor mirrors her actions, shaking his own head. “You’re not difficult at all.”

Honey hums, but says nothing. She pops up onto her tiptoes to give his lips another peck, then she drops his hand. “I’m going home, and no, you can’t come,” she says with a knowing tilt of her head. “But I’ll see you tomorrow for the bonfire, yes?”

Trevor nods, hoping for another goodbye kiss, but Honey just pats his cheek. She wishes him a goodnight before walking into the house and disappearing up the stairs. Trevor hears her car start while he’s trying to figure out how to turn the hot tub off. It takes him a few minutes, then even more to fit the cover over the tub, and by the time he makes it upstairs, Cole’s light has long since been turned off and his phone is locked and plugged in on his nightstand.

34:90 – HONEY

Thwack.

Honey’s eyes widen a little and she stops chewing on her bottom lip, realizing that she’s pulling at a patch of skin that could start bleeding if she bites it any longer.

Thwack.

She instead pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and bites down on one of the temple tips, holding it between her front teeth. The tip of her tongue pokes at the very edge, sucking a bit at the silicone tip.

Thwack.

She shifts in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Bea sits next to her, one leg outstretched like she’s laying down. Her other is pulled up, heel on her chair and pulled tight against her body. One of her hands is closed around her ankle, while her other elbow rests on the arm of the chair. Her wrist bends daintily and her index finger is poised on the wet inside of her bottom lip, hooking it like she wants to tug on it but can’t.

Luke shifts another log up on its end so it’s standing in front of him. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with one hand, his curls dripping. With the other, he holds the ax that he’s using to split the wood. The muscles in his arms ripple as he grabs the ax with both hands and raises it above his head, bringing it down quickly to split the wood.

Thwack.

He’s shirtless. He’s much more tan than he was the first time they went on the boat and he’s put on some weight since the start of the summer. He’s muscular and defined, particularly in his chest and abs, and he just seems to continue to grow. He’s strong.

If Honey didn’t get it before, she does now.

Thwack.

Bea clears her throat, coughing a little bit. “He’s, um…”

“Yeah,” Honey breathes out with a slight nod, eyes still on Luke. He’s got only one log left and she’ll be damned if she misses it.

He hasn’t been quite the same since returning from Las Vegas, where they held the awards this year. He’s been pretty quiet, keeping to himself. Honey had thought they were past this, but Luke has practically reverted to how he was when he first came to Litchton. She hopes it’s just the loss on his mind, nothing more.

Luke posts the log in front of him, kicking aside some of the smaller pieces he’s already cut. Trevor has been gathering the pieces and setting them near the fire pit for the bonfire, while Quinn and Jack are cooking on the grill. Cole is inside, slicing the fruit that Honey brought over from her most recent trip to the fruit stand, but the other boys are barely a thought in the girls’ heads.

He raises the ax and Honey’s mouth grows slightly more ajar, the tip of her sunglasses pressing against the flat of her tongue now, as she watches Luke’s happy trail elongate then fold when he brings the ax down. The waistband of his underwear peeks out of his shorts.

Thwack.

The wood falls into two even parts, which Luke pushes over with the blade of the ax. He turns and lays the tool against the wall of the rink, then surveys his hands for splinters. He brushes them against his shorts, then wipes his face again.

Bea wipes the corners of her mouth with her thumb, then stands and grabs one of Luke’s hands before he even knows that she’s moving. Honey laughs when Luke trips over his own feet, pulled along by Bea towards the house.

Honey’s laughter draws Trevor’s attention, whereas Bea and Luke’s stomping feet draws Quinn and Jack’s. Eventually, Trevor realizes what Honey was laughing about and comes to gather the rest of the wood.

“Enjoy the show?” Trevor mutters, stacking the logs in his arms until he can’t carry any more. He stands to his full height, arms bursting with wood. “Should I take my shirt off and chop some wood, too, since that’s the kind of thing that leaves you and Bea drooling?”

“I think Bea would enjoy your shirtlessness much more than I would,” Honey replies, uncrossing her legs and leaning back in the chair. She uses the temple of her glasses to push her hair out of her face, then tucks the accessory back into the hair atop her head. Her least favorite thing about the summer is that it’s too hot to wear her hair down, so it’s almost always up in a half-assed bun. “Jealous much, Trevor?”

Trevor tilts his head at her, unimpressed with her response. “Luke’s not a threat to me.”

“Just like how Jamie wasn’t a threat to you?”

Honey’s proud of the comeback, smug whenever she makes Trevor quiver in his boots. She likes when she makes Trevor shut up, especially because it’s so rare according to Cole.

Trevor indeed doesn’t have a reply, just frowning at Honey and turning to deposit the wood into the pile he had made next to the fire pit.

Jack wanders over with two plates and steals Bea’s chair next to Honey. “What are we talking about?”

“Bea and Luke,” Honey says.

Jack hums, nodding slightly. “Finally his turn, eh?” He hands one of the plates to Honey, a burger and its fixings on the plate. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I brought it all.”

“Do you want my tomato?” Honey asks.

“I’ll take it,” Quinn jumps in, joining them. He pauses in front of Honey, holding his plate out so that she can drop the tomato slice onto his burger, then chooses another seat closer to the fire pit.

Trevor is kneeling at the pit, a long lighter nudging at a pile of newspaper hidden beneath the logs of wood that he had stacked into a little tower.

Once he gets the fire going, Quinn reaches out with his shoe-covered foot and kicks the boy in the arm. “Go get your dinner,” he says, then focuses on his own burger.

The Hughes boys are not the best conversationalists during meal times, Honey has learned. They often are more focused on shoveling food into their mouths than talking to those around them, which she doesn’t really mind.

There was a time in her life when she had to sit with her parents for dinner every day, no matter what her plans were or if something was bothering her. She would have to make small talk, describe what took place that day, and act polite and happy regardless of how she was actually feeling. Sometimes, she was permitted to eat in silence after she described her day. She preferred those days, even though the majority of them took place after she had decided to leave Charlotte and start anew in Litchton. Her parents knew, then, that she wouldn’t change her mind about moving to the quiet mountain town and they didn’t have much fight left in them.

Her memories of those days usually end like this when she indulges in them– she loses her appetite and her food tastes like stale nothingness, but she has to eat it anyway.

Honey’s phone buzzes in her pocket with a text from Bea.

will you fix two plates for me and luke and bring them upstairs pleeeeease?

Upon reading the text, Honey cringes. So soon? she thinks. They’ve got to be, like, mid-session. She texts such to Bea, punctuating her text with the green about-to-vomit emoji before taking another bite of her burger.

Cole joins them before Bea texts her back, dishing a bunch of fruit onto each person’s plate before fixing his own burger and choosing a seat near the bonfire. “Thanks for the food, Norris,” Cole says to Quinn before he digs in.

Quinn snorts out a little laugh, shaking his head before he thanks Cole through a mostly-chewed bite. Honey crinkles her nose, annoyed at the lack of manners each of the boys manage to have when they’re with their friends.

Trevor is fixing his plate as she reads Bea’s recent text (“not mid-session. helpppp SOS soooo hungry pls pls pls pls”). Honey looks over to where he stands, next to the plates, and sighs a little. She stands.

“Where are you going?” Cole asks.

Honey sighs audibly this time. “Apparently Bea and Luke need dinner.”

Jack snickers, popping a piece of pineapple in his mouth. It bulges in his cheek as he smiles at Honey. “And you’ve been invited to bring it to them? How lucky.”

“Fuck off,” Honey replies, narrowing her eyes at Jack. “Don’t let the flies get my food and I’ll give you an M&M, eh?” She uses his own mannerism against him, not for the first time, but it is the first time she’s alluded to knowing about Bea’s experiment.

Now that she’s thinking about it, Cole and Luke are probably the only two that don’t know about the timer. Well, maybe just Cole– Quinn probably told Luke so that they could team up against Jack in Vegas when need-be. She’s vindicated when she sees Quinn hide a smile behind his burger.

She leaves her plate on her seat, trusting that Jack will follow her directions while she’s gone. Honey joins Trevor near the grill, watching him scoop fruit onto his plate and reach for a fork.

“Come to my room later,” Trevor says at a normal volume, nonchalant.

Honey throws a look over her shoulder, but none of the other boys seem to have heard him. “What?” She asks.

“Come to my room later,” Trevor repeats. He’s not looking at her, nor is he inching closer and trying to make a move like he did the night before.

“Why?” Honey demands.

Trevor shrugs and walks away.

Honey’s nostrils flare and she grinds her teeth. Who does he think he is? Why does he think he can ask her to do something and she’ll just do it? If she makes it up to his room later, it’ll just be so that she can tell him off and render him silent yet again.

She makes two plates of food with a little anger in her actions, scooping the fruit and plopping it onto the plate. She smashes the bun on top of Bea’s burger with a little too much force, flattening the food.

She stomps up the stairs, making her presence very known as she approaches the room that Quinn and Luke, and often Bea, share. She knocks, loudly, and waits an extra second after Bea tells her that she can come in.

When she finally does open the door, she finds Bea and Luke sitting on opposite beds and Luke has gained a shirt rather than losing the rest of his clothes. Bea looks untouched and fine with it, flicking through a magazine and laying on Quinn’s bed. When Honey enters, she sits up.

“Good,” she says simply, tossing the magazine onto Quinn’s bedside table and reaching for her plate.

Honey withholds it and hands Luke his plate first.

“Why aren’t you fucking?” Honey asks, voice snarky. She’s cutting straight to the point. She’s asking Bea, but she should’ve realized that by handing Luke his plate while she asks the question, he would think that she’s addressing him. He blushes with wide eyes and his gaze falls to the floor. Honey apologizes by reaching up with her now-free hand and ruffling his curls. “Sorry, Lu.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, sounding overly innocent. “We’re very busy, Honey. We just needed some sustenance between rounds, didn’t we?”

Her last question is directed at Luke and he replies with a mumble that Honey can’t distinguish.

Bea finally manages to grab her plate from Honey and Honey sits on the bed with her. Right before she takes a bite of her burger, she explains, “Luke and I aren’t hooking up.”

Honey looks between them. “Why not?”

Luke groans and buries his face in his hands. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It is not,” Bea corrects. “It is perfectly reasonable.”

“What?” Honey demands. She throws her head back and rolls her eyes. “Why does everything have to be so dramatic all the time?”

“Like you’re any better,” Bea chastizes.

“Zip it,” Honey hisses.

Bea rolls her eyes. “Luke doesn’t want to compete with his brothers, and when I explained that he wouldn’t be competing with them when he’s with me, he told me I was a liar. To be fair, I was lying, but then as a sign of good will, I told him about the whiteboard. So we’re pretending to fuck for a while and I’ll toss him on the board, pretty high up, and we’ll convince the boys that we are fucking.”

“Seems complicated,” Honey says.

Luke is doing his best to ignore the girls, focusing on his food the same way that his brothers did down by the fire pit. Honey wonders if he and Bea had a conversation about telling her all of this, or if Bea is just talking out of her ass.

“It’s not. He doesn’t want to compete with them, but he doesn’t want them knowing that he’s not fucking me. They’d really chirp him for that.” Bea eats as she speaks, probably picking up the bad habit from the boys.

“They’ll start calling me Viagra or something,” Luke mumbles, the tips of his ears still red. It’s the first full sentence he’s said since Honey came upstairs.

Honey hums, thinking about the situation. She guesses it makes sense– she wouldn’t want to compete against three other guys if she were in Luke’s situation, especially if two of them were his brothers. Plus, sweet Luke has always seemed a little more awkward than his brothers and Bea might just be too much for him.

“Gillian’s granddaughter is coming into town later this month,” Honey says, talking to Luke although he shows no sign that he’s listening. “She just finished her first year at State. Do you want to meet her?”

Silence follows her question for a minute, until Bea laughs a little and Luke looks up. “Oh. Me?” He asks.

“Yeah, you,” Honey says, giggling. She ruffles his curls again. “She’s a sweet girl. A little awkward like you–”

“Hey,” Luke moans, frowning.

“You are,” Bea insists. “But it’s charming, Lukey.”

“– and she’s cute. You’ll like her,” Honey finishes.

Luke pouts. “What if I don’t want to meet her?”

Honey frowns at him. “That would be your decision, but I think it would be a shame if you were celibate all summer, Luke.”

“Like you?” He asks. “Hypocrite.”

Honey smiles tightly. Does he know? She looks at Bea for a split second before turning back to Luke and making eye contact. Carefully, believably, she says, “I’ve had more practice. I don’t think a famous hockey player like you is used to being single and celibate like I am.” She holds Luke’s gaze for a moment longer and he’s the first to look away.

“Fine,” he agrees, but he sounds put-out. “I’ll meet her. But only because you guys won’t tell the boys about– this.”

Honey nods, happy with the blackmail that they’ve all set up for each other. After all, she and Bea are used to blackmailing each other over worthless, trivial matters so often that it’s become one of their mantras: that blackmail is how you know that you’re really friends.

“I’m going back downstairs,” Honey says. “Have fun… talking, or whatever.”

She leaves the room and joins the group downstairs, answering all their questions with easy lies that paint a scandalous picture upstairs. Jack applauds his younger brother, while Quinn just nods along and rolls his eyes at some of Honey’s more embellished lies. Cole is excited for the younger boy and Trevor says nothing– he just sits there and eats his burger.

It’s infuriating.

Honey is even more infuriated when she realizes that Jack took a few bites out of her burger while she was gone, which leaves her silently stewing until Bea and Luke eventually return.

The sky grows dark and the stars start to twinkle while the bonfire continues. The smell is lovely and Honey hopes it lingers on her clothes.

The boys are laughing and joking around, quoting movies and retelling stories from their years together. It was funny at first, and Bea is still laughing perched on Luke’s lap, but a weird feeling washes over Honey. It’s a little nostalgic, but in the sense that she wishes she had been there to experience the stories with the boys. Their childhood was much different from her own, where her most normal friendship was with Bea and her sport was just a way to stay involved in school, something that her parents thought was incredibly important. As the stories continue, she just feels the difference between her childhood and the boys’ life, a chasm that’s growing wider with each story and cackle of laughter.

Unable to bear it any longer, Honey gathers everyone’s plates into a neat stack and heads upstairs to the kitchen. She dumps the plates in the sink and starts to run the water, letting it grow hot. She watches the faucet run for a minute, pooling along the plates and leaving a thin layer of water on the bottom of the stainless steel. When she deems the water hot enough, Honey grabs the sponge and starts washing the dishes.

“Get it together,” she mutters to herself, under her breath. The water runs down her wrists and she grabs a dishtowel from the counter behind her. When she turns back around, there Trevor is. “God, Trevor, I thought I told you to stop following me around.”

“You got quiet,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure if you had snuck away.”

Honey bites the inside of her cheek. She blinks hard, returning to the dishes. “No, I didn’t leave.”

Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, good.” He falls silent and Honey keeps scrubbing the dishes, refusing to break the silence first. Finally, in a very timid voice, Trevor asks, “Are you going to come up to my room later?”

Honey lets the plate slip from her fingers and land with a clatter in the sink. She glares at Trevor, chewing on the skin between her teeth until it aches. He’s silent, having stepped back at the drop of the plate, staring at her. Honey turns off the sink with a huff and rounds the counter. She stalks over to Trevor and grabs him by the collar, pulling him along behind her as she climbs the stairs and drags him to his bedroom. She yanks him into the room and slams the door behind them, kicking it closed with her foot. She releases his collar after planting him in front of her and she crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed and hard.

Trevor just watches her.

Honey starts to tap her foot. She shrugs, gesturing around the room. “Well, I’m here.”

Trevor’s eyes are wide and his lips are parted.

“C’mon, Trevor. You told me to come to your room. I’m here. What do you want?” Honey continues, her jaw clenched.

His eyebrows quirk and his expression shifts from surprise to befuddlement. He takes a step forward, licking his lip before he speaks. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks. “I don’t– is this still about what I said in the car? I really, really didn’t mean that, Honey. I’d never– never do something like that.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls his phone out, shutting it down and holding it out to her. “Here.”

Honey pushes his hand away and squeezes her eyes shut, rubbing harshly over her forehead. “No, it’s not, I’m just–” She cuts herself off, shaking her head. “I’m having a day. That’s all. I don’t know.” She rolls her eyes, feeling smaller, so she hugs herself again and looks away from him.

She misses the concerned tilt of his head and the way he mouths something to himself, maybe a repetition of her own words, because she’s too busy tracing the line of where Trevor’s bedroom walls meet the ceiling.

“Honey,” Trevor says.

“I know,” she says, closing her eyes briefly before tilting her head back and looking up.

“No, baby,” Trevor continues. He has stepped forward enough that he can reach out to Honey. His fingers are nudging at her elbow and when she doesn’t pull away, he strokes his hand along her arm.

“Don’t call me that,” Honey reminds him. “I’m not your baby.”

“Right.” His hand drops, but he still stands close to Honey. He hesitates, then goes for it anyway. “As I was saying. No, Your Royal Highness, you don’t have to explain yourself.”

Honey finally fixes him with a look, reproachful and annoyed. Doesn’t he understand that she needs to explain herself, compulsively, just so that he doesn’t misunderstand?

Maybe he doesn’t, and that’s the whole reason why he’s still talking.

“Do you want me to take your mind off it?” Trevor asks.

Honey furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

Trevor makes a motion like he knows he’s going to regret what he says next. “Another one of my lines. I, uh, wanted you to come up here because I… was… jealous.” He squints at her during those last three words, but she laughs instead of cringing with him.

“Of course you were,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

Trevor frowns at her, cutting her off. “So I told you to come up to my room so I could stake a claim on you.” He leans in with a little smile. “Remind you who you belong to.”

Honey’s jaw drops open at that with a loud laugh. “You’re kidding. Really?”

“Another line that doesn’t work on you?” Trevor teases. “I’m going to keep trying until I find one that works.”

Honey scoffs. “Good luck.”

“Can I kiss you?” Trevor asks.

He waits with a silly little smile on his face as she considers it. She hums a little, just delaying her answer as long as she can. Trevor knows that she’ll say yes– she likes kissing and Trevor is the only person that she’s willing to kiss at the moment.

“Fine, I guess,” Honey says like it’s a chore.

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Trevor admonishes, but he’s already leaning in. The first touch of their lips is soft, like always, and Trevor smiles into it, like always. He’s so fucking easy and it makes Honey’s stomach flutter.

She parts her lips against his, letting him lick into her mouth. Honey winds her arms over his shoulders. His hands fit over her hips comfortably and Trevor pulls her closer.

He kisses eagerly. It’s overwhelming, the way that he wants her. When he has her, he holds her tightly like he’s making sure she won’t pull away until he’s ready to let go.

That line works, Honey thinks to herself as she kisses him. She considers saying it out loud, but she’s really not interested in admitting that he’s kind-of right, knowing that it’ll make his day, his week, or possibly his whole month. He’ll never stop reminding her if she says it. Plus, it’s too late to respond to his “Can I kiss you?” from minutes ago.

Trevor’s hand distracts her, traveling up her body and underneath her shirt. His thumb sweeps over the skin just under her breast. Honey’s able to keep his lines at bay and stun him silent, but when he gets his hands on her, she feels like putty. His hands are rough against her skin and the sensation tickles Honey, drawing a noise from her throat.

“Pretty,” Trevor murmurs. “Do it again.”

Honey chuckles. “Make me,” she challenges.

Trevor groans at that, walking backwards until he makes contact with his bed. He pulls Honey with him, sitting on the edge of the bed and hauling her onto his lap. He’s petting over her skin, his fingers dancing across the expanse of her ribs before returning to her chest. Trevor palms over one of her breasts while his other hand dips into the back of her shorts. He freezes against her, pulling back slightly to look at her, and Honey bites down on her bottom lip so she doesn’t start to laugh in his face.

“Do you…?” Trevor asks, trailing off. His lips stay pursed in a tiny little ‘o’ and Honey can’t help but smile.

Trevor’s an idiot– Honey’s very fond of that. He’s a jock who likes to talk and flirt, but he’s ultimately at her mercy. She’d secretly been looking forward to this moment, although she’ll never actually admit it. She knew that Trevor would go absolutely boneless when he discovered her piercings.

Instead of replying, Honey just tilts her head to the side and blinks at him.

Trevor’s calloused thumb slowly starts to scrape against her again, nearing her sensitive areola and the bars that go through her nipples. He groans when he contacts the stainless steel, pushing against her responsive peaks. Thirsty for more, Trevor pinches the hem of her shirt and tugs at it. Honey allows him to draw her shirt over her head.

Trevor growls at the sight of her bare chest, the sound settling in Honey’s stomach and demolishing the butterflies that had been flying around in there. He abandons her lips to latch onto her breast, running the tip of his tongue over her jewelry and nibbling his way across her chest.

Honey’s eyelids are fluttering with his movements, her fingers tangling in his hair and using her grip to ground herself. Her head rolls back and her chest presses forward, her hips rocking against his lap.

“Honey,” Trevor moans, cupping her breasts and squeezing them.

“Hm?” She responds.

“You’re so pretty,” he compliments.

Honey’s eyes are locked on his lips, all pink and puffy from kissing all over her. She seals her mouth over his, letting her tongue lick over his, swallowing the moan that rises from his chest. He rocks up against her and Honey sighs at the contact. She rolls her hips down to meet his, feeling more relaxed and lazy with each touch.

Trevor’s eyelids flutter with each blink, closing briefly at times and recovering rapidly other times. He kisses against her neck, small prints on her skin developing as he sucks, then releases her and moves to the next spot.

“I want–” Trevor says against her neck, letting his teeth scrape over the curve of her jaw. Honey cuts him off by dipping her head and kissing over his own neck, which leaves him keening beneath her. His hips jerk, jostling Honey on top of him. His hand finds its way completely into her shorts, clutching at her skin and increasing the pressure between the two of them. “Fuck, gonna make me come in my shorts,” he whines. It sounds like a complaint, but he keeps her clothed cunt flush against his bulge and continues to rock forward.

“You’re worse than Jack,” she bites back, keeping her voice steady although she’s pressing into Trevor. She wants to see him come again, wants to make it happen without using her hands or her mouth. She wants to be able to pull at his hair and kiss his lips and feel him unravel beneath her.

“Nuh-uh,” Trevor denies. It’s silly and petulant and it makes Honey giggle.

She speeds up, determined to make him fall apart. She bites his neck and he shudders under her teeth.

“Thought you brought me up here to stake a claim on me,” Honey teases. “But here you are, shivering because there’s a pretty girl sitting on your cock. Seems to me like you’re my bitch, Trev.”

“I’m only letting that slide because I’m about to come,” Trevor grits out, bringing a hand to the back of her neck and rejoining their lips with a clash.

“Then come,” Honey says. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Brat,” Trevor bites out with a venom, stunning Honey for a moment, then making her giggle and double her efforts.

“That’s right,” she praises, petting his hair out of his face. “So smart, Trevor.”

He ignores her teases and buries his face in her neck, sucking harshly and making her moan. He ruts up, the friction between them delicious and pushing Honey towards her own orgasm, which is just about to crest and bubble over when Trevor breaks first.

His shorts start to develop a wet patch where the head of his cock rests. Trevor continues to rock against Honey, groaning and nuzzling against her. His cock softens beneath her and Honey wants to whine because she was so close and he bit the bullet. He’s still nipping at her neck, making his way up to her lips, but she doesn’t let him find his mark.

Honey climbs off of him, but Trevor keeps his arm around her waist and pulls her back down onto the bed. He rolls into her space, covering her with his body and kissing over her face. “Where are you going?” He asks. “Stay with me tonight.”

Honey pushes his face away and glares at him. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Trevor whines, letting one of his hands find her boobs again. He toys with her nipples until she’s squirming. “I want to make you come. Then we can cuddle all night long and go again in the morning.”

Honey rolls her eyes. He says it like the most enticing thing in the world is hanging out together and hooking up, but it’s not. She’s annoyed that she didn’t get to come and he did, so she just wants to go home. She wiggles out of his grasp and slinks off the bed, finding her shirt on the ground and pulling it over her head. “I’m okay. I can make myself come, thanks.”

“Honey,” Trevor complains, drawing her name out and standing to follow after her.

Her hand is on the doorknob when she turns to face him, looking him up and down. “Trevor, I promise you don’t want to follow me with that wet spot on your shorts.”

He stops. He looks down. Then, he cringes and adjusts himself over his shorts, folding his hands over the patch of cum and blushing.

Honey’s hair, now a little looser in its bun, whips around as she leaves. She sneaks out of the house easily, hearing laughter ringing in the backyard as she goes. The sky is dark and the drive home is quick, with Honey speeding around the curves of the mountain the way that only a practiced Litchton resident can.

She slams each door that she encounters when she passes through it, stomping up to her lofted bedroom and crashing onto her bed. She doesn’t even want to come anymore, too annoyed with Trevor to give into the gnawing tension in her stomach. Plus, she’s still on her period. She doesn’t feel like going to get a towel to lay on, even though it’ll keep her sheets clean. Also, she’s still feeling weird after the boys’ childhood stories around the bonfire. If there’s anything Honey hates, anything that can ruin her mood, it’s feeling like she’s out of place.

She’ll just go to bed instead of dwelling on it, she decides, and closes her eyes. She falls asleep right there in her clothes and she won’t wake until Bea breaks in the following morning to gather up her whiteboard and expo markers.

35:90 – TREVOR

Trevor wakes to a loud bang, like someone is smashing into his bedroom door. He scrambles up and gathers the covers against his chest, cowering in the corner of his bed as the same noise sounds again.

“Maybe try the knob,” Bea suggests sarcastically. “I mean, come on, Cole. It’s not like he locked it.”

The knob jiggles and Trevor quickly drops the covers to his lap to make a lump that hides his morning wood– he’s lucky Honey didn’t stay like he asked her to, especially since she doesn’t want anyone to find out.

Cole crashes into his room, looking disappointed that there’s nothing scandalous taking place in Trevor’s room. Bea stands behind him, arms crossed over her chest.

“I expect you to be downstairs in no more than five minutes,” Bea announces. “I have a special presentation and it requires your presence.”

Trevor rubs his eyes with a fist and yawns. “Noted.”

“Get a move on,” she tells him, then beckons Cole and they leave. They don’t close his door, to Trevor’s annoyance. He can hear them moving down the hall to Jack’s room, where Cole begins the same routine of barging against Jack’s door until Bea tells him to check the knob.

Trevor thinks that he wants to knock the door down in front of Bea as a feat of strength, but he just doesn’t have the momentum or body mass to do so.

Trevor grumbles as he crawls out of bed, digging for a shirt after applying his deodorant. He scrubs over his face again, evaluating himself in the mirror. He needs to shave whenever Bea is done with her special presentation.

He comes down the stairs a few minutes later, teeth freshly brushed and hair combed. He delayed as long as he could, but he knows Bea will come looking for him if he doesn’t make his way downstairs.

He’s the last to make it to the living room, where Bea is standing on the raised edge of the fireplace, next to an easel that holds a board, hidden beneath a fitted sheet that she probably pulled out of the laundry. There are no seats left for him– Cole is reclining back in the La-Z-Boy and the Hughes brothers are squished together on the couch. Glowering between Quinn and Jack is the object of Trevor’s affection, a Honey that’s still clinging to sleep and wearing the skimpiest pajamas known to man, a tiny white tank top with the thinnest spaghetti straps Trevor has ever seen and old boxers that are rolled at the waistband to fit her hips.

And ratty old slippers that look like cows.

If this is how she looks when she rolls out of bed in the morning, Trevor’s got a pretty good life ahead of him.

Then, he realizes what he just thought and shakes himself out of it. Life? he asks himself. You’re still not sure if she’ll let you kiss her again, moron.

“Now that you’re finally here, Trevor,” Bea says pointedly, frowning at him. “My presentation can begin.”

She whips the blanket off of the easel just as Honey yawns and lets her head fall on Jack’s shoulder, so Trevor misses the reveal of Bea’s whiteboard. He’s too busy watching how Honey smacks her lips lazily after she yawns. When Trevor does turn to look at the board, he’s assaulted by large, bright block letters that read: “Bea’s Definitive Favorite Boy!”

Bea is grinning wide, running her hands over the edges of the board like a game show host presenting a new car.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Trevor complains, rolling his eyes. “This is what you woke me up for?”

He could’ve been asleep in bed for another hour. Hell, he doesn’t understand why Bea had to do this first thing in the morning when she could’ve just come over after her normal church trip. He also doesn’t understand why he has to be here– he and Bea are barely friends. The only thing they have in common is Honey and the only thing Trevor has that the other boys don’t– when it comes to Bea– is her phone number.

Bea’s smile drops. So do her hands, landing limp by her sides. She frowns.

“Shut up, Zegras,” Quinn snaps. It’s nothing new for him to make Quinn mad, so his reaction doesn’t faze Trevor. What does faze Trevor is the reaction of the girl next to him.

“That’s not very nice, Trevor,” Honey murmurs quietly, still sleepy. She’s cuddled up against Jack’s arm now, head still on his shoulder, and her eyelids are drooping.

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Go on, Bea, I want to know why I’m an 8.0.”

Trevor finally looks at the list and the ratings, having only gotten as far as the title before he had to say something.

Each name is written in black marker, but their numbers are in an array of colors. Bea has even used her markers to draw little symbols next to each person’s name: a heart next to Quinn’s, a star next to Cole’s, a flower with Luke’s, and a little candy next to Jack.

Quinn - 9.4

Cole - 8.0

Luke - 6.9

Jack - 6.6

“I’m not even on the list,” Trevor grumbles, then falls quiet. He does it for Honey’s sake, really, reading through the lines of her statement a moment ago and understanding the unspoken command to shut up. He just had to get one final comment in to express his distaste for being awoken for something so trivial.

Bea makes a face at him, angry and frustrated with his reaction to her board, then she gestures to the board. “I can’t tell you why you’re an eight,” she says to Cole. “Because I can’t tell you what my points system is. I want to see how long it takes for you guys to figure it out.”

“So it’s not just general points?” Jack asks.

“Wondering how you can get a higher spot on the ranking?” Honey teases, her tone setting off a bomb in Trevor’s stomach. She can’t just talk to Jack like that– she’s only ever supposed to softly tease him, take the piss out of him. Not Jack.

“You’ll just have to be extra good this week,” Bea reveals to Jack like it was some great secret.

Obviously, that’s how you grow in the ranks, Trevor thinks. You’re not going to get anywhere by being on bad behavior, Jack.

“So what, you’re going to update the board weekly?” Quinn asks, a little smile on his face as Bea turns her attention to him.

“Whenever I need to,” Bea replies, widening her eyes like she’s flashing them at the boy. Trevor notices that the lines on her face fade a bit when she talks to Quinn and that her shoulders relax.

“Yeah, Quinn, so your first place isn’t safe,” Cole baits, sticking his tongue out at the boy.

“I think I’ll be okay,” Quinn replies, leaning back into the couch cushions. He places his arm over the back of the couch, practically encircling Honey’s shoulders. Trevor wishes that they were on the ice so that he could trip the boy– and, ideally, get away with it.

“So you really won’t tell us how we can improve,” Luke says, really just clarifying and making sure.

Bea thinks on it for a second and looks to Honey, who shakes her head and draws herself up to a position where she’s sitting on her own. She stretches her arms out in front of her with another yawn, then covers her mouth and speaks through the intake of air. “It’s more fun this way. Half the brilliance of the board is that you have no idea and Bea and I do.”

“I’ll give y’all one pass, though,” Bea says. “First boy to be ready for church gets a point-one added to his score.”

Jack is the first person up, shaking the couch. Luke races after him, not wanting his score to drop below Jack’s. Cole and Quinn are much more relaxed about the incentive, meandering up the stairs. Trevor doesn’t move an inch.

“No church for you today, Trev?” Bea asks.

“I don’t see how it benefits me. I’m not on the list,” Trevor replies.

Bea stops what she’s doing– gathering her markers– and faces him. She looks to Honey, then back to Trevor. “Trevor, dear,” she starts sweetly, although Trevor understands that her sweetness is dripping with poison. “You’re not on the list because I’m not having sex with you. I have no interest in speculating about how good you are in bed and I don’t believe anything that Honey’s told me about your abilities. You’re a nuisance and I hope you get a charley horse cramp next time you’re on the ice.”

She picks up her whiteboard and walks away, going down into the basement.

Honey stretches out on the couch again, cracking her knuckles.

“You talk about me?” Trevor asks, hoping that Honey will play along and ignore everything else Bea said.

“Well, I’m going to talk about how rude you are with Bea after she gets back from church,” Honey replies snarkily. “Honestly, Trevor, do you have to be a douche?”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Trevor defends himself.

“You were a jerk and for what?” Honey demands, seeming very awake now. “Because we woke you up? I got woken up too, Trevor, and I had to come all the way over here from my house. You got to walk down some stairs and you have the nerve to complain more than I do?”

Trevor is surprised by her sharp words, taking a step back. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“‘Sorry,’” Honey repeats, mocking him. “God, Trevor. You really do piss me off sometimes.” She stands from the couch, which draws Trevor’s eyes. Her tank top has ridden up, revealing a little sliver of skin that he wants to bite. He takes in her nipples, which he can see through her top, and he’s surprised that he never noticed the piercings before. They’re obvious. His eyes come up to her collarbones, and her neck–

Covered in little bite marks.

Trevor grins, staring at her.

Honey’s eyebrows tilt down and her expression grows perturbed, suspicious of him. “What are you smiling at?”

“Look in a mirror lately?” Trevor asks, bringing his hand up and gesturing at his neck, pointing out spots that mirror the location of the hickeys he left on Honey’s body. “Surprised you came over here in so little. I would’ve expected you to wear a scarf, since you don’t want anyone knowing about us.”

“What?” Honey asks, reaching up to feel over her neck like the bruised skin is raised. She goes to the hallway, craning her head to the side and examining her skin in the mirror.

Trevor goes to stand behind her, still at a distance, and Honey’s eyes meet his in the reflection. She looks downright murderous.

“This is all your fault,” she hisses, whirling around and stomping up to him just so that she can push his chest and make him stumble backwards into the wall.

“At least you look good in purple,” Trevor says with a cheshire-like smile on his face. He means the compliment earnestly, even though Honey is angry with him and already making her way to the front door.

“You– fuck off, Trevor,” is the last thing she says before wrenching the door open and slamming it behind her.

Trevor can’t help himself– he’s pulling out his phone and using her number for the first time since she yelled at him for texting her at work. He types out a quick little message, one that he knows Honey will hate and probably pretend like she never received, but now he’s got two thoughts running through his mind: one, that Honey does look very good in purple, and two, that she talks to Bea about him. And his abilities.

He sends a picture of his own neck, a big purple bruise that he noticed before he walked downstairs, right at the juncture where his neck meets his shoulder. “It’s a group effort & I’m glad you’re my partner ;)” is the final draft of the text, sent without a second thought.

Of course she’ll never reply to him, but Trevor is satisfied with the fact that she’ll have to walk around for the next couple of days knowing that he marked her up and only time will help those marks fade.

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #cole caufield #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl smut #nhl fanfiction

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puck-luck · 5 months ago

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new beginnings | june 3 - june 9

note: this chapter features me trying to find the right balance between "slow burn😈" and "OH MY GOD I'M SO BORED CAN THEY FUCK ALREADY", so enjoy that.

here is a link to chapter one! if you've forgotten what took place, i recommend skimming, or just read day 7 over again!

8:90 – HONEY

Mondays are Honey’s lazy days. It’s the last day of her weekend, since The Reading Nook isn’t open. She usually spends her day doing laundry and cooking for the week, but today, all she wants to do is lay in bed.

She hasn’t been unproductive, per se. She started her laundry and took a shower, even shaved her legs. She replaced her sheets, and then the allure of her bed called her back in. She cocooned herself under the covers and cracked open the book from her bedside table, but Honey’s eyes have just been sliding over the page. Her mind is elsewhere.

She can’t stop thinking about Saturday night.

It was fun. She had fun.

From the first moment, she was comfortable. The boys treated her and Bea like their friends, people that they’d known for longer than a week. She had been apprehensive at first, then thankful that Bea was willing to leave with her if she wanted to, but she never really wanted to leave. The time just came and she knew that she couldn’t be there any longer.

The second Jack opened the door and she saw Luke and Cole holding Trevor back, she just felt light.

Since leaving home, she really only had Bea. The old ladies are friendly enough, but it’s not the same. Before coming to Litchton, Honey and Bea went to a big high school. They knew a lot of people between the two of them and Bea was captain of the school’s state-championship-winning volleyball team their senior year. Honey’s parents were well known in the community and they were really involved in their church.

She went from having plans every night with her friends, sneaking out of the house to get up to no good because she wasn’t legal yet, and being miserable because she was overcompensating for a feeling she couldn’t describe to… asking her best friend to go off grid with her in a tiny town that no one from their hometown knew. And Bea came.

Honey was happier this way, and Bea could adapt to any situation with a little time so long as the illusion of adventure was intact, but it was still lonely. She loves the home she made for herself in Litchton and how it taught her to be an adult, her own person rather than a version of her that was molded from her surroundings. At the same time, she misses knowing people her age.

Litchton, as great as it was to Honey, was the kind of little town that you flee when you leave for college after living there your whole life. The only time you come back is when you’re starting your family, or maybe even after your kids move away and you crave that small town life your parents enjoyed so much.

Or, if you’re Honey’s dad, you vacationed in the town as a kid and wanted your child to have the same experience.

Long story short? There is an abundance of people under 18 and over the age of 50 in Litchton, but not so many 19-30 year olds.

It’s more of a problem for Bea. She’s the one who’s looking for a relationship. Honey is not looking for that. She’s not.

It’s nice to have a few new friends, though. Not Trevor, really, even though he seems desperate for Honey’s attention. Honey didn’t talk much with Luke, since the boy was quiet for most of the night. The most animated she saw him was when Trevor started his Zulu Run and Luke cheered him on. Quinn was at the pool table the whole night… until he was upstairs… but he seems like a cool guy. Jack is easy enough to talk to, when he’s not flirting.

Honey’s not ashamed to admit that her favorite is Cole. He’s a sweetheart with a charming smile and thoughtful intentions. He’s a good person. Honey kind of wishes that she had met him when she and Bea first became friends– she can only imagine how precious he was as a child. Their trio would have been something the other kids envied and Honey and Cole would’ve been each others’ date to prom.

He would’ve fit in really well with them, she thinks. He’s kind of like the male version of Bea. Maybe that’s why she likes him so much.

Her phone rings and it’s Bea’s name that flashes across the screen, speak of the Devil.

Honey answers and starts to say hello, but Bea cuts her off.

“I’m at your front door,” she says, then the line goes dead.

Honey pulls the phone away from her ear and stares at the screen. She scoffs and shakes her head, tossing the covers off and swinging her legs around the side of the bed. She’s just in the old boxers that she stole from her last boyfriend and a bralette, her laziest outfit. She doesn’t even consider changing as she walks to the door and opens it. Bea’s seen all this, and more, before.

“Good, you’re not wearing clothes,” Bea breathes out in relief as a greeting. She pushes past Honey and makes her way towards the bedroom. “I was going to make you take them off for this anyway.”

Honey rolls her head back and fakes a snore. She closes the front door and trails after Bea, finding the girl sitting on her bed when she reenters the room.

“Okay, before we get started, I want to give you a chance to tell me about your night after I left the room,” Bea says. “Oh, and I should probably tell you that Trevor was upset that you weren’t at church yesterday.”

“Okay,” Honey replies, her laugh strained. “That’s… weird.”

He likes you. He’s good. He’s trying. You should like him too.

Honey shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Not much happened. Trevor did his Zulu Run, each of the boys chose a song for him to run to, and I left during Cole’s song. Jack walked me to the door.”

“Oh,” Bea drawls. She tilts her chin up and taps her nose. It’s a habit they both picked up when they were teenagers– a secret signal of sorts when they were talking shit at parties in their younger years. They do it when something is too ‘on the nose.’ It’s supposed to be clever– Honey thought of it. “So that’s why Trevor pushed Jack up against the wall, while he was naked, might I add, and asked him what the hell he was doing?”

Honey freezes, lips parted in surprise. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she hopes that she looks judgmental enough to hide the shock.

Bea tilts her head to the side slowly and smiles up at Honey, pulling one of her braids over her shoulder and twisting the end between her fingers. “Isn’t that so… interesting…?”

Honey licks along her top row of teeth and seethes at Bea. “No,” she snaps. “I don’t find that interesting.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you can’t fight this forever, Honey. I’m going to get you laid this summer, while we have this many willing participants, whether you like it or not.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you did with Quinn? I know that’s why you’re here.”

Bea’s face lights up and she grins from ear to ear. “Honey, I know they’re all athletes, but, like… holy shit.”

She jumps into a long winded story that begins with the second Quinn bent over her to hit the 8 ball and she felt him against her behind. (“He wasn’t even hard yet, and I was practically swooning!”) Bea is gesticulating wildly, miming her movements and even climbing onto Honey’s lap at one point to recreate the position Quinn had her in.

Bea’s downright dirty about it, and Honey squirms a bit. This happens every time Bea hooks up with someone, but it never becomes more comfortable for Honey.

After Bea finishes describing the way that Quinn groaned when he came, all the while Honey is cringing because she’ll never look at Quinn the same again, she says: “You know, if you just started having sex again, I wouldn’t have to describe my hijinks to you.”

Honey laughs out loud, her jaw dropping at the statement. “You’re a liar!” She accuses, pointing a finger at Bea and pushing her over on the bed.

Bea giggles into the covers, hiding her face from Honey. She shrugs and nods along as Honey continues her accusation.

“We’re going to keep doing this shit until the day we die!” Honey exclaims, her cheeks tight with how wide her smile is. Laughs keep bubbling up from her chest and interrupting her sentences. “Buzzy, when you get pregnant, I genuinely think you’re going to find some sperm and shove it up my cooch so we’re ‘experiencing everything at the same time.’ You freak!”

Bea howls with laughter, clutching at her stomach. “Fuck off!”

“I swear! When you get married, I’m going to have to get an IUD just so I’m not fearing for my fucking life the whole time,” Honey retorts, grabbing her pillow from near the headboard. She whacks Bea with it as the girl squeals and tries to avoid the weapon.

After a satisfying hit to the side of Bea’s head and a groan of contempt, Honey throws her pillow back up to the headboard and collapses into her sheets, her head turned to face Bea’s. They giggle and blink at each other for a minute, breathing in the smell of Honey’s fresh laundry.

Honey’s eyes are half-covered by the top sheet and for a moment, when she catches a glimpse of Bea’s flushed cheeks, she thinks of all the times that they had sleepovers in Honey’s childhood bedroom and stayed up all night trying to stifle their laughter.

Honey pushes herself up from her position and shuffles under the covers, pulling the sheets up to her chest. Bea joins her with a little groan. They sit together, facing forward, mirror images of each other.

“Was he really that good?” Honey asks softly.

“Better than Overalls Joe,” Bea replies.

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

Honey turns over, leaning against her pillow. Bea follows her lead and faces her, her hand tucked below her cheek in a little fist. Her face scrunches, catching on the skin of her palm.

“Does that change anything?” Honey asks. “Are you still going to hook up with all of them?”

Bea nods tentatively. She breathes out a sigh. “For a second, after we finished, I thought about not telling him. He was so sweet and great that I thought maybe I wouldn’t want to go through with everything, and you know how much I love the strong, silent type, but like. I don’t know.”

Honey searches her face for a clue. Bea still looks just as uncertain as she’s describing. She purses her lips and avoids eye contact with Honey, turning so she’s facing the ceiling.

“You thought that you’d change your mind and you’d want a monogamous hookup situation, but when you finished with Quinn, you hadn’t,” Honey supplies. She’s still laying on her side, looking at Bea’s profile.

Bea bites the insides of her cheeks. “Yeah.”

“And you felt bad.”

“Yeah.”

“And you still feel bad.”

“Yeah.”

Honey finally shifts to lay on her back, reaching over to take Bea’s hand. They stare up at the fan on Honey’s ceiling. It’s dusty. Honey makes a mental note to clean it later.

“He reacted well when I told him,” Bea says. “He was surprised, which I get, but then he kind of just shrugged. He said if I wanted to have a Slut Summer, then he wasn’t going to stop me. I referred to it as a Slut Summer first, by the way. He wasn’t being an asshole about it.”

“Do you regret it?” Honey asks.

“I needed to tell him. It would be so unfair to Quinn if I hooked up with him, got his hopes up, and then hooked up with one of his brothers.” Bea shrugs and shakes her head. “I feel gross about it because I know he was disappointed for a second, but I’d feel grosser if I didn’t tell him.”

“How did he act after you told him? After the shrug?”

“Well, he also told me that he just got out of a relationship, and then he acted normal for the rest of the day. He drove the boys to church and drove me home after. He was touching me in some way almost the whole time.” Bea drops Honey’s hand and picks at a hangnail. “And we made out when we were at my place.”

Honey’s lower lip juts out in an unimpressed look before she smiles. Good for Bea.

But she's not finished.

“I just— I saw how he looked at me when I first propositioned him.” Bea covers her face with both of her hands. “And he told me that if this had gone down when he was younger, it would've ruined him. I know he meant it to lighten the tension because he laughed… but, like… I can’t get that image out of my head. Baby Quinn getting his heart broken by a girl who didn't want more from him. It makes me feel like shit.”

“Maybe you should go over there,” Homey suggests. “You should talk to him some more and clear the air.”

“I can’t,” Bea complains. “I can't let him know that I care. Then he’ll have all the power.”

Honey rolls her eyes. “I don't think that’s how this works.”

“It's how I think it works!”

“Okay.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Honey picks up her book from her nightstand and begins to read. Bea stares at the ceiling.

Ten minutes of thought later, she sits up abruptly.

“I'm going home,” Bea announces and leaves the bed, pulling her shoes on. “I'm drinking some of my calming tea and going to bed. I’ll see you at the store tomorrow?”

Honey looks over to her clock and snorts out a laugh. It’s only 5:15 in the evening. Bea’s going to be overtired by the time she wakes up in the morning. She’s planning to sleep for almost sixteen hours. “Be at work at ten,” Honey tells her. “You're scheduled then and the ladies are coming in.”

“Yadda yadda,” Bea replies, then waves goodbye and blows Honey a kiss. “I’ll get there when I get there, like every day other than Friday.”

Honey sniffs out a laugh, then returns to her book. It's just now getting good. The story follows a girl who is trying to create an anthology based on her hometown’s history and she’s spent the past few weeks interviewing the townies and local historians, just to stumble upon a town secret that no one really wants to talk about.

Honey thinks it’s the best book she’s read so far this year.

Her alarm beeps at a quarter to six, and Honey puts her book away. She stretches under the covers, groaning at the satisfying pop of her joints as she does so. Honey throws the covers off of herself and leaves them messy as she changes out of her pajamas and into some spandex shorts and a long t-shirt.

She grabs her mesh shoulder bag and her car keys, ready to head to the fruit stand outside of the grocery store. She had finished her peaches halfway through the week last time, so she needs to buy more today. She’s feeling like blueberries would be a good investment– maybe some blackberries.

Honey keeps her head down, parking near The Reading Nook and walking along the sidewalk. She shuffles by a few townies with a nod, and turns the corner. She stops dead in her tracks.

Trevor.

He’s standing at the stand, two paper bags in his arms. He’s chatting with the vendor, a sweet woman named Joan who’s been working the booth for twenty years. She’s laughing and smiling at him and holding another little bag. Trevor bends at the knee and makes a joke as she tries to balance it precariously on top of his other groceries.

Honey just hopes he’s leaving soon. She walks up to the booth and starts to peruse the apples, keeping to herself and hoping Trevor doesn’t see her before she leaves.

It’s a futile effort and she knows it.

“Honey!” Joan exclaims. “How are you doing, my dear?”

Honey smiles, soft and sweet at the woman. “Hi, Joan. I’m okay. I did some chores today, so I’m just happy to be out and about.”

“Well, you just let me know what you’re looking for today and I’ll give you my best,” Joan promises and leaves Honey to browse.

“Hi,” Trevor says.

“Hello, Trevor,” Honey replies, not even looking up at him as she scans the selection for the best looking fruit.

“Do you like tarts?” Trevor asks.

“They’re fine,” Honey replies. She picks up a carton of raspberries, ripe and red. “I prefer turnovers.”

“I was thinking about trying to bake something later,” Trevor tells her.

“That’s nice,” Honey says. She’s not an idiot. She knows what he’s hinting at. Trevor wants to hang out with her again, this time in a much more intimate setting. She’d be at their house, because she would not allow him to invite himself over, but the presence of the other boys wouldn’t mean much. “I’m sure Cole would love to watch you try to bake some tarts.”

“Cole would be a disaster,” Trevor laughs, like Honey just made the best joke he’s heard all day.

“Maybe he would surprise you.” Honey turns to Joan, holding up her raspberries. “Are these ready? Or should I wait a little while for the next batch?”

“You know what I always say, Honey,” Joan answers. “The second batch is always the best.”

“Good point. Do you have a quart of blueberries around here somewhere?” Honey scans the stand, but she doesn’t see them.

Joan points to the other end of the stand, past Trevor.

For the first time since making it to the stand, Honey looks up at Trevor. She makes eye contact. His eyes are green and he’s happy and there’s this tiny smile on his face as he looks down at her.

“Excuse me,” Honey says. She tries to keep her voice hard, disinterested.

Trevor continues to smile down at her, arms full of groceries. She focuses on the point slightly past him and squeezes by, her back towards the stand. She tries to avoid shoulder-checking him, but they brush arms anyway. Trevor’s skin is warm against hers, even if it’s just a fleeting pass.

“Would you like to come over and bake with me?” Trevor asks. “I’ll let you take home half the goods. I need someone with some experience to help me out, I’m not much of a baker and you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

It’s an enticing offer, only because Honey had so much fun the other night. She could probably convince all the other boys to help, and Trevor would hate that her attention isn’t completely on him.

“What kind of tarts?” Honey asks. “If I like the flavor, then I’ll come over.”

Trevor’s smile splits his face like he knows something Honey doesn’t. “Joan just sold me some of her best strawberries.” He tosses the older woman a wink.

“What a shame,” Honey muses, and bites back a smile at the way Trevor’s face falls. “I’m allergic.”

“What?” He asks, genuinely taken aback. “Bea said–” He cuts himself off and his eyes go wide, flushing to the tips of his ears at the inadvertent admission.

“‘Bea said?’” Honey repeats, tilting her head to the side. “What did Bea say?”

Trevor scowls at the ground and scuffs his shoes against the sidewalk. “She said you would like strawberries if I bought them for you,” he grumbles.

“Oh, poor baby,” Honey teases. “She tricked you, and you fell for it.”

Trevor rolls his eyes, but Honey can tell that he’s a little bit pleased with the endearing term, even as mean as she said it.

“Go home, Trevor,” Honey says, her voice turning despondent instead of laced with laughter. “Don’t ask Bea for help with me again. If you want to win me over, you have to do it yourself.”

“Me-ow,” Joan chirps, reminding Honey that they have an audience.

Honey picks up a quart of blueberries and hands Joan a few dollars for the berries, placing the basket in her bag. She grabs a few peaches on the way back to her car, the payment covering the cost of those as well. She walks back to her car, catching a glimpse of Trevor loading his groceries into the trunk of his car. She quirks her eyebrows as she sees him scrub his hands over his face and pat his cheek, not unlike the wake up call she gave Jack on Saturday, saying something to himself.

Whatever. Honey came out on top of that conversation, yet again. One good night at the boys’ house doesn’t mean that Honey wants to hang out with Trevor again, even if she’s bringing donuts over on Friday.

9:90 – TREVOR

Trevor gave up on trying to fall asleep around 4 a.m. after tossing and turning all night. For a while, he scrolled on his phone and caught up with his friends’ Instagram posts. The rental house has WiFi, but it’s notoriously terrible being in the mountains and all, so Trevor’s stuff never loads. In the early morning hours, while none of the other boys are awake and scrolling, he’s able to load up three TikToks in a row once he tires of Instagram. It’s a luxury he hasn’t experienced in over a week.

He chalks it up to excitement for the day– they’re getting to go on the ice for the first time since coming to North Carolina. Quinn is planning on packing up Trevor’s car around 9 and they’ll be on the road to Bojangles Coliseum, home of the Charlotte Checkers, soon after that. Trevor can’t wait to be back on the ice and have a real hockey practice, even if it’s self-led.

But, at the same time, Trevor can’t chalk all of his inability to sleep up to excitement for the day.

No, some, if not most, of his inability to sleep was due to the fool he made of himself yesterday.

He was so close to getting Honey to come over, so close to getting her alone in something that he could call a date, even if she didn’t consider it to be one. He had blindly trusted Bea, something he now knows not to do, and gone with the strawberries rather than ask Honey what kind of pastry she’d like most.

Of course she’s allergic to strawberries– it only makes sense that Honey’s conniving best friend wants to enjoy Trevor’s plundering just as much as Honey does.

And Trevor knows that she enjoys it.

Poor baby.

Even with the ounces of condescension pooling around the words, Trevor cannot stop them from ringing through his head on a loop. Baby, baby, baby. He’s never been one for pet names, preferring his name or to be called Z, but he sort of wanted to fall at Honey’s knees and beg her to keep calling him that.

Which is peculiar.

Because Trevor doesn’t fall to his knees for anything, much less a girl, and much less one he barely knows.

He can’t seem to shake Honey from his mind, though. Part of it might be the fact that he’s not in a relationship at the moment and he’s used to being in the city over the summer, where he can go to bars and the country club and chat up plenty of nice girls his age. Trevor’s not sure that’s the case, though. It’s a good excuse, but he knows deep down that the reason he can’t shake Honey from his mind is that he likes her. He wants her to like him, too.

Disgusting.

He’s in his early twenties. He has no desire to settle down with someone yet, especially not at this point in his career. The hockey life is hard for him. He can only imagine how hard it would be for someone who had never been a part of that world, who had never had to deal with the constant travel and practices and commitments of the job.

And yet, he keeps catching himself thinking of moments where Honey is part of his life. She’s not, and he knows she’s not, but like when she came over on Saturday: she went toe-to-toe with Jack, decimated him enough that Cole gave her a trophy and a hug, and dominated the pool table. She never went easy on Trevor, nor on the other guys, and she fit. She was happy to be there, even when she caught herself and took a step back.

Trevor can’t wait to see how beautiful she looks when she finally lets loose.

He’s a little embarrassed by his actions after she left, but only because he knows that the story has probably gotten back to her. Bea probably told her all about how Trevor pushed Jack up against the wall for getting Honey alone, probably overexaggerating the story to make Trevor look more like a fool. Obviously they didn’t do anything– Honey turned Jack down earlier in the night– but Trevor felt a very unfamiliar clench of rage in his gut that caused him to lash out at his best friend.

Not his most shining moment.

He would absolutely do it again.

However, Trevor will never get the chance to do it again if Honey never comes back to hang out with him.

But he keeps coming back to those strawberries. Strawberries, Bea said. Trevor was a fool for thinking Bea would really teach him all the ways to get in with Honey. When Honey turned him down, and told him the reason, it took Trevor by surprise and he slipped up. He revealed that he had asked Bea for help and Honey grew delightedly wicked at the mention. Trevor watched her eyes light up, the joy fill them as she gained an opportunity to tear him down.

She loves to be in control, loves it to the point of reinforcing her walls that she’s built up for years and years, Trevor assumes, at any opportunity. He saw it in the way she switched from teasing to curt and serious within a moment.

When he texted Bea afterward, upset and biting like a rabid dog, all Bea replied was: “you were never going to get her with my help. stop using me as a crutch. freak.”

And then an hour later, “do u think quinn is mad at me”, which Trevor never replied to, because he had no interest in asking Quinn if he was “mad at Bea.”

All he cares about is if Honey is mad at him.

She didn’t seem like she was. Trevor just has a feeling that something is off and he needs to find a way to make up for it before he loses his chance to win her over. It’s dramatic, yes, but he needs to be on her good side. He needs it.

He cannot possibly think about this any longer.

Trevor swings his legs over the side of the bed and patters down to the kitchen, phone in hand. He printed out the recipe the day prior, preparing for Honey to come over and bake with him, but he had been too pouty to follow the directions last night.

He already can’t sleep, so he might as well cook. The sooner he makes those tarts, the sooner his housemates eat them all, which is ideal since he wants to forget this exchange as soon as possible.

Trevor had bought these mini tart shells the day before, pre-baked and thrown into the fridge haphazardly in his frustration. He takes them out to prepare, then assembles the rest of his ingredients.

It’s slightly therapeutic, the baking. He blends ingredients together with a wooden spoon until the lumps are gone, he lets the ingredients simmer over apple juice. He watches as it solidifies and goes from two separate solids and liquids into a sugary glaze. He pours the glaze over the tarts and arranges the strawberries on top of the little shells. It takes him a while to get them all perfectly balanced. They kept falling over, much to his chagrin, and before he knows it, the sun is nearly rising. He’s got a tray of twenty-four tarts on his hands and not enough room in the freezer to chill them before they leave for Charlotte.

“Fuck,” he whispers. Then, again, he spits out, “Fuck.”

Trevor stares at the piles of frozen pizzas and chicken breast and steak that have accumulated in their freezer, bags of ice to be blended into drinks on hot days.

“Motherfucker,” Trevor growls, then covers his mouth. He glances towards the stairs, expecting one of the boys to make their way down at any moment.

When no one appears, he turns his attention back to the freezer.

Trevor hauls out the bags of ice, the stacks of food. He clears the freezer and grumbles, shoving the tarts onto a shelf. The strawberries fall over again and he has to fix them. He all but slams the food back into the fridge, unorganized and harsh. He forces the freezer door shut, the sound echoing throughout the house.

“Oh,” Trevor hears a sleepy voice say from behind him. He turns around, eyes wide, and finds Quinn in his boxers and a navy t-shirt at the bottom of the stairs. “I should’ve known you were the one making all this noise.”

“Sorry,” Trevor says.

“What are you doing?” Quinn asks, rubbing his eyes before glaring at Trevor. “It’s not even six.”

“Are you mad at Bea?” Trevor replies, hearing frustration tinge his voice. He points an accusing finger at the older boy. “Because it’s her fault that I’m in this mess.”

Quinn raises his eyebrows, unimpressed with Trevor’s accusation. He opens his mouth to yawn, joining Trevor in the kitchen and sitting behind the counter.

“I’m not mad at Bea,” Quinn says simply. “I admire what she’s doing.”

Trevor makes a face. “What’s she doing? You?”

Quinn growls a warning at Trevor. “I don’t have to explain her business to you. Yeah, she and I hooked up, and it was great. We’re going to keep hooking up. But she’s allowed to do whatever she wants. I told her if she wanted to have a Slut Summer, I wasn’t going to stop her.” He holds up a hand to cut Trevor off. “She called it a Slut Summer first, by the way. I’m not being an asshole about it.”

“Who’s she slutting it out with?” Trevor asks, laughing. “The only non-Hughes boys in this house are me and Cole and, quite frankly, I don’t want Bea like that. Cole’s also too short for her. There are no other guys in the town.”

“She is going to get whomever she wants,” Quinn says, voice cool. His face is calm. “Whether they are in this house or not.” He schools a tight, borderline-annoyed smile across his face. “What are you doing?”

“Baking,” Trevor snaps.

Quinn snorts. “Sounds like you’re mad at Bea.”

“I am! She fucking– how do you know about that?”

“She told me, you idiot,” Quinn replies. “And I thought it was very funny.”

“When did she have time to fucking tell you–”

“Right when I got in the car, Trevor.” Quinn nods, a smug and satisfied expression on his stupid face. Trevor’s not biased. “She couldn’t stop laughing, even after she told me that you were about to buy strawberries for Honey… who is allergic to them.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Trevor demands. “You knew I was going to the market just for that! We didn’t need anything. You made me pay for beer!”

“Because it was funny.” Quinn slaps his hands down on his thighs and shrugs. “Because I wanted to see this play out. My only regret is not going to the store with you and watching it play out in person.”

Trevor sneers at Quinn. “I hope she never sleeps with you again,” he grits out, sincere and nodding.

Quinn narrows his eyes and leans in, voice quiet. “If she never sleeps with me again, then she will never bring your little friend around again. We both know that you can’t get her to come over on your own.”

He and Trevor maintain eye contact for a minute. Trevor is the first to break it, looking down and away with a clear of his throat. He steps back to the fridge and takes out the carton of eggs to make himself an omelet.

The boys traipse down the stairs in annoyingly long intervals. Jack is the last of the five to mosey down the stairs and make his breakfast, which is when Quinn leaves to pack Trevor’s car for their practice today.

Trevor is glad to be driving to Charlotte alone. Quinn’s words lodged themselves deep between his ribs and left him unsettled. He’s always been able to get the girl he wants and he’s been secure in that. But this is different– this is Honey, the first girl he’s ever wanted so much, and Quinn’s absolutely right. Trevor has no idea what he’s doing and has no chance at all.

And as Trevor runs sprints by himself during practice, just circling in laps over and over, he decides that Quinn is right. It will never happen. Honey would never be interested in him like that and she has made it very clear. Trevor will have to settle for being her friend, and only her friend. It’ll be hard enough to get her to like him, but he’ll have to do it if he wants even a slice of her at all.

And on the drive home, the decision settles like a rock in his stomach. Trevor has never felt quite so unhappy in something that he has to accept. It’s her friendship or nothing at all, and Trevor will be damned if he receives nothing at all from Honey.

10:90 – HONEY

It’s officially summer.

Ada was at the bookstore when Honey came to open it up this morning. Evidently, she had been up since the wee hours of the morning, plucking deep purple blackberries off of the vines behind her home until she had plenty for a pie. She could have baked it at home, but instead, Ada chose to bake the pie in the tiny, barely functional oven in the back.

The Reading Nook has been filled with the scent of sweet, summery blackberries, and Honey cannot think of a better way to start the day.

Bea is late for work, obviously, but she strolls in with a coffee for Honey and a kiss on the cheek for Ada to make up for it.

“Good morning girls,” Bea sings as she walks into The Reading Nook. She’s wearing a navy t-shirt that’s tied in a small knot around her midriff and a long, flowy orange skirt.

“Is that my skirt?” Honey asks, accepting the coffee from her friend and zeroing in on her outfit.

“I’m being Donna from Mamma Mia 2 today and I needed it,” Bea replies.

“Oh, you’re just like Donna, alright,” Honey confirms, the thinly veiled insult darkening Bea’s face.

Bea opens her mouth to retort, but thinks better of it when her eyes flicker over to Ada. The sweet old lady might have a heart attack and die if she learns what Bea is planning for her summer. Instead, Bea paints a smile over her face.

“It smells good in here,” Bea says. “Did you bring us some sweets, Ada?”

“I am baking you a pie right now, Miss Bea,” Ada says, turning the page of her magazine with a polished finger. She doesn’t even look up at the girl as she speaks. She’s immersed in her activity, eyes scanning the page so she doesn’t miss a word.

“Good, I ran out of desserts and no one bought me any strawberries this week.” Bea cuts her eyes at Honey.

“We already talked about this. If you want strawberries, go ask Trevor.” Honey’s expression is impassive. She and Bea had had a long discussion yesterday about her meddling and how it’s overstepping Honey’s boundaries.

Bea had agreed to let up, but she’s still pouting about it.

“I just don’t understand why you’re not interested in him,” Bea hissed through gritted teeth, leaning into Honey’s space between the stacks. The knitting ladies are barely out of range, but Honey wouldn’t be surprised if they were craning their necks and listening in. She wouldn’t be surprised if Sacha turned up her hearing aid, just to try and catch their whispers. “He’s cute and he likes you. He bought fruit for you.”

“I don’t want him,” Honey reinforces. She’s repeated the same thing, in so many words, to Bea all morning. She even read the messages that Trevor sent Bea after the strawberry incident, with Bea’s permission, and all it did was stress her out. “And I don’t want you to help him anymore!”

“I’m not going to,” Bea promises. “But you should give him a chance.”

“No, Bea!” Honey looks around and lowers her voice again. “I’m not looking for a man, and if I were, I wouldn’t choose Trevor. I’m not like you, spreading my legs for every cute boy in the room.”

It was a bit too far, to be honest, and Honey apologized shortly after. They’re back to bickering like sisters, annoyed by the other but not enough for it to be a real argument. They easily could’ve ran into “real argument” territory with Honey’s comment and Bea’s pushing, but neither girl felt like that was necessary.

They’re better when they’re not fighting, anyway.

They’re kind of fighting anyway.

Honey gets to work doing her own thing– restocking shelves, checking customers out at the counter when Ada waves her over, while Bea talks to the customers as they shop. When she’s not talking to customers, she’s sitting in the back, typing out little messages on her phone.

It’s suspicious, the way Bea went from rarely texting anybody to suddenly texting all the time. She’s more of a voice note kind of girl, so Honey has gotten used to hearing her record messages for her sisters and cousins, often vulgar and rarely edited. She goes off on tangents often, she yells into her phone whilst sitting in traffic, and yet lately, she’s been putting her thumbs to use. It’s weird.

Hours pass and Honey notices Bea on her phone often throughout the day, usually accompanied by a quick glance up to see who’s around her. If Honey didn’t know any better, she’d say that Bea is watching her movements to make sure she doesn’t creep up behind her.

It doesn’t matter, she decides. Bea can be cryptic all she wants. Honey doesn’t care about what she’s saying or who she’s talking to.

That’s a lie. She’s been fantasizing since lunchtime that Bea found a new boy to talk to over the summer, and she’ll relinquish her grip on her Slut Summer plans, and Honey will be free to ignore Trevor and his goons as long as possible. He will never be a thought in her head again.

Until the next time he shows up out of nowhere, she grumbles to herself. He’s making it so hard to forget that he even exists. She narrows her eyes at the mere thought of him. Trevor.

And the boys have a real knack for showing up out of nowhere, because as they’re closing down the shop for the night, literally right as Honey approaches the door to flip the door sign from “Open” to “Closed,” Quinn appears.

He waves awkwardly at Honey when she approaches the door, both of them reaching for the door handle at the same time. He laughs sheepishly and pulls his hand back, tucking it into his pockets with a soft smile.

Honey opens the door. “Hi, Quinn,” she greets. Her heart feels like mush. He’s sweet and lame, but in a more mature and embarrassed way than Cole’s blatant lameness. Bea made a good choice for her first conquest. “We’re closing for the day.”

“That’s okay,” Quinn replies easily. His eyes are lit up by the lamplight to Honey’s right. “I was just hoping to talk to Bea.”

Honey’s eyes are drawn down by the soft curves of Quinn’s lips. She curses herself for a moment. She’d trade Trevor for Quinn any day, but she’s sure he invoked some sort of bro-code hands-off thing. Not that she cares.

“Yeah,” Honey says with a nod. “She’s in the back. Come on in.” She steps away from the door and holds it open for Quinn.

He walks in, shaking his arms out as he enters the cool bookstore. He’s wearing a hoodie, but he had pushed the sleeves up due to the humid heat outside. The sleeves fall past his wrist and neatly curve under his fingers.

Honey gestures for him to stand near the register. “I’ll go get her.” She retreats into the back, where Bea is slicing a blackberry pie into two, planning to transfer hers and Honey’s halves to a tupperware. She’s startled when she looks up to see Honey standing there with a smile on her face.

“What?” Bea whispers, skeptical. “I wasn’t going to take the bigger half this time, I swear.”

“There’s a suitor at the door,” Honey simpers with a knowing smile. “He’s come to court.” Her voice slips into a British mockery, knowing that Bea had just started Bridgerton’s newest season.

“Which one?” Bea asks, eager and bright. She puts the knife down and licks her fingers clean.

“Anthony,” Honey reveals, giggling.

Bea gasps, her hand flying to her mouth and covering her lips. “You’re kidding,” she giggles back, grinning like a schoolgirl behind her fingers. She brushes her hair out of her face and bites her lip, repeating “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” Honey tells her. “He’s at the register, waiting for you.”

Bea bounces on her toes, smoothing out her outfit. The orange skirt makes her sort of glow. Honey’s eyes soften as she watches her best friend. There is no one in this world like Bea. You can never hate her or be angry at her for long because she’s like sunshine.

“Will you go? I’ll put your half of the pie in my fridge and reheat it for you tomorrow. I have a feeling you’ll be needing me to bring you breakfast in the morning.” Honey smirks at Bea, still laughing a little to herself. “Do you want me to open the store, too?”

Bea blushes, her tongue poking through her teeth. “Would you?” She teases, considering it. “I’ll text you, yeah? I should know what kind of encounter this is, and how we should proceed, in about thirty minutes. Thank you, Honeybear.”

“Of course,” Honey agrees with a smile, walking forward to take Bea’s place. As Bea walks away, Honey calls, “Hey.”

Bea turns, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “What?”

“I guess he’s not mad at you,” Honey replies with a final laugh at the finger guns Bea shoots at her before she walks away.

She hears the door jingle open and closed five minutes later, after she’s split the pies and packed them into her bag. She fiddles around the kitchen a little longer, making sure to give them a head start before finishing up in the main room.

She straightens a few books on a few carts, sorting a few books onto a different cart.

Finally, she walks to the door. She pulls it shut and locks it behind her, walking the short distance to her car. She drives home in silence, listening to the wind whistle through her windows.

She enters her home with a one-handed turn of her key, slamming the door behind her with a kick of her foot. She puts their food away, then decides to take hers to bed and eat it while reading. She grabs a fork on the way out of her kitchen, turning out the lights with her elbow as she walks.

She enters her bedroom and navigates in the dark until she finds her lamp and flicks it on. The room fills with soft light and she settles into her bed, balancing her plate on her thigh as she reads against her bent knee. Honey raises the fork to her mouth as carefully as she can until she’s finished a slice of her dessert.

She puts the plate away and tosses her book down to the end of her bed, leaning over to turn off her lamp. She barely touches it for the thousandth night in a row, swinging wildly to reach it. She settles against her pillow, snuggling in.

She waits. And waits. And waits, but her eyelids never grow heavy. Fuck. Her phone lights up with a text from Bea, so she gets up to read it: “So….. can you open the store for me tomorrow?” with a picture of Quinn’s legs extended next to her on the couch, stretched toward the ottoman. His thumb is rubbing over Bea’s knee in the live version of the picture.

Honey’s stomach flips. Fuck. That can’t be what she was missing.

But immediately, as Honey watches Quinn’s thumb move over Bea’s skin, she gasps at the idea of a heavy, warm body behind her, ready to touch her in the same way.

She cringes, exits away from the message, choosing not to respond. Of course she will. Of course she’ll open the store for Bea, she doesn’t need to confirm. She just needs to get away from that picture and the things she shouldn’t be thinking about. This is dangerous. Honey’s not looking for this. She’s fine on her own.

Yeah, she’s fine on her own. Honey nods to herself, eyes wide as she readjusts under the covers. Her bed is just big enough for her to stretch out her limbs. She’d have to squeeze if there was another body here. It was fine when it was her and Bea for that year, but a man? He’d never fit. He’d have to hold Honey in place to keep from pushing her off the bed. She’d have to– God, feel another person against her all night. Ugh.

But it’s a little appealing, if the man behind her pulls her tight against his front and nudges her neck before he kisses it with his perfect, tan, delicately curved nose–

Nope. Honey shakes the image away, opening her eyes to observe the still aloneness next to her on the mattress. She clears her throat and physically shakes her head. She closes her eyes again and focuses on the blackness behind her eyelids until she finally, mercilessly falls asleep.

She’s not looking for that.

11:90 – TREVOR

Today brings a huge challenge to Trevor and plops it at his feet like a dog spitting out a bird. The challenge is helpless and sad. He stares at it for minutes, hearing the seconds from the clock on his mantle nearby tick away.

He has to return his library book today. He finished it last night in the game room while Cole chased Luke around with his own pool cue. Luke was surprisingly agile and able to escape upstairs without getting hit once.

Trevor came out of his trance with a knock to his bedroom door.

“Get up!” Jack pesters. “Going to store! More beer! More fire! More tarts for you to bake!” He continues to pound on Trevor’s door with each word. His shouts are like a caveman’s, annoying and short. He must’ve watched that episode of the Office where Kevin shortens his sentence over breakfast this morning. Why say long word when short word do trick? or whatever.

Trevor grabs his book, feeling like it’s burning his hand. It’s like an anvil in his palm. He wrenches the door open mid pound and Jack stumbles into him. He whacks him over the head with the book.

“I told you I was up,” he reminds Jack. “I just had to grab something before we left.” He holds the book away from Jack when he tries to snatch it.

Jack reaches for it anyway, playing the game, clawing at Trevor’s arm. He struggles out, “Now that you’ve given up on wooing Honey, maybe I want to be the one to give her a visit.” He manages to snatch at Trevor’s book one last time before it turns into a weapon and beats him away. Eventually, Jack surrenders and Trevor stalks away, starting the car and locking the doors so Jack can’t get in for the next minute.

Luke giggles in the front seat, videoing Jack on his Snapchat through the passenger side window. Trevor watches Jack glare at Trevor through the phone screen while he pulls on the doorhandle, shaking it over and over and yelling at Trevor to unlock the door.

Bea giggles in the backseat, perched mostly on Quinn’s lap, Cole’s arm pushed dangerously far away by Quinn’s elbow. Bea shakes her hair back into Cole’s face and he crinkles his nose, sad that he’s in the middle seat.

“I hate it when we all ride in one car,” Cole grumbles under his breath, trying to breathe through Bea’s ponytail. He reaches over and kicks the door open for Jack, more aggressive than necessary.

“Chill out, Sweetie,” Bea teases, leaning over to press a lipgloss-kiss onto Cole’s cheek. “You’re more eco-friendly this way. Big rich boy doesn’t care about the environment?” She faux-pouts at him and Cole makes a face at her.

“Airlines hate him,” Quinn jokes quietly in Bea’s ear, causing her to howl and clutch at his chest. Quinn smiles, proud of himself.

Trevor speeds all the way to the town center, glaring at Bea and making Quinn hold onto her so she doesn’t spill into Cole’s lap. He hopes she’s getting carsick. She’s the reason he had to stop pursuing Honey. She ruined everything.

And, because Trevor is full of good fortune lately, Bea takes his hand and flounces toward The Reading Nook with him in tow. She waves at Quinn as they walk away, and laughs when he whistles.

“Didn’t you wear those clothes yesterday?” Trevor spits out, walking faster than her.

“Jealous you can’t get laid?” Bea retorts, succeeding in snatching the book from Trevor’s grasp in a way Jack didn’t. They come to a stop a hundred feet from The Reading Nook. Bea plants her hands on her hips and heaves out a breath at Trevor.

“You fucked me over,” Trevor accuses. He stifles his temper, pushing it down. “Like… really, Bea?”

“I thought she would find your effort cute,” Bea explains. “And I thought she would go, because she loves to bake. And watch you struggle.”

“Well, it didn’t, and now I have no chance.”

Bea scoffs and shoves his book back to him. “You know what? Good luck in there. Let’s see if you’re right.” She stomps to the store and holds the door open for Trevor “Come on in.”

The Reading Nook has barely opened, so the only person there is a doe-eyed Honey, startled, behind the counter. She’s holding a book in front of her, on its final pages. She stares at the open doorway, monitors Trevor’s movements as he approaches. Her lips are slightly parted and it looks like she might even be chewing some gum.

The book tilts down as Trevor comes to a stop in front of her. Her pupils grow behind her eyelashes. Trevor blames it on the shadow he cast on her face when he stood in front of the light.

Trevor clears his throat and inches his book between her elbows, patting both hands on the bottom edges of the cover. He watches himself do it, centering the book perfectly. Then, he looks up into Honey’s eyes.

He lathers on his best charm and says with a smile, “I’m here to return my book.”

Honey stares at him, quirking an eyebrow.

Trevor continues, voice soft and prodding, “See? I can be good, you didn’t have to chase me down.”

Honey blinks up at him, then breathes out a high laugh. She covers her mouth as it grows louder, muffling it as much as she can. “Oh my God,” she marvels, hand shaking as she places her index finger on the tip of her nose. “Is that how you treat your girls in California? Do they fall for that?”

Trevor’s smile drops and he glares at her. “Thanks. Can you point me in the direction of another book? I want to check out Alexander and the No Good, Terrible, Very Bad Day, please. I need to plagiarize it but change Alexander’s name to Trevor.”

He pushes the book towards her and she flinches back, offense splashing across her face at the movement. Trevor clenches his jaw and steps away. He watches her face sour, growing deadly.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to take it out on me,” Honey snaps back.

Trevor just scoffs and shakes his head and leaves the store. Bea never stopped holding the door, but she makes sure to slam it behind him in celebration.

Is it that fucking laughable? His affection is something to make fun of, something to tease. It’s obvious. He really never stood a chance.

When they go to the golf course later, Trevor drills the ball farther than he’s ever driven it before.

12:90 – HONEY

It’s National Chocolate Ice Cream and National Donut Days. Honey promised Jack she’d bring donuts to the house tonight.

She doesn’t want to. She really doesn’t want to see Trevor. She pales at the fact that she was ready to be nice to him until he turned against her. It was disgusting, the way his eyes rolled in annoyance.

But she made a promise to Jack, and she likes to be with Cole, and Quinn is a sweet guy, so it can’t be that bad. It can’t be. She’ll hang out with them, maybe even get to know Luke. Bea can come, and probably fuck Quinn again, ask him if she can put his dick through the donut hole.

That makes Honey laugh enough to push away the panic that comes with seeing that version of Trevor again. He was like– an entitled rich boy, very… West Coast surfer bro. It makes her shudder. She doesn’t want to see that again.

It makes her think of the look her father gave her after she handed him the last check for the mountain house. He was protecting himself. He couldn’t show her he was sad. Bea insists that he was, that he couldn’t be that apathetic. Honey wishes desperately for that to be true.

She opens her eyes, staring at herself in the vanity mirror in Bea’s bedroom. She lifts her chin and takes a deep breath, evaluating the gold eyeliner Bea coated on her waterline, into a neat little cat-ear. She shakes her hair out, watching it catch the light, and clears her throat.

“You okay over there?” Bea asks, adjusting the pastel yellow strapless maxi dress on her chest. “You look rattled.”

“It’s nothing,” Honey deflects.

“Baby-Honey, you haven’t been yourself since Quinn and I left the Nook the other night,” Bea muses, walking to stand behind Honey and run her fingers through her hair. “What’s up?”

Honey shakes her head again, causing Bea to pull back. Honey stands. She plasters a smile on her face and makes eye contact with Bea. “Absolutely nothing,” she chirps. “Let’s go.”

She’s struck by how different her outfit is than Bea’s. Her best friend is in a dress with cute clogs, earrings in her pierced holes and everything. Honey’s got on a homemade muscle tee, sleeves ripped off after cutting a small hole and a faded Nascar graphic on the front. You can’t even read the number anymore. The car could be 15, 16, 18, 19… she doesn’t know. She’s wearing those little biking shorts under the tee- barely peeking out due to its length. She looks like a slob. Bea looks regal.

Good. Why would Honey really need to impress anyone? She’s even only wearing this makeup because Bea wanted to try out her new palette. Honey has no one to impress.

Not fucking dipshit, angry Trevor, that’s for sure.

She grabs the box of donuts from Bea’s counter and stomps out to the car, biting her tongue so she doesn’t jostle the donuts too much as she holds the dozen with one hand and opens the door with the other.

It’s Honey’s car, but Bea drives there, cradling the new bottle of red wine that she picked up at the liquor store before it closed for the evening like a baby. “It pairs well with chocolate,” Bea explained to Honey when she first revealed it.

They drive to the house with the windows up, one of Bea’s cutesy new girl-pop songs on the radio. She sings quietly and Honey smiles as her friend enjoys herself. Eventually, she picks up on the chorus and begins to sing along. Bea puts it on repeat and they sing together, up until they pull into the driveway and Bea turns the car off, drawing the key out of the ignition. She hands the key to Honey, who drops it in her purse.

She adjusts the bralette beneath her muscle tee, then grabs the donut box and follows Bea into the house.

The wood isn’t any less jarring the second time. The boys have also never heard of mood lighting before, since each switch is set to its brightest setting. Honey squints into the brightness. Someone peeks out of the kitchen at the sound of the door opening and shutting and Honey is relieved to see that it’s Quinn. He waves them over.

Bea flutters over like a butterfly, kissing Quinn on the cheek as Honey turns the corner. She places the donuts on the counter near the island, across from Cole and Jack. Trevor is on the other end of the counter, the third seat down. She makes sure to place it out of his reach.

“I brought wine,” Bea tells Quinn, handing him the bottle. She starts to open drawers and rifle around for a bottle opener.

Honey finds it on the counter and waves it at Bea, catching her attention with a whistle. She tosses it to the girl, Bea catching it with both hands and grinning like she’d won an egg toss.

“Who wants some?” Bea asks. “We have to kill this bottle in record time.”

“Record time? Who needs that,” Jack laughs. “We should make a game out of it. Spin the bottle? Truth or dare?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Okay, Rom-Com,” Bea laughs. “You think that’s such a good idea?”

“Sounds like a great idea to me,” Jack says. “I think we all need to bond more, and playing a game is one of the best ways to bond.”

“Hmm,” Bea hums, tapping her finger against her chin. She turns toward Quinn and scrunches her nose at him. “It couldn’t hurt?”

“No.” He leans down and pecks her lips. “Could be fun for you.”

“What should we play?” Bea asks, turning back to Jack. She takes a few steps back, until she’s wrapped up in Quinn’s arms with her back plastered against his chest.

“Just Truth or Dare, probably. And if you don’t want to do your thing, then you can drink from the bottle. When we finish the bottle, we can have a little Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Jack shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but it’s clear that he thought this out.

Bea and Honey look to each other. “So frat,” Bea says knowingly as Honey grumbles, “Spin the rapist.”

Bea reacts to Honey’s comment and snorts out a laugh, shaking her head at the reference. 13 Going on 30 has been Honey’s favorite rom-com for years, since they first watched it when they were teens. The impact Billy Joel’s Vienna had on Honey since first watching the film is unquantifiable.

“Okay, Jack,” Bea decides. “In that case, you get to go first. Truth or Dare?”

“Obviously dare,” Jack laughs out.

Honey stifles a giggle as Cole rolls his eyes and finally opens the box of donuts, looking at each of them before choosing one. She joins him on that side of the counter, able to watch Bea and Quinn cuddle up to each other and fortunately removing Trevor from her line of sight.

“Strawberry with sprinkles, huh?” Honey asks. “I didn’t peg you as a pink boy.”

“I love pink,” Cole replies through a mouthful of donut. “Hi, Barbie, and all that. Trev made some good tarts the other day that were strawberry, too.”

Honey chuckles, then chooses her own donut– a caramel one with brownie crumbles on the top. She had asked Mark, the man who runs the small bakery near The Reading Nook, for an assorted dozen and he had given her some of his best work for the price of a plain glazed dozen. If she had revealed that the extras would probably go to the boys’ house, Mark likely wouldn’t have given her that discount.

He likes his beers, and the boys keep buying up pack after pack from the grocery store, and Mark is left with the scraps. He told Honey that he’s looking forward to the end of the summer, when he’s the only man showing up at the store twice a week to get his beer. They restock it just for him.

That’s not to say he’s the only man in the town that drinks, but he’s the man who has the most opinions about different kinds of beer and how it’s made– a funny trait for someone who works with wheat and flour just as often as a beermaster.

“I dare you…” Bea trails off, tapping her index finger to her lips and looking around the room. She spots a broom hanging near the laundry room, a little offset from the kitchen. She points to it. “Oooh, you have to give us a little sexy pole dance around that thing.”

Quinn laughs into Bea’s hair at her dare, watching carefully as Jack looks between the broom and the wine bottle. Eventually, he shrugs.

“Yeah, why not?” Jack agrees, pushing away from the counter and grabbing the broom off the wall. He holds it out in front of him and evaluates it, the bristles pushing against the floor. “Huh. This would be easier if I had music.”

Luke laughs quietly. He crosses his arms over his chest and raises his eyebrows at Jack, waiting to see how this plays out.

“I don’t really want to see this,” Honey whispers to Cole, a joking tone in her voice.

“Oh, but how can you look away?” Cole asks, taking another bite of his donut. “It’s like a car wreck.”

“It really is,” Honey agrees, laughing as Jack starts to circle the broom, then howling along with the rest of the room when he drops low and spreads his knees, bucking his hips forward.

“That’s enough,” Cole exclaims, holding his stomach and laughing so hard that he’s almost bent at the waist. His forehead almost rests on the counter.

Honey pats him on the back, rubbing his shoulder as it shakes.

She catches Trevor’s eyes over Cole’s back, over Jack’s abandoned seat. They’re dark and she notices that his own laughter has stopped. She pulls her hand away from Cole and takes a step back, putting distance between them like she’s been burned.

Trevor blinks, then looks away.

Honey suddenly realizes that he hasn’t said anything since she and Bea got here. Her lips part to say something– what, she’s not sure– but she changes her mind and looks away.

She’s not the only one who’s noticed, though.

“Z,” Jack says, hanging the broom back up on the wall. “Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll take a dare too, I guess,” Trevor says.

Jack smiles, devilishly. His eyes turn to Honey and for a moment, her heart stops as she thinks of all the things Jack could make Trevor do– all the things that she’s sure involve her. She shakes her head and looks away, missing the way Jack’s smile deflates and Trevor’s jaw clenches.

“You gotta give Cole a foot massage, my friend,” Jack decides, clasping his hands together.

Cole fist pumps, kicking off his house shoes. “This is the best day ever,” Cole says. “I get donuts and a foot massage?” He raises his leg, pointing his toes and reaching out towards Trevor with them.

“Get that away from me,” Trevor snaps, leaning back in his chair as Cole’s foot begins to encroach on his personal space. “Let me see that wine.”

Luke passes him the bottle and Bea tosses him the bottle opener, which she was still holding onto. Honey thinks she had the full intention of opening it herself, but she’s too comfortable in Quinn’s arms to move at the moment.

Ew.

Trevor pulls the cork from the bottle deftly and drinks straight from the spout, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Honey watches it move. When he wrenches the bottle away, his bottom lip is stained purple. Honey feels her eyes go wide, but she manages to school her face before anyone notices.

Hopefully.

“Bea,” Trevor says.

“Hmm,” Bea hums in acknowledgement, looking at the hair on Quinn’s arms wrapped around her chest.

“Truth or Dare?”

“I’ll dare,” Bea decides.

“Let Quinn go through your phone for a minute,” Trevor says.

“A minute?” Bea laughs. “He won’t be able to do anything on there.” She dips her hand into the waistband of her top, just under her armpit, and digs out her phone. She hands it over to Quinn after unlocking it.

He scrolls along, holding the screen out in front of Bea so that she can see what he’s doing. They laugh about something, she cringes at something else, and Quinn kisses her cheek when she blushes. He shuts the phone off after a minute, true to the dare, and slides it into his back pocket. One of his hands makes its way to her hip, crossing over her stomach to rest there. The other remains across her shoulder, sweeping along her collarbones and holding her flush against him.

“Q,” Bea sighs. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” he says into her ear, voice low.

“What’s the worst thing you would do if you became invisible for a day?” Bea asks. “Like the most corrupt thing. I find it hard to believe you have a bad bone in your body.” She pushes her hips back, quirking her eyebrows as she does.

Honey notices that Jack’s drinking her in, like her wiggling hips are a show for him.

“That’s a good question,” Quinn says, both hands flush on Bea’s hips now, dragging her movement to a stop. “I don’t know. It’s not bad, really, but I’d probably just blow off all my responsibilities and go out on the boat for the day. Drive myself around a bit, have lunch under the sun.” He shrugs. “Not think about hockey for a few hours.”

Bea pats his chest and tilts her head up to kiss the corner of his jaw. “You’re very dangerous, Quinn.”

“Very,” Quinn agrees. “So now it’s my turn to pick?”

“Yeah,” Bea says. “Don’t act like you don’t know how to play the game. You’re not that sheltered from the world. You had a life outside of hockey.”

Honey wonders when they had all this time to talk about hockey. She guesses it was some kind of pillow talk, knowing how Bea operates, trying to keep her man talking into the early hours of the morning. She always has so many questions and wants to know everything about everyone.

“Lukey, Truth or Dare?” Quinn asks.

Cole shakes his head and nudges Honey’s shoulder. “Always picked last, you and me, huh?”

Honey smiles at him and rolls her eyes.

Luke decides on truth as well, just like his oldest brother. Of course he does. Honey hasn’t seen much from Luke, but it’s obvious he’s not a “dare” kind of guy. At least, not while she and Bea are there. Maybe he’s more outgoing when it’s just him and the boys.

“Okay, be honest,” Quinn reminds Luke with a smile and a shared look at Jack. “What did you and that girl do last summer when you went upstairs and locked yourselves in Mom and Dad’s room?”

Honey’s jaw drops, mirroring the expression on Bea’s face. The rest of the boys break out in laughter, especially Jack.

“Yeah, Lukey,” Jack teases. “First, second, or third?”

Luke blushes to the roots of his hair and opens his mouth multiple times, with nothing coming out.

“Don’t tell me you went all the way to home base,” Quinn adds, his smile wide and wolfish. “In Mom and Dad’s bed?”

Luke looks absolutely tormented, miserable at the question. Honey can tell that they’ve been ragging on him about this since it happened and he’s desperately trying to maintain his dignity.

“Have a sip of the wine, Luke,” Honey comforts him. “You don’t need to be the guy who kisses and tells.”

Luke nods, sheepish and red to the tips of his ears, reaching forward to take the wine bottle from in front of Trevor.

The boys boo and try to cajole him into revealing rather than drinking, and Honey for that matter for her role in the turn of events, but Bea shushes them with a finger to her lips.

“You’re all acting like cavemen,” Bea admonishes. She turns to Luke. “I think it’s sweet that you’re keeping your private matters to yourself. That’s very respectful of yourself and the girl. Good job, Lukey.”

Honey smiles and giggles when Luke blushes red again and takes another sip of the wine after quietly stammering out a “Thank you.” He clears his throat and rubs a hand through his curls, making them messier than before. “Cole?”

Honey’s not even surprised that he doesn’t pick her or Bea. She wouldn’t be surprised if he couldn’t even look at them without blushing again.

It was unfair for the boys to bring up the past, especially since he doesn’t want to share.

“Dare, buddy,” Cole replies, cool and confident. His cheeks are dimpling as he waits for Luke to think of a dare.

“You should eat the rest of your donut out of someone’s mouth,” Luke suggests.

“Whose?” Cole asks, waving the last few bites out to everyone. “Bea?”

“Honey,” Jack corrects with a glance at Trevor.

Honey puts her hands up in front of her and she and Bea open their mouths at the same time, but Trevor beats them to it.

“She’s allergic to strawberry,” Trevor states. His voice is hard. “She can’t do the dare with Cole.”

“Why don’t you do it, Jack?” Bea asks. “Since you’re so willing to volunteer others for the job. Why not volunteer yourself?”

“Cuz I don’t want to Lady and the Tramp with Cole,” Jack replies, making a face.

Honey doesn’t really like how Trevor jumped in and corrected Jack like she wasn’t even in the room with them. “I can do it,” she decides. “But we just have to finish my donut instead.”

“Yes!” Cole celebrates, raising his hand to high five Honey. “You and me, dude!”

Honey lets out a little laugh at that, raising her hand to slap it against Cole’s. She bites down on the end of her donut, holding most of it out far enough for Cole to take it between his teeth. He’s not going to kiss her or anything. Honey just has a feeling in her gut that Cole isn’t the kind to take advantage of a situation like that, and plus, she and Cole have a friendlier relationship. He has to understand that.

Honey looks over his shoulder at Trevor, who is watching her with steely eyes. He’s rigid in his seat. He doesn’t understand, not in the way Honey and Cole do.

He takes in a deep breath, pinching his lips shut as Cole leans closer to Honey, taking a good ¾ of the last of her donut before pulling away. The dough rips in a weird way, leaving a bite dangling from the right side of his mouth. He smiles wide and gives Honey another high five. Trevor lets out a breath when Cole leans back in his chair and finishes chewing Honey’s donut.

“Mm, that’s good,” Cole tells her. “What flavor was that?”

“Caramel with brownie,” Honey says, chewing her own bite.

Cole nods in approval. “Can’t leave my buddy hanging,” he says. “Truth or Dare, Honey?”

“I’ll do a dare too,” Honey says. It’s an easy choice. She loves a good truth, but almost everyone has done dare, and she’s never one to back down from a challenge.

It seemed like a safe choice too, with Cole choosing what Honey is supposed to do. Until he opens his stupid mouth.

“I’m gonna pull out our whipped cream bottle and I think you’re gonna have to lick it off someone,” Cole announces, jumping down from his perch behind the counter and rounding the island to the fridge. He pulls out the red can and shakes it, uncapping it.

Honey watches, knowing exactly her luck, as Cole points from man to man saying “Eeny, Meeny, Miney… Mo.” His finger, and the nozzle of the whipped cream can, land on Trevor. “Shirt off, Z.” Cole lifts the whipped cream bottle to his mouth and sprays a little bit onto his tongue.

Honey feels frozen. Her feet are stuck in cement at the corner of the island and she eventually has to put her hand on the counter to ground herself. Her eyes flicker to Bea’s, wide like cornered prey. Bea meets her there.

In that split second, it’s like they have a conversation. Honey can’t describe the thoughts that fly between them, given how quick they pass.

With a slight shrug of one shoulder, Bea leaves it up to Honey. She could end it, take a sip of the wine if that’s what she wants. Honey isn’t even sure what she wants to do. She doesn’t– she doesn’t.– want to lick whipped cream off of Trevor. She doesn’t want her tongue to be that close to his body.

And yet, she finds herself nodding when she meets Trevor’s eyes. He waits until she does to pull off his shirt, revealing skin that makes Honey feel even more sluggish. She takes a moment to drink in his tan skin, adorned with his tattoos on his arms. Her eyes zero in on the delicate words on his ribs and she feels her lips part in surprise. Her fingers twitch at her sides, begging to reach out and trace over the script.

NO.

Not Trevor.

Yes, Trevor.

“I have a vision,” Cole announces, pulling Honey from her thoughts. He takes Honey’s hand and pulls her over towards the inside of the island. “Hop up.”

She follows his directions, skin crawling with anticipation for what’s coming next. She can’t believe she agreed to do this– with Trevor. With Trevor. The skin is cool against the tops of her thighs and she’s very aware of the way her muscle tee falls around her waist and reveals the edge of her bralette, and the skin around her middle. She clenches her fists as much as she can, fingers rounded around the edge of the counter. She doesn’t want to seem freaked out. She’s not going to be the girl who messes up the game and doesn’t go through with their dare.

Cole nudges the whipped cream can against one of her hands until she turns it over and takes it, feeling the cool aluminum in her hand. “Z, come stand in front of her.”

Honey hears him, refusing to turn around and look at him as he gets down from his chair and make his way over to Honey. She hears the movements loud as day, like there’s nothing else in the room except Trevor and her racing heart.

Trevor stations himself between Honey’s knees, resting his hands on either side of her legs. Her eyes are level with his here, on the counter, and she tries to ignore the thrill that his proximity sends down her spine.

“Alright.” Cole claps his hands and smiles. “You ready, Honey?”

Honey turns her head and takes a sharp inhale. “Yeah.”

She keeps her words short so her voice doesn’t shake.

“Why don’t you put some whipped cream on his collarbones for me, yeah?”

Bea’s mouth drops at Cole’s words, still in Quinn’s grasp. Honey has to stifle a giggle at her reaction.

Honey presses her lips together and refocuses, hand shaking as she brings the can up to Trevor’s clavicles, startling herself at the sound when she pushes the trigger down to release the whip. She makes a tiny squeak, an embarrassing noise that has her closing her eyes.

Trevor’s thumb moves closer and nudges her thigh.

Honey looks up, her eyes meeting his. Her breath is caught in her throat. His eyes are no longer steely and guarded. They’re soft and they’re searching her eyes for something.

His thumb starts to move against her skin and she jumps, wrenching her eyes away from Trevor’s and quickly spreading another line of whipped cream on his other collarbone. She’d do anything to be able to ignore the pit in her stomach and the heat that is very rapidly filling it.

She turns to Cole, holding the can out to him.

Cole raises his eyebrows. He raises his hands. “You’re not done yet.”

Bea twists in Quinn’s arms, staring up at him with an affronted, offended, betrayed look on her face. Honey can tell exactly what she wants to scream: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Honey’s jaw drops a little, then she clenches her jaw and takes the can back, cradling it on her thigh. It leaves a round circle when she picks it up again.

“From his belly button to his sternum.” Cole’s voice is hard and definite, but not mean. Honey wonders how long he’s been thinking about this, probably doing it at Trevor’s bidding. The only problem is, Trevor looked just as unaware as her and Bea. Just as unaware as the other boys– at least, the two in front of her.

Honey takes it back. Cole is her least favorite.

She sprays the whipped cream, grinding her teeth as she sees Trevor’s stomach muscles jump at the sensation. His hand comes to the top of her thigh, index finger tracing the ring of the can. Honey’s not even sure that he’s breathing. She’s not sure she is, either.

“His nipples,” Cole commands with a cheeky smile, looking past Honey and Trevor to Jack.

Honey whips her head around and looks at the other boy, smirking at Cole. He makes eye contact with Honey and raises his eyebrows, wiggling them like a devil. She almost wants to throw the can of whip at him, then pounce on Cole and take out his knees.

She scowls and dispenses a small amount of whip on each of Trevor’s nipples. He hisses at the cold and she looks up to check on him without a thought, only realizing what she’s done when his eyes meet hers.

“It’s fine,” Trevor breathes out. “Just cold.”

“Okay,” Honey replies, hoping he could even hear her. The statement might’ve died in the air between them and never reached his ears.

The can of whip starts to sputter like it’s running out, so Honey gives it a shake. She goes to set it down on the counter next to her, but Cole stops her again.

She’s going to break every single one of his fingers.

“One more,” Cole says with a nod and a lick of his lips. “Open up, Trev.”

“No,” Honey forces out. She’s just as taken aback by the word as Cole is– her refusal cut through the air like it was broadcast through the bluetooth speakers that run through the home. She takes a shaky deep breath, pushing away the image of her licking into Trevor’s mouth to get her final mouthful of whip. “Sorry. No.”

She refuses to look Trevor in the eye after that.

“That’s okay,” Cole says. He shrugs, not deterred. “His nose. Just the tip. Like Rudolph.”

That, Honey can do.

She uses the last little bit to cover the tip of Trevor’s nose, focusing on the line of his nose and the recently shaved skin above his top lip instead of the eyes that she can feel are boring into her face.

Finally, she sets the empty can down with a rattle and flicks her hair over her shoulder, facing Cole.

“Can I go?” She asks, hoping she sounds sassy and bored rather than freaked out, like how she is on the inside. She feels like her brain is on fire, completely fried and burning from the inside out. Her heart is pounding loud in her ears and her cheeks are stained red.

“Start in the middle, then go down. Lick it off his nose last.”

Honey closes her eyes to calm herself, but she hears a slap of a hand against skin. She can only imagine that Bea reached out and slapped Cole’s arm– the yelp from the blonde and soft laugh from Quinn being tell-tale signs while Honey breathes.

Trevor’s hand drops from her thigh and he takes a step back, putting a little space between them.

Honey’s eyes snap open and they flash at Trevor’s. Where hers were once panicked and his were seeking, they seem to have completely switched roles now. Trevor’s fingertips still touch the counter next to Honey and their absence, but their closeness, feels like frostbite on Honey’s skin. It turns to steam against her fiery cheeks, releasing air into the space between them in time with Honey’s exhale.

His breath catches in his throat and Honey sees the whipped cream start to drip from his stomach.

In an instant, right as the dollop of cream starts to separate from the rest of its line, Honey finds herself sliding off the counter to her knees to catch it in her mouth.

Her lips slide against Trevor’s skin, the muscles contracting and his happy trail brushing her bottom lip as she mouths over the sticky trail marking Trevor’s stomach.

She looks up, up to Trevor’s face. He’s already looking at her with nothing but shock on his face, his mouth open and his eyes wild. His chest is heaving, trembling between breaths.

Oh my God.

Honey’s gaze drops back to his skin, then finds that unbearable to look at as she rises up to his sternum. She can make out edges of the script on his ribs in her peripheral vision and squeezes her eyelids shut. She quickly realizes that she can’t navigate up Trevor’s body on feel alone. She has to look.

Fuck.

She opens her eyes and finishes her path up to his sternum. She carefully licks the whipped cream off Trevor’s nipples, trying not to come into contact with them too much. She can’t just lick Trevor’s nipples. It’s not the same as if…

Trevor was licking whipped cream off of her nipples.

She forces the image away, like she’s spraying an asteroid with a fire extinguisher.

Honey rises to his collarbones, mouthing over the sharp edges and dipping her tongue inside the pooled skin to get every drop.

She pulls away, barely, aiming to zero in on the dollop on Trevor’s nose, but fails. She finds herself face to face with Trevor, who still has the same expression on his face. His eyebrows are quirked, he can’t stop licking his lips between breaths, and he’s practically vibrating in front of Honey with the ache to stay still.

She suddenly feels fabric under her fingers and looks down, jaw dropping at the sight of her index fingers sneaking under his waistband, nestled snugly like they’ve made a home there. She wrenches them away, clutching the bottom of her muscle tee instead.

She doesn’t move far, Trevor’s fingers like stone against the skin of her waist. Trevor’s fingers like stone against the skin of her waist. Honey heaves a breath in, stepping away from him and his fingers’ trembling brush against the lace band of her bralette. She gulps.

Trevor’s fingers catch on the bottom edge of her sleeves, or lack thereof, and her shirt ripples against her twisting stomach as the digits fall lamely to his sides.

Honey knows that her eyes mirror Trevor’s now, matching instead of swapping roles like previously. They’re both wild and racing away from each other in their minds, but unable to look away. They’re tripping over their feet and running like there’s something chasing them, but their eyes are fixed on each others’ like they’re running towards each other in a starry reunion.

Honey wants. She’s overcome with this desire, so much so that she can’t even describe it. She just wants. She aches to go back in time and place the dollop of whipped cream on Trevor’s tongue instead and loses herself for a moment before the panic reminds her:

She’s not looking for that.

“You got a little something there,” Honey says, quiet and ashamed and a bit like the kid who does get picked last every time, reaching up to wipe the whipped cream off Trevor’s nose with her thumb. She licks the white dessert off her own skin, stepping away from Trevor. He’s following her, turning with her as she moves away. His own fingers twitch at his sides, one of his thumbs actually making its way up and hovering over the place where Honey’s index fingers rested on his waistband.

She looks at Bea, tearing her eyes away from Trevor like a physical rip of a picture. She opens her mouth and locks her eyes with Bea’s, tilting her face so it’s slightly pointed towards the front hall. She chokes back a haggard gasp, feeling her throat start to grow sore with a teary ache.

I need to go. Please. Come with me. Be there for me. Please.

Bea untangles herself from Quinn’s arms, letting them drop to his sides without another thought. She eyes Cole and Jack, gaze piercing and hard, but it softens as it slides back to Honey.

“Goodnight, boys,” she bids, taking Honey’s arm and escorting them both to the door.

A duet of goodbyes follow them from Quinn and Luke, but the jarring silence that echoes from the kitchen afterward scars Honey while Bea wrenches open the front door. It’s the same silence that surrounds them in Honey’s car.

She shivers in the passenger seat. Bea plucked the keys from Honey’s purse without asking and loaded them in the car, getting behind the wheel. She holds Honey’s hand over the middle console, fingers intertwined and heavy. She drives one-handed, her hair whipping her face. She hates to mess it up. Honey is grateful for the fresh air that chips at her face. It dries up the tear that escapes from the corner of her eye.

Bea stays over. She cuddles Honey under the covers, clinging to Honey’s arm like a koala. Honey lies on her back and stares at the ceiling for hours. Bea is asleep, or close to it, next to her. The even breaths help her to regulate her own, enough that she can speak.

“It was like–” Honey gasps, pressing a hand to her chest as a breath escapes her like it was punched out. She centers herself. “We were back in Charlotte.”

“I know,” Bea breathes out, eyes still closed. She wraps one of her legs under Honey’s, her knee bent under Honey’s own, and her ankle crossing over Honey’s.

“I felt– seventeen.”

“I know,” Bea repeats, her eyes fluttering open. Her hand comes up to rest on Honey’s own, monitoring the rise and fall of her own chest. Her heart is slowing and her gulps of air are less frequent. She’s fine.

“I’m not looking for that,” Honey mumbles, shaking the words out of her mouth.

Bea just takes a deep breath at that, pressing her forehead into Honey’s temple.

“It’s okay if you are.”

Honey’s bottom lip quivers and she starts to leak tears, Bea’s reassurance turning the faucet and making the water flow. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Bea replies. Simple. Easy. No hesitation. Like there’s no other option.

“I came here to leave that behind me.” Honey squeezes her eyes shut, ashamed at the hot trails making their way down to her chin. “Not to, just, repeat it with some guy who’s leaving anyway.”

“Do you really see yourself as someone who’s going to be alone forever?” Bea wipes the tears from Honey’s cheeks with the hand that used to rest on her chest. “You love so hard, Honey. You need someone to give that to. It weighs on you.”

Honey shakes, turning so her body faces Bea’s. She reaches out and buries her face in Bea’s shoulder.

Bea pets her hair. “He likes you.”

Honey nods.

“You feel– something.”

Honey sniffs, but nods again.

“I think it’s time you turn to face all of that,” Bea teases, her voice soft enough and just a little mocking of Honey’s words, the way only a best friend does when you’re crying into their shoulder.

Honey pulls her face away and breathes out a little laugh and quirks a shy smile at Bea. She reaches up and pushes her hair away from her face. She wipes under her eyes with both thumbs, shaking the wetness away and laughing for real.

“Elephants are kind of big, huh?” Honey replies, sniffing between giggles. “Hard to ignore?”

Bea nods, tears prickling at the edges of her own eyes.

The girls stare at each other and giggle, a fresh round of tears staining their cheeks. Honey’s hand slaps at her own chest, knocking at her heart like a concerned parent at a teen’s door.

Honey can breathe again. She uses her lungs to make her laughs louder, harder. She curls into Bea’s hug, squirming on the bed together. They calm down eventually, and their eyes meet for a final time in the dark.

“I just– Trevor?” Honey giggles. “Really?”

“Love at first sight,” Bea snickers back sarcastically.

Honey waves a finger in Bea’s face. “That’s a little dramatic,” Honey corrects. She scoffs to herself. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Okay,” Bea agrees, shrugging. “Let me know.”

They’re quiet for a minute, smiling at each other. Honey rolls her eyes and turns over, facing the ceiling again. Bea cuddles back into her, latching onto Honey’s arm in her koala-way.

“I invited them to our lake day tomorrow,” Bea announces just as Honey starts to fall asleep. She nudges her nose against Honey’s bicep. “You can see if you still feel the same way then.”

Honey inhales and holds the breath, eyes opening and focusing on the ceiling again.

Bea’s breaths even out and she falls asleep, but Honey barely manages to close her eyes before the clock flips to the dreaded “tomorrow.”

13:90 – TREVOR

Trevor hasn’t been fully soft since the first moment he stood between Honey’s legs last night. It’s proving to be a problem.

First, she had bolted from the house looking no better than a wild deer in the midst of a hunt, leaving Trevor standing with the ghost of her fingers in his waistband and a cock so hard that he could feel the blood rushing through it.

Second, Cole and Jack had laughed at him for his very prominent hard-on when the girls left. It was their idea to have this stupid drinking game in the first place, and Cole’s bossiness that had set Trevor up. They had to have planned this out in advance.

Third, the cold shower he took right after Honey left hadn’t even done anything for him. Sure, it had caused his erection to flag briefly, just long enough that he could let out a breath and delude himself into thinking the moment was over.

His biggest problem is that each time he closes his eyes, he’s confronted with the vision of Honey on her knees below him. He can feel her tongue licking up his stomach and chest. He can feel the pressure of her fingertips against his skin.

It’s pure torture.

Trevor has never felt more torn. He spent all of the last few days believing what Quinn said to him– that he doesn’t have a chance with Honey. He convinced himself to accept that he would only ever be her friend. Other than her dare last night, Honey made no moves to talk to Trevor or acknowledge him at all.

He’s confused. How on Earth can you go from ignoring Trevor to looking up at him, cheeks slightly hollowed as she laps up the whipped cream covering him, as if she were blowing his dick?

Fuck.

Trevor presses his palms to his eyes and leans his head back, causing the rocking chair he’s sitting in to wobble beneath him.

He was barely able to sleep last night and found that fresh air helped, so he sat out on the balcony. He watched the sunrise, barely conscious of the passage of time. He was trapped in an endless loop of Honey, on her knees. Honey, removing the cream from his nipples with a careful touch of her tongue. Honey, mouthing over his collarbones and sliding her fingers into his waistband like she wanted to touch him.

He’s helpless.

Trevor blinks and stares out into the woods, the dew from the morning making the wood of his balcony wet and shimmery. He feels… despondent, really. Like he’s tied to reality by a thin string of dread that accompanies his confusion.

The fact is, she doesn’t want him. Anyone would’ve gotten lost in the moment.

He knows that if any of the boys were in his position, they wouldn’t have been better off– Jack would’ve damn near come in his pants, Cole would have giggled because he’s ticklish and still would have found a way to get the girl to kiss him at the end, Luke would’ve frozen and would’ve spent the night in the same spot near the counter, replaying it over and over again.

Quinn might be the only one left who would have a shred of dignity after a whipped cream encounter, and only because he’s been keeping up with Bea so well.

Ugh, and Bea’s name brings another problem to mind.

Trevor can’t bail on the lake trip that Bea invited them on when she stayed over the other night. The boys have been so excited, so ready to rent out a boat and a wakeboard so they can surf. They’ve been planning the trip meticulously, down to the minute. Trevor knows that he can’t bail because he’s the only one with Bea’s phone number– something she refuses to give out to the other boys, for some fucking reason. She won’t even rattle it off for Quinn to put into his phone– it would make the light night booty calls a little easier, Trevor thinks.

Not that they’ve had that many. Just the two. Trevor was expecting a third last night, but with the way Honey ran out of the house…

Fuck, it was no surprise Bea went with her.

Honey looked rattled to her core, staring down at her hands and back up at Trevor like she had never seen them, or him, before in her life. She had guarded herself almost immediately, stepping away and flicking the whip off Trevor’s nose rather than licking it off and completing her bet.

It’s Cole’s fault, and yet Trevor can’t help but feel responsible for the panic in Honey’s eyes and the abrupt end of the night.

He can’t talk to her today. He can’t sit on the boat and see her in her little swimsuit. He wants her so badly– and not just to see if she really looks that ethereal when her lips are wrapped around his dick.

He wants to talk about Leaving Orbit with her, the book she recommended that he so clearly enjoyed, even despite his bad mood the other day. He wants to poke fun at the other boys with her, team up to get revenge for that dare that made the air so tense between them. He wants to cuddle up next to her on the couch, pull her into his lap, and watch Shark Week documentaries and the Olympics later in the summer. He wants to hold her hand.

He has never wanted anything like this from any woman before. It’s never been this bad.

But he can’t have it– Trevor can tell that there’s something nagging at Honey. Maybe he’s too similar to an ex-boyfriend, or someone else that she doesn’t have the fondest of feelings for. Maybe she truly believes her little quips about his California lifestyle, and she can’t see herself with someone like that.

God, maybe she looked him up. He’s never had the best attitude on the ice, especially when he gets frustrated. He knows he’s a good player. He wants to show that off. He knows that sometimes, it comes at the expense of his team. He’s heard it all too well from the staff, from his coaches, from his teammates.

He’s dreading today.

Trevor can’t even hide from it up on the balcony. Yeah, anyone who entered his bedroom wouldn’t be able to see him. His bed is perfectly made up, untouched from the night before. He was so frazzled last night that he cleaned his room, just to regain some order in his life. For all they would know, he disappeared– and yet, Cole manages to spot him below, from the chairs near the fire pit in the yard.

“There you are!” Cole exclaims, brandishing his spoon at Trevor. He looks down at his shorts for a split second. Trevor can only assume a drop of milk from his cereal splashed on his lap. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“Yeah, you tried really hard,” Trevor replies, an edge to his voice. He still hasn’t forgiven Cole, or Jack for that matter, for their ploy last night.

Cole’s face falls, then he shakes his head. “Are you ready for the lake or what?” His voice starts to mirror Trevor’s.

“All I need to do is put my fucking swimsuit on,” Trevor snaps. He stands from the rocking chair.

Somehow, the meanest retort Cole can think of is “Don’t forget to bring your sunscreen!” like a nagging mother who’s just one complaint away from sending her child to his room. His words clash with the slam of Trevor’s sliding door.

Trevor grumbles to himself as he changes into one of the swimsuits he packed for himself, only ever really planning to use it in the hot tub. He’s excited, deep down, that they get to go to the lake and do some of the stuff that they usually do at the Michigan house. God, he can’t shake the Honey problem.

He does pack his sunscreen, the face lotion and body spray that he picked up last week at the grocery store when he and Jack wanted to lay out by the rink and tan. He even grabs the browning lotion he bought for pale ol’ Luke. It smells like bananas and coconuts.

Trudging downstairs, Trevor finds himself back at the scene of the crime. Instead of Honey on the counter, it’s the cooler, and instead of Trevor in front of her, it’s Quinn transferring beers from the fridge.

He chuckles when Trevor stops and stares at the cooler on the counter.

“Thinking about something?” He asks. Trevor scowls when Quinn’s eyes pointedly drop to Trevor’s crotch and the semi that he’s, once again, sporting.

“Shut up,” Trevor growls, adjusting himself in his swim shorts. He clasps his hands in front of him, shielding himself from Quinn’s knowing smile.

Quinn shrugs and goes back to transferring beers to the cooler.

Trevor steals a piece of ice and chews it, hoping to cool himself off. He makes himself a little bowl of cereal and scarfs it down. He checks the clock. It’s almost time to leave.

Fuck.

Bea’s picking them up in the truck she’s borrowing from Earl (only because Vera offered it up to them) in ten minutes. She and Honey are going to ride in the cab, while the boys are supposed to ride in the bed of the truck. It’s legal in North Carolina, apparently. Plus, it’s just a fifteen minute drive. The lake isn’t too far from their house. Trevor barely remembers reading about it on the AirBnB website when he booked the rental for the summer, but the host had referred to the place as a “reservoir” rather than a lake. Semantics. They don’t matter.

He takes a deep breath, still not sure how to feel about seeing Honey again. He answers a couple questions from Quinn about how many beers he wants (a lot), if he has a towel for the lake (no, but Quinn can grab him one from the hall closet), and why he’s sulking so much (he doesn’t want to talk about it).

The minutes drag on and Trevor is scalding his hands with hot water washing his bowl when Bea honks from the driveway. He’s the last to make it to the front door and he’s shocked when he’s whacked in the face by a stray pool noodle. Where did Jack even find that?

Quinn is standing with his arms against the window pane of the passenger door, his head dipped and Bea’s phone in his hand. She takes it from him and says something quietly, then brings her hand to his jaw to draw his lips to hers in a chaste kiss.

Trevor can see Honey’s silhouette behind the wheel, her hair knotted up on top of her head. There are flyaways everywhere, probably because of the open windows, but somehow it doesn’t look messy. Trevor can’t even see her face, but he has to close his eyes because she’s so pretty.

He climbs into the truck bed, Quinn following shortly behind him, and tucks himself neatly into the corner of the tailgate. He takes in the other boys– the gray trunks on Cole, the towel around Luke’s neck, Quinn’s terrible navy crocs that he’s had since he was in high school. They kind of don’t fit him anymore, but they’re molded to his feet and he swears that they’re still perfect. Jack is using his pool noodle– origin still undetermined– as a method of recreating a certain Drake video. It would have been more funny if the video weren’t old news by now.

Trevor still kind of feels the string of dread and uncertainty tugging at him, but all of that crumbles away when Honey takes the first curve up the mountain. She speeds up in the old truck, dragging the wheel. Jack falls off the hump of the wheel where he was sitting as she turns, yelping wildly and losing his pool noodle in the fray. Cole snatches it up and takes the chance to hit him with it.

With each curve, it only gets worse. She’s got the boys in a fit of shouts and giggles as they scramble to find purchase in the back of the truck. Bea is laughing from the front seat, turned around to look out the back window, to take in the chaos firsthand. Her left hand is reaching out the window and holds Quinn’s right, keeping him in place.

Trevor’s laughing too, especially when Luke starts to slide into a supine position, his knuckles white with how hard he’s trying to stay upright. He continues to laugh as he looks up, past Bea, and meets Honey’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

Her gaze turns from soft to wide and alert in an instant, returning to the road the second she locks eyes with him. He can only imagine his own eyes look the same when he turns to face the peeling paint at the bottom of the truck bed.

They arrive at the reservoir in due time, parking in the lot near the boat rentals. Bea and Quinn take care of that, having called ahead a few days prior to get one of the bigger boats that could fit their entire party. Quinn shells over a few dollars in thanks, the cash seamlessly transitioning to the worker’s hand.

The employee leads them to a ramp, where a boat not unlike the one they have at the Michigan house is parked. The boys climb on. Jack has reclaimed his pool noodle and has it tucked under his armpits, safely away from Cole’s grubby fingers.

Trevor finds a spot near the front of the boat, knowing that Quinn will want to drive and Bea will want to sit next to him. Or on his lap. Ew. He doesn’t want to see the blatant PDA from the two, but that’s not the only reason he’s strategically choosing his seat.

Honey’s going to do the same thing– she’s going to stick to Bea’s side, if Trevor’s gut feeling is right, and that’s going to be that.

He’ll avoid her, she’ll avoid him, and the day will be over before they know it.

Trevor pulls his shirt over his head and lays out on the cushions at the bow of the boat, covering his face with the item of clothing. He blocks out the sun and closes his eyes, feeling the sun prickle at his skin.

“Did you put your sunscreen on?” Cole asks, his annoying voice far too close to Trevor’s ear for his liking.

Trevor swings out with a hand, hoping to connect and clock Cole on the side of the head, but as he rips the t-shirt from his face, all he sees is the boy jumping back and laughing with the rocking of the boat.

“Why, do you want to help me?” Trevor retorts, frowning.

Cole smiles. The edges of his mouth quirk up in a mischievous way and Trevor gears up to snap his shirt at the boy. Whatever’s about to leave his mouth is just going to piss Trevor off more.

He doesn’t say anything, at least not until he’s skipping away towards the back of the boat. Trevor squints at his retreating figure, but relaxes his shoulders a bit.

“Honey!” Cole calls, dancing around the girl who has only just managed to get both feet on the boat. She watches him move around her, expression impassive. He extends a hand to help Bea onto the boat, to the chagrin of Quinn behind her.

Trevor’s shoulders snap back up towards his ears, the line of his spine long and tight. He looks around for something to throw at Cole, something harder than just his t-shirt, but there’s nothing.

Cole talks on. “Trevor needs help with his sunscreen and he was asking for you.”

Honey’s gaze turns to Trevor’s expectantly. Her lips are slightly curved and her eyebrows are raised.

“I wasn’t.” Trevor’s voice comes out strangled. “He’s just– causing trouble. Like yesterday.”

Immediately, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. He shouldn’t have brought up what happened last night. It causes her lips to press into a thin line and makes her expression grow calculated. She’s scanning him like a robot would and it’s making his skin crawl.

She opens her mouth with a tsk and says, “I’ll do your back if you do mine.”

Cole and Jack hum and haw at that, dapping each other up. Bea finally flounces her way onto the vessel, creating waves and casting a spare look at Trevor.

“And Cole, you have to do mine,” Bea adds, blinking at the boy innocently. She smiles at him, not quite reaching her eyes. “Since you’re so concerned about sun safety.”

“I’m pale.” Cole shrugs. “Someone has to think about it.”

Bea’s attention has already shifted past Cole’s shoulder. Quinn and Luke have both shrugged off their shirts and twisted their Yankees caps so they’re backwards on their heads. Luke has laid the towel along the swiveling passenger chair behind the raised console in the middle of the boat, blissfully unaware of the five pairs of eyes gawking at him and his brother.

“You’re pale?” Bea asks, incredulous. She points at the Hughes boys. “Look at that.” She fishmouths for a moment before rediscovering her voice. “Quinn, you didn’t look so fair-skinned when I last saw you without a shirt. Luke, you’re like a beacon at a lighthouse!” She turns back to Cole, her finger finding its way to his face. “You, at least, have some pink undertones. You’re made to burn. These guys are made to tan and it’s clear they’ve been neglecting their time in the sun.”

“That’s what I said,” Trevor agrees. He remembers the tanning lotion, sitting in one of his pockets, and digs it out. He waves it in front of Bea’s face, then tosses it to her. “I even brought some tanning lotion for them.”

Bea catches it and her face lights up. She shows Honey the logo on the front of the bottle and grins. “This kind always smells so good,” she praises. “Good choice, Trev.”

She stomps toward the boys, intention written all over her face. Luke’s back is turned to her once again, reverting back to the way it was before she called his name, but Bea views it as a canvas. She clicks open the bottle and gives it a shake, squirting the cool liquid all over Luke’s back in curves and twirls.

Luke squeaks when she does it, lurching forward, but Bea chastises him and makes him hold still so she can rub it into his skin.

Trevor’s eyes move from that scene to the girl in front of him. She’s wearing a sweatshirt over her bathing suit, the cuffs rolled up above her wrist. It’s long enough to hide any shorts that she could be wearing. She’s looking at Bea with a tiny smile on her lips, head tilted to the side. Her legs are long and tan and she’s got a freckle behind her ear.

Trevor aches to press his lips to her skin. Her flyaways would tickle the side of his face, the shell of her ear would smooth itself against the tip of his nose, and he’d be able to wrap his arms around her to pull her against his chest…

That’s enough of that.

He wants to touch her, he does. He wants to put sunscreen on her back and let her return the favor. He wants to be the one to slide his fingers under the straps of her top and dip into the waistband of her bottoms, just to make sure all of her skin is covered. Obviously. Nothing more.

Nothing more.

Oh my God, he wants to touch her so bad.

Trevor has to tear his eyes from Honey and clench his jaw, biting his tongue between his teeth to bring him back to reality. He’s back to sporting a semi– if it isn’t the consequences of his own thoughts– and he knows that if he touches her, if she touches him, he won’t be able to control himself.

“Looks like Bea’s out,” Trevor says, thinking quick on his feet. “I think Cole’s sunscreen is more important than mine, since he’s ‘made to burn.’” He takes out his sunscreen and claps it into Cole’s palm. “You and Honey can do each other up. I’m going to take a nap at the front. Wake me up when we start surfing.”

His eyes slide over Honey just before he walks away, and she looks puzzled. Trevor swallows a smile and returns to the bow of the boat, laying out and dropping his shirt over his face.

He zones out, eyes closed and breath even. Someone joins him on the cushion at some point, just before the boat starts to lurch away from the dock. He feels the spray of the lake dampen his shirt and cool his skin. The sun is already starting to pick at his chest, his tolerance not as high as it is when they’re always on the boat in Michigan.

“You’re burning, Trevor.”

Trevor startles, sitting up and ripping the shirt away from his face. It takes a second for his eyes to adjust to the sun.

Honey holds out his sunscreen. The can is in one hand, the face lotion in the other. She’s biting the inside of her cheek and staring at him.

Trevor reaches out and plucks the items from her grasp, purposefully avoiding her fingers.

“Thanks,” Trevor says, looking anywhere but her face. He can’t look her in the eyes. He can’t touch her. He tucks them away, tying them into his shirt and tossing it to the side. He misses the way her eyes flash and fix on the movements of his fingers, her lips parting. He’s too busy making his way to his feet and turning away. “I think I’m going to borrow the tanning oil from Luke, though. I’ll probably get him to do my back. Cole already did yours, right?”

Honey just hums and nods. Trevor looks up just long enough to take in the tight smile on her face. He can see that her eyes are rimmed with sunglasses, so he’s safe from the look in her eyes.

Trevor raises his fingers in a half-hearted wave before he walks away, joining Luke and Jack at the back of the boat. They’ve each got a hand in Cole’s pockets, making sure he doesn’t fly away as he stands on a bench and ties the lead-ropes they brought to the canopy.

Bea sits on Quinn’s thigh as he drives the boat, arms around his shoulders and laughing at the boys. Her eyes flicker with alarm as Trevor approaches, and she turns to face the front of the boat, rising off Quinn’s lap slightly to peek around the console.

Trevor hears her scoff and hop off Quinn’s lap, pattering away with light steps. He pays her no mind– just gives Cole a lovetap on the stomach so he doubles over. Jack and Luke laugh and Cole glares at Trevor, but the bickering transforms their area of the boat into a bubble where only they live. Quinn visits sometimes, to switch out once they’ve got the surfboard ready, but the day belongs to Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor.

Honey and Bea tan in the front and Trevor misses every pointed glare from Bea and sneaking, evaluating glance from Honey that comes his way.

14:90 – HONEY

Honey and Bea are sitting at the picnic table in Honey’s backyard. They’re sipping tea and the sun is setting. Honey blows on the surface of her mug, keeping it raised to her lips to take a sip.

She and Bea have been hanging out all day.

Honey was in this position at sunrise, sipping coffee out of the same mug and looking at the same mountains.

They’ve mostly sat in silence all day, reading their books or scrolling on their phones. Honey finishes the book she had been reading, so they break into The Reading Nook as soon as Bea wakes up, and Honey borrows a new one. She’s over a quarter of the way through the new book now, but the sun has set too much for her to continue reading.

So, they drink tea. They drove to Bea’s house to get some calming tea, then back to Honey’s. Bea made the tea while Honey sat and breathed, listening to the birds sing their eggs to sleep. They sip their tea, but Honey knows that time is running out. Bea’s been patient enough.

“I think it’s time we talk about what happened these past two days,” Bea says, setting her mug on the flat of the table. “Really, really talk.”

Honey sighs, putting her own mug down. “Yeah, I know.”

“I only have two questions for you, Honey,” Bea says. She laces her fingers together and leans in, like a principal or a school counselor.

Honey wants to laugh. It’s like an intervention. “What are your questions, Bea-girl?” She asks with a breath of a laugh and a roll of her eyes.

“Question one,” Bea pauses for effect, tilting her head to the side and widening her eyes. “How did you feel about Trevor after you licked, uh, everything off of his body?” She gestures with her hand, waving it in a circle. She tilts her chin up and smiles, sarcastically in pain, at Honey.

“I was thinking–”

Bea interrupts. “Nuh-uh. I don’t care about what you were thinking. What were you feeling about Trevor? And not once you started thinking about home, or any of that. The second you looked at him: what were you feeling?”

Honey’s face twists, her nose crinkling. She hates when Bea plays therapist.

“I felt like…” Honey trails off, thinking back. She gnaws on her bottom lip, looking at the dark masses of leaves rustle on the trees surrounding her home. “It was warm. I felt… light. If Trevor hadn’t had his hands on my waist, I might’ve… been like that puddle guy… in Sky High.” Her voice gets quieter with every pause and Honey is very conscious of the fact that she’s referencing the cult-classic ‘DCOM’ Sky High in her therapy session with her best friend.

Bea’s conscious of the reference, too, staring at Honey. Her jaw is dropped and she’s filled with mild aghast, just like Honey. She shuts her mouth, closes her eyes, and nods to herself before opening them again.

“Question two. How did you feel after Trevor went to the back of the boat yesterday?”

Honey knew it was coming, but the memory still tugs at her.

She doesn’t get it. Trevor had been so… talkative, at first. He had sought Honey out and, as much as she hates to admit it, being chased was nice. Trevor had stood out from the first day, so much so that she wouldn’t even consider the other boys if they asked– and Jack did ask, that one time.

It was like a complete 180º after the dare. He steps away from her, he can’t meet her eyes, he found not one, but two excuses to get away from Honey after she offered to put sunscreen on his back. Yeah, she figured Cole was joking and setting them up for disaster, but she was ready to role with it after having that conversation with Bea on Friday.

Trevor froze when she was around and avoided Honey like a fucking. plague.

Honey’s silence speaks for itself, because Bea opens her mouth to continue.

“Maybe–”

Honey talks over her, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t– think he likes me.”

She takes a breath before opening her eyes again.

Bea stares at Honey, her first two fingers covering her mouth.

Honey blinks and looks down at her hands, wrapping them around her mug to save them from the sudden frostbite spreading over her fingers. “If he felt like I did after that dare… he wouldn’t have ignored me yesterday.” Honey presses her tongue into her top teeth, clamping her lips shut. The edges of her eyes are prickling with wetness again.

Bea reaches across the table and takes one of her hands.

“If that’s how he feels, then he’s stupid,” Bea says, voice definite. “He would be an idiot to stop chasing you.”

“I wish it was as easy as you and Quinn,” Honey admits. She stares at the warped and chipped wood under their hands. She’s sick to her stomach for a second, having déjà vu of the same image five years earlier, when she and Bea left Charlotte and spent their first night here. They didn’t even have mugs yet. They just talked and held hands and took in their new home. It’s the same feeling.

Bea shakes her head. “It’s not the same. Quinn and I aren’t–” She pauses to scoff, a grimace across her face. “We’re hooking up. We both know that and we don’t want anything more. That’s why it’s so easy.”

“But you felt so bad when you had to tell him,” Honey argues.

“I felt guilty.” Bea shrugs. “It passed.”

They sit in silence for a little while longer. Bea drops Honey’s hands and returns to her tea.

Honey looks down at her tea and brings it to her lips, sipping. She takes a second sip, clearing her throat.

“I want to be wanted,” Honey says. She feels silly saying it, the phrase obvious. Everyone wants to be wanted. She’s not special. To make herself feel better, she adds, partially as a joke: “And I want to have sex.”

“It’s been a long time since you said that,” Bea replies and Honey’s heart soars. She always understands exactly what Honey means. She always knows exactly what to say. Honey covers her face with her hands, overwhelmed. Bea continues. “It doesn’t have to be silly old Trevor, since he’s a loser.”

“Yeah… I don’t want any of the others,” Honey laughs.

Bea scoffs, defensive. “Yeah, and I wasn’t gonna give you any of ‘em.”

They laugh together, heads thrown back. Bea’s foot stomps against the dirt.

When they quiet down, Bea adds with a grin, “I was just thinking that we could have a night out or something. Wilkesboro has to have something you can settle for. Just for a fuck, you know?”

Honey nods, smiling. She raises her tea to her lips and swallows the last of it. The mug clatters when she sets it down.

“Would it,” she starts, her smile breaking into a toothy, tilted beam. “Would it be so bad if I wanted it to be Trevor?”

Bea squeals and wiggles. She grabs Honey’s hands and squeezes, bouncing in her seat. She’s so excited that it causes Honey to break out into a fresh round of embarrassed giggles, shielding her face from the aftermath of her admission.

“We’re going on double dates,” Bea makes Honey promise, linking their pinkies. “We are. Just talk to him… tomorrow…” She wiggles her eyebrows. “And tell him that you want him to flirt with you again.”

“Well, it’s not that easy,” Honey denies, rolling her eyes.

“Isn’t it, though?” Bea squints one of her eyes shut and tilts her head, making a face at Honey. She smooths her expression and makes her eyes wide, blinking innocently as she mocks: “‘You know, you should really keep flirting with me, Trev. You never know when it’ll pay off.’ See?”

Honey laughs in disbelief. “Yeah, okay. I’ll say exactly that.”

“Fine, if that’s so hard, go find me a pen. Then I have to go home. It’s late.” Bea bosses, pointing towards Honey’s living room. When Honey stands, she smiles again, sickly-sweet. “Thank you, Baby-Honey.”

“Whatever,” Honey replies, standing and finding a Sharpie in her junk drawer. She overemphasizes the nickname sarcastically when she returns to the table: “Buzzy.”

Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey and holds her hand out expectantly. Honey clicks her tongue in annoyance, but puts her hand in Bea’s, her palm facing up. Bea leans over her, stretching Honey’s skin so it’s taut. She scribbles something onto Honey’s hand, at one point pulling out her phone to read a message. She nods when she’s done and reaches up to draw a little heart on the inside of Honey’s wrist. She blows a kiss at Honey and slaps the marker in her hand, closing her fingers around the marker. Bea stands, takes her mug, and drops it off in the sink before she walks out of Honey’s front door.

Honey raises her other hand in a belated wave, barely looking. She returns to her other hand, unfurling her fingers. Scrawled on her palm are ten digits and Trevor’s name.

It’s a phone number.

Honey pales. She can’t text Trevor. She has to tell him to keep things going in person, not behind a screen. That’s not who she is. She hasn’t acted like this in five years, and she’s not planning on reverting to old habits. No, she has to go see Trevor tomorrow.

Monday!

Tomorrow, the fruit stand is open. Trevor knows that Honey goes to the fruit stand on Mondays, and if he’s interested at all, he’ll show up. It’s, like, a ‘thing’ now, right?

Yeah. She’ll see him at the fruit stand tomorrow. If she doesn’t, then she’ll know how he feels for sure. She won’t have to text, she won’t have to go track Trevor down– it’ll be easy, like how Honey wants it to be. Quinn and Bea aren’t the only people who can have it easy.

#puck-luck's fics #andy writes anything🍄#small town girl x tz #trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras fanfiction #quinn hughes #jack hughes smut #luke hughes #cole caufield #hockey smut #hockey romance #nhl smut

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puck-luck · 6 months ago

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new beginnings | may 27 - june 2

note: before i start this, i just want to warn y'all that it's 24.4k. if you want to read this in one sitting, i recommend locking in.

please hit me up in my inbox to give me feedback! or your thoughts! or speculation on what's coming next! i want you guys to talk to me all the time and tell me every thought you have. if i could send each of you the google document and force you to leave comments, i would.

also, i think by the time this fic is finished, it might be long enough to be a novel. should we all work together to get it published?

1:90 – TREVOR

“Do we really think it’s a good idea to spend the summer down here instead of the Michigan house?” Jack asks. “We own that one, after all.”

“Everyone knows about the Michigan house,” Trevor points out.

Cole, who had plotted this with Trevor after last summer’s debacle, sighs. “We can’t keep having the same conversation. We decided that we would train at the Checkers’ rink when we can get down to Charlotte and use the cement slab as our own rink in the yard of the rental house in the meantime. So that’s not your problem. So, what is, Jack? You’re gonna miss the girls?”

Jack fixes Cole with a cutting glare. “Fuck off.”

“You know, there are girls in North Carolina,” Cole says, a grin dimpling his cheeks. “Sweet, southern belles, even.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “I can’t wait for the rest of the goons to get here. We’ll put it to a fucking vote and I’ll get to go home.”

“If you want to go home so bad, why don’t you?” Trevor asks. “We’re not forcing you to be here.”

“You triple-belted me in the backseat,” Jack argues. “You’re taking me away from Michigan and you can’t even let me have shotgun.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” Trevor mocks. “You have hands. And fingers. You’re not helpless.”

Jack huffs from his spot in the back, stubbornly turning his head to the right to watch the trees pass. Cole does the same from the passenger seat, tapping his fingers along the pane of the window.

There are twenty miles, an hour total, still on the GPS. Trevor hasn’t seen a town since they stopped at the gas station at the bottom of the mountain, the closest city being Winston-Salem almost an hour and a half ago, barely more than sparse houses and fields in the time since. They’re driving along a stream now and the latest exit off this small, two lane highway said “Love Valley.” Trevor snickers at the sign and goes to point it out to Jack, but Jack beats him to it.

“Don’t, Z.”

“It’s funny, dude.”

“It’s not, though.”

Cole cranks the volume up, drowning out the continuing argument that floats forward from the backseat.

They drive on and Trevor thinks about it– everything. They have three unobscured months in Litchton, the only people knowing about their whereabouts are their families and coaches. The goons, as Jack referred to them, would be joining them sometime in the next day or two. Quinn and Luke had to wrap up some loose ends at home (Quinn, closing up his apartment for the summer; Luke, visiting some college friends as their semester comes to an end.

Litchton was the safest bet and Krebs had mentioned North Carolina to Trevor in passing the one time they caught up throughout the year, heaving heard from Leschyshyn that the mountain towns of his home state were notoriously quiet and drama-free and that their inhabitants, although lovers of gossip, kept to themselves.

After those girls had snuck into the Michigan house at the end of the summer and started showing up wherever the boys went in the evenings, Trevor just wanted a summer off. He wanted time with his friends the way they used to have it, just working out together and drinking until they dropped, swimming and parading around the town like normal guys in their early twenties.

In Litchton, they could pretend to be guys that were home for the summer, ready to start some corporate finance or everyday-tie job. It was a look into what could’ve been, had they not dedicated their lives to their sport.

For three months, he gets to be Trevor Zegras, the kid who complained about his name being last on the roster in every class growing up and the kid who worked in his mom’s store after school. But he’s also Trevor Zegras, NHL superstar, ninth overall pick, owner of the best Michigan goal in the United States, so he might toss his name around in Litchton this summer. Just to see if it gets him anything.

If it doesn’t, his good looks certainly will. What’s flirting with a few old ladies on the street? It’ll be the highlight of their year.

Trevor misses the driveway the first time the car passes it. It’s hidden by brush and along a curve. The GPS reroutes them– but they have to drive an extra fifteen minutes along this road before they can turn around.

They drive into a small town, a strip of eclectic stores littering the main road. There’s a small grocery store with a fruit stand out front that Cole points to.

“We could pick up some food while we’re out here,” Cole suggests. Upon hearing Jack’s mouth open in the backseat, he continues, “Just so we don’t have to come back later.”

Jack slouches against the backseat, huffing about being cut off at the opportunity to express his discomfort.

“Jacky, will you relax? We’re going to have fun this summer.” Trevor tells him, turning into the parking lot and choosing a spot close to the entrance.

Cole laughs when Jack unbuckles his three seatbelts in the wrong order and has to untangle them. Trevor flips the mirror down and fudges his hair, fluffing the ends. He had gotten it cut just before they left for this trip, so the edges were still even and sharp.

Jack is the first to exit the car, practically throwing himself onto the pavement with his excitement to leave the vehicle behind, if only briefly. They’d been driving for hours. Cole flew into New York from Montréal, so Trevor had to pick him up from the airport. They picked Jack up in Jersey in the early morning and started driving south.

Trevor can’t blame Jack for his annoyance. They’ve been in the car with him for ten long hours and they forced the first stretch of driving on him, having spent about two hours in the car before getting him. He had just woken up and had to drive four hours through the traffic of Philly and into Baltimore. He napped while Cole drove down through most of Virginia, and then woke up grumpy anyway when Trevor took over to take on North Carolina.

It’s been a long fucking day.

They shop together, but they bicker quietly. After years of friendship, their arguments seem more like brotherly spats. The knowing smiles from the women in the grocery store prove that they’ve heard encounters like this before, likely in their own homes.

Eventually, Trevor rolls his eyes and goes to sit in the car. He leaves Cole and Jack to pay for the groceries. Upon leaving the store, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and pulls up Instagram, hoping to catch up on the posts that he had missed on the long drive.

Walking past the fruit stand out front, Trevor bumps into someone and he stumbles back.

“I’m sorry,” Trevor apologizes, reaching out and steadying the girl with a touch to her elbow. “I didn’t see you.”

“Hard to see me when you’re on your phone,” she replies with a tilted smile.

Trevor lets out a little laugh at her reply, barely a breath. “I’ll be more careful next time.”

She nods with an approving hum and turns back to the stand, picking up a peach and turning it over in her hand.

Trevor turns and walks to the car, climbing into the vehicle and settling behind the wheel. He watches the sliding door for his friends, but his eyes drift back to the girl.

She’s tied a red bandana in her hair and she slips peaches into her mesh bag. She talks to the vendor, using her hands to speak. She’s pretty, he realizes, far prettier than the girls he knows from California. The vendor hands her a basket of strawberries, which she takes carefully, inspecting the red berries by twisting the basket’s handle from side to side, spinning it. Trevor can see her profile this way– the slope of her nose, smooth. Her eyelashes, long. Her lips, pink and pursed into a little smile. Her stance is tilted, one hand on her hips.

Trevor is back outside the car before he can think. He approaches her as she pays for her fruit, standing behind her when she turns around.

She jumps when she sees him. “You’re still here?” She asks.

“No, but I’m back,” Trevor replies, realizing just how lame he sounds. “My friends and I are staying here for the summer and I just wanted to introduce myself.”

When he falls silent after explaining himself, she looks at him expectantly. He can see the bottoms of her teeth as her lips part. “So introduce yourself.” She gestures for him to go on.

“I’m Trevor,” he says, sticking his hand out. “My friends call me Z.”

Her eyes drop to his hand briefly. She considers it before reaching up and taking his hand, shaking it. “Why?” She asks.

“My last name starts with a Z,” Trevor supplies. “Zegras.” The smile he gives her is strained, expecting her eyes to light up in recognition. They do, but it’s not in the way he expects.

“You’re Greek?” She asks, her interest piqued.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies. “But not, like… Greek. I’m from New York, but I live in California now.”

At the mention of California, her face stiffens. She hums disapprovingly. “Got sick of the West Coast, I take it? Is that why you’re back east this summer?”

Trevor flounders for a moment. “I love California, but the guys and I always spend our summers together. Usually we’re in Michigan.”

“So y’all travel all around, huh?” She asks. She doesn’t sound impressed, which makes Trevor nervous. In fact, she sounds almost disdainful, but the look on her face appears as though she’s holding back a laugh. Whether that is at his expense, he doesn’t know.

“We’re very lucky,” Trevor confirms, nodding tightly. “Most of our travel is for work, though. We all work in the same industry and it involves a lot of, um, business trips.”

“Business trips?” She asks, letting the laugh overtake her this time as she looks him up and down. “You?”

Trevor looks down at his own outfit, the basketball shorts and loose t-shirt. They’re two of the few clothes he owns that are not branded with the Ducks logo. He scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “We’ve been driving a while and I wanted to be comfortable.”

“You certainly look comfortable,” She agrees with a nod, her grin knowing and wide.

“I didn’t catch your name,” Trevor says with a similar grin, shuffling forward just a step now that he’s got her smiling and laughing.

It’s then that Cole and Jack exit the grocery store, each with a hefty load of grocery bags on their arms. They’re laughing, so it appears Cole has managed to cheer up the sullen Jack in Trevor’s absence. Trevor watches the girl’s eyes leave his, drawn to the movement and volume of his two friends. He curses them in his mind, watching as they find him and decide to approach.

“I thought you were warming up the car, Z,” Jack accuses, his eyes flickering between Trevor and the girl. “D’you get distracted?”

Trevor bites his tongue before forcing a smile on his face. He turns back to the girl. “These are the some of the friends I mentioned, Jack and Cole. The other ones, Jack’s brothers, aren’t here yet.” Trevor knows he’s overexplaining, but he can’t help it. Something about this girl has him awkward and tongue-tied, yet his tongue can’t stop forming words and pushing them out.

“Yeah, your business partners.” She rubs a hand over her face, smoothing out the half-smile that was clearly keeping a laugh at bay. “Are they also from California?”

Cole snorts. “Business partners?” He repeats. “From California? No way. You’d never catch me dead in Anaheim, unless we’re playing there. Believe me, I’d be on the quickest flight back.”

“I just said we all worked in the same industry,” Trevor corrects, throwing on his most charming smile to try and salvage the situation. He wasn’t lying, but this girl might think he is, and that would be disastrous. He doesn’t know why, but it would be. He wants her to think highly of him and now he’s made two bad first impressions.

The second one is his friends’ fault, of course.

And she does think he’s lying– Trevor can tell by the way she looks him up and down, then Cole, then Jack. Her eyes squint imperceptibly at Cole’s mention of “playing” in Anaheim, rather than working. It was a statement that could have extended the conversation, but this girl seems to decide that she is uninterested.

She nods sarcastically, then scoffs quietly. “I have to go,” she says. “It was nice to meet you, Trevor. Have fun in Litchton this summer, boys.”

“Oh, we will,” Jack assures her. Trevor hates how his eyes rake over her, combing through each detail of her skin, her clothes, and her hair.

“Nice meeting you!” Cole calls after her as she walks away.

Both boys turn to Trevor, equally annoying smiles on their faces.

“Shut up,” he hisses before they can say anything.

“Who was that?” Cole asks.

“I didn’t get her name,” Trevor growls through gritted teeth. “She was just about to tell me and then the two of you showed up.”

“Boo-hoo,” Jack teases. “So you won’t be the first to bed a girl this summer, for… how many summers in a row is it now, Coley?”

Cole’s laughter breaks his face, but Trevor interrupts before he can speak.

“It’s not even a real competition, Jack. You only act like it is because you fuck the same girl every summer as soon as we get to the lake house. It’s trashy.”

“Being a winner isn’t trashy, Trev. In fact, maybe I should go follow after the girl you were just chatting up. I’ll show her how a real man flirts.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Trevor feels a flare of anger well up inside of him when Jack insinuates taking this girl for himself. It should be anger about questioning Trevor’s manhood, but it is not. “Get in the car.”

He stalks off, starting the car this time and situating himself behind the wheel. Jack vies for the passenger seat unsuccessfully, souring his mood yet again. Despite Cole’s smaller stature, Jack is the one left in the backseat with the bags of groceries around him. Soon, Trevor’s shirt joins him after a misguided throw to the trunk of the car where their luggage resides.

When they arrive at the house, Jack only carries the groceries inside. He claims he’s been stilted all day and Trevor can’t really do much to prove otherwise. Cole carries in his and Jack’s luggage into the home– a rental that Trevor paid good money to book for the entire summer.

“I get the best room!” Trevor yells after them. “I paid for it! I want the ensuite bathroom!”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jack replies. He’ll leave the room for Trevor to take anyway.

The three boys had planned this ahead of time. They would be in Litchton the whole summer, so they will take the three bedrooms that have king beds. Quinn and Luke will take the queen beds in the other bedroom, and the various guests throughout the summer will take the bunk beds in the basement. From the pictures alone, Trevor realizes that the house could sleep more than ten people. If they can find ten people, maybe they could throw a party.

and invite that girl, Trevor thinks.

He’s taken aback by the thought and its suddenness. He doesn’t even know her name or if he’ll see her again– so why is he thinking of her?

Trevor shakes the thought and grabs his bags from the back of the car. He used an extra practice bag from the bottom of his closet in Anaheim to pack his clothes for the summer, so he has a free hand to open the door that Cole closed behind him.

He finds the big bedroom easily and drops his bag in the closet, not bothering to unpack. He looks out the sliding door onto his porch, the wrap-around that encircles the entire back of the house. His porch holds two rocking chairs and a wooden bench. The house is built out of wood– almost overwhelmingly so– and the decorations match. His bedframe, his dresser, his bedside table, his small desk, the fan, even the blinds on the window… all of them are made of wood.

His bathroom has double sinks and a granite countertop. The handles are gold in color, but likely not in material. The spout of the sink is more like a water spigot that one might find outdoors, but it’s classy. When Trevor enters his bathroom, he’s in awe of the jacuzzi tub and shower on the other side of the room.

The tub and shower are both built from dark marble, bespeckled with lines of darker ore. The tub has wooden cabinets beneath the feet of marble on either side of the tub, which holds towels and toiletries on the right and left respectively. The tub has jets and a handheld spout that’s detachable. Trevor considers them. He can think of a use for both.

The shower is spacious with an overhead spout, wide and fancy. It has ledges for toiletries, as well as a seat in the corner. The door is glass and there is a hook for towels next to the opening. The shower stands from ceiling to floor, completely confined. Despite the windows to the side of it, the occupant of the shower would be completely hidden from sight, once the glass door steams up.

Trevor explores the house further, but doesn’t take up residence anywhere. Cole and Jack seem to have put the groceries away while he found his room and looked around. Now, they’re nowhere to be found. They’ve likely taken up residence in their bedrooms for the night, tired from their eleven hour drive.

Lord knows Jack needs sleep before he braves this vacation. He always gets grumpy when he’s tired, part of the reason why he naps prior to every game.

Trevor is glad that all of the boys can make it up for the summer. He can’t wait to get things started.

2:90 – HONEY

She wakes with the sunrise, as she does every Tuesday. It’s her first day of the week at the bookstore and she has to open. The Reading Nook is always closed on Mondays and she is one of three workers– the owner, Ada and her best friend since childhood, Bea. Ada opens the store on Thursday, whereas Bea opens it on Friday. Every other day of the week, the responsibility falls on her.

She makes her coffee and drinks it on her couch, looking out the window towards the mountains in the distance. It’s clear today and she can see the rows of mountains clearly– ten rows back. Once, her father had told her that if you could count ten rows back, you were looking at the mountains across state lines. If you could count ten mountains, then you could count all the way to Tennessee.

She believed him, until she realized that the sun always rises behind those mountains. She faces east. Tennessee is to the west.

Still, the memory comes with fondness. It was before she moved away from home to pursue a life of quietness in the mountains, her favorite place in the world. Those days are long in the past. She has no interest in returning to them, given how far she’s come. The only person from her hometown that was welcomed into this new life was Bea and she has proven time and time again that she is deserving of that role.

Not only did they grow up together, but she got her nickname because of her friendship with Bea. As children, a long-forgotten teacher had made a comment about the two being attached at the hip, stuck together like glue. She had corrected herself with a laugh, evidently feeling clever when she said: “No, more like a bee to honey, right, girls?” From that day on, she had only gone by Honey and Bea had shortened her name from Beatrice to keep the analogy.

She drives to The Reading Nook and unlocks the store, wiping the counter and sweeping the main room while she waits for her regular patrons to enter the store.

On Tuesdays, the “founding” women of Litchton convene in the bookstore and knit. Some days, Honey joins them. Others, she just wishes to sit and read at their table, listening in on the gossip of the week. The women are not so much founders as the grandmothers who lived in Litchton since their birth, having married and worked and raised families here. They are true Appalachian women– driven by superstition and fantastical solutions, lovers of a good story, and wonderful bakers who only crave to share their gift. They are churchgoers, often multiple times a week, and headstrong believers in their chosen politician. These are the attributes that Honey does not share with the women– she was an outsider, although she has been welcomed into the Litchton society since moving here. She attended church when the ladies asked her to, usually for the rare wedding or baptism. Rarer for a funeral, luckily. Honey does not feel any particular way about politics, at least not out loud, and she’s lucky that the ladies try to reserve that topic for the debates of their husbands over dinner parties, not the knitting circle on early Tuesday mornings.

Sacha is the first to arrive to the bookstore that morning, armed with blueberry muffins in a tupperware that Honey will have to wash in the little sink in the back while the women are knitting. Sacha has left one too many tupperwares and bowls in The Reading Nook and Honey won’t allow her to leave another behind.

Honey plates the muffins for Sacha while the elderly woman secures the long table in the store for her friends. It does not take long for Scarlett, Gillian, Vera, and Rosalind to join. The women each knit their own project, waking up over coffee and muffins before the gossip starts.

It begins with Vera’s son’s divorce, something she had been dreading since he proposed to his soon-to-be ex-wife while they were still students at NC State. They had moved to Raleigh permanently, an action that Vera believes started this whole thing. When her son left home, and his wife finally revealed that she didn’t want children, Vera knew it was over. Or so she said. Honey thinks that she’s just butthurt about her son fleeing the nest… ten years ago. She wonders, briefly, if her own mother feels this way about her.

Honey shakes herself out of her thoughts as soon as Scarlett introduces the next topic, the topic that Honey knew was coming since the night before.

“Did you see those young men at the store yesterday? I know you always do your shopping on Monday evenings, Rosalind.” Scarlett tilts her head like she’s conspiring with Rosalind, like Rosalind has been holding information from the group.

Rosalind nods, eyes glinting behind her wired glasses. “They were such handsome boys. Lord, I tell you, if I were a young lady nowadays…”

She trails off and Honey stifles a laugh, looking down at the counter. She can feel the ladies’ eyes on her, no doubt hoping that the mention of boys piques her interest. Honey knows how these ladies were in their day– boy crazy but also efficient, looking for the perfect match and settling for no less. All of them prevailed, although from their complaints, you would never know their husbands were the loves of their lives.

“Ladies, you know this conversation would be better suited for Bea,” Honey teases.

“Bea is too forthcoming, you are still somewhat of a mystery.” Gillian lifts an eyebrow.

“Where is Miss Bea?” Vera asks. “Wasn’t she supposed to be here half an hour ago?”

Honey doesn’t stifle her laugh this time. “Miss Vera!” She exclaims. “It is a Tuesday morning. You know Bea has no interest in showing up to work for at least another hour.”

Vera shakes her head. “You and Ada have got to stop allowing her to show up so late.”

Sacha laughs. “As if they could stop her if they tried!”

All of the women, and Honey, laugh at the joke. It’s well established in Litchton that Bea is the tardy sort, whereas everyone else prefers to be early or on time. Bea has the attitude of a city girl, to quote the old ladies, but the work ethic and priorities of a Litchton woman. She likes her men, she likes her job, but she loves a nice lay-in.

“Besides,” Honey tells the women, hesitating with a coy smile before dropping the bomb of information: “I’ve already met those men.”

The effect is instantaneous. All of them drop their knitting onto their laps and gasp. Gillian clutches at her chest, always the most dramatic of the quintet.

“My darling,” Rosalind marvels.

“Well?” Scarlett questions. “How? When? Tell us everything.”

Honey moves from behind the counter to an empty seat at their table. She sits next to Sacha, the woman taking her hand and holding it tightly.

“You ladies seem to forget that I go to the fruit stand outside the store on Monday evenings,” Honey begins. “Which is where I ran into them. Literally, too– one of them had his nose buried in his phone and bumped into me. He could’ve knocked me over!”

“You should have fallen so that he could have helped you up,” Rosalind suggests. The women murmur in agreement.

Honey rolls her eyes. “I did not. He apologized, I told him that he only bumped into me because he was caught up in his phone, and he said he would be more careful next time.”

“Next time,” Gillian repeats, nodding. “So he wishes to see you again?”

“Turns out, ‘next time’ was about five minutes later, when I went to leave the stand and he was right behind me!” Honey reveals, purposefully lacing incredulity into her voice. She places a finger on her lips and widens her eyes, playing into the dramatics of the ladies as if to say “What do you think of that?”

The women gasp in time.

“Which one was it?” Scarlett asks.

“I only saw the other two for a moment, so I don’t think I could describe them well enough to you,” Honey says. “The one I spoke to is named Trevor.” She pauses to roll her eyes before adding sarcastically, “But his friends call him Z.”

Scarlett and Rosalind nod and look to each other.

“It must have been the one who left earlier than the other two,” Scarlett says. “With those awful tattoos.”

Honey bites back a giggle. Once a southern mother, always a southern mother. “He did have tattoos,” she confirms.

“You two would get along,” Vera suggests, not so subtly casting a glance at the leafy vines that crawl up Honey’s arm.

Honey goes quiet, glaring at Vera. She has worked to try and get the ladies to stop commenting on her body and habits over the past few years, but the ladies are stubborn and traditional in most senses.

“How long will they be here? Or were they just stopping through?” Gillian asks.

“They’ll be here all summer, so I’m sure we’ll get our fill of them.” With that, Honey effectively ends her role in the conversation. She returns to the counter and opens her book, pretending to read it.

She knew the ladies would have caught wind of the men’s arrival by now and would want to discuss it. She knew that the ladies would be interested in setting her up with one of these new arrivals. They were cute, she’d give them that. At a glance, any of the three could have been nice company at a brewery, but Honey wasn’t looking. She was perfectly content with finding herself and making her own life, even if it meant that she wasn’t finding a husband like most women in Litchton wanted her to do.

The other thing was this: Trevor hadn’t made the best first impression. He bumped into her, then startled her, then told her some story about business partners or colleagues that definitely was not true, and he was from California. He’s a yuppie, a hipster who probably enjoys the bustle of Los Angeles and can’t handle the slow, satisfying life of a small town. To her estimate, Trevor has got a week before he leaves Litchton for something more glamorous and fast-paced.

The ladies relay the news to Bea when she finally shows up for her shift, a travel mug of coffee in hand from which she sips throughout each tantalizing detail of Scarlett’s retelling. Upon Honey’s information, Bea’s eyes flicker knowingly toward the counter and Honey just shrugs. Bea’s eyes then narrow, accompanying a questioning tilt of her head. Honey shakes her head at that, and Bea lets it go.

“Well, I heard the reason that Mr. Mayes wasn’t at church last week wasn’t his hip acting up,” Bea says to the ladies when it’s her turn. That starts a whole new tangent for the knitting club, one that will keep them occupied and in their seats for a number of minutes. It gives Honey the time to slip into the back and cut up one of the peaches that she brought from home to snack on during work.

The ladies leave The Reading Nook about an hour after Bea’s arrival, leaving the store empty except for the two girls and floaters looking for their next novel.

Bea leans against the counter with a smug smile, blinking innocently at Honey.

“What do you really think about them?” She asks.

“I think they’re trouble,” Honey says. “They didn’t seem on the same page about their jobs, they don’t know anything about living in a small town, they travel a lot, and I think I saw one of them carrying a 48-pack of beer.”

“Are they cute?”

Honey fixes Bea with a stare that could put a stop to anyone else’s questions. Unfortunately, Bea is immune to Honey’s intimidation tactics and her sarcastic jabs. She sees right through them. Honey’s silence is another thing she sees through.

“Interesting.” She draws herself up to her full height.

“I think you would find them cute,” Honey says.

Bea hums. “You can’t backtrack now. You said enough without saying anything at all.” She crosses her arms over her chest then leans back down onto the counter. “So, tell me, Honeybear,” she muses. Fortunately, she changes the topic. “Did you get my strawberries from the stand, or were you too enthralled by the pretty boy in front of you?”

“He wasn’t pretty.”

“Sure he wasn’t.”

Honey scoffs, then leaves to the back to grab the basket of strawberries. She does so carefully, not touching the strawberries in case she breaks out in hives like she did last time. Bea swears that more exposure to the fruit would “cure” her allergy, but Honey only picks up the baskets to humor her. Honey doesn’t think she’s missing out on much, being allergic to strawberries. It’s her peaches that she would miss, and the blackberry pie that Ada makes when her vines turn ripe. That’s something to look forward to– blackberry season is starting and Ada could show up with a pie any day now.

The day continues slowly, with Ada making an appearance to close down the shop with the girls and help unpack a new shipment of books. After they’re done, Honey and Bea head to their respective homes.

Honey curls up with her book in her bed and listens to some music before the soft noise of the background and the comfort of her blanket draws her to her sleep.

3:90 – TREVOR

They have to go to the hardware store today.

Yesterday, the boys wasted the day, sleeping later than they have in weeks. They ate a late breakfast, which turned into their lunch. They played pool on the pool table, ping and beer pong on the foldable table, and sunbathed out on the porch. Cole watched lazily as Trevor and Jack tried to outline half of a rink in chalk on the cement slab. They never finished the other half of the rink.

Today, they have to go get some wood and tools to make the rink into a 3D structure so the pucks don’t go flying into the woods when they shoot them. Trevor and Cole are the ones who are supposed to go to the store– Jack has decided to stay behind and wait for Quinn and Luke if they show up while the other boys are at the store.

A convenient excuse, even though the goons are planning to show up today. Trevor expects the brothers to try and weasel their way out of working on the rink, claiming that they’re too tired from travel or they need more time to unpack. The thing is, the boys are flying into Charlotte and renting a car for the summer so that there will be two at the house, so they’re only driving for like an hour compared to Trevor’s eleven. They have no right to be complaining, but they will likely enact a vote and outweigh Cole and Trevor because if the Hughes are anything, it’s lazy and loyal to each others’ laziness.

They’re very driven, but only when they choose to work. When it comes to hockey, they’ll work all day. When it comes to creating the hockey rink or putting together equipment, they would much rather watch. Jim spoiled them that way– he was always the builder of the family and the boys were left to go do whatever they wanted as long as they weren’t annoying their father.

Trevor and Cole put off the trip as long as they can, hoping that maybe the Hughes brothers will show up early and they can force them to go to the store before they can even get out of the car.

When the clock hits two, Trevor decides that the waiting is useless. They could’ve done so much during the day instead of sitting around waiting, but no. He was lucky enough to sit around and do nothing all day and watch stupid daytime TV with Cole while Jack read his texts with his brothers out loud.

The hardware store would be heaven compared to this.

He leaves without Cole at first, driving slowly down the driveway until he sees Cole’s figure run out of the house and after the car. Trevor can imagine what he’s saying as he yells after the vehicle– something about not being left with Jack in case the other Hugheses show up, something about how Trevor is a dick.

They follow the one road on the mountain up to the strip where all the stores are. The hardware store is just a few doors down from the grocery store, so they park in the same parking lot.

Cole and Trevor walk side by side, Cole’s eyes on his phone as they walk while Trevor takes in the brick walkway beneath them. Names are etched on some of the bricks– Jude Doyle, Frederick Lawson, Ansley Hood… Grandma. Trevor has seen stuff like this before, but there’s something different about these names being etched on the bricks of this small town. Everyone probably knew these people, or knew someone who knew them, when they died. It’s so personal.

When they reach the hardware store, Trevor holds the door open for a man leaving. They give each other a curt nod, just a passing glance. Trevor sees absolutely no recognition in his eyes and comments on it. Cole doesn’t care, and says so. Trevor punches his shoulder.

“Welcome in,” the elderly woman at the counter greets. “What are you boys looking for?”

“Hi,” Cole replies, a charming smile on his face. “Could you point me towards the power tools? I can find my way from there.”

The woman smiles and points toward the back of the store. “They’re on the left, sweetie.” She turns to Trevor. “And what about you?”

“We’ll be needing some plywood,” Trevor says. “We’re building a little roller rink.”

“Oh, how fun!” The lady, named Vera if her nametag has any truth to it, claps her hands. “How much do you need, dear?”

“How much have you got?” Trevor asks.

Vera waves her hand. “I don’t know. I’ll call Earl, he’ll send you off with what you need.” She turns and takes a breath before shouting the man’s name. Trevor’s heard that shout before– his grandmother used to do the same thing with his grandfather.

The balding, age-spotted man appears at the door to the back of the shop. “I done told ya I have my hearing aids in, woman,” Earl grumbles to his wife, fond and mean and familiar in the way that only a couple who has been married for fifty years can be.

Vera smacks Earl’s arm as he ambles by her. Earl pulls his arm away and puts another foot between them.

“What do you need, young man?” Earl asks.

“Lots of wood,” Trevor says. “A couple of sheets of plywood and some 2x4s, maybe?”

“Boy, you do not think I have all’a that laying around.” Earl fixes Trevor with a stink-eye.

“Don’t you tell him that!” Vera chimes in. “I know you’ve got plenty of wood out back because you bought all of it and never finished our damn basement.”

“I’m going to finish it!”

“Earl, you’ve been saying that for thirty years, you ain’t never finishing the basement.”

Trevor wants to laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. He wants to laugh at this domestic argument and how unreal it is that it’s unfolding in front of him. Instead, he clears his throat. “Excuse me,” he interrupts gently. “I don’t know if I want thirty year old wood for this. We’ll be hitting pucks off the boards all day and I’d like to keep the pucks inside the rink, please.”

“You’re a hockey boy?” Earl questions with a raised brow. When Trevor nods, he lets out a grunt. Trevor can’t tell what that means. Nonetheless, he waves Trevor to follow him into the back.

Trevor squeezes past Vera– she pinches his butt, he thinks– and catches a glimpse of her knitting under the counter when he walks by. She’s knitting something green. It’s too bundled up for him to tell what it is, though. Maybe he’ll ask later.

When he enters the back room, Earl gestures around. “Take your pick of the wood and make a pile over there–” he points to the corner– “and you can drive around back and we can put the wood in your truck there.”

“Oh, I didn’t drive a truck down,” Trevor says before he can help it. Earl makes a face. “But my friend and I can carry the piles ourselves to the car, don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Earl gripes, shuffling away to sit at a bench with a circular saw and a half finished product on the table.

Trevor sifts through the wood, all neatly arranged into piles of similar sizes– but labeled completely wrong. Trevor thinks that Earl might’ve refused to follow Vera’s labels when she first put them up in the shop, but realized that they’re more helpful than harmful. He’s just petty enough of an old man to ignore the labels, but follow the categorization.

Trevor ends up with a pile of ten sheets of plywood– four that are as long as lunch tables, and six that are just squares. Those will go behind the goals, while the long ones will go around the sides of the slab. He picks up a couple of 2x4s, just in case he needs them, and throws them on the pile with a clatter.

“I’m going to go grab my buddy,” Trevor says to Earl.

Earl grunts, but doesn’t budge. He also doesn’t look up from his station.

Cole is chatting up Vera when Trevor rejoins them. He’s leaning over the edge of the counter, asking about Vera’s knitting and her grandchildren. He’s got a bag of goodies next to him– powertools and nails, Trevor assumes.

“Coley, come help me,” Trevor interrupts.

“No manners, this guy,” Cole says to Vera, scoffing and pointing his thumb at Trevor with a shake of his head.

“Well, don’t keep the bear waiting,” Vera replies. Trevor watches her pinch Cole’s ass as he passes, but Cole just laughs and bats her hand away.

Fucking annoying. Always so good with the grandparents.

“The bear?” Trevor asks once Vera is out of earshot. “Is that me?”

Cole smirks. “We’ve got nicknames.”

Earl looks up when they reenter the back. He lets out a laugh, just a short bark. “This is your friend who’s going to help you carry all that wood?”

As the smirk falls off Cole’s face, Trevor picks it up.

“I can carry some wood,” Cole insists. “Probably all of it. I’m stronger than Z is, anyway.”

Earl’s gaze slides over to Trevor. “Z,” he repeats. “I hope you don’t stick with that one.”

Trevor laughs. “You sound like–” he cuts himself off. He never did learn her name, anyway. What’s it to this old man, who he sounds like?

Cole picks up on it though. “Like who, Z?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

Trevor glares at him.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass who I sound like and I don’t want to hear your smug little bickering,” Earl admonishes. “Get your wood and get outta my shop.”

Trevor laughs in Cole’s face, then pushes him over towards the pile of wood. “Go on, strong man.”

Cole makes like he’s going to throw a punch at Trevor– Trevor doesn’t flinch, because he hasn’t fallen for that since their first stint on the US team– and puffs up his chest before deciding to pick up the long pieces of wood.

“Compensating for something?” Trevor asks.

“Go fuck yourself,” Cole replies cheerfully, turning on his heel and swinging the wood around with him, hoping to hit Trevor in the stomach. Trevor jumps away.

He picks up the rest of the wood and follows Cole out of the shop, bidding Earl a quiet farewell.

Earl grunts.

Trevor nods to himself, not surprised by the response. Vera is much more sad to see them go, gushing over how strong they are and telling them to come back soon.

“What’s your nickname?” Trevor asks suddenly, as they load the wood into the back of the car.

Cole grins, crooked and smug. “Sweetie.”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Oh, I assure you, I’m not. I’m a real hit with the ladies.”

“Yeah, you’re a real fucking hit with the married seventy year olds,” Trevor scoffs. “Don’t fucking talk to me, dude.”

Cole laughs, tossing his head back. He looks over Trevor’s shoulder. “Hey, isn’t that your girl?”

Trevor spins around. “Where?” He asks, looking to his left and right.

When Cole starts cackling behind him, Trevor takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I’m gonna fucking kill you, dude.”

“Bear, you wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Cole pats Trevor on the chest before rounding the car, settling in the passenger seat.

“Fucking passenger princess,” Trevor seethes.

“You wish you were me.”

“I fucking don’t.”

“The more fucks you say, the more fucks you give.”

“Fuck off.”

They drive back to the house in silence, Trevor’s knuckles white as he deliberates driving off the mountain and taking Cole with him. There are pros, certainly, the top one being that Cole would no longer be part of this vacation. The cons, unfortunately, outweigh the pros: without Cole, Trevor would be alone with the Hughes brothers all summer, except for the occasional visiting savior.

Quinn and Luke have arrived by the time the duo returns to the mountain house. They brought with them another SUV, this one only slightly bigger than Trevor’s vehicle. It’s got a third row of seats, but it’s cramped– they’ll definitely have to take both cars down to Charlotte when they go to practice. Because of the limited trunk space in Quinn’s rental car, Trevor’s car will likely end up being the gear car.

Which is lucky, because who wouldn’t want to spend three hours total in the car with smelly gear while the other car gets to have fun and smell nice?

On second thought, the time alone might be good for Trevor. He loves his friends, he really does, but it’s hard to be around them for so long. He’s lucky that they’re all on different teams, that they keep up when they can, and that it’s not constant. Jack can’t escape his brothers, especially not Luke, but Trevor can escape all three of them.

He spends the evening building the outdoor rink, mostly alone. Quinn helps a little bit, mostly chalking up the lines on the remaining half of the slab. He holds the wood for Trevor while he screws some nails into the pieces to keep them in place. They work mostly in silence, as they often do. Trevor is itching to talk with Quinn, see how he is, but he knows that Quinn is a man of few words. He also knows that Quinn is quick to say that Trevor talks too much. They’re at the point in their relationship where Trevor lets Quinn dictate how much they speak.

Luke tries to cook dinner, he does. Trevor can’t fault him for trying. Jack had to jump in to save them from burnt steaks and soggy vegetables, and even if he can’t salvage everything, he does a pretty good job. Luke apologizes and does the dishes. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the couch during the movie they picked out, and Quinn wakes Luke like a good big brother and shoos him to bed.

It’s more calm than the lake house, Trevor thinks. They’re not really doing anything differently, are they? And yet, here they are, sitting together in calm silence. They’re drinking bottled beer and laughing over the same jokes they’ve heard a million times, reminiscing about summers past and what they’ll do this summer. Quinn wishes for a lake. Jack tells him they’ll find one.

Trevor goes to bed when the movie ends, frogs croaking past his bedroom window in the depths of the night.

4:90 – HONEY

It’s a Thursday, so Honey gets to sleep in until nine. Sleeping in until nine means that she really wakes up at eight, because she just can’t sleep in late after working at the bookstore for five years now. She sits on her couch on Thursday mornings and reads. She does the crossword in the Litchton Local, the newspaper that comes out weekly on Wednesdays.

There’s an immeasurable stillness in the mountains.

Honey noticed it the first time she came up to this house as a child. Everything moves, like the bugs outside and the leaves on the trees, but everything is so still. Like it’s being held in place by something bigger. She knows the feeling well, but it’s comforting here.

At home, it was uniforms and piano lessons after school. She loves piano, even still, but there was something so crushing about the weight of her perfect posture on that bench when there was all the pressure of beauty breathing down her neck.

Home, Honey thinks again, and laughs.

In the mountains, all of the beauty of the world is there and present and taking up space– but it’s not forced. It’s not the idealized version of everything. It just is.

And everything is so green, especially on a rainy day like this. Honey thinks there’s something sacred about the greenness of the mountains, but it’s the melancholic side of divine that leaves you waiting for another whisper or breath in the wind that never comes.

She used to have a piano that she could play in the mornings. She toted it to the antique store down the road when she made the mountain home hers. Sometimes, she wonders why she did that and regrets it, staring at the dents on the floor where its legs used to stand.

But then she remembers that she’s thinking about the past again and she shakes herself out of it. Five years later, but it’s hard to forget all of the things you grew up knowing.

Honey picks Bea up on the way to work, relishing in the girl’s consistent lateness because it allows her the chance to catch up with her friend. They see each other every day, yes, but the bookstore isn’t suited for some topics.

Such as Bea’s current woes:

“I’ve run out of dating app men,” she complains.

Honey bites back a smile. “Did you run out, or did you just swipe left on all of them?” She asks knowingly.

Bea cuts her eyes at Honey. “All the ones I swiped left on are ugly,” she says. “I can promise you that.”

“Is anyone good-looking in Litchton, Bea?”

Bea’s silence speaks for itself.

Honey laughs, her hair whipping around her face in the breeze from the rolled-down windows of her car.

“If I had known you were dragging me to the Ugly Capital of the World, I wouldn’t have come with you,” Bea announces, like it matters. She’s a liar. She wouldn’t have let Honey leave their hometown without her, no matter where she was going.

“You couldn’t turn it down, you had to come,” Honey replies. “Especially since they asked you to be Mayor.”

Bea gasps, affronted. She stares at Honey, her jaw hanging open. “Are you mad at me? Be honest.” She pouts, her voice whiny.

“Oh my God,” Honey groans, rolling her eyes. “No, I’m not mad at you.”

“Okay, well, stop being a cunt, please,” Bea sasses. If Honey were more annoyed, she’d reach out and slap Bea’s arm for the attitude. “We have to go to work and I need to put all my focus into pretending to like you.”

“Yeah, because it’s so hard to like me,” Honey says. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm, monotone and grating.

“Yeah, it is, you suck.” Bea flips her hair over her shoulder, digging through her bag to find her Walmart lip gloss. She smears the cherry flavored gloss over her lips and puckers up, batting her eyelashes at Honey exaggeratedly. “Gimme a kiss.”

“No.” Honey pulls up to The Reading Nook and parks on the street in front of the building, parallel parking with the practiced ease of someone who’s been dealing with nothing but parallel parking (except in the grocery store and church parking lots) for the last five years.

“Ugh, one day you’ll kiss me,” Bea mutters, staring forlornly out the window.

Honey rolls her eyes. “Bea, we’ve already kissed. You weren’t that good and I didn’t like your lip gloss then, either.”

Bea cringes. “That was like ten years ago, Hon. Things have changed since then. Number one, I’m not in middle school. Number two, I’ve had boyfriends and I’ve had sex since then. Number three, you know it wouldn’t mean anything. I want you to try my lip gloss so bad, come on.”

Honey stares. Bea’s got a stupid smile on her face, teasing and annoying. They hold each other’s eyes for too long before Honey speaks.

“You’re insufferable, did you know that?”

Bea nods. “You are so easy to work up.”

Bea and Honey exit the car at the same time and enter the store through the front, the bell jingling behind them. Ada greets them from behind the counter, teasing Bea for being late again and threatening to cut her pay. She never will, never. Bea is too good with the kids, too happy to talk to mothers, and just dry enough to understand the miserly old man that walks through the door looking for a new World War I book.

In the back, Ada has a bowl of biscuits and jam that Honey reheats and eats over the counter before she starts her day.

She’s supposed to reshelve some books from their Borrow Before You Buy section, the part of the store that acts as the town’s public library. It’s a small task. The pile of books that were returned yesterday is less than a hundred. A good portion of the books are little kid chapter books, the kind you could finish in an hour as an adult because the font is so big and there are full-page pictures twice a chapter.

Bea has to read to the kids at noon– some of the mothers bring snacks, like the end of a youth soccer game. It’s like a potluck lunch and the kids love Bea. Most weeks, it’s just her, but since it’s summer, she’s starting to bring in guest readers. Honey refuses to do it every time. Well, that’s not true– she acts as guest reader once a summer, right before school starts. It’s her one moment of the year.

As she’s restocking the books, Honey hears the bell twinkle with each new customer that walks in. She’s grown used to the noise over the years, so it doesn’t draw her eye anymore.

What does draw her eye, however, is the blunt tap on her shoulder. When she turns around, Bea is blinking innocently at her– no doubt the offending hand in this scenario– with Trevor by her side.

“I was just talking to Trevor here, Honey,” Bea says. “And he was wondering if we had any books that a man his age might like. I thought maybe you should talk to him.”

Honey glares at Bea, purposefully obvious about it so that Trevor sees. What does she know about book recommendations for a man in his twenties? He probably wants some shit sports biography, or worse– he’s embracing his inner old man and he’s ready to venture into the world of World War I non-fiction. Either way, book recommendations are Bea’s thing, not Honey’s. She just stocks the books, builds the shelves, and bonds with the old ladies who come in on Tuesdays.

Bea shrugs with a coy little smile– Honey wishes she could slap it off of her face– and disappears behind the stacks. Honey can tell that she’s still listening from a few feet away, always nosy and overly interested in Honey’s exploits. If she can’t indulge in her own, she’s happy to butt in on Honey’s.

“Trevor,” Honey says, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn’t wear a bra today. She doesn’t trust him not to look. She also doesn’t trust her nipples not to peak in the cold air.

“Is Honey your real name?” Trevor asks.

She balks at him. “What is it with you and my name?”

Honey expects Trevor to back down, to act timid and normal and earnest like he did at the fruit stand on Monday. She expects him to apologize, yet again, for another inadvertent mistake that Trevor seemed unable to avoid. It’s because he doesn’t think– he just says the words as they come to mind, hoping that the sentence comes out fully formed and making sense.

And yet, he doesn’t.

“Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come,” is what Trevor answers.

Honey gathers her wit quickly, scrambling to find a response to Trevor’s bold statement. She wants something clever, something to turn him down, something to tell him that he’s a cocky prick for saying such a thing while she’s at work, but she comes up with none of the above. Instead, she settles for: “It’s a nickname.”

A smirk tugs at Trevor’s lips and Honey wants to reach out and strangle him. He’s smirking because he thinks he bested her– bested her– and that he’s got the upper hand.

“What kind of book are you looking for, Trevor?” Honey changes the subject, trying to get back on task. She turns, continues restocking the Borrow Before You Buy shelves.

“I’m not sure, Honey,” he replies, really milking his use of her name. “What kind of books do you think I’d like?”

She glances at him, looks him up and down. She tamps down a smile and says in a curt, monotone voice. “Guides on how to make the best of your business trip.”

Trevor laughs at that, more of a shake of his shoulders than a real laugh. “You’re funny, Honey.”

Honey raises her eyebrows and waits for him to continue.

“Hey, that rhymed. Maybe a book of poetry? I need to study my craft if I’m going to be waxing poems about you.”

He’s bold, she thinks. He’s really bold, much more sure of himself than he was on Monday. He’s much more confident, a sharp 180º from where he was the other day.

“Why don’t you keep your waxes to yourself?” Honey asks.

“How can I?”

She turns to him, planting a hand on her hip. “Don’t you have something to do today other than bother me at my bookstore? You don’t even know me. Why are you here?”

“I’m here to get a book. I’m not trying to bother you, I’m just trying to make conversation.” Trevor shoves his hands in his pockets and has the decency to look ashamed, even if it’s just for a split second and just to see if Honey will crumble. She knows his type. She’s seen them before.

“You’re flirting with me,” Honey accuses. “Not making conversation.” She puts air quotes around the last two words.

Trevor smiles. “You caught me,” he says simply, no shame evident in his voice. The smile stays on his lips as he and Honey look at each other. He raises his eyebrows and she takes it as a challenge.

“I’m not interested, Trevor.”

“I could show you a good time, Honey.”

“In Litchton?”

“Don’t you hear how good it sounds when I say your name? It’s like we’ve been hooking up for ages and I’ve got a special little name for you.”

“A name that everyone else uses.”

“It’s special to me.”

“How about a self-help book?”

Trevor clutches at his chest, jaw dropping in fake-misery. “You think I need help?”

“If you’re not going to buy a book, then you need to leave me alone.” Honey places the last book in her stack on the shelf and looks at Trevor expectantly. The silence sits between them, suspended for a moment.

“Do you have any books about space?” He asks.

Honey notices that his voice is softer, a little more genuine. She examines his features, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She waits for the joke about not wanting space from her, needing her in his orbit, or whatever. It doesn’t come. She scans his figure one last time, realizing that her brow is furrowed and she’s chewing on the inside of her bottom lip as she does so. She smoothens her expression, hoping Trevor didn’t pick up on her calculating stare.

“How do you feel about creative nonfiction?” Honey asks.

Trevor scrunches his nose.

“Memoirs, personal histories, stuff like that,” Honey supplies. She softens her voice to match his tone. She almost feels a little shy. “We only have one book about space that I’ve read and it’s creative nonfiction, but it’s really good.” Quieter, then: “I liked it.”

Trevor nods, a little hesitant. This is the Trevor she met on Monday. “Okay.”

“Follow me.” Honey leads him to the nonfiction section, to the rows of books whose authors bear a last name that starts with ‘D.’ She runs her fingers along the titles of the books at the height of her chest while scanning the upper shelves. “It’s there,” she says, pointing to the row just out of her reach. “It’s by ‘Dean.’” She looks down, around her on the floor. “Where’s my step ladder…?”

“I can reach it,” Trevor says, stepping forward. He places a hand on the small of Honey’s back and reaches up, fingers hesitating as he searches for the right book. When he finds the spine bearing Dean’s name, he bounces up on his tiptoes for just a second to slide the book from its position on the shelf.

Honey has never been more aware of a hand in her life. His touch is light, just a passing glance really, but it weighs on her. It’s like she’s standing in quicksand and she waited too long to try and get out.

He’s so close to her when he stands flat on his feet again. He’s got the book in one hand and his other still rests on Honey’s back.

She steps away.

His eyes follow her, but instead of saying anything, he just flips the book over in his hand. He reads the back cover and as he does so, Honey puts more space between them. She takes a breath, trying to stay quiet, and grounds herself.

“Is it really any good?” Trevor asks. “Do I have to buy it?”

“Yes, and, um.” Honey throws a look over her shoulder. She lost track of Bea while she and Trevor went to find this book. Fuck, her nosey best friend could be anywhere. “You can borrow it. We just usually give people a week or so to bring it back, and if you don’t, we track you down.”

“Track me down?” Trevor asks, chuckling.

“Yeah.” Honey nods. “Small town. Everybody knows everybody, or knows somebody who knows everybody.”

“Stalking me, Honey?” Trevor teases.

“We’ve met twice, and both times it was because you came up to me. If anyone is the stalker here, it’s you.”

Trevor turns the book over in his hand again, looking down to avoid Honey’s gaze. “Leaving Orbit, huh?” He bites his lip and takes in the sight of Honey in front of him. He taps the book with his other hand. “I’ll let you know if it’s any good.”

“I know it’s good. I read it.”

“Baby, if you knew good, you’d be all over me.”

Honey scoffs. “Alright, fun’s over. Get out of here, Trevor.” She shoos him away, practically pushing him out of the shop. She sticks her tongue out at him through the glass after closing the door behind him. She watches him laugh, run his hands through his hair, and turn away.

‘Zegras’ is written in bold letters across his back, the number 11 in the center of his t-shirt. The detail catches Honey’s eye as she watches him walk away, down the street towards a car with a New York license plate that looks far too perfect and expensive to belong in Litchton. She bites the inside of her lip again, pondering. If anyone asks, she doesn’t care, but Trevor’s different than anyone she’s ever met. She wonders why.

But no, she doesn’t care.

Bea does.

“He plays hockey,” Bea announces, revealing herself. “He’s good, too. NHL. He was a top ten pick when he was drafted.”

Honey just nods. Twice. That’s all she needs. They’re small movements and she’s still chewing on her lip.

“What did he get?”

Honey clears her throat. “Just the, uh, Dean book about space.”

Honey can practically hear the face Bea makes behind her back. “You think he’ll enjoy that?” Bea asks. “It’s really personal.”

“It was the only book I could think of,” Honey replies with a shrug. She finally turns around to face Bea. “You’ve got to stop spying on me. I know you listened to our whole conversation.”

Bea pouts and stomps her foot, the sound echoing along the stacks around them. “How could I not?” She demands. “‘Just wanted to know what name I’ll be saying when I’m telling you to come?’ Honey, girl. Be serious.”

“Bea, you know I’m not looking for that right now.”

“You’re never fucking looking for that,” Bea hisses, pinching Honey’s wrist until she flinches away. “It’s falling into your lap and you’re pushing it out the door! What’s wrong with you?”

Honey glares at her with a tilted head.

Bea relents. “One of these days, I’m going to kick your ass,” she threatens. “You can’t be a spinstery old maid forever, Honeybear. They’re only here for the summer. Maybe you should embrace it.”

“He’ll be gone within the week.”

Bea sighs. “Whatever you say.”

5:90 – TREVOR

“We need to throw a party,” Trevor says over breakfast.

“Why?” Luke asks, voice scratchy from lack of use. He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair, further messing up his already messy curls. He’s not wearing a shirt– none of them are– and Trevor is astounded by how pale Luke is.

“We need to get you outside more,” Trevor mumbles, then clears his throat and continues speaking. “It’s like a housewarming thing.”

Unimpressed, Cole rolls his eyes. “Who do you want to invite?” He asks.

Trevor pauses, side-eying his friend. “Nobody,” he deflects.

Quinn snorts, the spoon he’s using for his cereal clinking against the side of his bowl. “Not much of a party.”

“He wants to invite the girl that he met the other day,” Jack says, butting into the conversation.

Luke frowns. “What girl?”

“Some townie that he met at the fruit stand when we went to the grocery store,” Jack explains. “He doesn’t know her name.”

“Her name is Honey, actually,” Trevor interrupts.

The table stills. Each of the boys’ eyes turn towards Trevor and he suddenly feels like an ant under a child’s magnifying glass, boiling under the glare.

Cole pushes up an invisible pair of glasses and raises a finger, pursing his lips. “Actually,” he mocks, then drops the tone. “How do you know her name, Z?”

Trevor shrugs noncommittally. “I ran into her when I went into town yesterday.”

“Oh, when you were supposed to pick up laundry detergent and you came back with a book instead?” Cole asks. “That makes sense, much more sense than what Luke said.”

Trevor blanches. “What did Luke say?”

Jack snickers.

Trevor turns to Luke. “What did you say?”

Quinn smiles and hides his face, taking a large mouthful of his cereal to leave Luke hanging if he asked for help.

Luke flushes. “I mean, you know… that maybe you confused the two.”

“How the fuck would I confuse laundry detergent with a book?” Trevor snaps. “They’re two completely different things, fuckface.”

Luke throws his hands up in surrender. “We were just thinking of reasons why you might’ve come back without the one thing we needed.”

Trevor looks around the table. “You guys are such assholes.”

“Bro, you’re the one that forgot laundry detergent because you were too busy chatting up some chick,” Jack defends the group. “Now we can’t even do our laundry.”

“If it’s so fucking important to you, go get the detergent yourself!”

A smile breaks out on Jack’s face. “Maybe I will,” he says, his voice shit-eating. “I might need to grab a book for myself, too.”

Trevor’s anger increases tenfold, for no fucking reason. “The fuck you do,” he snaps. “You don’t even know how to read.”

Jack’s face twists, his emotions finally aligning with Trevor’s own. “Fuck you, dude. You know I can read, I just don’t like to.”

Trevor scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I just want to have a party,” he mutters, stabbing at his eggs with his fork.

The boys fall into silence, finishing their breakfasts. Trevor pouts, frustrated that the boys weren’t immediately on board with his idea for a party.

If they were in Michigan, the Hughes brothers would have the front door of the house unlocked past 10pm. The people they know from the golf course, from the lake, from the pickleball courts would all be pouring through the doorway and into the party. Everyone knows that on Saturday nights, the Hughes brothers invite people over and they have a big bonfire. Apparently, that only applies in Michigan.

Trevor leaves the breakfast table first, to jeers from the other boys about being pouty and bitchy for not getting his way. Trevor knows that he’s going to invite Honey and her friend– Bee? Bea? B?– over tomorrow night no matter what the goons say. There’s not much to do in Litchton, he knows that, so he doesn’t want to leave the girls out. Otherwise, they might just sit at home all night. Trevor can’t have that.

Obviously, that’s his only motive. He would never have any other reason to invite Honey and Bea over to the house at night. Never.

Maybe one other reason.

But that’s irrelevant.

He spends the morning outside, using the extra wood from Earl to build a fire pit in the half-circle clearing near the edge of the forest. When they were younger, Trevor’s sister might’ve thought this area was where the fairies lived, and maybe she would have built them a house. He wonders briefly if Honey was the same way when she was a child, when she was growing up in rural Litchton with nothing else to do but imagine.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t know if Honey grew up here. She seems so intimately integrated into the town that she has to be from here, has to have grown up here. She must know all the town secrets and all the town gossip and fuck, Trevor wants to know all of that and more.

He can’t explain the feeling he has about Honey. He’s just… drawn to her. It doesn’t make sense– he doesn’t know her. He’s barely met her. She did not exist in his life a week ago and yet, she’s popping up in his thoughts like they’ve known each other for years. Like they’ve been inseparable for years. When he thinks about it, he decides that Honey is like one of the girls he would have met in elementary school in Bedford. Honey is one of the girls that he would have grown up with, one of the neighbor girls from down the street with whom he rode his bike on hot summer days.

She’s got a hometown charm feel to her. Trevor has to see her again.

He finishes building the wooden part of the fire pit before realizing how stupid it was to build the pit out of wood. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head, though, because it’s an excuse to go see her, to invite her to his party. He can go to the hardware store on the way, pick up some stone and gravel to line the wood, protect it from catching flame. He can pick up some firewood from the grocery store for their first fire and pick up the laundry detergent he forgot yesterday. Jack won’t be so annoying then.

Trevor doesn’t bother telling the boys where he’s going– he just gets in the car and drives away.

It takes all of fifteen minutes to make his way to the bookstore. It’s still early, so he doesn’t even know if it’s open yet. Trevor and the boys are so used to waking up early for hockey that they’ve been up for about two hours and the whole day is still ahead of them.

When Trevor pulls at the front door of The Reading Nook, it doesn’t swing open the way it did yesterday. He knows the doors are easy on their hinges, considering how easily Honey slammed the door behind him yesterday, but today, the wood is barely budging. He knocks on the door, loud.

Honey’s friend’s head peeks out from behind a stack, confusion written all over her expression. Trevor waves at her, gesturing at the door. She laughs, then approaches the door. She points down at the ‘Closed’ sign hanging near the handle.

Trevor tilts his head, unimpressed. “I have to talk to you,” he says through the glass.

Bea unlocks the door and opens it with a snorted laugh. “What’s up, Trevor? Honey’s not here yet.”

“I have a proposition for you.”

Bea steps aside and lets him into the store. “You want her.”

Trevor sputters at her honesty. “I don’t know her.”

“You want her,” Bea repeats with a nod and a knowing smile. “And you want to know how to get her.”

“Well, yes,” Trevor says. “But also, no. I wanted to invite you– both, you both– to a party tomorrow night.”

Bea smiles. She crosses her arms over her chest. “You want my best friend and all I get is some measly party? Come on, Trevor. What’s in it for me?”

Trevor thinks for a minute. “What do you want?”

Bea laughs. She pokes her tongue into her cheek and looks expectantly at Trevor.

“Whoa,” Trevor says, taking a step back. “That’s really… forward, but–”

“I don’t want you, Trevor,” Bea scoffs. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “So self-centered, Honey was right about that. But, I’ll help you get her and I’ll make sure we make it to your party if you give me what I do want.”

Trevor hums, narrowing his eyes. “What do you want?”

Bea smiles, devilish and conniving. “The dating pool up here is pretty dry, and I hear you’ve got a few friends.”

Trevor nods.

Bea blinks at him. “Do you have any pictures of these friends? I would’ve looked you up, but Honey and I swore off Instagram years ago.”

That makes sense. That’s why he couldn’t find Honey when he looked her up last night– not that he had much to go off of. Still, “Honey Litchton NC” didn’t reveal many results.

Trevor fumbles with his phone, showing her a picture of the group from last summer. He watches her fingers pinch and zoom in on the picture, on each individual. She keeps her expression neutral, a poker face that impresses Trevor. She hums, thoughts racing behind her eyes too quick for Trevor to understand them.

“We’ll come to your party,” Bea says simply, handing the phone back to Trevor. She snatches it back at the last second. “Wait,” she says, and clicks around for a second.

Trevor waits, then she hands the phone back. On the screen is a contact page for ‘Bea McLean.’

“It’s pronounced like McLane,” Bea tells Trevor. “Since you’re so obsessed with names.”

“Okay,” Trevor cuts her off with a sarcastic nod.

Bea laughs. “Don’t get sassy with me, I have all the power here.”

“Yeah, but I have your number,” Trevor flaunts.

“I could just block you, easily,” Bea points out. “Then where would you be?”

Wisely, Trevor bites his tongue. After a deep breath, he asks, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Now get out, Honey’s supposed to get here soon and I don’t want her seeing you. She’s annoyingly on time. She’ll know we’re in cahoots.” Bea, much like her best friend did yesterday, pushes Trevor to the door and shoves him through it. She slams it behind him, flipping the sign so it says ‘Open’ instead, and waving Trevor off with a blown kiss.

she’s a flirt, Trevor thinks. those guys will not survive her for a second.

He doesn’t know which boy she has her eye on, but it doesn’t matter. Quinn’s too quiet for her, Luke is too awkward, Jack is too cocky, and Cole is too… short.

Trevor snorts at the insult, laughing to himself. He heads to the grocery store, where he parked, and purchases two gallon bottles of laundry detergent and a Sharpie. He writes “JACK” on one and puts them both in the trunk of the car. Then, he walks to the hardware store.

“Bear!” Vera greets from behind the counter, joints creaking as she moves from her chair behind the counter to give Trevor a hug.

“Oh, Vera, you don’t have to come all the way over here,” Trevor says awkwardly, but hugs the woman back nonetheless.

“Of course I did!” Vera exclaims. “You look so handsome, young man.”

Trevor blushes, shying away from Vera’s examining fingers. She squints at the logo on his chest, one of his shirts from Anaheim.

“I live in Anaheim,” Trevor explains to the woman, catching her hands in his and holding them securely in front of her body before letting go. “Do you have any stone that I could secure a fire pit with?”

“Yes, baby!” Vera claps and leads him to a section of the store that’s, somehow, even more peculiar than Earl’s workshop. There’s bags of gravel, sure, but it looks like fish food compared to some of the other bags and miscellaneous stones on the shelves. “Pick whatever you’d like. I’ll give you a discount for being so darn cute.”

Trevor chuckles. “I bet you give that to all your customers,” he teases.

“I had a local girl put it in the computer for me after we met you and Sweetie on Wednesday,” Vera teases back, batting her eyelashes. Her cheeks are red with blush, too much blush. “His discount is a little more because I see you’ve changed the body God gave you.”

Trevor follows her eyes to his tattoos. He rubs his opposite hand over them sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.” He tries to smile charmingly. “Maybe I should’ve sent him to do the shopping today, since you like Sweetie so much.” He throws a wink into the mix to punctuate his sentence.

Vera laughs, a twinkling sound.

“Plus, it’d be cheaper for me,” Trevor says, like it’s a scandalous secret.

“I know that’s right!” Vera claps again, waves a hand at Trevor like she’s slapping her knee. She walks off, back to the counter, leaving Trevor to shop for his stones.

He shops through the stones for about half an hour, choosing his favorites. He settles on a midsize gray stone, one that he can stack and seal with cement. He buys the quick drying cement as well, and carries it all to his car. Vera carries the quick dry cement and giggles when Trevor easily shifts the stones in his grasp when she complains about the bucket being too heavy for an old lady. He picks up the bucket and shifts the stones again, knowing he can carry more than this if he needed to. He swears he hears Vera sigh dreamily behind him as he packs the car up.

Like he said, what’s flirting with a few old ladies?

When he bids her goodbye with a kiss on the cheek, Trevor makes eye contact with Honey in the bookstore window. He grins at her and winks to her for good measure. He thanks Vera for her help while he escorts her back to the store, just for the sake of Honey seeing how selfless he can be. He’s not self-centered, no matter what she told Bea.

Vera insists that Trevor and “his band of boys” join her and Earl at church that Sunday morning, pledging to introduce them to the other members of the community. Trevor agrees, thinking that being on Vera’s good side might get him even closer to Honey.

Trevor drives back to his home for the summer to find that the boys are playing in the rink he built.

Come to think of it, he’s making a lot of improvements to this property, and the only one who has actually helped is Quinn.

Not self-centered at all.

He deserves a party.

“We’re having a party,” Trevor calls out, carrying his stones toward the fire pit. He dumps his supplies on the ground. “And I invited two girls.” He wipes the dirt and dust from his fingers. “Someone else needs to finish this fire pit because I’m tired of building your shit. C’mon, Quinn.”

He leads the way inside, to grab a beer from the fridge, and Quinn follows after kicking off his skates, eager to avoid the work. The other brothers and Cole are left dumbfounded on the concrete. Jack makes eye contact with the cement mix first, and he smiles.

They always did love a little project, and maybe they can hide a drawing of a dick in the cement for the owners to find at the end of the summer.

6:90 – HONEY

“Where are we going?” Honey asks.

Bea has barely crossed over the threshold of Honey’s home before the question falls from her lips. Bea’s been cagey about it all day– just explaining that “we have plans” and that “you’ll enjoy them.” Honey loves her, sure, but this is absurd. She feels like she’s being kidnapped.

“More like when are we going,” Bea corrects. “Let’s get you an outfit.”

Honey stumbles back, Bea pushing her out of the way. She closes the door behind her friend, following Bea as she stomps up the stairs to Honey’s bedroom. Bea knows Honey’s place as well as she knows her own, a little townhouse off of the main street in town. Honey’s lucky to live a little farther from city center, closer to the magic of the mountains.

“What kind of plans do we have, at least?” Honey presses. She looks at Bea’s outfit– a jean skirt that falls like an old Poodle skirt and a white bandeau top. It’s sort of see-through– Honey can see the shadow and outline of Bea’s nipples through the skimpy top. “I don’t want to dress like you,” Honey says.

Bea scoffs and turns to Honey. “My plan tonight is to get laid, your plan tonight is to accompany me while I evaluate my prey.”

Honey pretends to gag. “I hate when you say that.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone to flirt with,” Bea says.

“So, where are we going tonight? Statesville? Winston?” Honey asks again, hoping Bea will relent since she now knows the purpose of their adventure.

“Dude, I’m not telling you,” Bea laughs.

She reaches Honey’s closet and throws the curtain open. She strolls into the closet, looking through Honey’s clothes.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Honey asks, looking down at her athletic shorts and little tank top.

Bea turns around and surveys Honey. “The shirt is fine.” She returns to her task. “Nice tits.”

Honey looks down. It’s a revealing top and she’s not wearing a bra, because it’s a Saturday and she didn’t know they had plans until Bea told her this afternoon. “Maybe not, then.”

Bea glares at Honey out of her peripheral. “But that’s your favorite tank.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to get hit on if I wear this shirt.”

“You’re going to get hit on anyway. Keep the shirt.”

“No, I won’t, because my bitch face will keep most of the guys away.”

“Most of the guys. Which is the whole thing. Those ones will come to me.”

“Ew, you’re going to have a threesome tonight?”

“A threesome?” Bea spins around. “God, no! One at a time for me, thanks. I’m just going to fuck the other ones.”

“Other than who?” Honey asks. “I’m not fucking anyone tonight.”

Bea rolls her eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I do.”

“Whatever.” She digs through the closet, finding a long-buried white tennis skirt, the back pleats of the skirt puffy. Honey would never wear something like that, but Bea would– it’s probably Bea’s skirt in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” Honey states.

Bea wrestles her into it– seriously. She tackles Honey onto the bed and literally redresses her, the absurdity of the situation so bizarre that it completely bypasses both girls’ minds. Honey fights Bea the whole time, but Bea comes out on top. She gets her way, Honey wears the skirt, but she’s not happy about it.

“Do I, at least, get to drive?” Honey asks.

“Oh, I was going to force you,” Bea laughs. “You don’t expect me to drive you home, do you? I’ll be… indisposed.”

Honey scowls the rest of the time they spend getting ready– Bea does Honey’s hair and forces Honey to put on some light makeup, just a bit of mascara, eyeliner, and some lipgloss.

The only problem with Bea and Honey’s relationship is that Bea likes to go out, likes to meet people, likes to have a wild time, whereas Honey prefers to stay in. She’d rather watch a documentary or read a book or be present in nature than packed into a club dancefloor like a sardine in a larger can. Not that that matters to Bea.

By the time they get in the car, Bea is jumping off the walls trying to keep her secret destination to herself. Honey keeps trying to push, hoping for the right moment, but Bea won’t reveal her plans. All she does is direct Honey to the main road and type away at her phone, sending text after text to an unknown recipient, an unknown recipient that Honey is sure they’ll be meeting up with later.

They drive further into the mountains, to Honey’s surprise. They don’t head towards Winston or Statesville. They drive up, farther from town, farther from their neighbors. Near the top of the mountain, the houses are miles apart.

Perfect for a party.

Perfect for a party… thrown by boys in their twenties.

It clicks in Honey’s mind as Bea tells her to turn into the hidden driveway along the curve. “You’re not,” Honey says.

Bea laughs. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to catch on. I thought for sure you would’ve clocked me when we turned left instead of right.”

“Bea,” Honey scolds, her voice sharp. They’re on the driveway now, safe from the curves of the road, and Honey stops the car. She turns to her best friend. “You can’t be serious.”

For all of her audacity, Bea manages to understand the gravity of the situation at hand. It finally clicks in her head, why Honey isn’t happy with her plans, and why she’s even unhappier that she was dragged out here without knowing what she was walking into. She can’t just drop Bea off and leave– she would be abandoning her best friend in a house of strange boys all evening. Bea might be outgoing, but she hasn’t been hurt like Honey.

“It’s not going to be like that,” Bea reassures Honey gently, grabbing Honey’s hand with both of hers. “I promise, they’re not like that.”

“You don’t know them, Bea,” Honey explains.

“You don’t either,” Bea points out. “And this time, we’re together. The second they do something– I mean it, the second– we’ll leave. I’ll go with you. Fuckery be damned.”

Honey grimaces, rolling her shoulders to try and relieve some of the tension. She takes a deep breath, then squints at Bea. “Are you really going to fuck all of them?” She asks.

Bea grins, knowing that she’s convinced Honey to at least try and hang out with the boys. She’s smug, getting her way once again. She winks at Honey, coy. “Just the ones you don’t want,” she simpers, giggling. “You get your pick of the litter.”

“I don’t want to fuck any of them. I don’t know how many times we have to go over this.”

“So, you don’t want Trevor? ‘Cuz I was thinking–”

“Don’t fuck Trevor,” Honey groans.

“Why not?” Bea teases.

“You’re better than that, Buzzy,” Honey scoffs with a shake of her head. “He’s weird and a flirt and annoying.”

“I’m weird,” Bea says. “And a flirt. And annoying.” She puckers her lips and blows kisses at Honey as she shifts the car into drive and begins to creep down the driveway again. “Maybe it’s a match made in heaven, me and Trevor.”

“You don’t want him,” Honey growls, her voice short.

Bea shrugs and faces forward in her seat, her hands tapping her thighs. Whether it’s from nerves or excitement, Honey can’t tell. If she had to guess, though, it would be excitement. Bea is the least anxious person that Honey knows, the kind of person who can talk to anyone or anything no matter the situation.

While they might be athletes, they’ve never met anyone like Bea. Honey never has, not since she met her best friend all those years ago. They’re fucked– and she’s irresistible.

Honey and Bea pull up to the house and park under the cover, right next to the front door. This house was a point of contention when it was being built the first year Honey moved to Litchton. It was her first introduction to the gossip of the founding ladies. Scarlett and Gillian had felt particularly perturbed by the building– a five bed, four bathroom house complete with a hot tub and a game room and two stories of wraparound porches.

And it’s all made of the same wood, the same stain, the same ugly pattern. Honey cringes when she thinks about the number of trees that were cut down to make this house match. She’d think the same thing if it was made entirely out of the same stone.

Bea knocks on the door as Honey wipes her sweat from her palms. It takes a minute, but then Honey hears the scrambling of feet and the shouting between one man and his group of buddies, who are just giggling as they do what they can to cut him off from the door. Honey can see it through the thin windows bordering the door, how they rush up the stairs and down the hall. She can also see how they’re holding Trevor back as much as they can.

The brunet from the first day opens the door with a charming smile. “Hi,” he greets. “Can I help you?”

“Jack, you motherfucker–”

Honey bites back a laugh as Trevor curses and struggles, still in the grasp of the shorter boy from the first day and one of the newcomers– another brunet, a taller one. She looks at him carefully– the curl of his hair at the nape of his neck, partially hidden under a baseball cap, the curve of his eyebrows, and the slope of his lips give him away. He must be one of Jack’s brothers.

“We were invited to come over tonight,” Bea replies.

No matter how many times she hears it, Honey is always impressed by the way Bea turns on her charm and makes the people around her melt. It worked on her, too, when they first became friends all those years ago, and then less and less when Bea moved into Honey’s place when they first came to Litchton together and shared a bed for almost a year before Bea found her own townhouse. Then, her charm just got annoying, like a younger sibling who tags along with you everywhere because Mom said they had to.

It’s better for them when Bea and Honey have their time apart. Honey, especially, needs her time alone.

Jack’s eyes finally find Honey behind Bea and he grins. “That’s right,” he says, tapping his forehead like he just remembered. Honey can tell that all he’s doing is messing with Trevor, though. “The party! You must be the girls that Z invited. Hi, Honey.”

“Hi, Jack,” Honey replies, short and sweet. She turns on her customer service voice just for this. She finds Cole next to Trevor and smiles when her eyes slide over the imprisoned boy, as passive as she can be. “Hi, Cole.”

“Hey, Honey,” Cole says with an easy smile. Honey wants to snort and laugh– he’s got a smile that could get him into or out of anything. She wonders briefly if he’s childish and impish, still, even in their adult age, just because he’s got the smile to match.

Jack steps aside and lets the girls enter the house. He closes the door behind them and Honey has a sneaking suspicion that if she turned to glance at him, he’d be staring at one of their backsides. She doesn’t look. It’s not worth the joke that she could make if she caught him.

Bea nudges Honey and points up.

Honey tilts her head, and– “A chandelier made of moose antlers. Wow,” she marvels. She makes a face at Bea, then continues. “That’s really… something.”

“Isn’t it sick?” Cole asks, finally dropping Trevor’s arm and joining the girls where they stand. He spreads his arms out from his sides and spins in a slow circle. When he makes a full turn, he looks at both girls and wiggles his eyebrows. “Want a tour?”

The girls agree and Cole takes them throughout the house, leaving the other boys behind. From their pounding feet, Honey figures they’re headed downstairs, while Cole takes them upstairs. He shows them the bedrooms, the bathrooms, the common areas, the hallways, the outlet in his room that doesn’t work, and much more. They go back downstairs and get the same treatment– Cole even opens the fridge and helps himself to a beverage before offering anything to the girls. They see the kitchen, the living room, the den, the dining room and patio. Cole shows them the wraparound porch and its chairs. Honey takes in the view– it’s just as good as the one from her living room.

Finally, finally, they make their way down to the basement. It’s a smaller room, minimized by a covered porch and larger patio with a hot tub. The basement is clearly the man cave, the game room, or whatever you want to call it. There’s a pool table, a large TV, a ping pong table, a foosball table… everything a boy could want.

As evidenced by the two boys sitting on the couches near the pool table, while the other two wield sticks and study the position of the balls on the table.

Honey finds Trevor on the couch with Jack. His eyes found her first as she walked down the stairs and he hasn’t stopped staring. Neither has she, to be fair.

“Pool,” Bea notices. She looks at Honey and Honey shakes her head. Bea nods. “Honey and I are next,” she announces anyway.

“Oh, yeah?” Jack asks with a little laugh. “Are you any good?”

“I’m okay,” Bea says. She pauses, lets a smirk on her face grow as she looks over to Honey. “Honey’s worse.”

The boys turn to Honey. “Are you?” Trevor asks.

“I wager she could still beat you, Z,” says the only boy that Honey had not seen when they arrived at the house earlier. He’s got dark hair, but it’s also hidden under a backwards cap. The only difference between him and his brothers, assuming he is one of the brothers that Trevor mentioned on Monday, is that he’s smaller, more sullen. The telltale sign is that his comment is offhanded, delivered with the calm venom of an older brother who knows exactly where to bite. He doesn’t even look at Trevor as he lines up his shot and sinks the ball.

Honey likes him immediately.

When she looks over, she notices that Bea likes him too. Her lips are pursed in thought, only the minutest pout on her mouth. There’s a tiny smile pulling at her cheek and her eyes are twinkling under the bright lights, but they would be hazardous in a club.

It’s a game they’ve played before. Bea sucks at pool– she always has, but… when you suck at pool, either the person you’re playing with will laugh at you or they’ll try to give you tips. The night usually ends with Bea sinking the 8 ball with a little bit of help from her gentleman caller and a celebratory, “thank you” kiss.

Honey, however, loves pool. She wasn’t always great at pool, but found that, like almost everything, the more she practiced, the better she became. When Bea’s celebratory kisses turned into rushed hookups in the Winston-Salem dive bar bathrooms, Honey got her fair share of tips and tricks from the other men around. Usually, she would try to shack up with the alcoholic middle aged men who had nothing better to do than sip on their beer and play pool after dinner with their wives. It was rare that they flirted with Honey and she liked it that way.

The game goes like this: Bea finds a group of men that puff up their chest at the idea of beating a woman at pool, she “lets them win” against her (as if she would’ve won in the first place), and then it’s Honey’s turn. Honey, of course, feints a few shots and lets the men get comfortable before coming from behind and beating them. Usually, her win results in two drinks for her and her friend.

Today, the drinks won’t be her bargaining chip.

“What would you wager?” Honey asks the boy who last spoke. “If it were a real bet.”

His stormy eyes look her up and down while Jack’s brother, the tall one, paces around the table to find his best shot. “Money, normally,” he drawls. “But I’d rather not lose my money betting on you if you’re worse than her.” He nods to Bea, who takes the chance to blatantly look him up and down.

“How about this,” Bea proposes, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. “I’ll play the winner of this game and then we’ll see if Honey can beat Trevor. If I win, I get whatever I want, obviously. If Honey wins…”

Honey meets Bea’s eyes. She nods, knowing that Bea is thinking back to the night when they visited ECU their junior year of high school and witnessed a rugby party in the flesh. It’s their usual punishment when their outings feature a house party and a pool table.

“...Trevor has to do a Zulu Run,” Bea finishes.

Honey finds Trevor again and smiles, overexaggerated and sickly sweet.

“What’s a Zulu Run?” Trevor asks, looking to the other boys and finding nothing but confusion. On the girls’ faces, he just sees plotted mayhem.

“It’s fun, don’t worry,” Honey reassures him. “You only have to do it if you lose. Which, I mean, if I’m worse than Bea, then you should be fine.”

Honey sits on the loveseat across from Trevor and Jack, while Bea sits down next to Jack. Her knee presses against his, subtly, just enough that you can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just a lack of room on the couch and Honey presses her hand to her lips to hide a smile.

“So you’re Jack,” Bea says, interrupting the conversation that he and Trevor had been in when the girls walked down the stairs.

Honey watches as Bea makes her eyes look wide and soft, very flirtatious and fairy-like. She’s got the perfect complexion for it– the light dusting of freckles over her skin, the ounce of baby fat still left in her cheeks and all the right places along her body, her expression just the right amount of interested but not desperate.

For a brief moment, Honey wishes she was more like Bea.

“You’ve heard of me?” Jack asks with a little smirk.

Bea scoffs and waves him off. “Don’t flatter yourself. Honey didn’t even tell me your name.”

Jack’s bright eyes turn to Honey. “Oh, yeah?” He tilts his chin up in challenge. “What is it with you and names? You wouldn’t tell Trevor yours, you haven’t properly introduced me to…”

“Bea,” Bea supplies.

Honey shakes her head fondly at her best friend’s eagerness. Honey bites her tongue to keep her comments at bay, and instead plasters a tight smile on her face. “I didn’t realize I would be seeing you all again,” Honey says, forcing politeness into her voice. “And I’m not the one who’s weird about names.”

Jack and Trevor share a look. Jack hides a snort poorly.

“What?” Honey asks, her eyebrows raised and her mouth in a straight, unimpressed line.

Jack smirks and Trevor shakes his head. Jack speaks anyway. “I don’t know how you would have avoided us,” Jack says. “Considering.”

“Considering…?” Bea asks, leaning around Jack to look at Trevor. Honey catches Trevor’s panicked glance and can guess what Jack’s alluding to. She jumps in, hoping to switch the subject.

“Nothing to consider,” Honey and Trevor say at the same time. Trevor sounds rushed, Honey sounds indifferent. Both of their jaws drop and they stare at each other, Honey affronted and Trevor surprised.

Cole, who had been sitting on the stool-saddles near the pool table, steps over the back of the couch and weasels his way between Trevor and Jack. “Creepy,” he says. “You’re like the twins from the Shining.”

Trevor cringes. “You know, I don’t think we are.”

Honey just hums, picking up her drink and taking a sip. She clears her throat and turns back to Jack. “So those are your brothers?” She nods over to the pool table, where the shorter boy is lining up the 8-ball with the corner pocket. “Trevor said you had family coming.”

Honey doesn’t miss the smirk and blush on Trevor’s face when she says his name, even as he dips his head and takes a gulp of his beer to cover it up.

Jack smiles, a genuine smile. It’s easy to tell the difference with him, when he’s really smiling or if he’s smiling because he thinks he’s supposed to.

“Yeah, the goons.” Jack looks over his shoulder and grins as his taller brother loses his game of pool. “C’mon, Rusty, you brought that pool stick all this way and your game still sucks?”

The taller boy glares at Jack and sulks, re-racking his stick. He walks over and stands awkwardly behind the couch, but flicks Jack on the back of the head and Honey giggles before she can help it.

She looks down at her lap after letting out the little laugh and misses the way Trevor’s eyes light up and train on her.

“Luke, you fucker,” Jack swears, flinching at the impact of Luke’s flick. Jack frowns, his eyebrows furrowed as he rubs the back of his head. “He’s my little brother.”

“Little brother,” Honey repeats. “And you’re just going to let him flick you like that?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Very funny, Honey. Obviously I’m not going to let him get away with it.” He reaches around and half-asses a punch to Luke’s dick, just hard enough that it expels an “oof” from the younger boy and he doubles over a little bit.

The other boy interrupts. “Quit it,” he says. He glares at his brothers, then his eyes fix on Bea. “Your turn.”

Bea stands and smiles, a smug little smirk reserved for her conspiratory looks with Honey that signifies that she’s getting what she wanted. She joins the man by the rack of sticks and clasps her hands behind her back, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Which stick should I use?”

Jack looks a little put out by the loss of Bea at his side, and casts a glare toward his other brother. “And that’s Quinn,” he says curtly. “Pool master, or whatever.”

“So he’s the best in the house?” Honey asks.

“We’ll tally scores at the end of the summer,” Luke jumps in as Quinn says, “Absolutely.”

Jack scowls. “You just think that because you’re older. Remember, Quinn: first is the worst. Second is the best.”

Trevor snorts and takes another sip of his beer.

He’s unnaturally quiet, Honey thinks. Trying to be cool in front of his friends, maybe.

“I take it you’re the second child,” Honey says. “That makes sense.”

“That makes sense?” Jack asks, repeating her statement like he can’t believe she dared to say that. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Honey looks over at Bea, who presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows. Daring Honey.

Honey rolls her head back, stretching the muscles of her neck. “You…” She starts, trailing off because she’s not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding mean. She scratches her eyebrow and scrunches her nose. “You like attention,” she decides, trying to keep her voice as free of judgment as possible.

“Do I?” Jack asks, sounding unimpressed.

Honey shrugs. “You– I mean. Jack, you asked. You opened the door for us because you knew it would annoy Trevor, probably because you knew it would bother him that you were opening the door for m– us, instead of him. You flirt and smile when Bea sits next to you but you lean back and manspread when she gets up like you don’t want us to notice that you’re sitting without a girl at your side. You call your little brother a “fucker” and retaliate because you can, honestly escalating the situation from a flick to a punch to the dick. You act annoyed because your older brother is beating you at pool already this summer and it only just started, plus he took the girl from your side. It’s, uh… yeah. You like attention.”

Everyone but Jack starts to laugh.

“Stand up,” Cole says to Honey.

She does, her arms resting by her side awkwardly, her fingers twitching as she waits for him to do something.

Cole looks around the room and swears under his breath. “I didn’t think this through, one second,” he mutters, and disappears upstairs.

Honey continues to stand there. She pats her hands against her thighs and looks around the room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, but especially not Bea. If she makes eye contact with Bea, she’s going to burst out laughing.

Trevor is still snickering, hiding his face in his shirt. Honey can still see the little crinkles by his eyes.

“She clocked you, man,” Quinn says with a shrug before pulling out a pool stick and standing it next to Bea. It comes up to the tip of her shoulder, Quinn’s chest. He nods in satisfaction and hands the stick over. Honey lets out a relieved breath of air at his approval, and then stifles a second when she watches Bea’s fingers brush over Quinn’s on the stick, her eyes lingering on his for just a second too long.

It’s too easy for her.

Cole comes bounding down the stairs with a plastic soccer trophy in his hand. “Found this when I was snooping,” he says, approaching Honey and holding it out. He stands directly in front of her, makes eye contact with her, and stares into her eyes. “Thank you,” he says with a sincere nod. “For taking Jack down a peg. He needed that. We all needed that.”

And he hands the trophy off to Honey with a handshake, like she’s graduating from high school and he’s the principal handing her a diploma. He takes the handshake and pulls her into a hug, the trophy crushed awkwardly between them.

When he pulls away, Cole puts both hands on Honey’s arms and stares into her eyes again. “If you’re going to do that again, please don’t do it to me.”

Quinn breaks the rack with a crack of his stick, standing at a slight angle, and Honey sits back down, cradling her trophy in her hands.

Cole engages Honey in conversation for a few minutes, with Luke jumping in here and there. Jack turns on the TV and pouts. As much as she tries not to notice it, Trevor just stays quiet and sips his beer and sneaks glances at Honey out of the corner of his eye.

Eventually, the conversation dies out and the group turns their attention to the television, which is streaming some hockey game that Honey doesn’t have an interest in. The boys are chitchatting away, throwing out names and positions and yelling at the TV when a call doesn’t go their way– Honey can’t tell who’s cheering for what team, but she can also tell that Jack and Luke don’t like the team in white… at all. Trevor seems to prefer them over the team in red. Cole doesn’t seem to care. He’s just laughing, still, at Jack. Jack just sulks, but he seems to cheer up once the team in red scores, late in the first period.

“You all really like hockey, huh?” Bea asks between turns. Quinn has sunken a ball almost every turn, but Bea has only sunken one. Honey grins at her, then glances at the pool table and back to Bea. Bea sticks her tongue out at Honey, playful and easy. If Quinn’s the kind of guy that Honey thinks he is, it’s only a matter of time before he starts teaching Bea some tricks to tighten up the game.

Cole laughs. “Yeah, I mean, I’d hope so.”

“What do you mean?” Bea asks, batting her eyelashes innocently, like she didn’t read all of Trevor’s Wikipedia page before coming here.

“We play,” Luke says with a shrug.

Honey and Bea lock eyes and Honey plays along with her game. She tilts her head and blinks, as if this is the first time she’s hearing it. “Are you any good?”

Quinn snorts and shakes his head as Bea leans over to line up a shot and Honey notices his hand on her waist when he points at a different ball, explaining that that would be the better shot for her. Bea sinks the recommended ball and jumps up with a cheer, smiling brightly at Quinn and standing just a little closer than she would if she wanted to be just friends.

“We’re alright,” Trevor says, the first words he’s said to Honey since she walked through the door. He stands. “Does anyone want another beer?”

The boys’ voices ring out in a chorus of yesses, whereas Honey stays mostly quiet. Bea agrees to another drink as well, which is when Trevor turns to Honey. “You’re sure you don’t want another drink? I’m already getting them for everyone.”

“I’m sure, but thank you,” Honey says.

“Why don’t you go and help him carry the drinks,” Bea suggests from her post next to Quinn.

Honey glares at her, but stands. She leaves her trophy on her seat, saving it. “Fine,” she replies, hoping the edge in her voice is only detectable to her best friend. She follows Trevor up the stairs to the kitchen, like an antisocial cat who has FOMO, but only when it comes to their owner. She crinkles her nose in disgust when she realizes that that’s how she looks, not that Trevor would notice or care. Actually, he would probably be elated if she compared herself to a cat following him around.

Trevor opens the fridge and sifts around, the bottles of beer clinking. The beer takes up most of the bottom shelf, unsurprisingly.

“Do you think you have enough?” Honey asks, unable to help herself when Trevor passes her a third bottle, each a different brand of beer, to carry.

“Q and J like Michelob, Luke is a Miller guy, Coley likes Budweiser, and I’m more of a Modelo drinker.” Trevor’s head is buried in the back of the fridge, rifling through a pack of Millers that seem to be running low. “We’ve had to go to the store three times since that first day because we keep running out of the one beer that someone wants.”

He retreats from the refrigerator and turns to Honey. He’s got two beers in his hand. He holds them up and asks, “Which one do you think Bea wants?”

Honey weighs her choices, but ultimately chooses the Michelob. Bea will use it as a jumping point for her conversation with Quinn– it’s a no-brainer. As annoying as Bea’s boy-craziness is, Honey is always going to be her wingwoman and helper when she can.

“Cool,” Trevor says and returns the other beer to the shelf. He turns back to Honey and takes two of the beers she was carrying, leaving her with just two, the Budweiser and the Modelo.

“I thought you were a Modelo drinker,” Honey says.

“I am,” Trevor replies, heading towards the stairs.

Honey follows. “Then why am I holding your beer?”

“Because I want you to hand it to me.”

Honey snorts out a laugh. “Okay.”

When they return downstairs, they distribute the beer. Honey hands Cole his Budweiser and waits for Trevor to finish handing out the beers to the Hughes brothers and her friend. Bea has finally managed to get Quinn to do the work for her, with him leaning behind her and guiding her arms over the cue, pointing out where she should be looking and where to hit the ball. There are no other balls on the table except the 8 ball, which makes Honey chuckle. There’s no way Bea sunk all of hers– Quinn had to have “mistakenly” knocked a few in for her.

Trevor returns to the sitting area and Honey stands, offering him the Modelo in her hand. On purpose, she realizes, Trevor closes his hand over her own to take the beer from her and thanks her with a smile, his eyes far too kind to be harmless and friendly.

Honey shakes her head with a look, then frowns when Trevor plops his happy ass right down on the other side of her loveseat. She shakes her head again and chooses to watch the end of the pool game, sitting on one of the stool-saddles near the table. She claps when Bea finally sinks the 8 ball after her third whiff. The ball only sinks because Quinn leaned over Bea again and did it for her, working together to finish the game.

“I win!” Bea squeals in delight, jumping in celebration in front of Quinn.

He lets out a little chuckle, the most awkwardly and quietly endearing laugh that Honey has ever heard. “You won,” he agrees. “With my help.”

Bea tilts her chin up and smiles at Quinn, proud of herself. “So we both win,” she says. “That means we both get whatever we want.”

Honey bites her tongue and ducks her head, waiting for what’s coming next. She wants to turn around and look out the window, even though you can’t see anything in the dark mountainside now that the sun has set. The thing is, she also wants to see the boys’ reactions to what Bea is going to say next.

Quinn smiles, a little tiny smile. His focus is only on Bea, who has inched her way closer to him somehow. There’s not much more room between them. “Whatever you want,” he repeats. “What do you want, Bea?”

Honey watches Quinn’s face, but she’s torn. She also wants to watch Jack.

“You know that tour Cole took us on when Honey and I first got here?” Bea asks, reaching out and smoothing out the turned-up fabric of Quinn’s sleeve.

“Yeah,” Quinn replies, a little confused.

Bea rests her hand on his arm, slowly making her way down so she can wrap her hand around his fingers. She watches herself do it, then looks up at Quinn through her lashes. “I don’t think I saw your bedroom,” she says. “Would you care to show me?”

Quinn’s lips part in surprise and Honey watches his eyes search Bea’s own for… insincerity, maybe?

At the same time, Jack chokes on a sip of his beer. Honey’s eyes fly to him and Cole pats his back as Jack coughs it out.

“Jesus Christ,” Jack says, clapping his hand against his chest and coughing one last time.

Bea smiles at him, oozing confidence and a little showmanship, as Quinn leads her to the stairs. He lets her climb them first and Honey giggles when Quinn sneaks a glance at Bea’s ass and visibly relaxes before hurrying to catch up with her and get his hands on her hips. Bea’s twinkling laughter grows softer and softer as she bounds up the stairs, her footfalls growing heavier as Quinn closes in on her.

“Well shit, Jack,” Cole says. “I guess you’re not the first to fall into bed with a girl this summer. The streak is finally over.”

“You don’t know that,” Jack says, pushing Cole’s hand off of his shoulder. He turns to face Honey, looking hopeful and a little desperate. “Wanna help me keep my streak up?”

A loud honking laugh escapes Honey. “Absolutely fucking not,” she replies, still laughing. She shakes her head at Jack, then notices the small, but mightily proud smile on Trevor’s lips.

Choosing not to focus on that smile, a smile that she’s inadvertently becoming very fond of because she’s never seen him smile at his friends the way Trevor is smiling at her, Honey hops up from her stool and starts to gather the balls from the pockets of the table. She racks them, then grabs her cue and waves Trevor over. “I believe we had a game to play.”

“You had a game to lose,” Trevor corrects, standing and approaching Honey. He grabs his own stick, the one Quinn abandoned on the edge of the table when Bea proposed her bedroom shenanigans.

“Hmm,” Honey voices, raising her eyebrows and exaggerating a grimace. “Consider me scared. Your break, Trevor.”

“When I win,” Trevor says. “I want to buy you dinner.” He lines up the cue ball and shoots, the colorful triangle of balls destroyed in a single swoop. One of the solids finds its way into a pocket and Trevor smirks.

“What a boring prize,” Honey muses. “But if you insist on those terms, then I agree.” She sticks out her hand to shake his. “And when I win…”

She leans down and eyes a line of three balls. The striped nine is farthest from the hole, but Honey wants to prove a point, so she angles her stick down at a steep slope and pushes– noticing Trevor’s mouth flattening into a line when her ball jumps over the other two and tips into the hole. She stands back up to her full height, tilting her head to the side. She cocks her hip and positions her hand against it, holding the cue up on her other side.

“I’m really going to enjoy your Zulu Run, Trevor.”

Cole whistles lowly from the couch. “I need to find you another trophy, girl.”

Honey shoots him a wink.

They play on. Trevor takes it easy– plays the safe route. With each easy fall into the pocket, he fistpumps to celebrate. Honey can only imagine how insufferable he is at the bowling alley.

She shows him up, not even daring to let him pull ahead in their race and convince himself that he has a chance. She sinks the final black ball into the right-center pocket, bending herself all the way over the table to give him a good view of the girl who’s beating him. Her hips are high on the other side of the table, balancing up on her tip toes, facing the seating area. She doesn’t even look at the ball when she hits it, no, she’s looking up at Trevor with a tilted smile and mocking, bragging eyes.

His eyes evaluate her– eyes, to lips, to chest, to ass. To the boys, making sure they aren’t looking, aren’t gawking at the round globes of Honey’s ass that are presented before them. Back to her ass. Her ass.

Honey stands, slowly, making sure Trevor memorizes the curve of her waist when she does. Her eyes drop to his pants, a smirk growing in time with his bulge, and she rests her hands on the edge of the table. She pulls her shoulders back, broadening her chest.

It’s just a dominant stance. All Honey enjoys about this is the fact that his resolve and dignity crumble at the mere sight of a pretty girl bent before him. She likes knowing that he’s weak for her, but that she’ll never do anything about it.

She’s not looking for that.

“A Zulu Run,” Honey explains, clearing her throat to rid her voice of its sultry tinges. She shakes her hair back, over her shoulders. Trevor’s eyes darken at the sight of her throat. She smiles, but continues. “Is when you have to strip, sing a song, and streak around the house until the song is over.” She throws a glance over her shoulder at the other boys. “Usually your friends get to pick your song.”

Jack perks up at that. Honey turns and hops up on the ledge of the pool table, knowing that Trevor’s eyes have fallen to her behind. Jack looks at Honey with delight in his eyes, seeming to forgive her in an instant for psychoanalyzing him earlier in the night. His eyes slide to Trevor and the look in them seems more akin to yearning for vengeance.

“So, boys,” Honey drawls. “What’ll it be?”

They scramble over each other to reach her, shouting song suggestions as they fly into their head. Honey can’t hear anything they’re saying, so she laughs until they fall silent. Cole’s hand presses into the side of her thigh, she looks down at it in disgust, then back up at him. It falls to the edge of the table, noticeable space between her and the appendage.

“How about this,” Honey decides. She sneaks a glance at Trevor, gloating as she lets her eyes roam all over his body. She takes in his arms, his thighs under his shorts, the way his shirt falls over his shoulders. “Trevor looks pretty fit. Why don’t we all pick a song?” She winks at him. “Make him run for, oh, eleven minutes or so?”

A flicker of recognition passes through Trevor’s gaze, but it’s quickly replaced by disbelief. He doesn’t know how she would know– weren’t they subtle about it? She lets out a breath of a laugh at the look– no, Trevor, you weren’t subtle, she thinks. but it’s cute that you think you are.

She realizes what she was thinking in a split second and shakes herself out of it, snapping her face forward and crossing her legs knee-over-knee.

“But only his friends get to pick, so I guess I’m out.” Honey hops down from her perch and breaks through the boys, settling herself on the loveseat with her trophy, laying out to take up as much space as she could. She picks up the remote from the table and places her other hand behind her head, navigating to the Roku menu screen. “Do we have Spotify on this thing?”

Luke, Jack, and Cole each pick a song and Cole helps Honey connect to the outdoor speakers. He re-presents her with her trophy with a flourish and a bow, playful and lame. The boys push Trevor out to the patio with a whoop, pulling at his clothes even as Trevor fights them.

Honey follows at a distance and watches through the glass door. She looks away when Trevor sheds his underwear and waits for Luke’s countdown to end before looking back up. She doesn’t want to see it. That’s just too far. She gets an eyeful of his ass as he rounds the corner of the house, though.

As Trevor starts his third song, Cole’s cheesy Taylor Swift pick (“You can’t outrun my music now, bitch!”), Jack joins Honey at the door.

“I think I’m going to head home,” Honey tells him, rubbing over the skin on her arms.

Jack nods at her, shrugging easily. “I’ll walk you out.”

Honey leads him up the stairs, hearing Trevor’s whoops grow louder as he finishes the second verse of the song. She knows he catches them walking up the stairs because his singing falters for a moment. His steps speed up. So do Honey’s.

She walks briskly to the front door, bordering on a speedwalk, with Jack behind her. She swings her keys over her finger and wrenches the front door open. Jack catches it before it hits the wall.

“What about Bea?” He asks, calling after Honey and making her pause.

“She’ll find her way home,” Honey replies and steps off again. She has to get out of here before Trevor races up the stairs to stop her from being alone with Jack and she gets an eyeful of his– junk.

“Honey!” Jack calls again.

She lurches to a stop and cringes, turning to face the boy.

"Honey, I don't think I'm going to flirt with you anymore."

Honey takes a breath, walking back and reaching up to pat Jack's cheek, just forceful enough that it'll sting for a moment after she walks away. It's not quite a hit, but it's definitely not a love tap. "That doesn't hold the power that you think it does," she tells him with a nod and a close-lipped smile. She goes to leave, but Jack stops her by grabbing her hand.

"Trevor likes you, you know. He was quiet tonight, but he likes you. He's reading that book you gave him and everything," Jack says in earnest, his blues boring into Honey's own eyes.

Honey picks up on the unsaid words. He's trying, take it easy on him, he might be annoying but he's good, and he likes you. You should like him too, and all of that.

The edges of Honey's smile soften and she gently pulls her hand from Jack's. "It's nice to know he can read," she replies, deflecting. Whatever Trevor feels for her, not that he can really feel anything because he doesn't know her like that, doesn't matter. She's not looking for that right now. "Thanks for hosting us, Jack. I'm sorry for what I... said."

"It's okay." Jack shrugs. "Thanks for coming."

"Goodnight," Honey bids him, and starts to walk away.

"Come back," Jack says, and Honey whips around and finds him looking like the words surprised him when he heard himself speak. He clears his throat. "Friday. Um, it's— it's National Chocolate Ice Cream Day and National Donut Day." He scuffs the tip of his shoe against the ground. "Really... important holiday."

Honey can't do anything but laugh. "I'll bring the donuts."

She walks to her car and ignores the chirping of bullfrogs echoing in her ears as she drives down the mountain to her home, alone.

7:90 – TREVOR

Jack glares at Trevor when he walks down to the kitchen early the next morning. As Trevor rubs the sleep out of his eyes with a yawn, Jack shifts under the frozen pack of peas that rests precariously on his shoulderblades. Trevor had barely touched him last night, he was just being dramatic. So he had a bit of soreness on his back from where Trevor pushed him against the wall and asked him what the hell he was doing, who cares? He went upstairs with Trevor’s girl. Alone.

“Bea’s taking you to church with her this morning for laying a finger on me,” Jack growls out when Trevor looks at him and laughs.

“No shit,” Trevor replies, snorting.

“It’s true,” comes the female voice from the couch. Bea leans forward, her tube top skewed and tilted enough to draw a wandering eye. Trevor rolls his. “You shouldn’t get violent, not on my watch.”

“You weren’t even with me last night, Bea,” Trevor says sweetly, tilting his head down to dismiss her. “You didn’t see me do shit. How can you prove it was me and not Luke?”

“Luke put a video of it on his private story, then showed me,” Bea snickers in the same tone. “So you’re taking me home and helping me choose my best church outfit to hide these hickeys, and then you’ll join me at the service. It’ll be good for your reputation in town.”

“I don’t really care about my reputation in town,” Trevor laughs.

“Honey cares about your reputation in town,” Bea clarifies, a tight, ‘there’s no room for discussion here’ smile on her face. She pointedly looks him up and down. “Little Bear.”

Trevor scowls at her condescending tone and use of the nickname. How dare she flaunt her inner circle-ness to Trevor.

“I was going to go to church anyway,” Trevor boasts. “Vera told me to bring all of the boys.”

“Well, you’re the only one resorting to violence–” Jack begins, seething, before Bea cuts him off.

“No, this is a good idea,” she says, waving her hand to quiet him. “We should all go to church.”

Jack scoffs. “I don’t think we need to go,” he says. “Sounds like you’ve got an ulterior motive.”

“I don’t want the town to think y’all are reclusive party folk who have no interest in the happenings of Litchton,” Bea snaps. “You’d be surprised how quickly the old grannies will turn on you.”

“And you get to walk into church with five guys on your arm,” Jack says, still scowling. This time, his attention is focused on Bea, not the man who physically hurt him the night before.

“Said she wanted five guys, she ain’t talking ‘bout burgers,” Trevor deadpans, a disgusted look thrown Bea’s way.

She’s unperturbed by it, probably from many years of Honey– Honey.– throwing her similar looks. All Bea does is smile and reply, “My pussy already got murdered, Trev. I didn’t need five guys.”

“No way Quinn ‘murdered’ your pussy, Bea,” Jack jumps in, air quotes around the word. “The dude doesn’t fuck.”

Bea laughs. “I assure you, he fucks.”

“Yeah, I fuck,” Quinn agrees, descending the stairs. He veers to the couch first and drops a kiss on Bea’s head in greeting.

“Well, fuck your way to church,” Jack says. “Bea’s making everyone go with her.” Jack looks at Quinn expectantly, maybe waiting for pushback.

Quinn shrugs. “Okay,” he says. “It’s not like there’s anything else for us to do on a Sunday morning in this place. Everything is probably closed.”

“It’s true, everything is closed on Sundays except the grocery store and the gas station,” Bea says with a nod. “And the church, of course.”

Jack scowls and removes his pack of peas from his back. Trevor takes his opportunity to approach the fridge, conveniently behind Jack. “Why can’t we just stay here?”

“Because it’ll be fun,” Trevor replies, trying to exude optimism now that he’s not the only boy being forced to attend church and wash themselves of their sins. He turns and purposefully claps his hand down on Jack’s shoulder, hard. Jack howls in pain. Trevor squeezes just to watch him tense up. “It’s our chance to become one with the community, Jacky.”

Bea smiles, voice dripping with cheerfulness. “Yeah, Jacky, it’ll be good for you. Why don’t you two head upstairs and change?” Her eyes fix on Quinn, whose shirt rides up as he grabs a glass from the upper shelves of the cabinets. “I want to chit-chat with Quinn for a second.”

Trevor and Jack make a face, but scramble towards the stairs. They push and shove each other all the way up– Trevor is particularly satisfied when Jack bumps into the wall and groans– then split off into their respective rooms. Trevor treats it like a race– whoever finishes changing first wins.

Jack is already back downstairs by the time Trevor returns. Cole is there, and Luke, and both of them seem to be dressed for the service too. None of the boys have the best church clothes, but it’s a small town with farmers. Surely not everyone will be in their Sunday best every Sunday. Quinn is noticeably missing, but Bea is standing by the door with a smile on her face. Her lips look a little more red than they did before Trevor went upstairs. He narrows his eyes at her.

“You, and you,” Bea says, pointing at Jack and Trevor. “Come with me. Trevor, grab your car keys. You’re driving.”

“What about Luke and Cole?” Trevor asks, picking up his keys from their spot on the hook next to the door and trailing behind Bea. Jack trails behind Trevor, still grumbling and pretending like his shoulders hurt for dramatic effect. Trevor ought to show him some real pain next time.

The three people climb into the car, Trevor behind the wheel and Bea in the passenger seat. Jack, once again, finds himself relegated to the backseat. He straps himself in and Trevor catches his murderous glare in the rearview mirror.

“Quinn’s going to drive them,” Bea explains. “They’ll meet us at the church.”

“Whipped,” Jack coughs out. He does a terrible job of masking the word.

Trevor rolls his eyes, just like Bea. She opens her mouth to say something, sass him, but thinks better of it.

They drive on in silence, the occasional sigh or grunt from Jack as he shifts in his seat. Trevor glares at him again in the mirror and Jack hits him with a fake smile before looking out the window to watch the trees whip by.

Bea directs them to the main strip of shops, then tells them to take a left onto one of the sidestreets near The Reading Nook. They pull up to a big brick house, separated down the middle by a massive staircase. Bea climbs the stairs and turns to the left again, unlocking and pushing her front door open.

She leads the boys into her living room, which is decorated exactly how Trevor expected it to be. The couch is white with pink pillows and a white shag rug beneath it. Her furniture is odd, thrifted and worn in. None of it matches, although Trevor suspects that her theme was “Barbie girl aesthetic.” It’s messy, and comfortable, and Trevor almost envies how she lives. His apartment in Anaheim is sparse– when you’re on the road so much and as busy with your job as Trevor is, you really only need a place to eat and sleep. His decorations reflect that.

Trevor sprawls out on the couch, leaving Jack standing awkwardly next to the coffee table. Bea disappears down the hall and enters her bedroom, her closet door creaking open.

“Jack, come here, will you?” Bea asks.

Jack’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but he starts down the hallway nonetheless.

Trevor snoops in his absence, Jack’s presence no longer a threat to his comfort. He drags himself off of the couch and stands, advancing towards the shelves of knickknacks on the wall near the television.

Bea has got a number of books on her shelves, overtaking two of the four rows. The other rows are sparse and far more interesting– there are picture frames spread along the rows, six frames that depict Bea’s life and what she loves.

Four of the pictures feature Honey. The other two are groups of people that Trevor assumes are Bea’s family, her extended family on each of her parents’ sides. He can ignore those easily, not caring about about Bea to scan each of her cousins’ faces. The pictures with Honey are a different story.

There’s a picture of the two when they were ten, or eleven, riding their bikes down an asphalt street lined with suburban houses. Bea’s bike is pink with streamers and flowers and a little basket. Honey’s is dark green and sporty, similar to Trevor’s own bicycle from childhood. Honey’s smile is wry, whereas Bea’s is glowing.

The second, from a birthday party. It’s Honey’s birthday and they’re four, from the looks of the lit candle on her cake. Honey’s smile is wide, much wider than the previous image. Her hair is messy and her tongue is stained green, probably from a lollipop or a Jolly Rancher. Her arms are wrapped around Bea’s neck and she’s pulled her friend close, their cheeks pressing together. Bea’s expression is a little different. Only one of her eyes is squeezed shut, the one closer to Honey. Her lips are pursed like a duck and her little fingers are raised in a peace sign.

Trevor chuckles. If his mom had been the one taking the picture, she would’ve said “What a ham” about the girls’ goofiness.

In the next picture, they’re older. They’re sixteen, probably. Bea’s wearing these short jean shorts and a bikini top and Honey wears a matching top under some long, gray sweatpants. She rolled the waistband up and her back is mostly to the camera, Bea lifted off the ground in a swooping hug. Bea’s legs are kicked up behind her like she’s experiencing a really good, Princess Diaries kind of kiss and her face is frozen in laughter. Honey’s is the same. Trevor’s heart clenches at the smile on her face and the way her hair blows out behind her.

Finally, there’s a selfie of the two of them in a handmade frame. It’s from a high angle and Trevor can’t tell if it’s a .5 picture or a regular one. Honey’s eyebrow is raised and she wears an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression, goofy enough to tug at Trevor’s smile. Bea’s mouth is open and she has a hand pinching Honey’s chin, while the other is raised to take the picture. Behind them is the Welcome to Litchton sign that Trevor passes each time he goes into town.

Trevor’s eyes glide down to the handmade frame, the written message along the top and bottom borders.

“New Beginnings!” and smaller, in the corner, a more personalized message. Trevor thinks that she wrote the message in a thin Sharpie– it’s too pristine still, after years. “There’s no one I would rather have join me in Litchton than you. Thank you for always being the Bea to my Honey! Honeybea 4ever <3”.

Trevor reaches out and takes the frame in his hand, inspecting it. He turns it over. More script, also in a Sharpie: “2019”, it reads. He replaces the item, making sure it’s back in the exact right spot.

“Bea, hurry up!” Trevor calls, returning to the couch.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” she replies, leading Jack out of her bedroom. She’s clasping a necklace as she walks, then holds out her wrist and a bracelet for Jack to clasp. “We can go now.”

They leave the apartment and climb back into the car, Jack beating Bea out for the passenger seat this time. He’s smug about it too, grinning to himself while he buckles up. Trevor opens the back door for Bea and helps her into the car with a guiding hand in hers. When Jack realizes that he fumbled the chance to look like a gentleman, his face returns to its scowl.

“If you’re not careful, your face will get stuck like that,” Trevor warns when he finally sits behind the wheel again. He shifts the car into drive and pulls out of the parking space.

Bea directs them to the church and Trevor pulls into the parking lot next to Quinn’s car, which is still running. They’ve got about five minutes before the service begins and Bea chastises the three boys for not going inside and reserving seats early.

“There’s only a few instances where the whole town goes out to do something,” Bea complains as they walk inside. “Church is one of them. We’re never going to find a spot for all six of us.”

“No Honey?” Trevor asks, taken aback. He expected her to join them, especially since the ‘whole town’ is here.

Bea casts Trevor a look and snickers into her palm. “You’re sweet, Trevor,” she says and Trevor rolls his eyes at her saccharine tone. “But Honey decided a long time ago that she had enough religion in her life growing up. She and God know where they stand.”

Trevor reaches the door to the church first and holds it open for the group, letting them file in. He’s grateful that they’re in the church now, because all of the other boys are either too respectful of the space and what it represents or too awkward in a silent building to make fun of Trevor for seeking out Honey. Or they don’t want to get on Bea’s bad side and act a fool in church and suffer her wrath.

They file into one of the back pews, Bea sandwiched between Quinn and Luke. Trevor sits on the other side, right at the aisle.

For an hour, he stays quiet and moves and speaks with the congregation. He counts the number of times that Cole tases Jack’s side, sticking his fingers between his ribs to cause him to flinch and make noise in the reverent area. He does this five times throughout the mass before Bea leans forward and threatens to cut his hands off herself.

For an hour, Trevor stares forward and lets his mind wander to Honey, and all the thoughts he has about her. She’s a mystery and she’s quiet like Quinn, but confident in a way that Quinn never achieved. She knows exactly who she is and won’t budge for anyone, won’t change herself or act in any special ways around certain people.

Trevor admires it– he’s spent his whole life performing for people, in a way. Hockey is his life and always has been, but sometimes it’s tiring to realize that all of his friends are people he met on ice. To think that he can be surrounded by his teammates and the fans in any arena and still feel lonely– it’s the kind of thing that leaves Trevor wondering if this career was a good idea.

In another world, he’s playing in a beer league in a town like this, with a girl like Honey on his arm.

The thought leaves him feeling heavy, weighed down. It ruminates in his mind, even after the service is over. It sours his mood completely and Trevor wishes he was back at the house so he could take a shower or something and stop the prickling feelings from taking over his skin.

In the parking lot, the group chats about nothing. Trevor doesn’t listen. Bea introduces the boys to come of the townsfolk and Trevor smiles and shakes the men’s hands, hugs the ladies or send a special look their way. Vera and Earl honk as they drive past the group, Vera blowing a kiss towards Trevor and Cole through the passenger window. Cole catches it and sticks it to his cheek, then sends one back. It makes Vera laugh.

Trevor tunes back into the conversation as the boys discuss plans for the upcoming week– Jack edges away from Trevor before he mentions that he invited Honey over that coming Friday and that Bea should come too.

“Well, you’ll rarely find a Honey without its Bea,” Bea teases. She claps. “Okay. I’ll see you guys then. Quinn, take me home?”

Quinn nods and puts his hand on the small of her back to direct her to the car. Bea pauses and waves Trevor over, shooing the other boys away. Quinn stays, his hand still on Bea’s body.

“There’s a fruit stand outside the grocery store on Mondays,” Bea says.

“I know, I’ve been,” Trevor interrupts.

Bea quiets him with a click of her tongue. She chooses her words carefully, her eyes hard. “Go tomorrow at, like, six,” she suggests, a faux-nonchalant shrug lifting her shoulders. “You might find something that you like there. I recommend buying the strawberries. They make a lovely gift, Trevor.”

Trevor frowns, confused. “I don’t like strawberries,” he replies.

Bea closes her eyes and processes his words for a moment, a tight smile on her lips. “They make a lovely gift, Trevor,” she repeats.

“Sick,” Trevor says, his voice hard. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “I’m not buying strawberries for you, Bea. I don’t know you enough to give you gifts.”

Bea stomps her foot. “Good fucking God, Trevor. Quinn, can you explain this shit to him?” She asks, then walks off to the car. She takes Quinn’s keys from his hand and gets behind the driver’s seat herself.

Quinn watches her walk away, then turns to Trevor. “She’s telling you that you’ll run into Honey, you fucking idiot, and that you should buy her strawberries.”

He leaves Trevor standing there, eyes wide.

Yeah, he’s definitely heading to the fruit stand tomorrow and buying strawberries.

He concocts his plan on the drive home, silent compared to the other three boys, that are laughing and flopping around the backseat with every turn in a game of Jell-O. They’re not wearing their seatbelts. When they get too loud, Trevor envisions ejecting them from the backseat, leaving them sailing down the mountain, falling through the air.

He holes himself up in his room to nap when they get home, too excited to see Honey to let the time pass organically. It’s like time travel, this way. Trevor will wake up and be two hours closer to seeing her, to getting another chance to win her over. This time, with a gift.

In the afternoon, he laces up his blades and skates with the boys. Quinn has come back by now, not spending much time at Bea’s apartment after church, according to Luke. They all skate and shoot for a couple of hours, playing a game of pickup with an extra player to sub in and out. When that ends, they run some drills. Luke and Quinn play defense, like always, with Trevor, Cole, and Jack recreating their legendary line from USNTDP. It works out perfectly, and each boy pushes himself like they’re playing a real game. It’s the brotherly competition that fuels them– and when the drills start to fall into disarray from hits and other penalties that would certainly be called out in a game, they head off to shower.

The night ends slowly, fizzling out compared to the way it ended the night before. The boys lounge in the game room, sprawling out on the couches and snacking and sipping their beer. Trevor isn’t made to perform another Zulu Run, no one picks up a pool cue, and they watch shitty TV movies on the Spanish channel instead of English. They make up the dialogue as they go and Trevor is the first to go to sleep. He makes it to midnight, but then he forces himself to go to bed.

He’s got a big day ahead of him… after 5 p.m., anyway.

–end–of–chapter–one–

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puck-luck · 1 month ago

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new beginnings | july 15 - july 21

50:90 – HONEY

“Maybe this sounds stupid, but I didn’t think it would be so cold at the rink,” Bea says. She’s got a thin zip-up hoodie on over a t-shirt and a pair of leggings. She’s wearing long socks because Honey told her that she needed to go change out of her Birkenstocks and put on real shoes– “like, sneakers, Bea”– so that she didn’t get frostbite.

Honey’s only been to an ice rink once, on a date with Thomas just before Christmas when they first started dating. She had been dressed for the Charlotte winter in her big puffy coat and gloves, but she had worn jeans and thin socks that day, and she thought her toes would fall off by the end of the date. They were only at the rink for an hour and she made Thomas turn the heat to 80º in his car on the drive home so that she could thaw out.

Bea definitely wouldn’t have made it through the boys’ practice in Birkenstocks. That’s why they’re in Charlotte today.

It took Trevor an hour on the phone to convince Honey to come with him to Charlotte, since Jack had invited Bea along to practice. She feels a little trapped in the city, but as long as they’re in the Coliseum, Honey isn’t looking over her shoulder the whole time. After all, it’s only the seven of them in the rink besides a few workers that are doing their own thing. The boys are on the ice and she and Bea are on the home bench, sitting and watching the boys run a passing drill.

“It also echoes a lot more than I thought,” Bea adds. “Qu– they’ll smack the ice with their sticks and it, like, reverberates.”

Despite her correction, Honey doesn’t miss the way that Bea was going to mention Quinn by name. She also hasn’t missed how Quinn has been showing off during practice– he’s never been the type to gloat, but every time he does something well or scores on one of the others, he looks over at Bea to see if she’s been watching.

But she hasn’t been watching him. Bea has been resolutely ignoring Quinn as much as she can, only sneaking a look when he’s completely enraptured with what he’s doing in that moment.

“Why have you been acting weird?” Honey asks, the question bursting out of her like a cannonball. “Him blue-balling you one time isn’t that big of a deal, you know.”

Bea presses her lips together and rubs a fist over one of her eyes. She sighs and turns to face Honey, swinging her leg over the bench to straddle it. “I have been giving him so much attention,” she says. “It’s messing with me, honestly. I’m so attached to him, but it’s just not reasonable for me to be this attached.”

“Why not?” Honey prods. Bea sounds much more rational than the previous morning, when she hijacked the phone call between Honey and Trevor to rant about Quinn. That’s a good sign– or maybe it’s not, because Bea’s starting to sound a little resolute about her choice. She’s always been the kind to make up her mind and stubbornly stick with her decision, even if it turns out to be the wrong one.

Bea spreads her hands out to her sides and shrugs, an ironic laugh bubbling up from her chest. “He’s leaving.”

“So, what? You can’t visit him? You can’t talk to him on the phone?” Honey demands. “There are options, Bea.”

“That’s not what I decided to do at the beginning of the summer,” Bea says.

So it is stubbornness that’s causing Bea to act this way. Honey should’ve guessed that.

“Things can change,” Honey says, scoffing a bit. “You don’t have to stick with your Slut Summer if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that, Honey!” Bea snaps. She looks around to make sure none of the boys heard her outburst as they continue to practice, then she steels herself with a deep breath. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet and definite. “I like him too much. I am too attached to him. Even if I wanted it to work after this summer, it wouldn’t. That’s just the way that it is.”

“Why not?” Honey asks again. “Really. If you like him this much, then you shouldn’t have any trouble making it work outside of Litchton.”

“Honey!” Bea scrubs her hands over her face, then starts to count off the reasons against her palm, her tone sharper than it needs to be. “He lives across the country, in another country. He travels constantly. He might like me now, but I’m just some bitch from Litchton. It’s not like I’m a model from New York who understands the pace of his life.”

“Did he say that?” Honey interrupts, looking out onto the ice to Quinn. If he called Bea ‘some bitch from Litchton,’ she’ll walk across the ice right now and tackle him to the ground. Trevor would probably help her beat him up, just because it’s her, and it’s not like the other boys would stop her if she told them that he insulted Bea.

“Of course he didn’t say that, don’t be stupid,” Bea retorts. “But it’s the truth!”

“So, what? You’re just going to give up?” Honey shakes her head. “You’re going to fuck the other guys and ignore him until you like him an acceptable amount again and push your feelings for him into a dumpster that’s on fire?”

“Are you and Trevor going to stay together after the summer?” Bea asks, turning the tables on Honey with a quirk of her eyebrows.

Honey frowns. The truth is, she doesn’t know. She has a lot of the same concerns as Bea, but despite how she felt last week during that brief– three day long– period of panic where she wanted to end things with Trevor, she doesn’t know what she wants. She likes him, but it’s the same thing: he’ll be all the way across the country and she’ll be here. “We haven’t talked about it.”

Bea laughs at Honey’s reply. “Well, Quinn and I have talked about it. It’s a one summer thing.”

“You don’t have to be mean about it,” Honey murmurs, her frown only deepening. “I’m just saying that, if you like him, you should see if it works outside of Litchton.”

“It won’t. He won’t be around. It’ll be a seasonal relationship because his priority is hockey. I don’t want a boyfriend who’s only around for three months out of the year,” Bea says, her eyes narrowed. “And that’s it. That’s that.”

“Okay, geez,” Honey concedes. “I just don’t see what that has to do with your relationship with him now. You’re clearly upset ignoring him. He obviously feels like shit, too, but he’s not trying to cause a fuss. Why can’t you just talk to him?”

“I’m taking a break,” Bea states.

“I don’t see how that helps you.”

“You’re the one who suggested it in the first place.”

Honey flinches back. “No, I didn’t,” she denies. “Why would I suggest that you and Quinn ‘take a break?’ You’re obsessed with each other.”

“Yeah, you did,” Bea insists. “You told me on the phone to take a break. Trevor agreed that it’s the right thing to do.”

“You’re following Trevor’s advice?” Honey sneers. “Bea, sweetheart, he’s an idiot and you don’t really like him all that much. Plus, Quinn doesn’t want to take a break from you.”

“You don’t know that.” Bea rolls her eyes.

“I do. I do know that,” Honey insists, her voice rising a bit.

“How?” Bea snaps. “How could you possibly know that?”

“He told me.”

“Great, well, he told me that he respects my decision and he agrees that it would be really hard to be together after the summer. And as much as he’s willing to try, I’m not. I like him so much that if we break up, I’m going to be miserable,” Bea says. “We’ll break up because of distance and it will change me on a fundamental level. So, we’re mutually parting ways at the end of the summer. It is the best outcome and you can’t change my mind.”

“So maybe you should suck it up and be happy with him now,” Honey bites back. “Ignoring him and making yourself miserable now isn’t going to make that ‘mutual’ breakup any easier at the end of the summer.”

Bea clenches her jaw and glares at Honey, clearly stopping herself from saying something.

“Oh, don’t do that,” Honey scoffs. “Whatever you want to say, go ahead and say it.”

“You don’t want me to say what I’m thinking,” Bea says carefully through her teeth. “I think I’m going to go call Cece and see if she wants to grab dinner while I’m in town. She’ll drive me back to Litchton tonight. I’ll see you at work.”

Bea stands and stomps away, dialing her sister’s phone number and holding the phone to her ear. Her footsteps echo across the arena and the boys pause on the ice.

“Hey,” Luke exclaims with a clap and a whistle to get the girl’s attention.

“Bea, where are you going?” Jack calls.

Honey watches Quinn’s head turn as she makes her way to the doors, pushing them open with a crash and disappearing through them. Something seems to click in him and he skates toward the edge of the ice, finding an entrance and hopping up, following after her. His stilted jog on his skates is probably slower than he wants it to be, and all of his gear must be weighing him down. It’s probably going to ruin the blades of his skates, too, but he makes his way through the doors anyway.

Cole and Trevor skate up to Honey.

“What was that about?” Trevor asks, concern written all over his face as he looks at Honey. As he surveys her, some of the tension in her shoulders melts away. His concern is for her, if she’s okay.

“Yeah, is she alright?” Cole adds, leaning over the boards on his elbows. “That was…”

“She’s fine,” Honey interrupts, words clipped and short. “She’s just calling her sister. She’ll be back in Litchton tomorrow.”

Cole nods. “Alright. Cool,” he says, taking Honey’s word as truth. That’s lucky for her– it’s good that he doesn’t pry.

Trevor, however, is still standing in front of her, the look in his eyes much more skeptical.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Honey warns the boy.

Trevor pauses, then nods. “Okay.” He looks out onto the ice, then back to Honey. “Do you want to come skate? I can find some blades for you somewhere. I’m sure they have extras. I can go ask the equipment guy.”

Honey fully relaxes, endeared by his offer. “No, baby, I’m okay,” she says softly. “But thanks for asking. You’re almost done anyway, right?”

Trevor looks at the door to the lobby, which has been flung again upon Quinn’s return. He’s got a stormy look on his face, a scowl the likes of which Honey has never seen.“I think we’re about to be done for the day right now,” he says. “I’ll rinse off in the locker room and be out as soon as I can. We’ll pack the car and head home.”

He skates off, joining the other boys as they exit through the tunnel to the players’ locker room. Honey is left on the bench, checking her pockets to make sure she has all of her things before she stands and walks to the lobby. This rink is about twenty minutes from Bea’s house, so there’s a good chance she’s still in the lobby waiting for Cece to pick her up.

Honey should feel trepidation about being next to Bea again so soon after that argument, but there’s something about the way Trevor said ‘home,’ like Litchton really is his home. It felt like a kiss to the cheek and a squeeze of her hand. Trevor talks to her like they’re together-together, like they share a space, and it gives her butterflies.

Just like she thought, Bea is in the lobby. She’s sitting on a bench near the water fountains, arms crossed over her chest and a deep frown etched onto her face. She looks at Honey when she walks through the doors, but just tilts her head up defiantly.

Honey gets the message. Bea doesn’t want to talk anymore. Good– neither does Honey.

She turns her back to the girl, reading the fliers posted on the bulletin board over and over, as if there will be new information the next go around. Anything to avoid having to sit next to an angry Bea.

Whatever she wanted to say, but held herself back from spouting, must have been too mean. Honey understands. She’s seen Bea put the nail in the coffin of an argument before, even experienced it a few times herself. It’s never good and Bea always regrets saying it. It was her New Year’s Resolution last year to work on that, and she’s done pretty well.

A car horn sounds outside. Honey looks to the entrance. She recognizes the vehicle– it’s the old ‘Wagon’ that Bea’s dad used to drive. He passed it down to each of his girls, so Cece has it now. It’s not an actual Station Wagon, but it’s big like one, so that’s why they call it that.

Bea stands and heads toward the exit, her hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie. She pauses at the door.

“We’re going to House of Pizza,” she says, voice hard. “Do you want me to say hello from you? If I see them?”

She’s referring to Honey’s parents. It used to be a tradition to go to House of Pizza on Mondays after school, to celebrate a good start to the week. Honey would get a side of fries to go with the pizza that she’d share with her mom and dad, who always left work early on Mondays to pick her up. Her dad always swore he didn’t want any pizza. He’d order a meatball sub and scarf the whole thing down, then eat two slices anyway. Every single time.

Honey’s heart seizes for a second and she swallows. “Sure,” she replies, her voice feeling foreign. “If you see them.”

Bea nods once and leaves.

Honey takes her place on the bench. Her mind is racing. She traces the back of her teeth with the tip of her tongue.

Do they still go, now that I’m gone? Are they able to do that without me?

Honey doesn’t think she would be able to go to House of Pizza without her mom and dad if things were the other way around. There are too many memories with them there.

There are too many memories in Charlotte, now that she thinks about it. It’s weird that she’s here. There are people in this city that knew her before Litchton. This is where her childhood cat is buried and her dad’s favorite dog. Honey has to take a deep breath before she feels suffocated by how fresh all of her memories still feel.

It’s lucky that Trevor comes out of the locker room with his gear as she exhales. His hair is a little wet and his clothes are sticking to his body, folding over awkwardly with the bag that’s thrown over his shoulder.

He’s alone, so when Honey stands to greet him, he leans in and pecks her mouth. “The other boys are going to throw their stuff in the back themselves,” he says. “So we can go sit in the AC. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Honey confirms. “We just got in a fight.”

“What about?” Trevor asks.

“Quinn,” Honey tells him with a shrug. “It’s fine. We just have different opinions about their situation.”

“Yeah,” Trevor says. “I figured it was something like that. I’m sorry you got into a fight.” They walk towards the exit and Trevor holds the door open for Honey. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Next time, don’t tell Bea to take a break from Quinn,” Honey replies with a chuckle.

“But that’s what you said.” Trevor sounds confused.

“I never told her to take a break from him,” Honey tells him. “But she seems to think that I did, too.”

“You told her to take a break from ‘all of this for a minute,’” Trevor says, using air-quotes.

“Oh,” Honey breathes out. She does remember saying that, just to console Bea. She meant for her to take a deep breath and distract herself for a little while, just to put the emotional spiral aside. “Trev, I didn’t mean Quinn. I just needed her to ground herself so we could talk it out rationally later.”

“Oh.” Trevor blushes. “My bad.”

Honey laughs. She shakes her head. At the car, once he places his bag inside the trunk and they climb into the driver and passenger seats, Honey leans over the console to press a kiss against his lips. “‘s okay,” she murmurs, kissing him once more before the boys arrive. “They can’t stay away from each other long, no matter how much she insists. I bet by the end of the week, we’re back to gagging about their public displays of affection.”

“Oh, their ‘PDA,’ if you will… I better enjoy this while I can,” Trevor quips back, reaching for the radio to change the station to something that isn’t yelling about an advertisement.

“And Jack better milk the shit out of it,” Honey adds, which makes Trevor laugh. He laughs even harder when Jack exits the building and puts his bag in the back of the car, but Trevor doesn’t explain himself. Jack just narrows his eyes suspiciously and uses his stick to reach across the backseat and poke Trevor in the back of the head. It turns into a brotherly spat, which eventually calms once the other three exit the building and break it up.

With a final promise to see them in Litchton, Honey and Trevor are left alone in the car for an entire ninety minutes. Despite his best efforts, Honey refuses to give Trevor road-head and won’t allow him to finger her while he’s driving. Finally, when he gives up, she gets to listen to him sing off-tune the whole way to the fruit stand for her usual shopping spree, then all the way home.

51:90 – TREVOR

With a final tap to the 8-ball, Trevor loses yet another game of pool to Luke. He was supposed to see Honey tonight at her place, but she texted him earlier saying that Jessie had a family emergency and she and Tyler had to run to the hospital, possibly for the night. Honey was asked to babysit little Luca and, being the kind-hearted girl she is, she said yes.

Trevor can’t really be mad at her for helping them out, but he was looking forward to cuddling with her and having a slumber party in his girlfriend’s bed.

Because he can’t do that, he’s in the basement with the boys, playing pool and listening to music and talking about random shit.

Now that Trevor is free from the confines of the pool table, he flops down on the couch. He sits beside Cole, tucked away into the corner near the armchair where Quinn rests. Luke calls for Jack to take Trevor’s place at the table and the boy goes willingly, although his eyes slide over the movie on the screen. Talladega Nights.

It’s been a fan favorite among the boys of the lake house for years. Of course it is– Will Ferrell, racing, pretty girls, raunchy humor. At one point in their lives, it was each of their favorites. Whether it be because of the moment that Carley Bobby flashed her tits or because of the stupidity of the film, they all loved it.

Jack seems more reluctant than most to leave the movie behind to play pool. After all, it’s still one of his favorites, easily a top five pick. Quinn’s barely paying attention, just watching the movie with a half-interested flicker of light in his eyes. Cole is much more interested, mouthing the words along with the characters on the screen. Trevor falls in with them, able to pick up the story easily after years of watching it over and over again. It never gets old.

“Hey, let me see your phone,” Quinn murmurs, reaching out with his foot to kick at Trevor’s knee.

Trevor fishes it out of his pocket. “After the way she snapped at you yesterday when you went after her, I don’t think she wants to see you.”

Quinn fixes him with a glare, then returns to the phone without saying anything.

“Hey, if she doesn’t want to see him, then maybe she’ll come over and see me,” Cole interjects, putting an unnecessary twang on his words just because it’s the way Ricky Bobby speaks.

Quinn ignores him, staring at the phone. Then, Trevor watches him shift his eyes to the side and bite his tongue before he tosses the phone into Trevor’s lap. “She doesn’t want to come over at all,” he says. “Says it’s too late for her to come over on a work night.”

Cole laughs. “Yeah, sure, ‘cause she hasn’t slept over on a work night before. You’re down in the dumps, Q.”

Quinn grits his teeth, but stays silent.

“Let me text her, Z,” Cole says, reaching for the phone. “Bet she’ll come over if I ask.”

Under normal circumstances, Trevor would absolutely hand his phone over to Cole to see if Bea comes running. Today? That’s too cruel. Especially because, as Honey revealed last night, he completely misinterpreted her advice to “take a break” and turned it into something bigger than she intended. Plus, his actions caused Honey and Bea to have a fight. He doesn’t like that.

“Nah, bud, just let it be. Listen to Ricky Bobby, he’s learning a lesson right now.” Trevor tucks his phone away again and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. He prods his arm up on the plush pillow next to him and cradles his head against his fist.

He succeeds in distracting Cole, who is as easy as a crow spotting something shiny, but Trevor still feels weird about the dark glare that is cemented on Quinn’s face. He still sits in the armchair– a better man than Trevor.

If Honey broke up with him, even for a few days, he wouldn’t be seen outside of his bedroom until their problems were solved. He’d sulk the whole day long, and he’s not ashamed to admit it. Trevor’s always the first to remind people that he is not the person with the world’s best attitude, even though he’s doing a lot better at controlling himself than when he was a teenager.

He’s even gotten better at admitting defeat and apologizing when he’s wrong. This situation calls for that.

“Look, man, I’m sorry about what’s happening with Bea,” Trevor says to Quinn, who gives no indication that he’s listening. Belatedly, he adds, “I feel bad.”

“Why would you feel bad,” Quinn replies with a grunt, patience already thin. Trevor should have thought this through.

Trevor groans in the back of his throat, having been caught in a pickle. He could lie and say that he feels bad in general, but when they patch up, Bea will tell Quinn that it was Trevor’s idea all along. He may as well get it over with. He ducks his head. “I was the one who suggested that she take a break from you for a couple of days.”

A hush falls over the room and everything seems to go still. Even though Talladega Nights plays on, it’s impossible to hear over the suspense of the moment, the anticipation for Quinn’s– likely negative– reaction. Even Cole is quiet and the pool players have frozen in place momentarily. Luke was half-bent over, ready to take his next shot, but he straightens up and watches Quinn. Jack’s holding his cue up in front of him, arms crossed atop it like a hug with one of his fingers touching his teeth and another pinching at his lower lip. His eyes are wide and they’re darting back and forth between Trevor and Quinn. He starts to chew on his fingernail, a tic that has always comforted him in moments like this.

“What,” Quinn states, his head seeming to turn towards Trevor in slow motion, looking like the movement should be joined by the long creak of an old door in a horror movie.

“To be fair, Honey suggested it first,” Trevor says. “But I… misinterpreted what she meant.”

A tight smile comes across Quinn’s face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those are dark, sharp, and deadly, not complacent like his smile. “Let’s go upstairs, Trevor.”

Trevor looks at the other boys, all of whom avert their eyes. He’ll receive no backup down here. Thanks a lot, guys, he thinks. However, he makes no move to get up. “No, we should– let’s talk here.” At least here there are witnesses if anything happens to him, like a broken bone. After all, it was Quinn that broke Jack’s wrist in a scuffle all those years ago, and that was just when they were kids. Imagine what he can do to Trevor now.

“No, I think you want to go upstairs,” Quinn says with a slow nod, not blinking once as he stares at Trevor. He cocks his head slightly to the side. “Unless you want to talk about that girl that you’ve been seeing. From Raya, right? I think it’s only fair that I get to weigh in on your relationship, since you’ve made a problem in mine.”

Trevor sees through the implication, the threat, and feels his mouth go dry. Quinn wouldn’t dare tell everyone about what’s going on between him and Honey. Trevor can only imagine how pale he looks. He shakes his head.

Quinn nods again, narrowing his eyes at Trevor. “That’s what I thought,” he says sarcastically. He stands. “Let’s go.”

Trevor, feeling meek, follows with his tail between his legs. He thought he was being nice, apologizing to Quinn for the break. He was owning up, and all of that– and this is what his honesty and empathy gets him?

Quinn doesn’t stop at the first floor. He climbs the stairs to the second floor, where all of their bedrooms are, and he stops in front of Trevor’s door.

“What exactly happened?” Quinn questions, crossing his arms over his chest and blocking the entrance to Trevor’s safe haven. His voice is cold, devoid of emotion, and Trevor honestly would rather him throw something or even wind up to punch Trevor.

“It was the morning after the hot tub,” Trevor says. “She barged into my room looking for Honey. She made me call her. She talked, Honey told her to take a break and that she’d see Bea soon.” Trevor looks down at his shoes. “Then Bea asked me if I thought Honey was right, that she should take a break. I thought Honey meant an actual break, not just a few hours to calm down before dealing with the problem. I said yes.”

Quinn’s nostrils flare and his mouth pinches together, about to say something.

“But I also told her that your relationship with her is better than other relationships you’ve had,” Trevor adds, covering up his mess. “And that you seem happier with her than you are with anyone else.”

“You did,” Quinn says. He nods a few times. “What makes you think that you get to talk to her about my other relationships? Why didn’t you send her to me?”

“She didn’t want to see you,” Trevor replies. “After… what happened the night before.” He doesn’t want to explicitly bring up Quinn’s inability to perform.

Quinn’s face darkens.

Well, it can’t get worse than this. “And she’s worried that you regret this. That you– that she’s not what you want.” Trevor takes a breath, but no more words leak out of him.

Quinn pinches the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. He looks up. “She thinks that,” he states. He starts to laugh. “And instead of telling her that I don’t want that, you told her to take a break and figure it out?”

“How was I supposed to know how you felt?” Trevor demands. “I can’t give her advice about you!”

“Oh, but you did,” Quinn points out. “You have given her advice about me. Some therapist you are, Trevor. You’ve seen how I was with Liv, you were there while I dated my girlfriends in Michigan, and you seriously thought that I would be okay with taking a break from Bea?”

Trevor flounders for an answer, but comes up with nothing. He shrugs helplessly.

Quinn reaches behind him and opens Trevor’s bedroom door. He steps forward and takes Trevor by the front of his t-shirt, pulling him closer.

“If you fuck this up for me again,” he threatens lowly. “I’ll kill you.” He smiles, sealing his promise, and sends Trevor stumbling into his bedroom. Before Quinn closes the door on him, he adds, “You’re lucky that I like Honey. Otherwise, I’d have no problem fucking that up for you, too.”

He slams the door shut and walks away. Trevor can hear him stomping down the hallway, then down the stairs, then the slam of the front door. It isn’t long after that Trevor hears Quinn drive away.

He checks the time. With shaky hands, he finds Honey’s number and clicks on it, lifting the phone to his ear. She said Luca usually goes to bed around 8. It’s 8:45 now, so she should be free.

She picks up just as he’s about to pull away and hang up, cutting his losses. “Hello?” She asks, a smile already evident in her voice.

“I’m an idiot,” Trevor says.

Honey laughs aloud, then claps a hand over her mouth. She’s able to quiet herself down, snickering as she says, “Yeah, sweetheart, I already knew that.”

‘Sweetheart.’ That’s a new one. Trevor bats his smile away. Now is not the time to be blushing over a nickname from the girl he likes. “I told Quinn that I was the one who told Bea to take a break from him.”

Honey is quiet on the other end of the call. “You really are an idiot.”

“I know,” Trevor groans. “He was so mad, I thought he was going to punch me.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t.”

“He said if I ever meddled in his relationship again, he’d kill me.”

Honey hums. “Well, that’s nice. For Bea, I guess. That he’s willing to kill for her.”

“Did it ever occur to you that he might just hate me?”

Laughter fills his ears again. “He doesn’t hate you, Trevor.”

“I’m not exactly feeling the love over here,” Trevor complains.

Honey pauses. Her voice returns, sounding like she’s suppressing another round of giggles. “Would you like to?”

Trevor furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head at himself in the mirror and tossing his hand up in a confused gesture. ‘What?’ he mouths to himself. “Feel the love?” He asks into the phone. “I’d prefer it if Quinn wasn’t threatening me–”

“Not from Quinn, baby,” Honey sighs. “Luca’s down for the night and I’m all alone downstairs… I missed you tonight. We could’ve been in bed.”

Trevor perks up. “You missed me?”

“Hard not to. I see you all the time. It’s weird, canceling plans with you.”

A smug smile makes its way across Trevor’s lips. “What part did you miss most?” He teases.

“I was kind of counting on your cock, actually,” Honey says conversationally, like that’s not a sentence that would have Trevor spitting out his water (if he were drinking any). The blood from his brain already seems to be rushing to the exact appendage that Honey mentioned. “Had a bad day at work. Barely talked to Bea at all.” She’s pouting for effect, Trevor can hear it through the tinny speaker. “Thought it would make me feel better to hear all those pretty noises you make when I get my lips around you.”

Her lips. Her bright, shiny, pink lips. The image fills Trevor’s brain, sluggish from the blood leaving it and making his nerves stand on end, and the best he can manage is an “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm,” Honey confirms. “But I’ll have to settle for my imagination, I guess.”

She sounds dejected, like her heart is broken by disappointment, and Trevor just can’t have that. Sure, maybe she’s playing him like a fiddle, but he can’t find it in himself to care. “No,” he tells her. “No. We– fuck, Honey, I’m hard just hearing you talk like that.”

“Aww, you like it when I talk dirty to you?” Honey teases.

Trevor hums out a response, but Honey didn’t need it.

“Why don’t you let me hear just how much you like it?” She asks.

It’s just like Trevor’s dream, when he would get so close to fucking her on the boat before he’d wake. She would tease him in her devoted way, although it’s clear through her voice that he’s completely at her power.

“Are you going to–” Trevor starts to ask, but it’s a stupid question. She’s definitely not going to get off while she’s in Jessie and Tyler’s house, while she’s technically still babysitting Luca.

“No, not now. But I need something to occupy my mind later, once I’m home in my cozy bed.” She lowers her voice. “I’m ovulating again, you know. It’s been driving me crazy all day. I almost checked out a book from the romance section before I remembered that the real thing is just a few minutes away.”

Trevor’s already walking back to his own bed. He settles among the pillows, a hand on his waistband, ready to take his shorts off as soon as Honey says.

“Ovulating, huh?” He asks, hearing himself through a fog. “So, you’re–”

“Really, really horny,” Honey faux-complains, trying to garner sympathy from Trevor. She tries to make it sound like a problem, but it’s not– not for him. She wants to fuck him, bad. She’s working, technically, but she’s calling to hear him come so that she can get off to it later.

Trevor cannot believe his luck. Here he was thinking that he’d be dead by the end of his conversation with Quinn, but his girlfriend is on the line making him feel better in the best way possible.

“Fuck, wish I could hear you, too,” Trevor admits sheepishly. “Wish I was in your bed. Want you to touch me.”

“Mm, do you already have a hand on yourself?” Honey asks.

Trevor shakes his head, then remembers that he has to actually respond to her. “No.”

“Go on,” Honey encourages.

Trevor pushes his shorts and underpants down to his knees with a slight struggle, trying to hold the phone between his shoulder and ear. “‘Kay,” he says once he’s wrapped his left hand around his length. It brings a little reprieve and he has to stop before he starts to stroke himself without her explicitly telling him to do so.

“You know what I’d do if I was there?” Honey asks.

“Tell me.”

“Rub my thumb over your tip,” she says. “Then lick up all the precum that comes out while I rub you. Haven’t tasted you in so long, Trevor. I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like.”

Come to think of it, it has been a long time since his dick was in Honey’s mouth. She refused his requests for road head yesterday, and she certainly hadn’t sucked him off in the hot tub. Did she blow him when they were high? He doesn’t remember.

“But I think once I taste you again, I won’t want to keep my mouth off of you,” Honey ponders. “I’ll want to keep you in my mouth until you’re coming down my throat for a second time.”

Trevor’s lips part and he lets out a desperate groan, his eyes closing and his head tilting back. His thumb passes over his slit, just like she said she would do. With his eyes closed, he can almost picture her here.

“There are those pretty noises,” she marvels.

Does Trevor detect fondness in her words? He’s already too far gone to decide, but his first instinct is that yes, it is. It’s more– she’s proud.

“For you,” he murmurs, losing control of his mouth.

Honey breathes in, her breath jumping through the phone. “Oh, yeah? All for me?”

“Wanna make you happy,” Trevor continues.

Behind his closed eyes, she’s smiling up at him as she pumps his cock, pressing a kiss to his shaft and leaving behind a slight sheen of lipgloss in its place, which disappears as her hand continues to move.

Her voice fills his ears and he imagines her face when she’s trying not to smile, trying not to show that she’s pleased with his words. It’s the same face she made yesterday at the rink, when he offered to find some skates for her– her lips quirking up into a kind-of ‘v’ shape because no matter how much she tries to avoid the smile, it comes anyway.

“You do,” she offers simply. Her voice is sweet, serious even, before it turns raunchy again. “I wish I were there, too, baby.”

Baby, baby…

“Remember when Cole dared me to lick the whipped cream off of you?”

“Uh-huh,” Trevor replies, able to come back to himself for a second when she mentions Cole. He doesn’t want this to end so quickly, so the mention of his friend is welcome, even if it’s a little weird.

“I think if he dared me to do it again, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself, and I’d have to suck you off right then,” Honey says.

“You– you put your fingers in my waistband,” Trevor chokes out, feeling the phantom touch, the memory of her fingers against his abdomen. They were so low, so near to his cock, and she did it mindlessly. If she were here, she’d make a point to touch his v-line now. She’d run her finger over it, barely, just enough to have his skin crawling. “Didn’t even think about it. I wanted you to.”

“Hm, I know you did,” she teases. “I could see it on your face.”

“Dreamt about it,” Trevor adds. “Got off thinking about it.”

Honey makes a noise of surprise. “You did?” She asks. “So you’ve been fucking your fist, picturing me, since the second week of summer?”

It’s humiliating, but it’s true. Trevor doesn’t care anymore. He has her, anyway. They’re together. She’s his and he’s hers, always has been since the second he bumped into her outside the fruit stand.

“Wanted you for so long,” Trevor says. “Need you.”

“You have me,” Honey replies. It’s nowhere close to a promise, nor a confirmation that they’re together the way Trevor wants them to be and tells himself they are, but her words have him seeing stars. “I’m right here, baby.”

Trevor keens. His hand practically flies over his cock, leaking and dripping and twitching as she continues to talk about how pretty he sounds and how much she wishes that he was with her right now. She compliments him in all sorts of ways, but her use of ‘baby’ and ‘sweetheart’ echo through his head over everything.

The nail in the coffin comes quickly, too quickly for Trevor to process. She says it and he’s spilling over his hand, crying out in a way that would be pathetic if he could hear it over her light laughter and the rush of blood through his eardrums.

Her words ring in his head, replacing the ‘babies’ and the ‘sweethearts’ with “Want you to paint my face with your cum, Trevor. It’ll look so pretty on my tongue.”

He doesn’t remember talking to her after that. Trevor barely remembers pulling his pants up or falling asleep, and yet, he drifts off and his dreams are full of Honey getting exactly what she wanted. It’s an endless loop. Nothing exists for Trevor except Honey– not in his dreams, and if he has it his way, he’ll luck out and be stuck with her forever. It’s almost a shame he has to wake the following day, the only consolation being the promise of the real thing.

52:90 – HONEY

After two days of faux-cordial, one-sentence answers from Bea, the girl has finally apologized for her outburst at the rink. Honey tried to do the same and apologize for pressing Bea for answers, but she just waved Honey off.

“Emotions were high,” Bea had said with a shrug. “I can’t blame you for getting frustrated. I’ve been so mad at myself for the past couple of days and it hasn’t been easy for anyone.”

“Should we talk about it?” Honey had asked, a slight grimace on her face. “And maybe keep it under control this time?”

Bea chuckled at Honey in a self-deprecating way, rolling her eyes. “Oh, fuck off. I’m much calmer now. Cece and I had a nice long chat about it. We even phoned Trixie in from Topsail. All the McLean sisters, back together again, solving the world’s problems.”

“Really?” Honey asked. “How is Trix?”

Ada shushed them, then asked why they weren’t working, and the conversation ended there.

It would continue later: Bea left Honey a note at the cash register in her loopy handwriting, saying that they should get margaritas at the dingy Mexican restaurant in town that no one remembers the name of, so they all just call it ‘Mexico.’ On Wednesdays, they have $15 pitchers of margaritas. Honey has never been one to turn down Mexico and Margs.

So, after work, that’s where they go. Mexico is near the grocery store, even shares a parking lot with the brick building that Honey visits every Monday. They walk from the Nook– it’s maybe a block and a half– and they appreciate the exercise anyway. They share a pitcher of the mango margarita and Bea orders fajitas while Honey orders her usual ACP with extra tortillas on the side.

“So I haven’t been hiding details from you, but there are things I haven’t told you,” Bea starts, gesturing with her fork once the food arrives.

“Like how you decided you’d keep it casual because he wasn’t over Liv,” Honey says. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that.”

Bea ducks her head and swirls her drink with her straw. “Yeah. I didn’t really– I don’t think I quite believed him until we talked about her on Friday. After the party. After we went to bed.”

“What did he say?” Honey asks.

“You know I’m not an insecure person,” Bea says. Honey nods, confirming her reminder. “I just can’t get over that Quinn was with a model before me. I feel like he left that out on purpose when he said he missed her sometimes. How often is ‘sometimes’ anyway?”

Honey shrugs. “Too vague to tell. I think that’s the purpose of the word.”

“Yeah. But… yes,” Bea shakes her head, trying to get her story together in a coherent way. “When Quinn and I first had our conversation about the Slut Summer, he told me he had just gotten out of a relationship, right?”

“Right,” Honey agrees. Bea had told her that part.

“Then, he tells me he’s not sure if he wants to get back together with her when he sees her again.” Bea spreads her hands on the table, pausing to suck up a sip of margarita from her straw. She clears her throat. “Again, this was before I started… liking… him. So at the time, it was fine! I wanted to fuck his brothers and one of his best friends, so who cares if he gets back together with his ex girlfriend?”

“A few weeks later, you start falling for him, and suddenly you care that he isn’t sure if he wants to get back together with her,” Honey says.

“Exactly,” Bea states, sitting back against the vinyl booth behind her. There’s a parrot painted on the booth near her shoulder. If she moves over just an inch, it’ll look like it’s her pet and she brought it to the restaurant with her. Honey will have to take a picture for her when they’re having a less serious conversation.

“So what happened when you talked about her?” Honey asks.

“Quinn broke up with her because she wasn’t ready for marriage and babies,” Bea tells her. “Babies, Honey,” she repeats. “I’m not ready for a fucking baby. I certainly wasn’t hooking up with any of them to marry and have babies.”

“That’s crazy,” Honey says, matching Bea’s tone to validate her feelings. She’s right– Honey can’t imagine getting married and having babies right now.

Her mind drifts to Trevor and his guest appearance at Story Time, to the little girl who pulled herself up by his pant leg and reached for his teeth. She imagines his stupid, silly, overdramatic face as he shows the illustrations to the baby.

Before she can help it, she’s imagining him in a rocking chair in her house, in the little nook behind the loft stairs that was her nursery when she was young. There’s a baby on his lap, resolutely ignoring the book in his hands, touching his cheeks and trying to poke at his eyes. She imagines Trevor snickering and blowing a raspberry on the baby’s rosy cheek. Suddenly, in her mind, he’s wearing a wedding ring.

“What’s crazier,” Bea interrupts her thoughts with wide eyes to emphasize the word, “Is that at the rink when he followed me, he apologized for making me so upset and he asked if we could talk. I said no, because– well, you know why– and he told me he loved me.”

Honey’s jaw drops. “What?” She demands. “What? In what context? How did he get to that?”

“I don’t know!” Bea exclaims, throwing her hands up. “He loves me? We’ve been fucking for seven weeks! We’ve only known each other for seven weeks! I’ve been a fucking whore this entire summer and still, he loves me?”

“To be fair,” Honey says, trying to speak nonchalantly. “It’s really isolated up here. A week feels like a month, sometimes. Litchton time is different. To him, it probably feels like you’ve been together for ages.”

“But, the thing is, we’re not really together. Like, yeah, it’s special, whatever– but I’m fucking his brother.”

Honey watches a middle aged woman from the table behind them cast a look in their direction.

“Lower your voice,” she murmurs, gesturing around them.

“Sorry,” Bea says, calming down. “It’s just a lot.” She brushes her hair out of her face and takes another sip of her drink, then crouches down to lick some of the salt off of the rim of the glass. “Could you imagine? If Trevor told you he loved you right now, what would you do?”

Honey ponders the question, but comes up with nothing. To be honest, if Trevor told her that he loved her right now, she’d spit out her margarita and probably accidentally get it in his eyes.

“Naturally, I told him that I can’t deal with this right now,” Bea continues. “How do I even reply to that? ‘Sorry Quinn, I’m taking a break from you because I like you too much. I don’t love you back, but I like you too much and I might start loving you back if I’m not careful.’ Like, what the fuck is that?” She demands. “Inadequate, is what it is.”

“Do you really think he loves you or did he, like, just say it to get you to talk to him,” Honey points out. “Because you haven’t been talking to him at all. Maybe desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“I don’t think Quinn would say something like that just for kicks,” Bea says. “Or just to get me to talk to him. I think he means it, and, well… you know. I’ve never loved someone before, I don’t know what that’s like. It’s not like I can say it back.”

“Ah, yes, the age-old Bea dilemma,” Honey teases. “I always knew that you dating all these men for a few months, then breaking up with them just before it gets serious, would land you in trouble someday. The heartbreaker gets her comeuppance.”

“You are so not funny,” Bea scolds. “This is Quinn we’re talking about, Honey. Quinn Hughes. He is the closest thing I have ever had to an actual boyfriend. You know I’ve never been with anyone like this. I never expected to be with anyone like this. The closest thing I can compare him to is Thomas. Not in the sense that Quinn will act like he did, but like… Quinn will change everything for me. He already has. I–” She loses her words, shaking her head rapidly and tapping her fingers against the tabletop. She takes a deep breath like she’s about to speak, then deflates.

The mention of Thomas is enough to stop the conversation temporarily. Honey is lucky that their food arrives and they can take a break to scarf down a few bites. It gives Honey time to think and time to steer the conversation away from her least favorite subject. Bea rarely ever brings Thomas up, so invoking his name adds a seriousness and somber quality to the conversation that it didn't have before. The time with her food gives Honey a chance to form an adequate response– well, a question.

“So, what are you worried about?” Honey asks. “I mean, he likes you, clearly. You like him. Take everything else out of the equation– what’s stopping you from being with him?”

Bea stares at Honey, chewing her fajitas until they’re mush and wiping her lips with the napkin before she replies. She’s sheepish and shy when she speaks, almost embarrassed. Honey has never seen Bea look embarrassed, in all seventeen years of knowing her.

“I am so afraid,” Bea breathes out, her eyebrows furrowed as if in disbelief. She presses her lips together, licks them, and shakes her head again. Slower, this time. More sad. “Of– losing him? And, no offense, but of being as sad and ruined as you were when you lost your first… love? Boyfriend? Whatever we call him nowadays?”

Honey snorts. “No offense taken.”

“I keep getting stuck on the idea that our relationship can only work here, and now. He has a whole life out there. He didn’t know that I existed two months ago– who’s to say that he’ll remember me two months after he leaves?” Bea shrugs, scoffing slightly at her own imagination before she speaks. “Maybe I’ll just be the girl he was hooking up with for a summer. A funny story for his friends and teammates– that he was sleeping with me, but Jack was too.”

“He wouldn’t talk about you like that,” Honey tells her, reaching a hand out to touch hers across the table. “And you know he wouldn’t forget you.”

“It’s not just that,” Bea mumbles. “You know how I get. I had a plan.” She blinks, eyes a little wet. “I’m not in Litchton to fall in love with some guy. I’m in Litchton for you. My relationships are a little treat along the way.”

Ah, yes. Bea’s plan– to spend her time in Litchton trying to teach Honey how to let herself have fun again. It’s why she joined Honey when she moved, and not just because Honey asked. Bea saw how upset she was over Thomas, how completely broken and shattered it left Honey (although Bea used the words “sad” and “ruined”), and vowed that the same thing would never happen again on her watch. She tried to lead by example, by living her life and getting dates and dragging Honey out and having fun, always giving her the option to join in but never pushing. The boys this summer were a twist of fate– for both of them.

“You know, Trevor’s really great,” Honey says softly. “He gets me. Your plan worked. You don't have to stay in town just for me.”

‘Home,’ he had said the other day. He had meant it. Honey thinks that Litchton, without Trevor, isn’t home anymore. Her house, without Trevor in her bed, isn’t home anymore.

“Quinn gets you,” she continues. “I believe it, that he loves you. I think you could love him back. Things can change, you know– I want you to be happy.” Honey feels her throat start to close up with the threat of tears. “I don’t want you to miss out on him because you’re still determined to help me.”

Bea nods. She’s biting her lip to stop it from shaking– and failing.

“I really think you should let him love you,” Honey says. “You can’t keep ignoring him. At least talk to him– you don’t have to stop what you’re doing now, but maybe you could keep in touch with him when he leaves.”

Bea winces. “I can’t,” she mumbles. “I bawled in House of Pizza about it. The waiter had to ask Cece if I was okay. You should see the way he lights up when he talks about Vancouver. He loves it so much but I just can’t move there, not now. I can’t uproot my life for a guy. But– knowing that he’s so far away… and not being able to be with him… I’ll fall apart either way, but especially if I hear his voice through the phone. I think talking to him when he's not here would just make me miss him more. It’s cruel. That I got a taste of him and he’s going to be my One That Got Away.”

“I can’t do anything to change your mind?” Honey asks, feeling helpless. Her face has certainly crumbled, ugly lines marring it as she feels for her friend.

Bea blinks a tear away and purses her lips, shaking her head. “I know myself,” she says resolutely. “It just wouldn’t work. And then he’d be the one that I…” A breath. “Well, I'd just rather be here and have you with me, to help put me back together when it ends.” She takes another breath, sharper this time. She straightens up and pushes her hair back, wiping under her eyes. “Fuck, so serious,” Bea says, changing the subject abruptly, signaling that she's done with this topic. “I hate it when tequila makes me emotional.”

Honey isn’t happy with where the conversation has ended, but she understands what Bea’s saying. Losing Quinn would be a heartbreak she can’t bounce back from, but letting Quinn go? That Bea can live with.

Honey suddenly realizes that she and Trevor have a lot to talk about over the next few weeks. No– she doesn’t want to have this conversation with Trevor and realize that he’s someone who is rapidly slipping through her fingertips, even though she has him now. She likes him and she wants to keep liking him. She doesn’t want to think about what will happen when he leaves every single time they’re together, not the way that it seems Bea is doing whenever she’s near Quinn.

Honey will have to make the most of it. Trevor’s departure– well, she’ll just have to see where the wind takes her. She’s got over a month left with him. She’s going to make the most of it.

53:90 – TREVOR

“No, dude, there’s no fucking way we miss out on the playoffs this year,” Cole argues, waving his fork at Jack menacingly. “I don’t care if there are two Hughes brothers on the Devils. Habs are going all the way to the Cup this year.”

“You fucking wish,” Luke chirps. “Montréal hasn’t won the Cup since ‘93, bro. We won the Cup more recently than you and we’re a better team. Ask anyone.”

“Ask anyone?” Cole demands, scoffing. “Let’s talk legacy, bro. The Devs are nothing.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jack says through a bite of his steak. “The Habs were bottom-five last year, dude. Arizona was better than you, and they don’t even exist anymore. The only one here who’s worse than you is Trevor.”

“Hey, we’re in our rebuild,” Trevor argues. “And we’ve been trading our good players, too.”

“You’re just still upset that your boyfriend isn’t on the team anymore,” Jack laughs. “At least you have Turcs nearby. Can’t believe he’d rather hang out with his girlfriend in LA this summer than with us–”

They all jolt as the front door swings open upstairs. The boys look around at each other. Even Quinn, who had been stabbing at the steak and salad on his plate silently while the boys bickered, snaps his head up to meet their eyes. Cole points to each of the boys, counting them off silently. They’re all here, so Trevor’s alarmed– who could possibly be at the door.

He grabs his steak knife, gripping the handle of the utensil like he’s ready to use it in self defense. The boys listen as footsteps travel across the floor above them. They near the basement door and that, too, swings open.

Cole, probably with the best self-preservation instincts (or a “flight” response compared to Trevor’s “grab-a-knife-and-fight” response), scrambles out of his chair and books it toward the glass sliding door. He doesn’t seem to remember that the glass door is the only door that they keep locked when they’re all home, so he tugs at the handle fruitlessly as the footsteps grow nearer. At the last second, he crouches for cover behind the pool table.

The other boys are not so concerned. Yes, Quinn’s got a light hand on his fork, equally ready to use that as a weapon, and Luke has his phone in his hand like he’s ready to call someone. Jack, however, just squints at the base of the stairs and continues to chew his food, even lifting another bite to his mouth.

The improvised weaponry and Luke’s phone are deemed unnecessary as the intruders descend into the basement. It’s just Honey and Bea.

“Oh,” Luke says, blinking in surprise and putting his phone away.

“‘Sup?” Jack asks, then lowers his eyes back to his plate and chooses another piece of steak to bring to his mouth. Even worse, he stabs a few pieces of lettuce from his salad, smothered in ranch, and pops those in his mouth before he’s done chewing the meat.

Trevor curls his lip in disgust. He’s all for scarfing a meal down– but ranch and steak? No thanks.

“Hi, boys,” Bea greets calmly. “Good dinner?”

Jack nods, humming. He’s still chewing. “Yummy,” he mumbles. “Q outdid himself.”

Quinn returns to his food as well, shrugging one shoulder nonchalantly like he can brush the compliment away. He pushes the salad around his plate, avoiding Bea’s eyes.

“Well, he’s the best cook in the house,” Bea replies. “Without him, you guys would be lost.”

Trevor frowns in confusion. This is new. It’s the first time that she’s acknowledged Quinn since Sunday– since Trevor told her to take a break.

Quinn seems to realize the same thing, setting his fork down and blinking up at the girls.

Honey is trying to hold back a smile, her arms crossed over her chest. She hovers slightly behind Bea, who is wringing her hands and chewing on her bottom lip. She swallows, clearing her throat. She makes eye contact with Quinn briefly, then looks down.

“Um– can we talk?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. She presses her lips together like Quinn would ever say ‘no’ to her, nervous for his reply.

Trevor thinks Quinn isn’t quite sure what to say, since his answer is just a stilted nod and a disbelieving exhale of laughter, sparking a slight smile. He nods, clearing his own throat and moving his plate away. He sets it on the coffee table, wiping his hands on his shorts before he gets up.

Bea is beaming to herself. Trevor watches her throw a glance at Honey, who tilts her head forward and sets her fist under her nose, covering her grin. She nods.

So it was Honey that solved this thing– Trevor can’t help but swell with pride for his girl. He might have gotten them into this, but she got them out of it. She’s the one erasing this completely unnecessary break between Bea and Quinn. She’s saving his butt, but she’s obviously helping Bea because she loves the girl and she wants her to be happy.

Quinn takes a few steps towards Bea, then stops and turns back. He approaches the mantle below the television, plucking a small item that Trevor hadn’t noticed from the surface. He turns it over in his hands, then walks over and holds it out to Bea. It’s the birthday present he bought her, the one he wrapped so carefully and hadn’t given to Bea at her birthday lunch.

“For your birthday,” Quinn says awkwardly, pushing the gift into her hands. “I left it down here in case you’d find it.”

Bea’s expression softens. “You got me a present?” She asks, letting her hand linger over his skin when she takes the box. “You didn’t have to.”

Quinn shrugs. “Wanted to.”

Jack snorts out something that sounds like “simp,” but he chokes down the last few bites of his food like he said nothing at all. Quinn tosses him a glare as he sits back in his chair and brushes his hands together, ridding them of any lingering crumbs. Jack smiles at Quinn, tight-lipped and kind instead of shit-eating like his jokes normally are, and Quinn lets it go.

Bea unwraps the present carefully, trying not to rip the paper, which makes Honey giggle behind her. She moves around Bea, drawing Trevor’s eyes.

Honey comes to sit in Cole’s abandoned seat, the boy having finally risen from behind the pool table when Honey and Bea revealed themselves, but he still lingers there. He’s grabbed a cue– Trevor thinks he’s trying to cover for his fear by pretending he was playing pool all along. It doesn’t work, but maybe because Trevor saw the whole thing happen.

Luckily, his empty seat is next to Trevor, and Honey plops right down. She’s still watching Bea, but her index finger finds Trevor’s thigh and traces the seam of his pants briefly before pulling away.

A gasp comes from Bea, stealing Trevor’s gaze again. She blinks, touching the item inside the box reverently. Her bottom lip pokes out, head tilting to the side as she looks up at Quinn. Her hand comes up to her mouth, covering her pout. “Quinn,” she manages before her face folds with tears.

“Oh, baby,” Quinn sighs, stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her torso, holding her close.

Bea’s arms go around his shoulders, her face buried into his neck while she sobs. She’s spewing some incoherent whines into Quinn’s skin. Trevor understands one of her sniffled sentences: a repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” It’s hard to watch, to be honest. Bea looks tiny in Quinn’s arms. He rubs her back, soothing her with murmured words and cooed shushes. He brings his hands lower and lifts her, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

As he walks toward the basement stairs, Bea clinging to him like an octopus, he sends a glare towards the dinner table that offers a clear message. Don’t ever bring this up again.

On the couch, hidden in plain sight, Honey presses her thigh against Trevor’s and crosses her arms over her chest again. With the hand that’s hidden behind her bicep, she nudges him with her knuckle. It’s subtle.

Trevor sees a smile on her face when he turns to look, knowing that it’s directed completely at him, even as she stares at the stairs that Bea and Quinn ascended.

“What was that?” Luke asks Honey, placing his napkin on his empty plate and sitting back on the loveseat.

She shrugs with a shoulder. “They’re back together.” Honey looks over to Jack and grins, not sounding as sorry as she says. “I’m sorry that she won’t be fucking you tonight.”

“I don’t care,” Jack says, waving her away. “This is Bea and Quinn we’re talking about. That’s kind of a big deal.”

Honey’s surprised laugh has Trevor grinning, up until Jack winks at her.

With his wink, he adds, “Plus, Quinn told me that he said something pretty serious to Bea and she’d need time to digest it. I figure she told you?”

Honey nods, sealing her mouth shut with an imaginary key. She tosses it over her shoulder.

Jack nods too, sharing a secret smile with the girl that Trevor doesn’t like one bit. “We’ll talk about it later.” He stands, collects the empty plates on the table. “Coley, are you done?” He asks, turning around and facing the boy.

Cole has racked a set of balls for a game. He nods at Jack. “Yeah, I’ll just eat a late-night snack. Who wants to play?”

Honey lights up. “Me!” She springs up from her spot next to Trevor and bounds over to the pool table, snatching a cue from the rack and assuming her place at the head of the table.

“Who said you were breaking?” Cole protests, shoving her out of the way with his hip.

Honey’s head falls back, her laughter bright.

She and Trevor don’t talk much, but she hangs out with them until the sun has long since gone down and the stars are twinkling in the sky.

At the end of their evening, Trevor meets Honey at the front of the house and kisses her goodbye. She promises to see him tomorrow and presses a pair of cheap earplugs into his palm with a murmured “in case you can’t sleep over the noise coming from the honeymoon suite,” snickering at her own cleverness before offering him another kiss and heading home.

Every time he watches her go, his heart feels like it’s bursting, waiting for the next time he’ll see her again.

54:90 – HONEY

Apparently, Luke went walking in the woods today instead of doing his laundry shift and discovered an old basketball hoop in a clearing, so the boys forgave him for his transgression and now they’re playing ball.

Honey and Bea have been sitting at courtside since they left work that evening. Bea hadn’t made it to the Nook in time to open the store– she owes Honey a few mornings off now– and she hadn’t even wanted to go home to glam up. She was too eager to see Quinn again– her boyfriend, officially.

Honey isn’t sure if she would’ve gone as far as to make Quinn her boyfriend, if she was in Bea’s shoes, considering Bea is certain that their relationship won’t last outside of the summer anyway.

Still, the label seems to give Bea a new twinkle in her eye. She rarely lets Quinn out of her sight and he’s no better. If she’s within an arm’s reach, his hands are on her body, claiming her as his own. Honey would be annoyed, but their joy is infectious. Honey is so drunk on the joy that she almost forgot that she and Trevor are a secret, because she nearly tilted her chin up for a kiss when he came over to greet the girls.

Honey thinks that the news has been broken to Jack, Cole, and Luke that Bea is officially off-limits. She’s almost certain that Jack decided to rib Quinn by pouting and asking if he could just have a night to say goodbye, given the red Indian burn above his wrist– then, Honey briefly wondered if kids have changed the name of an Indian burn since she was on the playground as a child. It has to be an offensive term, but she can’t imagine what else to call it.

She’s actually supposed to get all the information tonight from Jack. When she gave Quinn her phone number after crying in his car, Honey wasn’t expecting the other boys to hijack his phone and steal her information. Yet, this morning, she received a text from an unknown number that read, Need to discuss the big ILY w you. 2nite? and then, Btw this is J$$$!!!

J-Money, he said. No one has ever called Jack ‘J-Money,’ but he said it with the confidence of a man who has been called J-Money for his whole life. Honey had to look up his area code to make sure it was really Jack, but she should have known just by the way he typed. It was typical Jack.

The basketball game seems to be dying down– the boys are panting and starting to dish out lazy fouls. When Cole gets backhanded in the face by Luke, he declares that the game is officially over and he quits. The Hughes boys, dressed in Alvin and the Chipmunks colors in what they swear is a recreation of an old photo, join Honey and Bea at courtside while Trevor and Cole gather the basketball and the water bottles strewn on the ground haphazardly.

“Good game, Q,” Bea says with a fond smile. When he sits on the ground beside her, she climbs onto his lap and makes herself comfortable. She pecks his lips before returning to the group, giggling at the side-eye Jack and Luke share.

“H, wanna go chat?” Jack asks, extending a hand to her.

“Pulling her for a chat?” Bea interjects, referencing her favorite show– the one they’ve been watching because Cole is just as obsessed as she is.

Jack eyes Bea again. “Going to talk shit about you, bud.”

Bea laughs.

Honey takes Jack’s hand and he pulls her to a standing position. Honey wipes over her backside, clearing it of dirt, twigs, leaves, or whatever else she might have been sitting in. “Yeah, J, let’s go.” To the others, she asks, “Do you guys want to start a fire when you get back to the house? We’ll join you when we’re done talking about Bea.”

“You’re really going to talk about her, huh?” Quinn asks, a laugh tinging his words.

“Not just her,” Honey promises with a little wink.

Jack laughs, then he loops his arm with Honey’s and starts to head back towards the house. She marches along with him, pretending like they’re wooden nutcrackers in a Christmas movie. It was Jack’s idea and it made her laugh, so she played along.

They make it back to the house, only getting a little bit lost in the maze of identical trees. Luckily, Honey has always had a good sense of direction when it comes to the woods, and she finds the path out of the greenery after only a minute or two.

Jack takes her up to his room, which she’s never been inside other than the peek she stole during Cole’s initial tour of the house. His bed is just as big as Trevor’s and he’s got a wicker rocking chair in the corner, which Trevor doesn’t have.

She moves to occupy the chair, but Jack pushes her toward the bed. “It’s not comfortable,” Jack says. “You’ve been sitting on the ground all night, bro.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Honey says, shrugging. “Really, I don’t mind.”

Jack narrows his eyes at her. “I do. Plus, you’re giving me all the dirt. That means you get the good seat. What happened on Bea’s side?”

“Tell me Quinn’s side first,” Honey replies, crinkling her nose.

“I asked you first,” Jack argues.

“Well, I’m prettier than you, so you have to do what I say,” Honey says snidely, trying to hide the smile that creeps onto her face every time she jokes with the boys and they, gullibly, take her seriously.

Jack’s mouth drops open and he scoffs. “Are not!”

“Am too!”

“Are not!”

“Am too!”

Jack switches tactics. “Tell me about Bea,” he whines, elongating the girl’s name. “I wanna know what happened.”

“I don’t know what they talked about last night,” Honey laughs. “She didn’t tell me. I was hoping Quinn told you.”

“He didn’t tell me either,” Jack says, frowning. He snaps his fingers. “Darn. Just when I thought he and I were getting somewhere.”

“So we have nothing to talk about?” Honey demands.

“No.” Jack shakes his finger. “He told me that he said he loves her. That’s it, though. You know more, don’t you?”

“I do,” Honey tells him.

Jack brightens. He clasps his hands together and rubs them excitedly. “What did she say?”

Honey laughs, curt and short. “That she couldn’t deal with that right now.”

Jack makes a face. “What?”

“I mean, they were on a break, Jack. She was upset, too, and then he follows after her and tells her that he loves her? Of course she didn’t know what to say,” Honey says.

“Ugh, how frustrating,” Jack sighs. “I thought she’d be down for that.”

“It’s not that she’s not down for that,” Honey says. “Obviously, since they’re boyfriend-girlfriend now. But, like– can you keep a secret?”

“No.” Jack shakes his head, his answer resolute. “Never been able to do that.”

Honey rolls her eyes, her expression flat and annoyed when she looks at him.

Jack breaks into laughter. “Not from my brothers, dude. From Trevor? Sure, I can keep a secret. From Cole? That’s easy. But not Quinn and Luke.”

“Yes, because Quinn doesn’t already know what happened,” Honey replies sarcastically.

“Hardy har,” Jack fake-laughs at her. He reverts to a normal tone of voice. “Seriously, though, if Luke asks me, I won’t keep a secret from him.”

“Then I won’t tell you,” Honey says, dangling the information above Jack’s head. She crosses her arms over her chest, raising her eyebrows. She stubbornly keeps her mouth shut, waiting for him to make his decision.

Her phone rings.

Now, it’s Jack’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Are you going to answer that?” He asks after the fifth ring.

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jack shrugs. “Okay.”

The rings cease and they continue to stare at each other, waiting for the other person to break. Wow, she thinks, he really doesn’t want to keep a secret from his little brother. I wonder what that’s like.

She never had siblings, so she’ll never know– except that she doesn’t like to keep secrets from Bea, who is basically a sister.

Her phone rings again. The first time, it could’ve been anyone. The second time, however, Honey knows who’s on the other end. She never receives calls from different people back-to-back like this, which rules out any spam calls or appointment confirmations. Plus, it’s night now, so fraudulent messages and legitimate calls from businesses are out of the question. It’s obvious. The person on the phone is Trevor.

Jack grins, looking more devilish. “Are you going to answer that now?” He repeats, smug. “Someone’s popular.”

Honey flushes red. “Shut up,” she hisses, fishing her phone out of her pocket. Sure enough, Trevor’s code name (the wolf emoji– he chose it himself and she was just so glad to be rid of his real name that she didn’t ask questions) flashes across her screen. She taps the green button to accept his call and brings the phone to her ear. “Yes?” She snaps.

“Where are you?” Trevor drawls. “Saw you leave with Jack. What are you doing?”

“I’m busy,” Honey tells him. “I’ll see you later.” She hangs up.

Jack snickers. “Hot date tonight?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Honey shoots back.

“There are a lot of things I’d like to know. One: Bea’s secret. Two: who you’re seeing tonight. Three: if water is really wet, because, well, do you remember that trend from a few years ago when people said water wasn’t wet? It really fucked with my head and now–”

“You’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met,” Honey interrupts.

Jack wears the insult like a badge of honor. “Thanks! Tell me Bea’s secret. I will try not to tell Luke.”

Honey glares at him.

Jack holds his hands up in surrender. “It’s the best I can do for you.”

Honey relents. “Fine. She’s never been in a big relationship before, just a bunch of little ones. She likes to date people and hook up with them, but she doesn’t really like to commit to people. She likes to use the word “ex-boyfriend,” like, a lot, but none of them actually qualified as boyfriends when she was going out with them.”

Jack hums, furrowing his brow. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Honey confirms. She considers telling Jack the whole story– how Bea wasn’t interested in being in a lengthy relationship while they were in school, how Thomas fucked her over at the end of their time together, how Bea was there for her through it all and how it affected her own views on relationships. While Honey was hurt because such a thing happened to her, Bea was paranoid that something similar would happen to her if she wasn’t careful. After a minute, she decides not to. There’s no reason to bring Thomas up where he’s not relevant.

“So, Quinn is Bea’s first real boyfriend?” Jack asks.

Honey nods.

“Quinn says that she doesn’t want to stay together after the summer ends, though. I thought it was because we were all hooking up with her.” Jack shakes his head, still looking confused. “But now they’re together, so they’re… staying together?”

“Um…” Honey trails off. She takes a breath, groaning a little bit as she tries to explain herself. “I don’t know what they said to each other last night–”

“Not much, judging by the noises that kept me up,” Jack interrupts.

“–but Bea said that she’d miss him too much when he leaves, so for her own sanity, they’ll probably still end it,” Honey finishes.

Jack snorts. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know,” Honey says.

“Why would they get together for, like, a month, just to break up?” Jack continues. “Quinn’s done long distance before, I’m sure he’d be happy doing long distance with Bea. I mean, it would be better if it wasn’t long distance, but I feel like long distance is better than nothing.”

“Bro, you’re telling me,” Honey laughs. “I said pretty much the same thing.”

“I don’t understand them,” Jack adds, his rant resuming. “Also, why are you– Quinn, I mean– telling a girl you love her after knowing her for two months? Less than that. He got here late.”

“Time passes differently in the mountains,” Honey explains with a shrug.

“Does it?” Jack questions, punctuating his sentence with a grimace. “I mean, yeah, it seems like we’ve been here for ages. Still, check the calendar– it’s only been two months. Quinn telling Bea that he loves her is like… love-bombing.”

“Do you even know what that means?” Honey asks with another laugh.

“Yes, I know what love-bombing is,” Jack snaps defensively. “I have been accused in the past!”

Honey laughs aloud, throwing her head back. “Of course you have,” she cries out, a little too loud for the quiet bedroom.

“I was a teenager,” Jack explains himself desperately, clearly upset that Honey is laughing at him.

“I just think it’s funny that you know what love-bombing is because you’ve done it,” Honey continues, still giggling to herself.

A knock at the door interrupts them. Jack stands to go answer, opening the door to reveal the boy that Honey just hung up on barely five minutes prior.

Trevor’s face turns cloudy when he sees Honey over Jack’s shoulder, sitting comfortably on the boy’s bed. “Fire’s ready,” he says, words clipped.

Jack doesn’t notice. “Okay,” he says, grinning. He turns to Honey, nodding at her. “Ready?”

“Yeah, sure,” Honey agrees. She has very little else to say to Jack, although she had fun chatting with him and gossiping. It’s funny– at their core, each of these boys eat up the drama just as much as a girl would. They claim that they don’t care, but they really, really do. Not only do they care, but they crave the information.

She hops up from Jack’s bed, walking towards the door. She touches his bicep and squeezes, just to tell him that she enjoyed herself without saying anything at all, then brushes by him. She smiles at Trevor briefly, while her back is to Jack so he can’t see it, but he doesn’t return it.

Jack follows behind her, then Trevor. They go all the way outside, where the fire is crackling a few hundred feet from the house. The boys have pulled chairs from the porch and brought them around the fire pit, leaving extras for Honey and Trevor. Quinn and Bea are bundled in a blanket, Bea’s head lying back on Quinn’s shoulder. She looks up at him, yawning every so often. Luke has a blanket too– he wears it like a hoodie.

Cole is tending the fire, tossing leaves onto the stack of wood and lifting his eyes to watch the particles burn while they dance on the wind. Upon hearing Honey, Jack, and Trevor, though, he bounces up. “Don’t take my seat!” He warns unnecessarily, nearing his chair way before any of them get close. Jack tries to tug him out of the seat anyway.

Honey takes the empty chair next to Bea and Quinn.

Bea turns her head and lazily blinks at the girl. “What do you think about a lake day tomorrow?” She asks, her words running together as a result of her exhaustion. It’s been a long day.

Honey smiles at the girl, a private smile just for her. “Are you sure you can make it? You look sleepy, babe.”

“‘M just comfy,” Bea denies. Her face looks a little puffy from how tired she is. Honey reaches over and thumbs over her cheek. Bea scrunches her face, disrupting Honey’s movements. “Q will wake me up for lake day if I sleep in too much, anyway.”

“You’re staying over?” Honey asks. Her tone isn’t judgmental, just curious.

Bea nods, humming a confirmation. Quinn reaches out from under the blanket and tucks her hair behind her ear, out of her face. She blows him a kiss in thanks.

“Do you want to sleep over, too?” Quinn asks. “We’ve got the extra room. With the bunk beds. Well, Luke moved in this morning, but you could sleep on the top bunk with him and tell scary stories like it’s summer camp.”

“No scary stories,” Luke grumbles. “I’m too tired for that. I need to sleep tonight.”

“Aw, what kept you up?” Quinn teases, smirking to himself at the joke.

Luke doesn’t laugh. Instead, he ignores Quinn after throwing him a mean glare, turning to Trevor on his right and starting a conversation.

They split into groups unintentionally– Luke and Trevor, Jack and Cole, and Bea and Honey (with a side of Quinn, although he doesn’t jump in often).

The night turns colder and the cicadas raise their voices, chirping in the trees and adding a backtrack to the mix of voices in the backyard. There are fireflies floating around. One of them lands on Cole’s shoulder, which initially startles him so much that it flies away, even as he begs for his “new friend” to come back.

Honey and Bea’s conversation dies out eventually. Bea turns to her boyfriend, pouting her lips for a kiss and never letting him part from her for too long. Quinn peppers her face, planting extra kisses on her lips. Everyone ignores them, but they’re all aware of what’s happening.

Honey stares across the circle, letting her gaze fall out-of-focus. She’s tired– Bea and Luke aren’t the only ones who are yawning. She twists a strand of hair around her finger absentmindedly, feeling the way the individual pieces move and bend with her movements.

She forgets that that’s their secret code, her and Trevor. She remembers when she feels eyes on her, finding Trevor. He looks at her, then to her hair, then he looks away.

Honey doesn’t want to fuck tonight, so she stops her movement and picks at a hangnail next to her index finger instead. She’s feeling sluggish, and quite frankly, she just wants to go home. She’d better get on the way before she starts to worry about falling asleep at the wheel. It won’t happen, but Honey would rather be safe than sorry.

She bundles herself in her own blanket, standing from her chair. Through a yawn, she says, “I’m gonna head home, guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

A litany of goodbyes follow her, but for the first time since they started hooking up, Trevor does not.

Honey doesn’t realize until she gets all the way home and all the way comfortable in her bed. She’s just about to fall asleep when it dawns on her that she didn’t get a goodnight kiss. He didn’t even react when she accidentally used their sex-code, just looked away. Honey stares at the dark ceiling, blinking to herself.

Her final act before falling asleep is sending Trevor an ‘xoxo’ message, just so he knows that she’s thinking about him. He’s probably not awake, but it soothes Honey enough that she can drift off and start to dream.

55:90 – TREVOR

A truck horn sounds outside, breaking Trevor’s concentration. He had been staring at the potatoes in his breakfast bowl, trying to count the pepper flakes that season it. He’s rapidly running out of things to do in Litchton– it’s always been a problem, but he’s tired of scrolling aimlessly on his phone and waiting for TikToks to load. He hasn’t been to the Nook in a week or two, which means he hasn’t had anything to read. Quite frankly, he’s not like Quinn; he doesn’t want to dust off the books in the living room and crack them open. Books in vacation homes are just decorative.

Jack comes bouncing down the stairs, completely bypassing the kitchen and heading for the front door. Luke isn’t far behind him, although he comes up from the basement carrying the inflatable raft that the two brothers had bought a few weeks prior. The door slams twice behind them, then once more as Cole makes his way outside. Trevor catches a snippet of a creaky old engine running while the door is open.

No one told him they were doing something today. He’ll just sit right here and eat his breakfast bowl until they invite him personally.

He scoops up a spoonful of eggs, cheese, potatoes, and leftover steak from the other night. Upon eating it, he realizes that there’s not enough hot sauce in that bite. He picks up the Texas Pete sauce and douses his bowl, using his spoon to mix everything together and make sure it’s all coated. He hopes it wasn’t too much. His tolerance for hot stuff is moderately high, but too much sauce can ruin his breakfast. He’d hate to have to make it again.

“Trev, c’mon, let’s go,” Bea calls as she bounces down the stairs in twos, just like Jack did.

It’s hardly an invitation.

Quinn goes down the stairs behind her, glancing at Trevor where he sits at the counter. His eyes pass over Trevor, then return to the girl in front of him. They leave the house with the door cracked open behind them.

Trevor allows the cool AC of the house to escape, making no move to get up from his seat. “What happened to ‘Trevor, we’re going out, would you like to come?’” Trevor mocks in a high voice, just to himself. He continues grumbling under his breath as he pokes at the contents of his breakfast.

“No, I said I’ll get him!” comes Quinn’s voice after a minute, becoming more clear as he comes back into the house. He walks into the doorway of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re going to the lake, come on.”

Trevor takes another bite of his bowl. He doesn’t move from his seat.

Quinn sets his jaw. “Are you coming with us or not?”

Trevor shrugs. “Don’t know. Wasn’t invited.”

“This is an invitation,” Quinn snarls. “So are you coming or not?”

“I’d like to finish my breakfast,” Trevor says. “Can it wait?”

“You can take your breakfast in the truck,” Quinn says through his teeth. “I don’t think Earl will mind, especially if you’re sitting in the bed with the rest of us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to make a mess in Earl’s truck.”

“If you do, I’ll wash it.”

Trevor’s enjoying this a little bit– Quinn is trying so hard to keep his composure that his nostrils are flaring and his eyes are flashing. Trevor kind of wants to see how much it takes before he snaps.

“We don’t have a hose,” Trevor points out.

Quinn takes a breath. “Then I will buy one.”

“Do you even know where the spigot is?”

It apparently doesn’t take long to find Quinn’s last straw. His patience dissipates when Trevor insults his intelligence.

He walks away. The door slams behind him and Trevor giggles through another bite of his breakfast.

A car door slams shut, then the front door. Good, Trevor thinks. Here comes Bea. I’ll get to chew out both of them. He smiles to himself.

It’s not Bea. He’s not so lucky. It’s his girlfriend, not Quinn’s, and by the looks of her, she’s pissed off.

She nears him and approaches the counter, reaching out and snatching his bowl and dumping the rest of it in the trash can. She practically throws the bowl into the sink, the ceramic clattering louder than he’s ever heard it before.

Honey takes a deep breath, eyes steely as she stares at him. Her hands are planted on the counter, bracketing the sink. She squints, then licks over her teeth, debating how best to deal with this– the scene that Trevor is causing.

“So what, you think I slept with Jack?” Honey snaps. “Because I went upstairs and gossiped with him about Bea and Quinn? Because I sat on his bed, on top of the covers, completely clothed? And that’s why you’re sitting here, pouting.”

“I don’t think you slept with Jack,” Trevor grumbles.

“Good, because that’s deranged,” Honey continues. “I’m not sleeping with Jack. I’m sleeping with you. Well, actually, I won’t be sleeping with you for about a week because you’re being a dick. Get in the car. We’re going to the lake. Or don’t! I don’t give a fuck. I’m driving away from this house in one minute and you can either come with us, or you can sulk all day.” She folds her arms over her chest and stares at him for a few seconds, then turns on her heel and stomps away.

He was so busy going speechless over her little tirade that he didn’t notice that she’s wearing a hot pink bikini top and her daisy dukes. It contrasts her skin nicely and the string in the back leaves little to the imagination.

Yes, Trevor was upset the night before. Yes, he was jealous that Honey went upstairs with Jack and laughed and squealed with him in a way that she’s never done with Trevor. She also completely brushed him off on the phone, saying she was busy and that she’d see him later. She hung up on him. He’s supposed to be angry.

But, then again, he doesn’t want to be in a fight with Honey. It was complete torture to ignore her ‘xoxo’ text message last night, especially since she doesn’t give out affection that often. At least, not where it can be traced back to her. Not when there’s a paper trail and text messages are part of a paper trail– so Trevor really should’ve taken a screenshot of the rare, sweet message from Honey and printed the picture out to put in his wallet.

His minute is almost up. In the interest of making up with Honey, and in the interest of seeing her in her little, hot pink swimsuit, Trevor goes. Honey is literally shifting the car into drive by the time he makes it outside, leaving the front door unlocked because he didn’t have time to grab a key. The car is rolling forward when he manages to hop onto the tailgate, joining the group in the nick of time.

“Nice of you to join us, buddy,” Cole say, clapping Trevor on the back. “No swimsuit?”

“I didn’t know we were going to the lake until five minutes ago,” Trevor says.

“Yuh-huh,” Cole insists. “We talked about it last night. You were there. Glowering.”

“You don’t even know what that means,” Trevor says, partially because he’s not sure what it means. It sounds a little bit like ‘glaring,’ though, so he thinks he’s got the gist of it.

“I do too know it it means,” Cole says. “I asked Bea after she said you weren’t listening because you were too busy glowering. It’s my word of the day.”

“Whatever,” Trevor says, brushing him off and looking over the edge of the bed of the truck. He watches the trees pass and the curve of the road, how the edge of the pavement crumbles off sharply after years of wear and tear.

The rural roads probably haven’t been paved in, what, fifteen years? He’d ask Honey, but she wouldn’t know. Maybe he’ll ask Earl when he sees him in town next. The old man certainly has a gripe about the roads being closed for roadwork– he probably remembers the exact date and how long he sat in traffic in this old truck, cursing at the workers.

They arrive at the lake shortly, piling out of the bed. Honey’s parking job is slightly crooked, but Trevor doesn’t say anything. No one does, considering how hard she slammed the door to the cab of the truck.

She helps Luke carry the tube down to the docks while Bea and Quinn rent a boat. Jack and Cole ask about renting a wakeboard, since they forgot theirs at the house. Trevor trudges after Luke and Honey, his shirt already starting to stick to his back from the heat.

It takes a few minutes, but the other members of the group join them. One of the workers, a teenage boy that reminds Trevor of Quinn the summer before he started at UMich, drives the boat up to the dock and hands the keys off to Quinn. They pile onto the boat and Quinn starts to drive off. Jack ties the raft to a handle on the back of the boat, then the tow-rope to the awning above the console.

Everyone else kind of does their own thing.

Trevor drives the boat because he’s still a little pouty from earlier.

Honey sheds her daisy dukes and lays out at the front of the boat with Bea, tanning her back. Trevor has a nice view of her butt and how her swimsuit doesn’t offer as much coverage as it should, given Quinn is right there. It’s cheeky and Trevor wants to swat at her skin just to watch it bounce– he’s sure that any of the other boys would be thinking the same thing.

On the bright side, Quinn’s got a hand on Bea’s upper thigh. He seems preoccupied, trying to keep his hand in that exact spot until there’s a pale imprint on Bea’s skin. He wants her tan to be uneven, but only in the shape of his hand.

Jack is the real culprit– if anyone was going to look at Honey, it would be him. He’s actually getting ready to toss the raft out behind the boat, so he doesn’t pay any mind to Honey. Cole is with him, donning a life jacket, and Luke is reclining somewhere behind Trevor, soaking in the sun just like the girls.

Trevor slows to a stop and Cole jumps off the back of the boat to swim towards the raft. “Don’t hold back, Z!” He calls as he swims, catching one of the handles of the raft and dragging himself onto the floating device. Once he’s got a good hold on the raft, he tells Trevor to go, and Trevor takes off.

Cole falls off within minutes. Trevor launches him off the raft, but Cole comes up laughing. He tries to outlast his previous round each time he gets on the tube.

They waste over an hour on the tube, switching riders when the current person’s hands get too tired from gripping the handles and trying to stay float. Trevor drives the whole time because, well… he didn’t have time to put on a swimsuit. He’s just got his joggers and his t-shirt, as well as the underwear beneath his joggers. He’s fine with staying clothed all day.

Then, Jack tells Bea and Quinn that they have to do a pairs-run on the tube. They don’t last for more than a minute, maybe, not with Trevor swinging them around and forcing the tube to jump over the wake like a skateboarder in a half pipe. Bea shrieks and falls off the tube first, Quinn following after her to act as her own personal buoy.

Trevor knows that he can’t escape for long. The second Bea climbs back onto the boat, she turns to him. “Trev, you haven’t gone in the water today. C’mon. Switch with Quinn.”

“Honey hasn’t gone in the water either,” Quinn points out.

Honey’s jaw drops and she stares at Quinn, completely aghast. “I didn’t know it was a requirement to get in the water.”

“It’s not fun unless you do,” Quinn replies. “Let’s go. I’ll drive. You guys can do a pair and you’ll get it over with.”

Honey grumbles about it, but Trevor has to admit that he’s right. Lake days aren’t truly fun unless you’re able to swim around.

“Sure, let’s do it,” Trevor agrees, waiting for Quinn to get a hand on the steering wheel before he stands from his Captain’s Chair and sheds his shirt. He looks at Bea when he asks his next question, because he knows this doesn’t matter to the other guys and it’s not like Honey’s never seen him in his underwear. “Do you mind if I wear my briefs?”

Bea sputters out a laugh, blowing a raspberry to wave him off. “I don’t care. As long as you’re not buck-naked, I’m fine. Honey? Do you mind if Trevor wears his briefs? You’re the one who’ll be on the tube with him.”

She covers for them well, making sure that the other girl on the boat gets to voice her opinion. Again, Trevor, Bea, and Quinn all know that Honey wouldn’t care, but in order to save face, they ask anyway.

Honey shrugs. “I don’t care. Just don’t put your dick near me.”

“It’d be kind of funny if he was naked, though,” Cole says. “I’m not saying I want to see it, but it’s a funny image. Tubing with his bare ass out.”

Jack curls his lip. “Yeah, but then his dick would get all over the raft. We’d never be able to use it again.”

“Oh my God, I’m not stripping,” Trevor interrupts. “I’m wearing my underwear, dude.” To Cole, he adds: “Stop thinking about my bare ass!”

Cole gives him a shrug and a smirk. “Is it as smooth as a baby’s bottom, Z? Are you Katy Perry from Teenage Dream? What aesthetic are we going for?”

“I’m going to hit you in the nuts if you don’t shut up.”

“You’d love that.”

“That’s enough,” Honey says. “Stop talking about genitalia. Let’s get this over with. I want time to dry off.”

She dives off the back of the boat, entering the water much more gracefully than Trevor does. No, he gets pushed by Cole after removing his joggers. Does it count as a push if Cole was just trying to pants Trevor and force him to skinny dip, making Trevor fall off the boat while twisting away from his prying hands?

He swims towards the raft, where Honey is already treading water. She’s got a hand on the handle, ready to pull herself up.

“Don’t look at my butt,” Trevor says.

Honey glares at him from the side of her eye. “I wasn’t going to look at your butt. Don’t look at mine.”

She pulls herself onto the raft and Trevor looks anyway. Then, he drags himself up and clenches his fingers around two of the handles. Honey takes the one next to his right hand, just inches away from touching him. Trevor misses her, even though she’s right there.

He takes his hand from the handle and loops his arm around Honey’s.

She turns her head and glares at him again.

“So we don’t fall off,” Trevor supplies.

Honey rolls her eyes and faces forward again. She yells to the boat. “We’re ready!”

Quinn takes off, starting slow, then he speeds up rather abruptly. They’re being jostled by the waves, their knuckles white as they nearly start cramping from holding on so tight.

Honey starts shrieking as they jump over the waves, the lake water blowing in their face. Her hair is whipping around in the wind, smacking Trevor in the face, but he’s smiling so hard that his eyes are crinkling. The sun hits him right in the eyes too, just like the water droplets and Honey’s hair, but it’s so fun. Their arms are linked and they hold on tight.

Eventually, Honey gets a faceful of water and she splutters, using Trevor’s skin to wipe her eyes. She buries her face into their intertwined arms, laughing briefly.

Trevor wishes the other boys knew about them, so that he could kiss her face while they ride the waves– although it would probably be a bump of his chin against her forehead, one that results in a nasty bruise on her skin and a little blood in his mouth from biting his tongue.

After a particularly nasty wave, Honey loses her grip and drags Trevor with her.

They plunge into the water together, fully soaked when they resurface. Quinn drives along, a few hundred feet away before Bea bops him on the side of the head and points at the empty raft. He drives in a big circle, looping back.

Trevor touches Honey’s arm as they tread water, their fingers brushing. She finds his hand again and squeezes his fingers under the water, out of sight.

“Think you should go wakesurfing in a bit,” Honey suggests quietly, just for Trevor to hear. He knows that sound travels over water, so it makes sense that she’s speaking so quietly. “I’m mad at you for being so stubborn, but your thighs look really good in your undies, baby.”

She starts to swim toward the boat, which is finally close enough that they can return to it.

Trevor grabs her ankle. “I told you not to look at my butt!” He exclaims.

“It’s so big, I just can’t help it!” Honey calls back, splashing him with a big kick.

He goes under the water to fix his hair before he finds the boat again and joins the group again. He’s got a new attitude now, like the water was an actual rebirth.

56:90 – HONEY

When Bea and Honey were little, Bea’s oldest sister, Trixie, became obsessed with daily holidays. For Christmas when Bea and Honey were five, she received a calendar that detailed all the fun, quirky holidays that fall on any given day of the year.

July 21st is National “Get Out of the Dog House” Day. When Bea and Honey were that young, they didn’t know what getting out of the dog house meant. They thought it meant that they had to get out of the dog’s house– and Bea’s father regularly referred to her childhood dog, Bronco, as the king of the house.

They insisted on sleeping in tents in the backyard that year. Ironically, Bronco came with them and spent the hot summer night outside, getting a bout of the zoomies that had Honey and Bea yelling and exiling him from the tent until he calmed down. It was so much fun that they’ve tried to recreate the night every year since.

Bronco joined them every year until they were eleven, easily the worst year of all the ones they spent outside. It was very lonely without the massive, fat, entirely non-intimidating Rottweiler to protect them. The following year, they were joined by Bruno, the McLean’s new Rottweiler puppy, named aptly after Bruno Mars when he howled along to one of Mars’ songs on the drive home from the adoption center.

Their best July 21st, after the first, was when they were 16. Trixie had bought a bottle of Smirnoff for Bea for her birthday, but Bea was saving it for her night with Honey. They drank about half the bottle together before they both decided that they felt too nauseous to continue. They giggled and felt warm from the inside out, which really wasn’t necessary considering how hot it was in Charlotte in the middle of the summer. They talked about everything under the sun– reminiscing, talking about boys even though Honey had been in a relationship for months at that point, singing songs, doing dances, everything. Mr. McLean came out to the tent around 2 a.m. and told them they needed to be quiet. Bea threw up in the garden the following morning, trying to hide their sneaky drinking under the cover of leafy plants, and if Bea’s mom ever noticed the vomit, she never said anything.

Even since they’ve been in Litchton, they’ve spent National “Get Out of the Dog House” Day outside. They bought hammocks and strung them up in Honey’s backyard the first year, finding a few trees that were perfectly spaced out. It was one of the traditions that made it out of Charlotte when they left.

Now, their night isn’t complete without a shared bottle of red wine and a charcuterie board, to start. They eat a bunch of terrible snacks as the night goes on and usually drink a warm mug of Bea’s sleepytime tea once the wind picks up and they decide that they need to bring their sleeping bags out, as well as the blankets they use like tortilla shells around a burrito.

This year, they have five new additions to the tradition.

Honey almost wishes that Bruno was here instead. He peed in the tent when he was a puppy, and that’s still more preferable than having five twenty-something year old boys in her backyard and in her house. The only blessing is that they can use the outdoors as their bathroom– so Honey won’t need to disinfect the seat each time she walks inside to use her toilet.

Six bottles of red wine sit on her counter, ready to be shared by seven people. Quinn came over early with Bea and commandeered Honey’s oven, searing steaks and plating salted ham for a homemade charcuterie board and baking chicken breasts that were to be shredded and thrown into her crockpot to make a soup for a late night snack instead of Bea’s sleepytime tea.

Honey doesn’t mind having a personal chef, which is what Quinn basically is, but she wishes they could just eat bag after bag of buttery microwave popcorn until their stomachs hurt.

Honestly, her discomfort is probably rooted in sharing her home for the first time, well, ever. The only people that have come to her house are her parents– who lived there first– Bea, Ada, and Trevor. Sometimes Bea’s ex, Griffin, will come and mow Honey’s grass. That’s only really once a month, and he never comes inside, so it doesn’t count.

Her driveway is full– her car, Bea’s car, and Trevor’s car. Now, there are five boys in her backyard, hanging up their own hammocks in the trees, drinking wine from plastic cups because she’ll be damned if the boys use her good glassware in the outdoors.

They’ve gone through two bottles already, just with the first round of drinks. Cole has a heavy hand and they chilled the bottles for 20 minutes before they left the rental house, which Honey thinks makes the alcohol easier to drink.

It’s been probably thirty minutes since the boys got here. They’ve already taken a tour of her house– she doesn’t like that they went into her bedroom and Cole jumped on her bed– and they’ve started a fire in an old fire pit that hasn’t been used since her dad vacationed in the house.

It’s such a caveman thing to do– I cook food. I build fire. I provide for woman.

Right in line with Honey’s thoughts, Quinn calls to the group from Honey’s back door. “Dinner’s ready!” He announces, returning to the kitchen.

Luke agrees to watch the fire while everyone gets food, saying that he’ll go last.

There are vegetables and dipping sauce like ranch and bleu cheese on the homemade board. There’s steak, salted ham, and all sorts of cheese. There are crackers and different kinds of bread. Even Trevor, who Honey has noticed avoiding Quinn for the past few days, compliments him on the presentation.

“It wasn’t just me,” Quinn replies. “Bea helped too.”

“No, I didn’t,” Bea laughs, grabbing a stack of cucumbers and putting them on her paper plate. “I just sat there and looked pretty.”

“You found the meat thermometer when I couldn’t,” Quinn reminds her.

“Okay, fine,” Bea relents. “I helped with that. But everything else was all you.”

Honey and Jack make eye contact as the two continue to insist that the other was partially or wholly responsible for the meal. Jack widens his eyes like he’s trying to send her a message– ‘They’re making me sick.’

“The meal is nice either way, guys,” Honey offers. “Let’s not make it a whole thing. It’s Get Out of the Dog House Day, not ‘argue about who’s right until someone is thrown into the dog house’ day.”

Trevor laughs, which is nice of him. It wasn’t a particularly good joke, either.

He’s in a better mood now, but that doesn’t mean that Honey’s not still mad at him for being so rude and stubborn the other day. Sometimes, Trevor seems to get so frustrated and annoyed that he either acts out or he completely shuts off. All of it is for attention or to make his presence known.

She and Bea watched some of the boys’ highlights last week at the Nook when there was a lull, and Trevor’s a good player, but he can snap easily. Honey doesn’t like that. She likes it even less when it’s directed at her or her friends– which is exactly what happened yesterday morning.

She likes Trevor a lot, but yesterday, she wanted to rip his hair out of his head and scream at him for acting stupid.

Luckily, it passed. He’s being sweet again, sharing fond little smiles with Honey when he thinks no one is watching. She doesn’t take full credit for solving his bad mood, but once he found an excuse to touch her (“So we don’t fall off,” he said), he was back to himself.

They circle around the fire pit again. Luke goes to get his food. They chat until the golden hour of sunlight disappears into the darkness underneath twinkling stars.

They stargaze when it hits midnight, heads bunched up together as they lay back. They’ve all but finished the bottles of wine; the final one is being passed around in the circle as Trevor points out constellations that the boys seem to have trouble mapping out. Luke and Cole especially complain that all they can see is a blob.

Bea and Quinn are the first to peel off. After drinking the equivalent of 80% of a bottle of red wine, Bea is tipsy and handsy. She had rolled into Quinn’s side and started touching his lower abdomen, sliding her hand under his t-shirt, very clearly signaling to him that she wanted something. Honey had to tell her to stop or leave, and Quinn decided that they would just go to bed. They’re sharing a hammock, which feels like a recipe for disaster. What if one of them rolls over in the middle of the night and rocks the hammock, eventually tipping it and sending them both to the ground, all while dead asleep? That would be a terrible wakeup call.

The fire is already dying out, since they haven’t been tending to it. The chill from the air sends Jack into Honey’s house to find one of her big sweatshirts, since he’s a fool and didn’t bring one. He returns in one of Bea’s big sweatshirts that she left at Honey’s one morning after a sleepover and with the throw pillow from her couch wrapped around him. Cole fights him for it, winning the blanket after he knees Jack in the gut.

Jack starts cussing like a sailor, growling at Cole like he’s cursing him.

“I think you’re overtired, Jack,” Luke interrupts, shooing the boy away. “And drunk. You already got your sweatshirt. Go to your hammock.”

Miraculously, Jack listens and stumbles away.

Luke turns to Honey. “Do you have any other blankets? I’ll take one if you do. I’ll bring one to Jack, too. I’ll make sure everyone gives them back in the morning.”

“Yeah, darlin’,” Honey agrees. “I’ll go grab a few. I think it’s time for us all to go to bed, so I’ll come around and hand off the hammocks. You need anything else?” Her question is directed at all three remaining boys, not just Luke.

Cole shakes his head, grinning smugly as he wraps himself in the blanket. He spins like Dracula, blanket flowing out behind him like a cape until he covers the lower half of his face with his forearm, side-eying Honey as he retreats into the darkness of the woods. He backs away suspiciously, until he backs into a tree and stumbles, nearly falling down.

Honey laughs at him. Luke goes to help him into his hammock, saying that it’s unlikely that he’ll be able to climb into the hammock with all that red wine in his system. Trevor tells Luke to protect his goods because Cole might be just as horny as Bea is after all that red wine. Luke whacks him on the head in reply, which is deserved.

Honey goes into the house to find more blankets. She’s quick to realize that they never even ate the soup that Quinn made– but that’s fine with her. It looks like she’ll have lunch for a whole week. She vows never to bring it up, unless someone– probably Bea– remembers and whines about not getting to eat some of Quinn’s cooking.

She finds four blankets in her linen closet– one for Luke, Jack, Bea and Quinn, and Trevor. Honey tends to sleep better when she’s cold anyway, so she’ll be fine without one. She’s got a makeshift sweat-suit on anyway, with leggings underneath her sweatpants just in case. She’ll be fine.

After making sure all of the doors and windows in her house are locked except for the back door, she makes her rounds with the blankets. Jack is already asleep, somehow, so she just drapes the blanket over his sleeping body and takes a moment to hope that he won’t fall out of the hammock overnight. Honestly, he’s the one that would.

Luke is next, who thanks her quietly. He even tells her that he appreciates that she’s hosting them tonight. He also mentions that he likes her house. Honey loves him like a little brother– he’s so sweet and he behaves so well, even as he’s grown more comfortable around her and Bea and come out of his shell. She can’t wait for Gillian’s granddaughter to arrive tomorrow– Luke’s date with the girl on Tuesday will be so cute. Maybe she and Bea can go spy on him– surely he’ll tell Quinn where they’re going. Even if he doesn’t, there are only so many places in Litchton that he could go. They’ll find him.

She’s hesitant to approach Bea and Quinn’s hammock. Although Honey isn’t religious, she’s positively praying that they’re asleep when she walks up.

They’re not. She can hear the sounds of them kissing as she approaches, cringing because she really doesn’t want to interrupt that.

“Hey,” she hisses, stopping about three feet from their hammock.

Quinn pops his head up, finding her immediately.

Honey holds up the blanket.

His mouth forms an ‘O,’ then he looks down at Bea. “Do you want a blanket?” He asks.

Bea sits up as best she can, looking at Honey. “You can just drop it there,” she instructs. “Quinn’ll come get it in a second. His hands are a little busy right now.”

“I didn’t need to know that,” Honey replies, tossing the blanket to the base of the tree next to their hammock. “Have a good night!”

“Just trying to cross something off my Rice Purity Test,” Bea calls after Honey, laughing when Honey raises her hand and flips Bea off.

Only one blanket remains and it belongs to Trevor. Honey approaches his hammock with a few butterflies in her stomach, just at the thought of seeing her boy while he’s all sleepy and drunk. It’s not the first time she’s seen Trevor like that, but he’s so affectionate when he’s drunk– it makes her feel really special, every single time.

“Trevor,” Honey whispers when she’s just an arm’s length away from the hammock. She reaches out and touches it.

The hammock rustles and nearly flips as she startles him. “Christ, baby,” Trevor replies, sounding louder than he actually is in the darkness. His hammock is farther away from the other boys, at the final pair of trees that are close enough to create a good space for a hammock. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I brought you a blanket.” Honey holds it out for him.

Trevor takes it, his hand brushing Honey’s. “Thank you. Did you already get everyone else?”

Honey shows him her empty hands. “Yeah.”

“You wanna sleep with me?” Trevor asks. “Bea and Quinn are.”

Honey chuckles under her breath. “They’re boyfriend-girlfriend, Trevor. Also, our relationship is a secret. I can’t be crawling into your hammock and cuddling all night. It would be so weird.”

Trevor pouts. “Everyone is too drunk to care, Hon. They probably won’t even notice.”

“Nice try, but no. I’ll see you in the morning. Stay warm.” Honey touches his hair, fluffing the ends for a moment before she goes off to find her own hammock.

She climbs into the broken-in fabric between her two usual trees. Bea is pretty close by, so she can hear her best friend and Quinn murmuring about something, although she can’t hear what. Luckily, it doesn’t sound like anything dirty is happening anymore, so Honey can sleep peacefully.

So she thought. Perhaps it was the wine that she drank, or the copious amounts of steak and ham that sit like an anvil in her stomach. Regardless, Honey lays in her hammock, waiting for her eyelids to grow heavy. They never do.

She left her phone inside, next to her bed, so she can’t even scroll aimlessly. Not that she’d want to do that necessarily, but she downloaded the Kindle app and hacked into her old account, so she’s been rereading the books she bought years ago and mostly forgot about. It would be nice to read something while she waits to fall asleep, but it’s so dark outside that there’s no hope of being able to see the words in a physical book. She could go inside, but that defeats the whole purpose of getting out of the dog house.

She turns over and tries to sleep for a few more minutes. It feels like forever.

Honey tries her hand at echolocation, trying to figure out which of the boys are snoring in the distance. She eventually decides that the snores that are closer to her are Luke’s, while the ones that are father away are Jack’s. Then, she takes a few minutes to listen out and see if Quinn snores too. He must not, because she can’t hear anything coming from the joint hammock belonging to Bea and Quinn.

She turns onto her back and stares at the stars. She was better at identifying constellations than Luke, Cole, Jack, and Bea. Quinn actually had a knack for identifying the connections between the stars, just based off of Trevor’s words. It’s a shame they’ve never been close friends– Bea and Honey think that they have a lot more in common than they think, although their main difference (that Trevor likes to talk and Quinn does not) keeps them apart.

Honey is so tired, but unable to sleep, that she could cry. She’s so frustrated that she wants to scream.

And she’s getting cold. She thought she would fall asleep before the chill really set in, but here she is. Frustrated, brisk, and tired.

Honey rolls out of her hammock, getting her feet on the ground and standing up. She pulls her long sleeves down, covering her hands and rolling up the ends in her fists to keep the warmth inside.

She creeps over to the hammock that’s farther away from the rest. She touches Trevor’s hammock, trying to keep it stable as she shakes him awake. She feels bad waking him, especially since he looks so cozy and like a sound sleeper.

“Trevor,” Honey whispers, tapping his cheek.

“Mm,” Trevor grunts, turning his head away from her. He’s still mostly asleep– probably a solid 90/10 asleep-or-awake split. “No, Jack. Go ‘way.”

Honey releases a quick breath from her nose, unwilling to laugh aloud at his slurred, sleepy speech. “Trevor, wake up. I don’t want to knock you out of the hammock by accident.” Like a child, she lifts one of his eyelids.

That succeeds in waking him, if only partially. Just enough that he understands where he is and who’s talking to him.

“What, baby?” Trevor slurs, reaching a hand up and rubbing his eyes with a yawn.

“I changed my mind,” Honey says. “Can I sleep with you?”

“C’mon in, gorgeous,” Trevor invites, spreading an arm out so that Honey can climb in and snuggle up to him.

Honey smiles a bit at being called ‘gorgeous’ in her terrible groutfit, especially in the middle of the night after tossing and turning for… hours?

She finds her way into the cot without tipping them over. She’ll have to wake up at first light, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. She’s a restless sleeper. She usually wakes up early anyway– likely before any of the other guys would. Definitely before Bea would. It’s a recurring problem.

Trevor smells nice and more importantly, he’s warm. His chest is strong under her hand, and Honey uses his bicep like a pillow. She intertwines their legs and presses a kiss to his side, tickling him. Honey’s already so much closer to falling asleep with Trevor than when she was alone.

“Thanks,” Honey murmurs, burying her face into Trevor’s shirt.

“You couldn’t sleep?” Trevor asks.

“Mm-mm,” Honey replies, her face still hidden against his body. She shakes her head ‘no’ and throws an arm over his stomach instead of resting it on his chest. She pulls him closer and Trevor chuckles, shaking her.

“Well, sleep tight, baby,” Trevor says.

Honey doesn’t reply. He’s like a furnace next to her, pushing her closer to dream-land with every passing second. She just cuddles up next to him and breathes as evenly as she can.

A few minutes later, Trevor interrupts her near-slumber with a quiet question.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing,” Honey says.

“After the fruit stand, do you want to get dinner?” Trevor asks.

Honey feels her head sag for a second with sleep, coming back to herself after a brief falling sensation. “Mm, ‘kay,” she agrees with a one-shouldered shrug. “I want pizza.”

“Okay, baby,” Trevor says with another laugh, shaking her. Honey whines, tugging his shirt until he stops laughing. “We’ll go get pizza.”

“Good.” Honey feels Trevor kiss her forehead, then face the sky again. She tells him, “Go to bed. I’m sleepy.”

“Couldn’t tell,” Trevor teases. “Don’t drool on me in your sleep.”

“You would be so lucky.”

It doesn’t take long for them to fall asleep after that. Honey feels just one more kiss on her forehead from Trevor. She has only good dreams.

note: I love HoneyTrev. I love Beaquinn. I hope you all loved this chapter too. Now I am moving onto 13 or so oneshots that I am determined to write before I even THINK about Chapter 9 of STG (but let's be real– I like HoneyTrev and Beaquinn too much to ignore them. They're always on my mind.)

ok love you guys, as always, pls hit me up with your feedback and thoughts on this chapter!! i love to talk about stg and it makes me feel really happy when you all give me something to talk about– otherwise i feel like i'm posting this for The Void and that's no fun. ok. bonsoir.

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puck-luck · 3 months ago

Text

new beginnings | july 1 - july 7

36:90 – HONEY

July 1. It’s the first of July and Honey hates today. It’s the anniversary of the day that she told her parents that she wanted to leave Charlotte. She wanted to tell them ahead of their usual July 4th barbecue because they were in a good mood. She’d known for months by then, since the case against Thomas ended, that she wanted to leave the city. She’d been saving up, she had Bea on board, and her only remaining task was to tell Christopher and Stephanie that she wanted out– that she wanted to go to the mountain house and live there, alone, at least until she figured everything out.

That happened in 2019. She and Bea didn’t make it to Litchton until weeks later, after fighting with their parents about how this would be better than going to college. Honey had wanted to move immediately and rid herself of her tainted memories of Charlotte, North Carolina, but the compromise was that Bea would spend her birthday at home for the last time and the pair would pay Honey’s parents half of the value of the mountain house in order to keep it. Honey worked her ass off to complete that payment, just so that she could be out from under the thumb of her parents and free to start over.

At times, she thinks she was too hasty. She wonders what it would’ve been like if she had stayed in Charlotte with her parents– where she would’ve ended up, how she would be living, if she would be past the Thomas thing by now. It’s truly a mystery to her and Honey tries not to spend too much time thinking about what could’ve been.

Still, she woke up feeling off today. She always does on the first day of this month and normally, she’s at work or able to hang out with Bea to take her mind off of it.

Bea, however, had other plans for the day. When Honey called her earlier and asked if she wanted to come over, or if Honey could come over to hers, Bea had gasped and apologized because she had forgotten what today was and already invited Quinn over.

"He’s here now, but you can come hang out with us," Bea said. "I know third wheeling isn’t your idea of a good time, but I’ll give him a really quick blowie to tide him over while you’re here."

Honey had told Bea that she didn’t have to do that and that she would manage well enough on her own.

Bea, before hanging up, had said, "Well, if you decide you can’t be alone, you know who’s always free..."

Then, when Honey had sworn into the phone, Bea promptly laughed and ended the call.

Which leaves Honey with where she is now, staring at her text messages and debating whether or not she should text him.

For a while, Honey had convinced herself that she was fine. She had read her book, played some music and danced around her living room, prepared an early lunch and eaten the last of her peaches and blackberries. She needs to buy watermelon tonight for Independence Day, but it’s too early to head to the fruit stand. She likes to go in the evenings, when Joan replenishes her supply. She goes outside and tries to string up an old hammock she finds in the bottom of her hall closet, then she sunbathes for a while until she can feel the sunburn prickling at her skin.

And here she is. Actually debating it– actually considering texting Trevor. Honey has only a few problems with texting Trevor– #1, that it’s the first time she will have reached out to him. #2, that she’s not averse to him coming over, not in the slightest.

A month ago, even up until two weeks ago, Honey swore that she wouldn’t allow any of the boys to step foot into her home. This was her sacred space, rarely to be shared with anyone but Bea and occasionally Sean, Bea’s ex-fling from their first winter in Litchton who comes up to mow Honey’s grass on his riding mower once a month. Honey is perturbed that she’s okay with inviting Trevor over– even more perturbed that there’s a part of her that wants to invite Trevor over.

Sometime after she comes inside, in true Blue Ridge Mountain fashion, it starts to storm. It’s finally July in the mountains and that means rain, at least a sprinkling, every afternoon around 3pm. Unless, of course, they’re in a drought-week, when it doesn’t rain at all. After the drought-week ends, they’ll have a short monsoon season to make up for it.

Honey prefers when it rains every afternoon for an hour. Most days, the sun is still shining and she gets to look out for a rainbow. What seemed rare during her summers in Litchton as a child, just from her own flawed memories that have faded over time, is plentiful now. Honey loves the rainbows just as much as she did then, back when she used to play fairies in the woods with her Barbie dolls and little pink wings strapped to her back.

She wishes her parents would have allowed Bea to come visit back then so that Bea could’ve put on her own purple, feathery angel wings and run around with Honey. They used to do that in the cul-de-sac where Bea lived when they first became friends, brandishing magic wands and riding their old scooters until they were too tall to comfortably reach the handles. Then, they learned to bike.

Sometimes, when she thinks about days like that, Honey misses Charlotte. When she was a kid, Litchton seemed so far removed from her world and she would dread being alone up here with no one but her parents and the townsfolk to talk to. As she grew up, she started to understand it more. Once everything happened, the switch flipped, and Charlotte was ruined for her. Litchton was completely safe– the only thing that had been missing was Bea.

So they came up together– which is part of the reason why Honey feels extra lonely. Bea can’t hang out today and Honey misses her. Honey is lonely because she misses having Bea in the house on this very significant anniversary and that, not the fact that she wants Trevor to come over– thank you very much!– is what spurs her to text him.

“Come over?”

Honey stares at the message, deleting it and retyping it in a series of different ways (“Do you want to come over?”, “What are you doing rn?”, and “Hi”) before deleting all of them and sending her original composition with a cringe. She tosses her phone onto her bed, face down, then she crosses the room and decides to reorganize her sock drawer.

It takes all of ten minutes for her to empty the drawer, refold all of her socks and underwear, and move all of her bras to one of her cubbies in her closet. When she finally checks her phone, Trevor hasn’t responded.

Her stomach sinks because really– she thought that Trevor was more into her. He’s always been the kind of guy to respond immediately (the one time she texted him back before this) and the kind to follow her around just to get her attention. Why hasn’t he texted her back yet?

It’s hard not to take the lack of response as a rejection, because Honey’s gone completely insane apparently and she suddenly cares what Trevor thinks and what Trevor does. She tosses her phone down again and moves on to her shoes, reorganizing them into neat lines and tossing out the pairs that she deems too old or too unfashionable or too unique to fit with anything but one specific outfit.

It’s then that she hears her back door bang open and the clatter of feet climbing her steps.

Oh my God, Honey thinks. Oh my God. There’s an intruder and he’s coming to get me. I knew I should’ve locked my back door after sunbathing! Dad told me that I needed to buy a gun if I was going to live alone in the woods!

Honey looks around the room for something to defend herself and settles on her lamp, unplugging it and holding it up, ready to crash it on the head of whatever poor soul tried to enter her house and hurt her. It’s completely self-defense.

She presses her back against the wall behind her door and subtly reaches over to lock it, just as the footsteps make it to the top of the stairs. They come racing down the hall and she rears back, lifting the lamp higher.

The person jiggles the doorknob, then when they realize it isn’t opening, they bang on the wood. The pounding has Honey grinding her teeth and shrinking back, hoping that the person isn’t strong enough to break the door down and that they don’t have a weapon that they can drive through the door before shouting “Here’s Johnny!”

“Honey!” Trevor calls, knocking. “Honey, are you okay? Let me in!”

Honey rests her head against the wall, knocking it against the paint a few times. She’s a fucking moron for jumping to conclusions that the person in her house was an intruder– she needn’t have worried about Trevor not texting her back. Of course he was already on the way, as soon as he read her “Come over?” message.

She sighs and her hand drops to her side, still holding the lamp. She pushes away from the wall, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

Trevor looks disheveled on the other side, pushing his way into her bedroom and grabbing her arm to pull Honey behind him as he surveys the room. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His eyes drop to the lamp in her hands and he furrows his brow. “What’s with the lamp?”

“I thought you were a murderer who broke into my house!” Honey exclaims, thrusting the lamp against his chest until he cradles it there.

“You invited me over!”

“I thought you would text me back like a normal person!”

“You were going to defend yourself against a murderer with a lamp?”

“Well, I didn’t have a gun!”

“You would’ve shot me?”

“This is an absurd conversation! Why didn’t you just text me back?” Honey throws her hands up in exasperation.

“I thought you were in danger,” Trevor says. “So I came right over.”

Honey laughs. “You are such a caveman.”

Trevor breaks out into a smile. He places the lamp on Honey’s bedside table and then brings his hands to her shoulders, drawing her against his body into a tight hug. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, squishing his cheek against the top of her head.

Honey squirms in his arms. “Lemme go,” she says, struggling.

“No,” Trevor insists, holding her tighter.

“Lemme go,” Honey repeats, drawing out the word and pouting up at the boy.

“Hi,” Trevor says, loosening his grip on her just enough that he can bend down and peck the pout on her lips. “What’d you invite me over for? Thought you hated me.”

“Still do,” Honey tells him, although they both know it’s a lie. She’s still perturbed about the fact that she doesn’t hate him, but she’s unwilling to admit it. Maybe she doesn’t even have to– he seems to know.

“Gonna answer my question?” Trevor teases. “Why’d you invite me over… and all that?”

“Oh, blah,” Honey scoffs, waving him off. “Not important.”

“Very important since it’s the first time you texted me first,” Trevor corrects. “That’s so monumental that I thought you were dying and you needed me to save you.”

“Good God,” Honey says. “I didn’t know you had a savior complex, too.”

“Why do you think I’m still hanging around with you?” Trevor jokes, winking at Honey.

“Ugh, so not funny,” Honey tells him, rolling her eyes. “Only invited you over because Bea was busy.”

Trevor groans. “Oh, I know. Quinn went over to hers at the asscrack of dawn and slammed the front door behind him. That door is so heavy that it practically shook the whole house.” He pauses. “So I’m your second choice?”

“It was either you or Ada,” Honey says. “Except Ada doesn’t like it when we bother her on the weekend. She says she sees enough of us at the Nook on the weekends.”

“I’ll remember that next time Bea drags me to a church service and I see her there.”

“Bea drags you to church services regularly?” Honey asks.

“At least twice.”

A quick silence passes between them and Trevor grins, broad and stupid.

“Hi, Trevor,” Honey finally says, a proper greeting for the boy. She pulls him down by the collar of his shirt and plants a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Wanna go get fruit with me?”

“I drove all the way over here, found your only unlocked door, and broke in just so that we could leave again?” Trevor asks.

Honey beams up at him. “Yes. That’s why I invited you over.”

Trevor clicks his tongue at her and rolls his eyes, then reaches over to her bedpost and picks up her mesh bag, the one that she always takes to the fruit stand on Mondays. He slings it over his shoulder and returns to her bedroom door, holding it wide open for her.

Honey walks past him, feeling him turn and lumber closely behind her. He stays close to her, hands pinching the sides of her hips over her jean shorts. Honey weasels out of his grip– he’s so touchy– and lets him lead her out the front door to the car. She chases him, getting him back for his own lack of personal space, using the back of his shirt like a bride’s train.

She’s giggling a little as she does so, catching herself as she pulls open the passenger door to his car. She quiets herself and sits in the front seat, her knees together and turned away from Trevor. She looks out the window, watching the trees pass until they make it to town.

He pulls into the parking lot of the grocery store and follows Honey dutifully to the stand. Trevor greets Joan as Honey starts to shop, inspecting the berries and the watermelons on the stand. He hovers near her, murmuring and holding up one of the larger watermelons for her to inspect.

“Fourth of July?” He asks. “Are you coming to hang out with us? Jim and Ellen are coming tomorrow and they want to have a barbecue with everyone on Thursday. Then, maybe a lake day on Friday?”

“I might be able to make it,” Honey says. “Is Bea officially going?”

“Quinn is convincing her now,” Trevor replies.

Honey snorts. She bets he is– it’s not hard to convince Bea to do something when you’re dicking her down on the regular.

Trevor nods, understanding the implication Honey is making. “So?”

“If Bea goes, I’ll go.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Trevor says. He puts the melon on his shoulder and holds it with one hand. “Get me another? We’ll need two since there are nine of us.”

“No, we don’t,” Honey corrects. “One watermelon can feed up to thirty people. I read it once.”

Trevor quirks a smile. “Okay. Only one. I’ll tell Jack that you know better than he does.”

“I do know better than he does, and I last longer in the sack, too,” Honey says definitively. She barely realizes the joke she’s making, letting the words fall from her mouth the same way she’d joke around Bea. It’s an ease that comes with years of friendship, but with Trevor, the ease came within weeks.

She doesn’t have the time to ponder what that means for her– what her relationship with Trevor is, aside from the obvious fact that they’ve hooked up four times now. Does the fourth count if he robbed her of an orgasm by finishing so soon? She considers the other boys to be her friends– why not him?

I don’t know. It’s just different with him.

Trevor allows Honey to load a bunch of fruit into the bag that he’s still carrying. He holds the watermelon in one hand, atop his shoulder. The other, eventually, cradles a pineapple that he took from Honey so her arms were free. When she goes to take her wallet out to pay for the fruit, he lifts a foot and nudges the back of her knee so that she crumbles forward a bit.

She turns to him, ready to berate, but Trevor just turns his hip and pops it toward her.

“What?” Honey snaps.

“Let me pay,” Trevor says. “The watermelon is for my party, after all.”

Honey lets her shoulders sag when she lets out a deep sigh. “You won’t take no for an answer, will you,” she states.

“Nope,” Trevor replies, smiling again.

Honey relents and uses his wallet, earning a sympathetic smile from Joan. Honey doesn’t feel like she deserves it. It’s the kind of smile you give to a mother whose child is screaming in public, or a wife whose spouse is pissing her off and she’s barely containing herself. Trevor is not her spouse, that’s for sure. She might be questioning their relationship, but she knows that it’s nothing more than friends– maybe?– who hook up.

He’s just helping her through the Thomas thing. He’s helping her get comfortable with sex again, with being desired again. That’s it.

They load the groceries into the car together and Trevor drives her back to the house, carrying all the fruit into her kitchen and insisting on putting it away.

He does so completely wrong and Honey knows that as soon as he leaves, she’ll have to reorganize based on her own system. She watches from the counter, only correcting him a few times before he tells her to quit and let him do this good deed.

Honey heads upstairs, to her bed, and changes into a pair of pajamas. It’s just about dinner time and she had plans to make herself some pasta, but she doesn’t want to crowd Trevor in the kitchen. She burrows into her bed, bringing her knees up as a stand to rest her book on while she reads it and waits for him.

It’s a good thirty minutes before Trevor returns to her bedroom, two plates in hand. Instead of pasta, he made some sort of wrap and filled a little bowl with ranch for them to dip their dinners into. She thanks him quietly and they eat together in relative silence.

Trevor’s knee presses against her hip, touching her at all times. It’s a little overstimulating, but Honey doesn’t mind it all that much.

“I didn’t really want to be alone today,” Honey says through a bite. “That’s why I invited you over.”

“Okay,” Trevor says simply. He doesn’t press any further, and while Honey appreciates that, she also wishes that he would.

She talks on. “Today’s the day I told my parents that I wanted to leave Charlotte.”

Trevor pauses and watches her for a moment before taking another bite of his wrap. “That sounds like it was hard.”

Honey blinks, surprised that Trevor’s first instinct is to be empathetic, not to ask more questions or shrug her off like she assumes most frat-boy-esque guys would.

“It was,” Honey acknowledges after hesitating for a moment. She looks down at her plate in her hands, then moves it to her bedside table and leaves it there. She’s not very hungry now that she’s talking about her life with Trevor. She’s not on the verge of tears this time, which is exciting.

“You left because of him,” Trevor says. “Didn’t you?”

Honey sucks her teeth. “It was a little more complicated than that. Thomas’ actions were the straw that broke the camel’s back, really. I had wanted to live here for a while and I knew that I didn’t want to go to college, but yes. I moved because of Thomas.”

“Was it the right decision?” Trevor asks, polishing off his wrap and wiping his hands on his shirt like a neanderthal. Honey wants to berate him for not having proper manners– another side effect of growing up where she did in Charlotte.

Honey thinks for a moment. “I asked myself that this morning, you know.”

“Great minds.”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t call your mind great, Trev. Too many hockey concussions, I bet.”

Trevor chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “Whatever, Honey.”

Honey considers his question again as he leans over the edge of the bed to set his plate on the floor. “I think it was the right decision. I’m happier here than I ever would have been as an adult in Charlotte.”

“With me?” Trevor teases, inching closer and bundling himself under the covers next to Honey.

“I only just met you, I wouldn’t say you’re a big part of my happiness in Litchton,” Honey tells him. “You’re reaching.”

Trevor shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

“But, yeah. Today’s the anniversary of the day that I told them I wanted to leave. It’s a weird day for me.” Honey pushes his wandering hands away and gathers their dishes before walking to the kitchen. She starts to wash the plates and the bowl of ranch, which went relatively untouched throughout their meal.

Trevor follows her to the kitchen, doing that same puppy-dog thing that he always does. “I can’t imagine you anywhere other than Litchton.”

Honey raises her eyebrows quickly, widening her eyes in a sarcastic glance at the boy. She scrubs her plate harder, making sure there are no scraps remaining. “Really,” she drawls.

Trevor snickers. “You sound like Jack. Yeah, really. Would you ever tell me about what Charlotte was like for you?”

“Mm. Maybe someday. Not today. I’ll answer any other question.” Honey realizes shortly after Trevor’s face lights up that she should be more careful with her words.

“So do you really last longer than Jack in the sack?” Trevor asks, jumping at his chance to hold her to her statement.

“Oh, fuck off, Trevor,” Honey laughs. She sets the wet plates in her dishrack to dry, then dries her hands on the washcloth that she keeps on the handle of the cabinet near the sink.

“C’mon,” Trevor goads, smiling wide. He rounds the counter and puts his hands on Honey again, tugging at her loose shirt until her chest is pressed up against his front. “You said you’d answer any other question. That’s my question.”

“You are so annoying,” Honey groans. She rolls her head back so that she can look up at the boy, putting distance between them.

Trevor scrunches his nose and leans down, inches from her lips. “Do you really last longer than Jack in the sack?” He whispers.

Honey pinches her lips together to avoid smiling at his silliness. She likes the side of Trevor that she sees when they’re alone, his quiet confidence and goofy charm. She’s a little embarrassed to admit that it’s starting to work on her after all this dedication. He still gets on her nerves, though, and his lines are stupid and that will never change.

She lifts up onto her tiptoes slightly, daring the boy with her own whisper. “Wanna find out?”

When Honey says it, to be fair, she doesn’t expect Trevor to say yes. She expects him to pull away with a laugh and lead her back up to her bedroom, where they’ll snuggle in her bed because he’s touchy and too apprehensive to cross the line until Honey initiates their next hookup.

What she doesn’t expect is for Trevor’s eyes to flash and then grow dark, for him to bend at the knees and grip the back of her thighs and lift her. He carries her away, up to the loft, and he tosses her onto the bed on her back. A yelp escapes from Honey’s lips. Trevor follows her down, blanketing her with his body. He kisses her, long and deep, causing her to melt underneath him.

Then, when they break apart, she pushes him up and looks at him, squinting at his face. He’s content, hovering above her for a moment.

“All bark, no bite?” Trevor asks, his thumb rubbing in soothing passes on her cheek. That hand cradles her jaw while he cups her waist with the other.

“I don’t bite, unless you want me to,” Honey says, parroting his own words from the night that she jerked him off in his bedroom.

Trevor seems to recognize the words, leaning down to kiss her again. “I want you to,” Trevor murmurs. “I want you to be all bite, Honey.”

Honey shrugs with one shoulder, nonchalant. “Whatever you say.” Then she places her hand on the back of Trevor’s neck, her index finger tickling the hair at his nape. She pulls him down, leaving absolutely no space between their bodies, and she fits her lips over his pulse point, bruising his skin with her suction.

She’s going to teach him a lesson for leaving all those hickeys on her neck on Saturday. He’s going to get the exact same treatment. She’s half-sure that it’ll backfire on her and he’ll just show the marks off without a care in the world, but she can only hope that he experiences the same shame she did. They’re not in high school, for fuck’s sake– hickeys aren’t cute or practical. They’re a pain.

Although, the little moan he breathes out when she nibbles at his skin is so appealing that she just loses herself, sucking marks along his neck.

Trevor pulls his shirt off, exposing more skin for her to mark up. Honey kisses down his chest, along his collarbones, and over his shoulders before licking her lips and tasting his sweat. He tugs at her shirt, making it go askew before he can fully take it off because he’s so excited to get his fingers on her tits again.

Honey knows her nipple piercings are hot. It’s part of the reason why she got them– she loves to look at herself in the mirror, loves to see the expression on people’s faces when they learn that she has them, loves to answer the question “Did it hurt?” that inevitably comes up within minutes of the piercing reveal.

She just didn’t know that Trevor would like them so much.

His mouth is practically sealed over one of them, tongue flicking over it in little kitten licks that have her breathless and gasping in order to keep her mind from floating away. It took a couple of months for her piercings to become as sensitive as they are now and she would absolutely go through the entire healing process again if it means that Trevor will treat her tits like this every time they hook up.

He’s ignoring her other breast so that his fingers can find her pajama shorts, a Walmart pair with stars on them and a scrunchy waist. Trevor dips his hand under the waistband, finding that she’s not wearing underwear. She rarely does when she’s wearing pajamas, especially considering her favorite pajama shorts are a pair of old boxers that she can’t get rid of, despite who they used to belong to.

Trevor moves quickly, skimming his fingers along her folds until he decides that she’s ready to take one. Then, he starts to finger her– harsh and quick and just enough to get her ready and loose. He wants to go the whole way and Honey knows it. Better yet, she’s okay with it.

She wrenches him off of her chest with a hard tug to his hair, drawing a whine from Trevor’s throat that she drinks up. She kisses him again, using her other hand to pull his waistband back and snap his shorts against his hips. It’s her not-so subtle way of telling him to get a move on.

Trevor removes his hand from Honey’s shorts, tugging them off, then tugging his own. He loses the articles of clothing in the bedsheets as he makes his way underneath them. Honey can feel the covers brushing her skin, feeling light and airy against her body. Trevor’s hand returns to the space between her legs and his fingers press into her cunt, stretching her open.

He’s not nearly as fervorous as the first time he fingered her on the counter in The Reading Nook. He kisses her in a way that has her mind straying from the feeling of his fingers inside of her.

“You want me to make you come now? Or do you want to come on my cock?” Trevor asks, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks.

“Don’t care,” Honey replies. “Whichever.” She rolls her hips down on his fingers. His thumb catches her clit and she jolts, her hand finding Trevor’s side and digging her nails into the skin. He tucks the “offending” digit to the side, avoiding her clit. It’s the opposite of what she meant for him to do, but he does it anyway. He speaks.

“Here’s our dilemma,” Trevor says. “I could make you come now, but that means you might finish as fast as Jack would. But, on the other hand, then I’ll make you come on my cock, and Jack can barely even dream about coming twice in one night.”

Honey’s not sure why he’s still thinking about how long she lasts in the sack compared to Jack when he’s got her in the sack… underneath him… and naked.

“Or, you could last longer and I’ll make sure you come while I’m fucking you,” Trevor finishes. “What do you think?”

Honey huffs and drags her hand under his underwear, pushing the band down as far as she can with one hand. “Think about it like this, Trevor. You could make me come once or you could make me come twice. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Trevor’s eyes widen as she says it, like her words are really that eye-opening and meaningful.

“Oh, you’re coming twice,” Trevor decides. He wiggles his fingers inside of her, scissoring them as he thrusts and twisting on occasion, just for a new sensation. “I’m going to make you come so many times this summer, Hon.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Honey replies. She’s close to the precipice, reaching down to rub her clit for the added stimulation.

Trevor frowns and bats her hand away. “Let me do that,” he complains.

“Then do it,” Honey says. “Because y’sure are taking your time for someone who wants to see me come so bad.”

“Don’t be so bossy,” Trevor chastises. He bullies his fingers inside of her, replacing her fingers on her clit with the heel of his palm. “I know how to make you feel good. Trust me.”

Honey feels taken aback, surprised by Trevor’s chagrin. It’s clear that he prefers to take charge in the bedroom, even though his sweet little noises highlight how well he takes what Honey gives him.

At one point in her life, she liked it when her partner took charge in the bedroom. It’s part of the reason why she let Thomas take pictures and why she sent him nudes while they were apart. She got a kick out of it– but ever since she experienced Thomas’ betrayal, she has become so much more self-sufficient and independent. Honey is on the borderline of independent and hermitish, having grown so used to being alone.

That isn’t to say she doesn’t miss the feeling of being ordered around. She enjoys being told what to do, being led in that way, and she knows that she likes it. What she’s not sure of is if she can trust Trevor like that– it took her a long time to get to that point with Thomas. Logically, it should take even longer with Trevor.

For the first time in a long time, Honey really wants to throw caution to the wind. She wants to take the illogical route. She wants Trevor to take care of her. It’s a matter of saying yes– yet, her mind is calling for her to deny him. Her mind is calling her to continue the attitude, to bat him away the same way he pushed her hand away and show him how well she can take care of herself– because she doesn't need him. She's fine on her own.

But she wants to lose herself in him. She wants it more than she’s wanted anything.

“Relax,” Trevor murmurs. He kisses her lips chastely. When he pulls away, he kisses her cheek and redoubles his effort between her legs. His fingers are swift and agile, always moving in some way, and it really is only a matter of time before Honey is trembling beneath him, gasping and stuttering because it’s the only response her body has to Trevor.

In a moment that’s positively inspired, Trevor’s fingers nudge against the soft, spongy, elusive spot inside of her. His contact causes Honey to cry out and clutch at his skin, wherever she can get her hands.

“Trevor, keep– there,” Honey chokes out, rolling her hips as best she can while her legs shake. She’s close, so close. She can feel her restraint slipping away with each pet of the pads of Trevor’s fingers on her walls.

The ecstasy of being with someone, rather than doing this alone, continues to send a thrill through her because it’s new. It’s been years since she had this. It’s been years since she wanted to have this and Trevor proves himself more and more worthy each time they have one of these moments.

If Honey isn’t careful, she’ll fall for him further with each climax he gives her.

The thought can barely cross her mind before she’s tumbling over the edge, her mind’s last ditch effort at self-preservation buried by an avalanche of pleasure, kickstarted by the man with whom she told herself she would never be alone.

Trevor carries her through the debris of her orgasm, a guiding hand secure on her hip to keep her body from arching off the bed.

“So good, baby,” Trevor praises, pressing his lips to her cheek. He touches his pelvis to her side, giving himself some relief and reminding her that there’s still more to come.

Honey can’t even correct him when he calls her ‘baby,’ despite normally being against the sentiment. The only people in her life that have ever called her ‘baby’ are Bea, her parents, and Thomas. Bea’s aware of Honey’s aversion to the pet name, so usually she tacks ‘Honey’ onto the name and doubles up. Honey doesn’t mind that so much.

She kind of likes the way that the word bleeds from Trevor’s mouth, though. It’s soft and laced with some sort of admiration that she can’t define. The word rolls off of his tongue like it’s the most natural thing in the world and, as much as Honey dislikes it, she wants to hear him say it again. He says it like the end of a prayer.

Her hand dips into his shorts and she wordlessly tugs at them again, insistently pulling until Trevor laughs and buries his face in her neck to blow a raspberry. It’s then, after indulging in his silliness, that he lifts his hips and sheds his underwear.

Honey smacks his shoulder lightly, scolding him for leaving her neck wet and for dillydallying so much. It’s not much of a punishment, but once his cock is freed, she wraps her fingers around his cock and starts to work over him.

Despite his low groan and the way his hips lurch forward, Trevor touches her wrist. “Don’t,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to come in your hand this time.”

“Where do you want to come?” Honey whispers at the same volume. Her hand moves slower, but it still moves nonetheless.

Trevor leaks from his tip, cursing her name softly. “In you,” he admits, mumbling a little. “Wanna see my cum leak out of you.”

“God, you’re possessive,” Honey faux-scolds. “You love when there’s proof that you’re fucking me, huh?”

Trevor blushes at her call-out, rolling on top of her so that he can bury his face between her breasts. His hands are on the sides of her chest, smushing her tits together so that he’s practically smothered. It’s so silly and so boy that Honey wants to giggle.

Honey touches his hair, petting through the strands until he’s able to show his face again. Before he can speak, she continues.

“You know,” Honey muses. “Once every three months, Bea and I have a girls day where we go to this clinic in Winston and treat ourselves to a birth control shot.”

“You do?” Trevor asks, popping up like a meerkat. His features are contorted with delight, forming that fuckass face he always makes.

“Mhm,” Honey confirms. “And it’s 99.7% effective.”

“Well, .3% is such a slim margin. I think I’m willing to risk it,” Trevor says.

Honey fixes him with a little look. “You think?”

“Actually, I know I’m willing to risk it,” Trevor corrects. “I need to fuck you. You don’t know how badly I’m aching for it.”

“Explain it to me,” Honey goads, squeezing his shaft and guiding it to her lower lips. She’s dripping from her previous climax, but even without that, she’d probably be wet enough for Trevor to bury himself inside of her.

“Never wanted anyone like I want you, Honey,” Trevor tells her earnestly. “I can’t explain it in words. I need to fuck you because I need to show you how I feel. I need to make you come until you’re absolutely boneless and stupid because it’s how I feel when I’m around you.”

Honey quirks her eyebrows, reaching down to trail her hands through her wetness. She smears her come all over his cock, an action that has Trevor closing his eyes because he’s so overwhelmed.

“I can barely fucking stand being around you sometimes because I want you so bad,” Trevor whines.

He’s groveling as she teases him, guiding his tip through her folds. He’s blurting precum, creamy and mixing with her own juices. Honey remembers how he tasted, musky and manly and she thinks about doing it again, depriving him of her warm cunt and instead treating him to her warm, wet mouth.

“I’ve never– fuck, all my other times have been sex for sex, Honey. Not with you. Never with you. Need to make you feel good because you make me feel so, so good.”

Honey feels lightheaded at his words and how honest he sounds when he says them. She was never going to deprive him of her pussy, but he’s certainly made a case for himself. It’s impossible to even consider sucking him off now.

Honey brings his tip to her center, feeling herself flex and widen to embrace him.

It’s monumental for Honey. They’re both holding their breath as Trevor takes over and inches forward, smothering her neck in sweet kisses that don’t leave a mark, thank you very much. Honey wraps her arms around his neck, keeping him tight against her body. She’s biting her lip until she realizes she can feel the vein on the underside of his cock throbbing inside of her, which is when her mouth falls open and she keens.

Trevor treasures the sound, tip brushing against her walls in a way that has her making the same noise again.

Honey rakes her eyes over his face and down his chest. She catches a series of crescent shapes on his chest, indenting the skin there. In a flash, she connects that it’s the place where her fingernails caught on his skin the first time she came, digging into his body almost violently because he made her feel so overcome with satisfaction. She clawed at him and in astonishment, she traces the marks.

After touching those marks, Honey lets her eyes fall lower, to the place where he’s fucking into her. He’s still moving slowly and she can see the way she’s coating him completely. It derives more of a feeling, watching him fuck her. Feeling it is one thing, but seeing it is another. It intensifies her excitement, drives her closer to the edge.

She always comes more quickly the second time, her ability to hold on struggling with each hard snap of Trevor’s hips.

It’s been less than two minutes since he started fucking her and Honey is reeling.

It seems Trevor is going through the same thing.

“God, you’re tight,” Trevor grunts out, his teeth clenched tightly. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you.”

“Can’t believe you’re fucking me,” Honey echoes, her eyelashes fluttering as she takes him in.

There’s reverence in his eyes, reverence that flickers into something softer when she speaks. He’s barely holding himself up, hovering just enough that he can drive his hips into her heat. He still shares her breath, his lips just millimeters from hers. She can practically taste the sweat forming at the bow of his lips because he’s so close.

“Did you–” Trevor starts to ask, but he cuts himself off.

Honey fills in the blank. Did you think about this? “Couldn’t help it,” Honey admits. “I–” She interrupts herself with a moan when Trevor increases his pace, increases the strength of his thrusts.

“And you say you hate me,” Trevor teases. He sweeps his thumb across her cheekbone, then pushes her messy hair up onto the pillow and out of his way. It’s spread around her head like a halo, and it probably looks silly, but Honey can’t find it in herself to care.

“I do,” Honey reminds him, the protest growing weaker each time she says it. She pulls him down by his hair, scratching over his neck and back until her hand rests on the base of his spine, feeling it flex and curve with each movement. She fits her mouth next to his ear and whispers, “But I don’t hate the way you fuck me.”

Trevor shivers in her grip as she whispers to him. “Yeah?” He asks, all breathy. Honey could probably come from just the sound of his breathing. “You like this? Like it when I fill you up with my cock?”

“Oh, I needed it,” Honey banters back. The statement is half true– she didn’t really realize how much she missed having sex until the possibility came back into her life. The other half is purely a joke to stroke Trevor’s ego– she knows he gets off on being wanted by her, having his feelings reciprocated.

He is a good fuck. He’s someone that Honey is able to give herself to because he cares that much.

She’s coming before her mind can start spitballing anxious accusations: that Trevor will leave her worse than Thomas did, that she’ll have to move towns again, that people will start talking about her behind her back again and knowing things that they have no business knowing.

No, her troubles and anxieties are just the tiniest voice in the back of her head, barely audible and certainly not important.

The important thing is the way that Trevor spills inside of her when she clenches down. She can feel him twitching, see the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his head dips as his chest heaves and stutters, and hear the way his strangled moan gets caught in the back of his throat. Soon enough, she can taste his tongue against hers, kissing her and slowing everything back down to a normal pace after the burst of energy that exploded from her body when they came together.

It takes them minutes to come down. Their breath syncs up, although neither of them realizes it, and Trevor is slow to pull away.

It’s just the two of them and Trevor is cuddly, Honey learns. He keeps an arm over her stomach as she lays on her back. He lays his cheek on her shoulder, watching her until he rests his forehead where his cheek lay, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to her skin.

Today seems to be a day full of broken promises for Honey, because she once said that Trevor would never make it to her house. She once said he would never fuck her. She once said he would never see her again.

Now, he’s asleep in her bed, and Honey can only turn to him, curl up in his arms, and take a deep inhale through her nose, letting Trevor’s scent wash over her. It’s comforting and strong, just like his arm around her, and Honey presses a series of kisses over the crescent shaped marks on his chest before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

37:90 – TREVOR

It was hard for Trevor to tear himself away from Honey this morning. Well, he uses the term “morning” loosely. When he woke up, it was as the sun rose because Honey apparently always wakes up early before her first shift of the week. Trevor had tried to hold onto her and keep her tight against his chest, but she had wiggled away.

Then, he had rolled to her side of the bed and breathed in the smell of her shampoo on her pillow. It had taken him minutes to blink his slumber away and gain control of his limbs, enough that he could roll out of her bed and follow after her.

He couldn’t find his shirt, so all he could pull on were his boxers and his shorts. Once he started following Honey, it didn’t take him long to figure out why his shirt was missing– it’s because she was wearing it.

Trevor’s morning wood was already a contender that Honey had denied when they had woken up, but seeing her in his shirt made Trevor’s dick twitch with interest like she had never said no. Of course, he didn’t mention the boner, or the fact that she was wearing his shirt, because she would just give him lip about it and whip the thing off before he could tell her how much he liked it.

Honey made coffee, mostly for herself, and Trevor stole the last of it to make himself half a mug of the warm drink. As he did that, Honey bundled up on the sofa with her book and a blanket. She got to reading, blowing cool air on and sipping her coffee intermittently. Trevor joined her and just watched.

They didn’t speak much– just a sentence here and there from Trevor and a hum from Honey answering him. Sometimes, she would make a little noise about something she read and Trevor would ask her to read the line aloud. Out of context, her huffs made little sense, but Trevor liked being part of her morning routine.

While he would’ve preferred to sleep until noon with the beautiful girl, Trevor decides he would get up early every morning to experience this quiet domesticity with Honey, if that’s what she wanted.

When the clock mounted on Honey’s wall chirped to mark the start of a new hour, she promptly snapped her book shut and looked at Trevor.

He had gotten the hint and wished for her to have a good day, leaning across the couch to offer up a kiss, which he was delighted that Honey actually took. They rarely kissed outside of hooking up, or getting close to hooking up, but Trevor felt the same rush of affection in his kiss goodbye as he did in the kiss they shared when he pressed his fingers inside of her heat.

“See you on Thursday?” Trevor mentioned quietly before he went but after the kiss, hoping that Honey would definitively show up to the Hugheses’ Fourth of July barbecue, the first one to be thrown in Litchton.

“Mhm,” Honey had agreed quietly, a minute nod shaking her body with the movement on the plush couch cushions. She brought a finger up and touched the corner of Trevor’s mouth, just a trace, before letting her hand drop back down.

Trevor kissed her again, then he went.

He’s sure that she got ready for her opening shift at The Reading Nook after he left. She probably realized she had donned his shirt after getting out of bed and changed into something more Honey. He wouldn’t complain about that– he loves her tiny tank tops and her little daisy dukes and her flowy, unique skirts.

Yet, in his caveman way– as Honey would call it– Trevor loved seeing her in nothing but one of his Ducks-branded shirts. That’s why he left the shirt adorning her beautiful body, an image that he’ll keep coming back to in the days to come before he sees her again.

Thursday. He’ll see her Thursday.

He pulls into the driveway of the mountain house, thinking about how Honey is probably parallel parking on Litchton’s main street. He likes the idea that they’re living their lives adjacently, that she’s doing the same thing as he is. Maybe she’s thinking about him, and how he’s just now arriving home, too.

He’s so preoccupied with Honey’s habits that he hardly notices the new car in the driveway. Ellen and Jim must have driven up late last night instead of staying the night in the Charlotte hotel that Quinn had booked for them.

When Trevor walks through the door, Cole calls for him from the kitchen.

“Honey, I’m home!” He teases, popping his head around the corner. “See how it works both ways, Z? You’re hopeless for that gi– where’s your shirt?”

The abrupt change in conversation has more heads peeking out from around the corner, looming eyes surveying his half-clothed figure. Quinn rolls his eyes, Jack smirks, and Ellen tilts her head like she’s about to scold him.

“I was– working out,” Trevor says. It’s not technically a lie. He hopes that it’s close enough to the truth that it can redeem him, especially in the eyes of Ellen Hughes, who is practically his second mother.

Luckily, Ellen is the kind of mother to ignore her children’s sexual exploits when she can. She tries to avoid them, taking any lie that comes her way without a grain of salt. She’ll buy anything as long as it can make sense.

“Well, honey, why don’t you head upstairs and get a shower,” Ellen suggests. “Then you can join us downstairs– with all of your clothes– and you can join us on our tour of the town?”

Trevor’s heart does, in fact, flip-flop when Ellen calls him “honey,” like a pavlovian response.

“Oh, Mom, one of the girls is named Honey,” Luke says gently. “Y’gotta stick to other nicknames. We wouldn’t want to get confused.”

“And when am I meeting these girls?” Ellen asks. “You all have mentioned them every time we’ve talked. I’m anxious to see what’s got all of my boys so smitten.”

“Smitten,” Jack repeats with a scoff. “They’re our friends, Mom.”

Trevor takes that sentiment as his leave of absence, heading up the stairs and hopping in the shower. He takes his time, washing his hair and hastily scrubbing his body with soap to get rid of the traces of Honey so that he feels less guilty around Ellen and Jim. The ghost of Honey’s hands– as wonderful as they feel when he’s alone– raise goosebumps over his skin when he thinks about Ellen and Jim knowing.

Maybe Honey is rubbing off on him.

In all honesty, it’s probably the fact that Trevor has now gotten an insight into the private life that Honey lives. She doesn’t want to share their relationship with people. She barely wants to share herself with people, but she’s started to welcome Trevor in.

Hell, she invited him over yesterday. She teased him in her sweet, devoted, but biting way. It’s the same way that she talks to Bea when they’re sharing jokes or private moments in a room with everybody. Trevor is starting to get to know Honey.

He doesn’t want the other guys to know and chirp him for it, because she’ll close back up. He doesn’t want Jim and Ellen asking about their relationship, because it will make Honey shrivel up and close in on herself like a piece of origami.

So, Trevor plants a worm in Jack’s ear.

“Sorry I ran out so fast yesterday. I didn't know the ‘rents were driving up. I would’ve stayed.”

“Nah, man, it’s all good,” Jack says. They’re walking down the main sidewalk. They passed The Reading Nook a hundred feet or so ago and it took everything out of Trevor to not look inside and find Honey. “You were busy.” He raises his eyebrows when he says the word, smirking to himself.

Regardless of his assumptions and fuckboyish attitude, Trevor notes, now is the time to save himself and Honey from speculation.

“Yeah, I–” he clears his throat. “Was chatting with someone and ended up spending the night with her. She’s leaving soon for a vacation, so I wanted to, uh. You know.”

They’re out of earshot of the parents and the brothers (and Cole), but Trevor knows Jack will pass the words along to the rest of the boys the same way the knitting ladies string gossip along their needles.

Jack eyes him. “You’re not– with Honey?”

Trevor huffs out a little laugh, concocting the lie that came to him in the shower earlier perfectly. “Dude,” he laughs. “Honey and me? She wouldn't touch me unless she was dared to.”

“But you like her,” Jack insists. “And I told her that you like her.”

“When did you– never mind,” Trevor says, shaking his head. “The point is, she doesn’t want me. I’m finding my kicks elsewhere.”

“You know, Bea would probably…”

“No,” Trevor interrupts. “I’m not hooking up with Bea.”

Jack puts his hands up in surrender. “Alright, bud. You’re probably right not to chase Bea. She wouldn’t hook up with you anyway. Quinn wouldn’t allow it.”

At the mention of his name, the older boy turns and casts a glare at the boys walking behind him. He keeps walking forward in line with his dad, but his sharp look tells Trevor that he had been listening in since the mention of Bea’s name.

God, he’s like a fucking dog, turning his head at the first mention of his girl.

Trevor is no better.

Luke walks arm-in-arm with his mother down the block, all the way down to the grocery store. It’s a Tuesday, so Trevor’s favorite fruit stand isn’t set up out front. It’s weird. He never goes to the grocery store on Tuesdays. It’s a completely fresh crowd of people in this small town, people that he’s never seen before.

That is, until a gruff voice sounds behind them in the beer aisle. They were buying more Michelob for Jim to share with Quinn and Jack. “Boys,” the man says, voice sharp.

Trevor turns and sees Earl hobbling towards them, shoulders rounded from years of poor posture. He’s alone, or so it seems.

“Hey, Earl,” Trevor greets. He sticks his hand out when the man is near enough, then shakes it. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah, it’s a real treat,” Earl grunts. He fixes a stink eye on Luke, who hesitates and flushes like he hopes the man can’t see him. Luke half-steps behind his mom before Earl continues. “Why did I hear from Miss McLean that you’ve been chopping wood in your backyard when you know I sell perfectly good wood at my store?”

Trevor goes to laugh, but stops himself. Earl is just like Honey, but fifty years older and a man– he’ll stop at nothing to embarrass those who are on his nerves. Trevor’s fond of the shared idiosyncracy, just in different ways. He definitely isn’t fond of Earl in the same way that he’s fond of Honey.

“Don’t blame little Lukey,” Cole says, jumping in. “It was a Saturday. Earl, you’re not open on Saturdays.”

Earl’s arched eyebrow and reproachful gaze turns to Cole. “As if my wife wouldn’t make me open that store just to sell you some logs, boy.”

Cole turns bashful.

“Where is Vera?” Trevor asks. “Is she shopping with you today?”

“Hell no,” Earl says. “She doesn’t like to do the shopping. I do it. She cooks the food I bring home. We’ve been doing it this way since we got married. She’s off with her little friends at the Nook down the street. Or maybe she’s at home. I don’t know. As long as we end up in the same house by nightfall, I don’t worry too much.”

“How about I come by tomorrow and pick up a couple’a bundles of wood for our Fourth of July celebrations,” Trevor offers. “I’ll buy extra to make up for Luke’s missteps.”

Earl nods and hmphs at the boy as an agreement, reaching out to shake Trevor’s hand again. He nods at Ellen, then at Jim, then walks off.

“Who was that?” Jim asks, the edge of his lips turned up the same way Quinn’s does.

“He’s the owner of the hardware store,” Quinn explains. “He’s really close with Bea and Honey. Bea thinks he’s like the grandfather she never had.”

Trevor bites back a “and how do you know that, Q?”, choosing instead to press his lips together and survey the beer options.

“There are a lot of characters in this town,” Ellen comments. She’s got a tiny smile on her face as well, already enjoying the peculiarities of the town.

“You haven’t even met the best ones yet,” Quinn replies with a nonchalant little laugh.

Trevor knows that he means Honey and Bea, and quite frankly, he couldn’t agree more. They’re not natives, but they’re easily the most interesting part of this town. They breathe the life into the town.

Maybe it’s just because they’ve been the group’s tour guides over the past couple of weeks. They know the town and they’ve welcomed the boys enthusiastically, helping Litchton to feel just as special to the boys as it is to them.

Part of it might be that Trevor can hardly imagine where he’d be if he hadn’t come to Litchton this summer. He despises the idea that they could’ve spent the summer in Michigan at the lake house like always. They would’ve gone through the same motions as always– boating, surfing, golfing, pool, and the like– and Honey and Bea would’ve been far away. Neither groups would have known that the other existed.

The idea of being without Honey, now that he’s known her, tears Trevor apart. It’s why he has to keep their secret. He has to go at her pace, refusing to let his own feelings for her turn into a snowball growing as it rolls down a mountain like in a cartoon. He’s not walking on nails or anything, but it’s a bit like torture to want Honey this much.

She’s always on his mind, if only in the back of it, echoing faintly with each of his thoughts. Even when he’s laughing with the boys, who sometimes feel more like his brothers than his actual brother, she’s there.

He can’t explain it. All Trevor knows is that he needs her.

38:90 – HONEY

The Reading Nook is closing early for the week. It’s the last day of Honey and Bea’s work week, so they’re doing a deep clean. It’s a Wednesday, too, so there’s nothing special happening today. The ladies came in yesterday, the children’s storytime is canceled for tomorrow due to the holiday, and Ada wants to close on Friday so that she can stay in Raleigh for a few extra days with her family.

Bea was conveniently on time this morning. Honey soon learned that she was waiting until Independence Day to meet Jim and Ellen, with whom she is already on a first name basis. Honey assumes that Quinn told her to call their parents by their first names, despite the fact that Bea would probably prefer to call them “Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.” Honey knows that that’s what she’ll be calling them tomorrow.

Honey also thinks that Bea is waiting to meet the parents because she’s procrastinating. She’s nervous. She has never met the parents before in a relationship, nevertheless a relationship that has so many different dynamics.

Consider this: you’re primarily nervous because the parents of the guy you like are coming into town. On the other hand, you’re fucking his brother and one of his best friends too.

Long story short: Bea has every right to be nervous.

Honey has been trying to keep her busy. She’s been trying to keep Bea’s mind off of this. Unfortunately, there’s not much that can keep Bea distracted.

They swept. They mopped. They reshelved. Honey and Bea rearranged the stacks to make the Nook into a more open-floor plan. Then, they sat on the beanbags in the children’s section for an hour. Honey read her book and Bea talked to her sister on the phone, tossing and catching the golf ball that she had produced from her bag when they cleaned it out.

And now there’s about two hours left in their shift. Bea has shut her phone off and tossed it onto the table in the back room. She’s still tossing her golf ball around and Honey is growing tired of hearing her sighs and deep breaths.

There’s one thing that will keep Bea entertained for hours, but Honey has been putting it off as long as she can– partially because she wanted to sit with it before telling Bea or anyone else.

She closes her eyes and braces herself, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ll never guess what I did on Monday,” Honey says.

“Ugh, finally, she speaks,” Bea groans, rolling to face Honey on her beanbag. “What did you do?”

“Trevor,” Honey reveals simply.

Bea’s reaction is comedic. Her jaw drops and stays there. Her eyes are wide, but her brows are drawn together. She blinks at Honey and squints, allowing her mouth to close slightly like she’s about to speak before she tilts her head like a dog waiting for a treat. She almost forms a word, but then she pokes her tongue into her cheek and shakes her head. She rolls off of her beanbag towards Honey and, in a very smooth and coordinated moment, picks it up to use it like a pillow in a pillow-fight.

Honey shrieks when Bea attacks her, lifting her arms to protect her face.

“What the fuck do you mean you ‘did’ Trevor? Why the fuck am I hearing about it now when this shit happened on Monday? I tell you everything about Quinn,” Bea complains, vicious and seething.

“I didn’t ask to hear everything about Quinn!” Honey defends herself.

“You signed up for it when you became my best friend!” Bea exclaims, her voice shrill. “Just like how I signed up for your stories, bitch!”

“Come on,” Honey scoffs.

“No, no,” Bea corrects, wagging her finger. “Not ‘come on.’ ‘Come on’ is what I say when you hold out on me, which you are.”

“I’m not holding out on you, I’m telling you now,” Honey says.

“Two days later!”

“Good fucking God,” Honey sighs. “Can’t you let me process it for a while?”

“I can, but I’m going to be mad about it,” Bea insists. Her voice raises into a whine. “Why can’t we process it together?”

Honey stares at her for a second, then shakes her head with a little laugh. “Why would we process it together?”

“Because it’s a big deal for you,” Bea says. “We always talk about big stuff like this. Do I need to remind you that I was the one to encourage you to fuck Trevor in the first place?”

“Irrelevant.”

Bea frowns and glares pointedly at Honey. She quirks an eyebrow, challenging the girl.

Honey stares back, a slight smile growing as she and Bea have a silent staring-competition. Bea loses, which makes Honey laugh and causes the other girl to pout.

“Please,” Bea pleads. “I want to know all about it. This is the first time in, like, five years that I’ve gotten to hear real stories like this. When Hayden kissed you on that one date, you cried for ages and you didn’t even tell me if it was a good kiss.”

She’s, of course, referring to one of two dates that Honey went on between Thomas and Trevor. Hayden was a dating app boy that had kissed Honey and caught her so off guard that she bawled.

“That’s because it wasn’t a good kiss,” Honey returns.

“Okay, and this one was,” Bea says. She looks at Honey expectantly, still rolled tight against Honey’s beanbag. She’s hugging her own beanbag to her chest, but her arms can’t quite fit all the way around it.

Honey relents, sighing and rolling her eyes as she says it. “Yes, Bea, Trevor is a good kisser.”

Bea smiles, shit-eating and wide. “What else is he good at?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

Honey’s face practically burns. She’s writhing a little, embarrassed by Bea’s vulgarity.

She hesitates too long, because Bea rises up into a cross-legged sit, beanbag covering her lap like a blanket, and hovers above Honey. She sets her face in an annoyed, cross expression like that will make Honey move more quickly. “You have to tell me,” Bea says in the most threatening tone she can muster, which isn’t very intimidating considering Honey has known her for most of their lives and cannot take her seriously most of the time.

“I’m gonna!” Honey exclaims, covering her face to hide the goofy smile that’s overtaking it. “Let me get my bearings.”

“You’ve had two whole days to get your bearings, you little slut!” Bea says, a little bit too loud because Ada shushes them and reminds them to use proper language in her building.

They giggle about it for a moment, leaning against each other. Bea buries her face in Honey’s shoulder, shaking with silent but open-mouthed laughter while Honey tries to smother her own. It’s not funny– but here they are laughing like it is.

“He fingered me,” Honey mumbles eventually, once they’ve calmed down. It’s sheepish and she’s still red, her cheeks prickling with heat.

“Yeah, and he fingered you last week, too,” Bea sasses. She snaps her fingers, her voice growing into a sing-songy drawl. “Something new, please.”

“He loves my tits,” Honey tells her.

Bea claps. “Now we’re getting somewhere. The nips?”

“The nips,” Honey confirms.

Bea was there when she got her nipples pierced. It was one of their weekends in Winston when they first moved down to Litchton. Honey was in a bad state and had been for weeks. She was a complete wreck over Thomas, constantly fearing that he’d make his way to the mountains because he knew about her summer home and that she’d see him out and about. She was terrified that the people in the tiny town would learn about what happened to her and pity her and she needed a big change.

Bea had introduced the idea of the piercing nonchalantly. “You’ve been thinking about getting your nipples pierced for ages,” she had said. “Let’s just go into the city to some tattoo parlor and get it done. It’ll be like a hundred bucks maximum.”

Honey had agreed, realizing that she had been thinking about piercing her nipples for ages. There was no good reason not to– she wasn’t living at home anymore, she wouldn’t be using her parents’ money, and she didn’t have a boyfriend who would touch her piercings all the time. That was that. They had gone to a tattoo parlor and gotten it done, then Bea had taken Honey out for hot chocolate to combat the chill of the ice pack stuffed into her sports bra to reduce the swelling from the fresh bars.

They healed in about nine months and Honey was ecstatic after she had gotten them pierced. It was the perfect change and it got her buzzing– she went back to the tattoo parlor for a few more piercings in her ears before she bit the bullet and got her first and sole tattoo.

It was a little dragonfly surrounded by a bed of flowers. She got it right on her lower back, realizing only after that it was in prime tramp stamp territory. By then it was too late, but she loved it. She chose the dragonfly because she had changed so much after Thomas and she learned through reading her poetry books that dragonflies symbolized change and growth. She liked the design too– it wasn’t just the “artsy-fartsy symbolism shit,” as Bea calls it.

It occurred to her on Tuesday that she was glad Trevor had fucked her in missionary. She wasn’t quite ready to explain to him that she got the tattoo and the piercings because, at its very core, she wanted to be permanently different after she left Charlotte. She was already permanently different on the inside, but the transformation of her body was a change that she could control.

She doesn’t regret her choices one bit. She feels sexier with them, with each of them, and Trevor’s glowing reviews of her nipple piercings are a good sign. She likes that he’s so receptive– she likes it a lot.

Despite not wanting to explain her tattoos to him and get all mushy, Honey is not embarrassed to admit that she’s thought about Trevor fucking her from behind and pulling out to come all over the small of her back. She might’ve gotten off yesterday thinking about his cum painting over her tattoo in white strokes and how his eyes would grow darker when he’s done marking her up.

That’s neither here nor there.

What is here, however, are Bea’s constant questions. She peppers Honey with question after question about Trevor’s sexual habits and abilities (even though Honey knows she told Trevor that she doesn’t want to hear about him like that), requiring every detail. Honey is so caught up in describing the way his voice gets breathy when he gets close that they don’t even notice the tinkling of the bell on the door, signaling that someone is entering the store.

The girls don’t even look up, hearing Ada greet the customer. Honey just lowers her voice and continues on. Bea is staring at her with wide, attentive eyes. She nods with each new scrap of information that Honey presents. She continues to ask questions.

“Wait,” Bea says. “Go back. You went to jerk him off to give him some relief and he told you not to? Because he didn’t want to come? What do you mean, he didn’t want to come?”

“He didn’t want to come in my hand,” Honey clarifies.

Bea’s mouth forms an ‘o,’ then she smiles devilishly. “Where did he want to come?” She prods. “On the tits he loves so much?”

Honey barks out a short little laugh. She wouldn’t put it past him. He probably thought about it milliseconds after seeing her breasts for the first time.

“That’s the best part,” Honey says. “He wanted to come inside me.”

“He did not,” Bea gasps, holding a hand over her mouth and touching her index finger to the tip of her nose. “He told you that?”

“And then practically motorboated himself because he was embarrassed,” Honey confirms.

“He’s such a little freak!” Bea exclaims, grinning ear to ear. “So he came in you, and what? Cleaned you up? Q always–”

“Don’t care,” Honey interrupts. “Like, no? We fell asleep before I could go shower or anything.”

Bea shudders. “Ugh, didn’t you feel gross?”

“Not really,” Honey drawls. “Yes? But it also felt good. All of it was good. He’s– experienced.”

Bea narrows her eyes. “Experienced,” she repeats.

“Not in a bad way,” Honey says. “It’s just clear that he knows what he’s doing.”

“I hope you’re talking about me,” says a voice from the aisle. “I would hate to learn that there’s someone else satisfying you the way I want to.”

Honey and Bea’s heads both snap to face the person standing in front of them. The universe seems to be playing a sick joke on Honey because she just can’t stop humiliating herself. Of course the customer was Trevor, the exact person that she’s talking about graphically with her best friend.

Bea bursts into laughter almost immediately, while Honey isn’t sure if her face turns pale or a bright, fire engine red.

Trevor is smirking at her. Honey knows in an instant that he’s proud of his entrance and how he surprised her. She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he heard her review and is now all smug and condescending.

She hates that. She doesn’t want him to be smug and egotistical like a famous hockey player, or like any other attractive man in his twenties, to be fair. She wants him to be goofy and silly and doting like he is when it’s just the two of them.

Honey just buries her face in her hands and hides behind them. She curls up on the beanbag and wishes that she could disappear.

She hears Bea stand, still laughing, and pat Trevor’s arm. “I know I told you that I wasn’t interested in speculating or believing anything Honey told me about you,” Bea says. “But I’m glad you made our born-again virgin come two times in one night. Maybe go for three next time.”

Honey’s face burns impossibly hotter, especially when she hears Trevor breathe out a laugh of agreement.

Bea walks away, leaving the boy to join Honey on the abandoned beanbag. She can hear him slide it across the floor and she can feel it press into the fabric of her own beanbag.

It isn’t long until his fingers find her wrists and he pulls her hands away from her face. He’s laying on the bag next to her, turned to face her with adoring eyes. It makes Honey sick to her stomach, a little bit.

“Hi, Honey,” Trevor says softly, intertwining his fingers with hers. He grips her hand, but she keeps her fingers stiff and straight.

“Hello, Trevor,” Honey replies, monotonous.

“My girl,” he muses. He lets his eyes wander over all of her features and Honey embellishes a frown just to spite him. It makes him smile. “Embarrassed I caught you talking about me?”

“Needed to cheer Bea up. She was running on fumes. She’s nervous to meet the parents.” Honey changes the topic and speaks in short sentences, avoiding Trevor’s lovesick little puppy eyes. Ugh. She can’t stand him.

“Mm, how about I never make you meet my parents?” Trevor offers, taking his hand from her loose fingers and running his knuckle over her cheekbone. He’s still laying on his side. He’s folded one of his arms up to use as a pillow.

“I don’t think our relationship is quite like that,” Honey says.

“You’re right,” Trevor agrees. “Especially because we’re not telling anyone.”

Honey goes to open her mouth, but he cuts her off.

“Speaking of which,” he begins, dramatic emphasis on the first word. “The boys think I’m on Raya.”

A nagging feeling washes over Honey, causing her to curl her lip. “Why would they think that?” She asks.

“Well, because I told them I was,” Trevor says.

Honey goes to open her mouth again, but he cuts her off again.

“In the interest of not revealing our relationship, I told them that I had met up with someone and that’s why I spent the night away. I wanted to tell you in case anyone mentioned it.”

Honey sets her jaw and feigns a shrug. “Okay.”

Trevor narrows his eyes. “‘Okay’?” He repeats. “That’s it?”

“I don’t care what you tell the boys,” Honey says. “As long as you’re not telling them that we’re together.”

She kind of hates the idea of Trevor being on Raya, or on any dating app. She’s the one that he’s fucking. She knows that it was her idea to keep it a secret, but the fact that it takes some fake other woman to cover up their shenanigans bothers Honey. She doesn’t want him seeing other women. That’s not sanitary, especially if they’re fucking bare. What if this imaginary other woman gives him an STD?

That’s not the only reason, her mind points out. Also, she's imaginary. Imaginary women don't have STDs. You just don't want Trevor to fuck other women so that you can have him all to yourself–

Shut up, Honey hisses back, overcorrecting and locking that niggling thought in a safe.

It’s convincing enough. Trevor squints at her for just a second longer before his face clears. He leans closer and plants a kiss on the corner of her lip, mostly because Honey turned her head at the last second to avoid him. That causes him to frown, but he shakes it off.

That’s one thing she’s willing to admit that she likes about Trevor. He adapts to her moods very well. He’s patient. She appreciates that.

He lifts his book to show her the cover once he sits up.

“For Ellen,” he explains. “She needed a book.”

“Yeah. There’s not much to do in Litchton,” Honey says. She feels lame, words spilling from her mouth in a way that is awkward and uninterested.

Why does she have to get like this? It’s not like Trevor is actually fucking another girl. He just thought up a convenient lie to keep the boys at bay. Isn’t that what she wanted? Why does she feel so… bland?

Trevor brushes a piece of hair off of Honey’s forehead. “Gonna tell her it was a recommendation from Bea. Would that make things easier for you? Get Bea off on the right foot with the mother so you don’t have to hear about all of her anxieties?”

“That would be fine,” Honey says. It’s better than fine, really, but she can’t seem to find a way to express that. She’s going to go home later and overthink this exchange in the shower for sure.

Trevor leans down and presses his lips to her forehead for a moment. His touch lingers even after he pulls away. “See you tomorrow, baby.”

In another moment that Honey knows she’ll regret later in the shower, she doesn’t even correct him. By the time she thinks to, he’s already standing and walking away, leaving the store.

She’s already dreading seeing him tomorrow. Is it too late to cancel?

As they leave the store an hour later, Honey asks that question to Bea and nearly gets smacked across the face for even considering leaving the other girl alone in her time of need. Honey’s stuck. The sky seems extra dark tonight because of it and she knows she’s going to have a restless sleep.

It doesn’t occur to her that her doubt and disjointedness stems from the fact that she’s starting to really care for Trevor. It’s too impossible. Honey would never grow to like Trevor like that– right?

39:90 – TREVOR

Jim has been on the grill all day. Like his oldest son, he’s happiest when he’s behind the grill, save for when he’s on the ice.

Quinn is standing right next to his father, flipping burgers. He’s been there for only a few minutes. It’s the first time that he’s left Bea’s side all day. The only reason he left Bea’s side is because Ellen pulled out a stack of baby pictures that she brought to show Bea– at Quinn’s request. Despite the shrieks of laughter from Bea and constant awws between shrieks, Trevor can’t feel bad for Quinn. This was by his own design.

Annoyingly, the baby pictures have stolen Honey’s attention, too. She’s quieter than Bea, usually just looking up from the album to stare at the person pictured. Sometimes, she’ll lift the picture and hold it next to the person in her line of vision.

“Lu, I didn’t know you were so blond as a baby,” Honey calls.

Luke and Cole are stoking the bonfire. It’s a hot day, but it’s become Fourth of July tradition to eat and drink around a bonfire. Luke barely looks up to reply to Honey, just shrugging and returning to the pieces of wood below him. He and Cole are attempting to make the logs stand in a conical sort of configuration. The wood keeps falling over.

“We thought he’d have my hair for the first few years of his life, then it started to turn brown when he was in elementary school,” Ellen says. “I was so disappointed.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I carried three babies and none of them had my hair,” Bea says. She fluffs her freshly-cut layers (another distraction tactic while dreading meeting the parents, if Trevor had to guess) and purses her lips. “I like my hair too much and I’d be disappointed if no one had my color.”

“I thought the same thing, but I don’t mind the brown so much,” Ellen says, looking over at Quinn and Jim. “I like that they look like their dad.”

“Well, Jack has your smile,” Bea adds. “So at least that’s something.”

“Quinn does too,” Ellen replies. “He just doesn’t know how to use his smile.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Honey agrees. Her lips quirk in a tilted smile. Trevor wants to kiss her. “Mrs. Hughes, we love your sons, but none of them can fake a smile. They always look so awkward.”

Ellen laughs. “Don’t I know it,” she says. “When they were kids, Jim and I had to make potty jokes to get them to smile instead of saying ‘cheese.’”

Bea snorts.

“Mom!” Jack exclaims from next to Trevor, helping slice up toppings for the feast. “That’s just not true.”

“You were the worst!” Ellen replies. Then, she says to the girls, “We had to do personal lessons on smiling in my bathroom mirror. I think that’s when he really fell in love with himself.” She winks, teasing her middle son.

If Jack wasn’t right next to him, holding a knife, Trevor would mention that he caught Jack doing something similar the other day. The boys had just gotten the news that they were chosen to be on the cover of NHL ‘25 and Jack had promptly disappeared upstairs to ‘work on his look.’

Trevor makes eye contact with Honey, sharing a slight smile with the girl before returning to the half of a watermelon on the cutting board beneath him.

“He is quite a fan of himself,” Honey muses. “But we can forgive him for it.”

“Stop talking about me,” Jack grumbles.

“J, how can we not? Look at this picture,” Bea says, brandishing a shot of the three brothers on a pier at the lake when they were children. “You’re wearing the rattiest baseball cap, a terrible shell choker necklace, and the string on your very long basketball shorts is a quarter of the size of Luke.”

“Quinn’s string is worse,” Jack fights back. “And his shorts are longer.”

“Yeah, but Quinn is cute,” Bea teases, pursing her lips and blowing a kiss at Jack.

He waves it away.

Trevor knows there’s a picture in that stack of photos depicting him, Cole, and Jack in their first stint together at USNTDP. They’ve all gone back since that first round, but those years together were pivotal for their friendship. In the picture, his hair is all messed up by the wind, but they’re all laughing at something stupid Cole had said just before the picture was taken.

He knows Honey has seen the picture when he feels a pair of eyes boring into him. He glances up and there she is, pinching the corners of a print and raking over Trevor. He flashes a little finger gun at the girl, then goes back to his melon.

It isn’t long until the burgers and hot dogs are ready. Jack has finished cutting up all the toppings, Trevor has finished with the watermelon, and Cole and Luke have gotten the fire roaring. The girls put the photos away.

They file through the makeshift buffet in a single-file line. Ellen goes first, a common courtesy that the boys uphold every year. Jim and Quinn go next, having cooked all the food. Trevor goes next, despite Jack’s great effort to shove ahead in line.

They all choose seats around the fire, which is crackling in a satisfying way. Praises stem, blooming all over Luke and Cole. There are only six chairs– the other four that they found were either broken or so completely dusty and dirty that Jack had bailed on cleaning them off.

Ellen perches on the arm of Jim’s chair, Bea finds herself pulled down onto Quinn’s lap after trying to respectfully stand near him, and Honey is the last to try and find a seat. She opts to stand between Luke and Cole’s chairs and Trevor really wants to have her sprawl out across his legs so that he can feed her bites of watermelon, but instead, he just stands and offers his seat.

At first, Honey refuses it. She’s been acting weird since he came to see her at The Reading Nook yesterday. He’s hoping it’s a weird mood like the one on Monday, her dreaded July 1st. Unfortunately, Trevor has got a feeling that it’s something to do with him.

After he tilts his head and implores for her to “Just take the seat,” she relents. He’s left standing and eating his food between Cole and Luke, both of whom invite him to come and sit on their laps if he’s uncomfortable. They think it’s funny but it’s not, really.

Trevor’s a little preoccupied with Honey’s reservation at the moment. He had thought he was doing the right thing by telling Jack that he was hooking up with someone off of a dating app, considering Honey wants to keep things private. She had been agreeable enough yesterday, and she had still allowed him to kiss her and call her ‘baby’, but her words had just gotten shorter and shorter.

He wants to think of a way to get her back to goofy and joking self. She’s bratty and biting most of the time, but now she’s just… there. And he can tell that it’s bothering her, too, that she’s getting shorter with him. Sometimes she seems like she’s trapped in her own body, like she wants to say something but it just can’t leave her mouth.

The idea pops into his head when he’s walking to the bowl of watermelon slices to get another. He doesn’t cut this one up, instead opting to hold the slice to his mouth and take bites out of it.

The juice will definitely get Honey’s attention. If he knows anything about her, he knows that she likes it when they’re fucking, and this will spark her imagination.

He takes a bite as he walks back to the circle, hovering right in Honey’s line of vision. She keeps her head down stubbornly, focusing on clearing her plate.

Trevor isn’t quiet while eating his slice of watermelon. He chomps on the fruit, slurps up the liquid that trickles down to coat his fingertips, and still Honey does not look up.

He’s halfway through the slice when Honey finally notices him.

She just glances up at first, catching Trevor in her line of sight before going back to her plate. Then, she does a double take. Her eyes zero in on the lower half of his face and widen, but she does a good job of masking the reaction and returning her face to neutral.

Until he bites into the watermelon again, letting his eyes bore into Honey’s when she fixes him with an annoyed look. Her eyes flicker lower, then return back to his. Her expression has turned from exasperated to pleading– for Trevor to cut it out, he presumes. He will not.

No, instead he just smiles and takes another bite. He wiggles his eyebrows at her. He lets the juice from the melon gather at the corners of his mouth, not even wiping it when it starts to drip down his face.

Honey scowls and flashes a mean glare at Trevor.

They’re communicating silently, a rush going through Trevor as he realizes that Honey completely understands what he’s doing and he completely understands what her non-replies and nasty looks mean.

So, he brings his thumb to the corner of his mouth and mops up a bit of juice. He brings the dripping pad of his digit to his mouth and lets his lips close around it, raising one eyebrow as Honey’s jaw clenches and the muscle in her cheek twitches.

He’s almost got her– almost.

It’s a little gross, but he finishes his last couple of bites as messily as he can without arousing suspicion from the other boys, or, heaven forbid, the Hughes parents. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then runs his fingers through his hair. It has the desired effect– his hand is a little wet and it makes his hair a little bit stiff, strands clumping together because of the sticky juice.

His action also gets him the desired reaction from Honey. She sets her plate down and wipes her mouth with her napkin, stands, and stomps into the house.

Her movement draws the eyes of almost everyone in their circle. Jim, Cole, and Quinn are the only ones that don’t look up to watch Honey go. They continue to pick at their food. One of Quinn’s hands is on Bea’s thigh.

“I wonder what that’s about,” Ellen says.

“Maybe I should go see,” Bea muses, uncrossing her legs so that she can move off of Quinn. He holds her there.

“She’s probably just going to the bathroom,” Quinn says. “You worry too much.”

Bea turns to him and frowns. “She got sick here like two weeks ago, remember? Maybe I should worry.”

Trevor shrugs. “I’ll check on her. I’m standing anyway.”

He tosses the rind of his fruit into the trash as he goes toward the house. He enters through the sliding door into the basement and he climbs the stairs to the main level. When he doesn’t find Honey in any of her normal haunts– the kitchen, the balcony, or the living room– he heads upstairs.

He calls for her with no response. He checks the bathrooms and the bedrooms, finally at the point where he’s wondering if she left when he opens the door to the final unexplored room in the house: his own bedroom.

As he opens the door with a little creak, Honey’s hand darts out and grabs onto his shirt. She’s pulling him into the room and kicking the door shut when the handle slips from his palm.

“Are you trying to piss me off?” Honey snaps.

She smells like vanilla. Trevor had been trying to place the scent for ages, but he finally found her bottle of perfume the other day. Now that he knows it’s vanilla, he can’t ignore it. Yes. She smells like vanilla. It’s so Honey.

Trevor smiles at her, letting his hands find her hips over her shorts. “Not trying to piss you off,” he says. “Trying to turn you on.”

Honey seems to lag for a second, looking at him with a tilted head. She laughs. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Trevor says. He noses against her cheek, testing his luck by letting his lips inch closer and closer to hers. “But did it work?”

“Your ploy with the watermelon?” Honey asks. “Trevor, if you want to eat me out, all you have to do is say that. You don’t have to trick me into hooking up with you at this rate. You can just ask.”

Trevor didn’t realize it was that easy. Lord knows that if he’d asked, she would’ve ragged on him mercilessly until he’d kissed her silly. Then they would’ve hooked up, but just asking is not ‘that easy.’

Despite his theory that it’s not quite so simple, Trevor asks.

“Can I eat you out?” he asks. He pecks Honey’s lips before she answers. “Please?”

“Well, there are parents downstairs, so no,” Honey says.

Trevor fixes her with an unimpressed look. “So it’s not as easy as asking.”

“No, I prefer when you beg,” Honey says, her face breaking into a smile. She’s beaming up at Trevor, proud of herself for that little comment.

“Do you want me to?” Trevor asks. “Because I can.”

Honey makes a nonchalant noise, leaning into Trevor’s space and claiming his lips.

“I’d like to see you beg,” Trevor murmurs.

“I don’t beg,” Honey replies.

“I bet I could make you beg,” Trevor says.

“I bet you can’t.”

Trevor grins. “What do I get if I win the bet?”

“You’ll never win, so probably nothing,” Honey says.

“Can I try something?” Trevor asks.

“Nothing while the parents are downstairs,” Honey says.

“Well, the parents are outside, so I think we’ll be okay,” Trevor says. He pauses and raises his eyebrows, signaling Honey again. “Unless you really don’t want to.”

“You’ll have to make it quick, we’ve already been gone for too long,” Honey says. She wiggles out of Trevor’s grasp and shimmies out of her shorts, settling down on the side of the bed.

Trevor follows after her, sinking down so that his knees are flush with the ground and his head is fixed right in front of where her legs meet. “Something else, too,” he says. He fits his hands on her hips, now only covered by her underwear and her shirt.

“What?” Honey asks, sounding fond and playing into what Trevor is saying.

“You’re never allowed to undress yourself again,” Trevor mumbles. “Not while I’m around. I want to do that.”

“I can only promise you that if you prove yourself worthy.”

“Feeling like Your Royal Highness again?” Trevor teases, chortling out a breath. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, he lowers himself down and licks over her clothed cunt, dampening the fabric even further. She’s wet already– always a good sign, Trevor was starting to wonder if he was the only person in this relationship that became aroused at the slightest chance of intimacy.

Maybe he’s overexaggerating, but at least Honey is wet. At least he’s hard. Things seem to be working out.

“Just making my court jester entertain me so I don’t have his head chopped off,” Honey replies. She lifts her hips slightly so that Trevor can dig his fingers into her underwear and start to drag them down. She moves one of her legs so that the bend of her knee is right over Trevor’s shoulder. With a bend of her leg, she pulls him closer. “So entertain me.”

“You’re bossy,” Trevor says.

“You like it.”

“I can be bossy too,” Trevor says.

Honey barks out a little laugh. “Okay. Whatever you say, Trev. How about you focus less on bossing me around and more on eating me out?”

Trevor hums noncommittally, but he kisses over the insides of her thighs. He refuses to kiss over her core until she’s begging, true to his bet. That means he has to put in the work now.

‘My’ court jester, Honey had said. He smiles to himself. The insult is nothing compared to the way she called him ‘hers.’

He teases her on purpose for as long as he can. He can smell her and he’s unashamed to say that he’s absolutely drinking it in. He refuses to count each time that they’ve hooked up, firmly believing that the second he lets himself think these hookups with Honey are a real, consistent thing, it’ll end.

He can’t let it end, which is why he treats every one of their encounters like it’s the most special moment of his life. He thinks he’d probably like lifting the Stanley Cup more, but it’ll be hard to compare the two events until he wins a Cup. Until then, he’s got Honey and her sweet, sweet wetness. It’s calling his name.

“Hurry up,” Honey says. She threads her fingers through Trevor’s hair.

He’s always liked when girls touch him, especially when he’s going down on them. Honey’s different, in a way. The girls of his past had touched his hair to give themselves something to ground them. Honey grabs his hair to keep him in place, to guide him where she wants. He likes it, but he’d like it even more if she would let him work his magic.

She’d laugh if she heard him think that, which makes him laugh.

“Don’t giggle when you’re going down on me,” Honey scolds. “It makes a girl very insecure.”

“Sorry, baby,” Trevor says. He traces his nose over her folds, then his lips along the same path. “Didn’t mean it.”

She tugs his hair and whines out a little complaint at his teasing.

Trevor takes one of his hands off of her hips and brings it to cover the hand in his hair. He tightens his grip around her wrist, lifting her hand from his locks. He turns her wrist over and slots his fingers though hers, holding her hand tightly.

“Let me do the work,” Trevor says. “Court Jester has to make his Majesty come.”

“Then stop making jokes,” Honey spits out.

When Trevor looks up through his eyelashes, she’s craning her neck so that she can get a good look at him. She’s checking his work like an overbearing TA. God, lay down, Trevor thinks. Instead of telling her outright, he lowers his mouth to her core. He doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of tasting her any longer.

Trevor ignores Honey’s movements under his mouth in order to fully take in her taste. He’s focused on licking over her hole, prodding at the opening with little kitten licks until she’s more wet from his spit than her own slick– because he’s cleaned all of that up. The taste of her is coating his tongue and, while Trevor knew that he would never want to part from her again after tasting her for the first time, it’s even worse than he thought.

He feels like he’s eating a really, really good meal and it’s so amazing that he’s lifting his plate and licking all the crumbs off of it. In his mind, he’s doing this in a restaurant where people are whispering and pointing at him for being so disrespectful and impolite. In reality, the restaurant is his bedroom and his plate is Honey.

He can feel her juices dripping down his face onto his chin, just like the watermelon juice from earlier. It’s exactly by design. Everything that he imagined himself doing when he decided to seduce her with the fruit is happening, all according to plan.

Trevor feels her hole flex around his tongue when he pushes it inside of her. Her clit is slippery as it slides over the curve of his nose. She’s moaning and grinding down on his face, but she’s not begging yet. Her voice sounds like it’s cutting through a dream, or maybe like it’s a beam of sunlight shining through a layer of clouds. Either way, he loves how she sounds. It just reinvigorates him, making Trevor double his effort. He slips a finger into her, right where his tongue used to be, and he starts to move it in and out of her.

She swallows him, greedily inviting his digit further and further inside of her warmth. His knuckle brushes against her muscular opening, stretching her. Trevor’s much more aware of her noises now and the way that her hips twitch with each pet of his fingertip.

“Beg me,” Trevor says.

“I don’t beg,” Honey responds through gritted teeth. The hand that’s in Trevor’s is holding onto him with a vice grip, whereas the other one is bundled up in the pillow under her hair. Her back arches off the bed with a curl of his index finger.

Trevor wishes they had more time so that he could take off her shirt and ravage her more properly. He wants to get his hands on her tits, on those spectacularly pierced nipples. He wants to make her come all over his tongue and then he wants to kiss her until all she can taste is herself.

“If you don’t beg, I won’t let you come,” Trevor teases, although he can’t imagine leaving her so unsatisfied. She’d kill him if he built it all up to take it away.

But it would be fun, a little voice in the back of his head says. She’ll need it more next time if you take it away.

‘Next time,’ he thought, although he said that he wasn’t going to count the times they hook up or that he wasn’t going to start looking forward to the next time, since it’s never guaranteed.

Now, he’s thinking that it might be fun to tease Honey like that.

“I don’t beg,” Honey repeats. Her twisting hips and tight grip has Trevor thinking otherwise– maybe not verbally, not yet, but Honey is begging for more in her movements. She’s close. He can tell from the way her pussy contracts around his finger and his tongue.

He’s trying to fit both inside of her now, flicking the end of his tongue as quickly as he can. He maneuvers his thumb around, tilting his head to the side so that he can continue to lather his spit into her cunt like a french kiss while the pad of his thumb starts to pet over her bundle of nerves.

Her breath hitches with a moan, her tone high-pitched and wanton. Trevor smirks against her, closing his eyes and surrounding himself with the sensations of her being– her body writhing beneath him, the taste of her wet on his tongue, the warmth of her cunt around his fingers. Her leg is still thrown over his shoulder, pulling him close.

Trevor pulls back to press a kiss against the skin of her thigh. He rests his cheek on her skin, looking up at her while she grinds on his fingers. He fits a second one inside of her, admiring how her stomach is starting to glisten with a thin sheen of sweat. He hooks his arm around her thigh, then touches her waist.

“You gonna come?” Trevor asks.

“Yes,” Honey bites back.

Trevor stills his fingers. “Then beg,” he says. “I wanna hear that pretty voice tell me how bad she wants it.”

“I don’t beg,” Honey says again.

Trevor’s smirk widens. “Then I guess you won’t come either.”

He draws his fingers out of her, albeit a little reluctantly on his end. She fights to keep him inside, flexing her muscles and closing her legs with him still between them, but Trevor bats her away and escapes. He can feel his eyes twinkling as he smiles at her, smug and proud of himself for being so strong. His resolve could crumble at any second, to be fair. If Honey were to say one ‘please,’ Trevor would be inside of her and making her come before she could think of something else to say.

For now, though, he manages to hold fast.

Honey’s betrayed expression, abhorred and disgusted, almost makes Trevor want to laugh. It almost makes him want to apologize and smother her with kisses– this might be his final offense. She may never allow him to touch her again. He seems to doubt that, though, which is why he just rocks back onto his haunches and stands. He towers over her, but he keeps a hand on the leg that was once around his shoulders. Now, it’s curving around his waist. Trevor pats the side of her knee and kisses the same spot before dropping the appendage.

“You’re kidding,” Honey says. She sounds despondent. Her legs are spread and she brings one hand up to run through her hair.

“You think?” Trevor asks. He leans down over her, putting his hands on either side of her head to hold himself up. He kisses her, just a peck, before standing again. “I’ll see you down there.”

He heads to the door, winking at Honey before he opens his door and slips out. He walks down the hall, down the stairs, and all the way back to the bonfire.

The parents and boys seem none the wiser, but Bea gives Trevor a reproachful, knowing look. She can’t have found out that he denied Honey an orgasm already– he only just came downstairs.

Honey gives him the same look when she eventually rejoins the group, bundling up in a sweatshirt that she stole from Luke the week before. She pulls her legs up into the sweatshirt too, looking like a blob in her foldable campout chair. She pouts the whole night and scowls at Trevor when she catches him looking– he likes her so much. All of her little looks just make him smile in his fond way, which makes her frown even more.

She’s his brat. It’s about time she got a taste of her own medicine– her attitude was always going to get her in trouble. He’s really enjoying it.

40:90 – HONEY

Honey almost doesn’t want to join the boys on their lake day today. She almost wants to stay home and give Trevor the silent treatment for the rest of the summer for taking a second orgasm from her the night before. First, he comes in his pants far too quickly, then he’s actively eating her out and he stops? Who does he think he is?

If he had had a good reason to stop, Honey wouldn’t care. But to stop because she won’t beg him for a release or for more? She knows that he didn’t want to stop. He just did it to piss her off.

And it worked! It completely worked. She left the house in a huff late last night, then chattered about Trevor’s big mistake the whole drive back to Bea’s place. Bea had been equally disappointed with Trevor’s performance, although slightly less enraged than Honey. She was more concerned about not spending the night with Quinn after spending so much time in his lap. She acts like she’s a touch-starved, wounded animal when she doesn’t get her way– and at least if she had spent the night with Quinn, he would have made her come!

Honey is frustrated, and annoyed, and she wants to concoct a plan for revenge that is so diabolical that Trevor will never deny her what she wants ever again.

Ever again, she says, as if she’ll be seeing him after the summer ends.

If he keeps pulling stunts like this, she certainly will not be seeing him after the summer ends. She will be avoiding him forever after the summer ends.

Fucking Trevor.

She’s pissed. Still– she went to sleep pissed, she woke up pissed, and she went about her day. Pissed.

Now, Bea is picking her up so that they can drive to the lake and meet the boys and Honey wants to yell in the car.

“I could scream,” Honey says as soon as she opens the passenger door.

“Then scream,” Bea replies. She turns down the volume on the stereo and rolls the windows up so that Honey isn’t airing her grievances to the world while they drive to the reservoir about twenty minutes up the road. “Are you still screaming about the fact that you didn’t come last night? Or did Trevor do something else wrong?”

“He might as well have,” Honey grumbles. She buckles herself in and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Is that why you’re wearing your sluttiest little swimsuit?” Bea asks.

Honey gasps, then looks down at her chest. She’s wearing a strapless striped red and white top with matching bottoms. It’s not even her swimsuit. It’s Bea’s. She didn’t like it, so she left it at Honey’s. Honey is only wearing it because it’s the closest thing she has to a Fourth of July outfit.

“It’s not that slutty, and it was yours first, so of course it’s the sluttiest swimsuit I have,” Honey answers.

Bea grins at her before throwing the car in reverse and backing out of Honey’s driveway. She reaches over Honey’s seat and rests her hand on Honey’s headrest. Honey rolls her eyes and looks out the window. Honey is not Quinn. Bea’s chest doesn’t need to be in her face.

“Plus, it’s the most patriotic look I have,” Honey adds.

“You look like a candy striper,” Bea says. It’s not a compliment.

“Be fucking serious,” Honey says. “I do not.”

“You do, but I don’t mind it. I’m sure Trevor won’t mind it.”

“Ugh, don’t even bring him up,” Honey groans. She leans her head back on the headrest and scrubs her hands over her face. “I can’t stand that fucker.”

“Can’t stand him so much that you lay down in his bed every chance you get,” Bea says.

“Hey–”

“Or you can’t stand him so much that you sit on the counter in the back and let him fingerfuck you until you come all over the area where I make my lunch every day,” Bea continues, raising her voice as Honey protests.

“Ugh, that’s enough,” Honey says. She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Don’t bring that up. It just reminds me of what I’m missing.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about it?” Bea asks. “You were throwing some lofty accusations out into the world last night.”

Honey swears under her breath. “I had an idea.”

“A real idea?” Bea teases. “Or just an empty threat?”

“Was thinking about flirting with him so much that he thinks he’s getting laid and then I’ll just, kinda… y’know,” Honey mumbles. Her skin prickles with shame.

“Toxic,” Bea says. “I like it.”

“Well don’t say it like that,” Honey complains. “I’m not a toxic person.”

“Trevor makes you crazy and he didn’t let you come last night. I think you’re allowed to be a little toxic, especially if it means I’ll get to laugh at him all day long,” Bea says. “I’ve been sorely lacking my ‘laughing at Trevor’ time.”

“You’ve been too busy hanging out with Quinn.”

“You’ve been hiding away with Trevor. I can’t laugh at him if you’re keeping him from us. I have to be in the same room.”

“You’re not going to be in the same room as us if I can help it,” Honey tells her.

“I’m going to be stuck on a boat with you all day.”

“If I don’t throw you overboard.”

“Let me have my fun,” Bea whines. “I can’t fuck the boys until after Jim and Ellen leave tomorrow.”

“You’re a shitty liar,” Honey says. “I know Quinn snuck out last night and came over.”

“No, he didn’t!” Bea refutes, but she turns bright pink and stares out the windshield. Normally, when she drives, she can’t keep her eyes on the road because she’s too busy throwing glances at Honey.

Honey stays silent, stifling a laugh.

Bea glares at her from the side of her eye. “Whatever,” she says. “How did you know?”

Honey reaches over and taps the skin behind Bea’s earlobe. “He left a mark.”

Bea’s hand flies to cover the tiny, barely noticeable hickey. Honey only noticed it because she knows Bea and she saw Quinn lean up and kiss Bea in that exact spot after dinner last night. It was mostly chaste– but Honey has seen him done much, much worse when the parents aren’t around.

“He’s out to get me, I swear it,” Bea announces. She pushes her knuckles over the skin like she can get rid of the bruise with a few swipes of her hand. “He wants to embarrass me in front of his parents.”

“Maybe he just wants you to loosen up,” Honey suggests. “Maybe he senses that you’re freaking out.”

Bea turns her head and frowns at Honey. “He knows exactly what to do when I freak out. He doesn’t need to leave hickies on me as proof of purchase, or whatever. Do you know what Jack will do when he sees these? He’ll chirp. He’ll chirp and chirp and chirp like little fucking Tweety Bird and then it’ll become a big thing where I’m fucking Quinn, and Jack is jealous or whatever, and Ellen will catch on. It’s my slut summer and I don’t want her judging me.”

“So, what? You’re going to get revenge on him, too?” Honey asks. “Going to join the dark side with me?”

Bea sighs. “No. I like him too much. Despite the hassle, I really, really love when Q marks me up.”

“Maybe that’s why he did it,” Honey says. “Because he knows how much you like it.”

Bea hums. She turns the radio back on, then rolls the windows down. Honey’s hair flips in front of her face and all around the vehicle until she ties it up with the navy handkerchief she’d tied to her belt loops as a nice Independence Day accessory.

It’s midday and the sun is burning a bright hole through Honey’s sunglasses. Cole had better have brought his sunscreen like their last lake day. If he didn’t Honey is going to be even more upset because she’ll have to buy a tub of aloe vera to fix her burns.

It takes another ten minutes to pull into the parking lot near the boat shed. Bea manages to find a spot next to Quinn’s big rental car. They are not in the car, nor have they been for a while. Bea says that they went out in the morning so that they could soak up as much sun as possible. It’s only the second time that Honey has ever seen them rent a boat all summer, whereas they’re so used to owning their own boat on their own lake. It’s definitely a change of pace and Honey can’t blame them for needing time on the water. She used to be the same way.

She used to go on family trips to the beach for weekends and she even went on Thomas’ family trip to the beach each year that they dated. That’s two whole weeks she spent with Thomas and his entire family– one for each year that they were together.

She shakes the memory and follows Bea to the pier where they docked last time. The boys are on time, approaching from the distance. It doesn’t take them long to tie the boat down and help the girls over the hull.

It’s Cole who helps Honey over the edge and Quinn who helps Bea, although neither of them really need it. Honey finds Trevor on the boat almost immediately, bundled up in a towel next to Jack. His hair is dripping from a recent bout on the wakeboard, Honey presumes, and she hopes that he fell in. She doesn’t really, but for the sake of the moment and for the sake of her continued plan of revenge, she scrunches her nose up and closes both eyes and wishes that he fell of the board and got left behind in the water for a few minutes.

It’s truly the least that he could do after leaving her so high and dry the night before.

‘I’ll see you down there,’ he had said. Fuck that.

“Hey, Co,” Bea says. “Can I borrow some of that sunscreen you’re so adamant about using?”

“Yeah,” Cole agrees. He turns and digs through a beach bag until he finds a bottle of the lotion. He holds it up, then pulls it out of Bea’s reach when she extends an arm. “Want me to do you up?”

“Hardy har,” Bea replies. “Sure. I don’t care.”

She turns her back and allows Cole to lather her up. Honey stands near them and chats, letting Cole fill her in on the hours that she and Bea had missed as the boys work to undock the boat and as Jim shifts the gear and trucks forward. They had had breakfast and lunch on the boat. They had practically driven the perimeter of the reservoir and wakeboarded for a while. It had been a nice morning, very reminiscent of their past summers in Michigan. Cole had enjoyed it and so had the other boys. Jim and Ellen were in a good mood, even throughout the brief moments when Quinn would change direction and drive over his own waves to splash the occupants of the boat.

When Bea is done with her sunscreen, Honey takes the bottle from Cole and turns it over in her hand.

“Want me to get you, too?” Cole offers. “It’ll be just like last time.”

“She’s in the middle of a revenge plot,” Bea reveals.

Honey glares at her.

“Revenge on who?” Cole asks, straightening his back a bit and perking up with excitement.

“None of your business,” Honey says. “It’s irrelevant.”

“So, Trevor?” Cole says with a laugh. “You’re not slick. You’re jealous that he’s hooking up with other girls.”

“I am not jealous of any girl that Trevor is hooking up with,” Honey replies, channeling venom into her tone. “I don’t care who he hooks up with as long as it’s not me.”

Bea raises her eyebrows quickly, looking down at the ground. “Definitely not jealous,” she mumbles.

“Oh, fuck off,” Honey curses. “Go suck on Quinn’s neck.”

“Mm, revenge,” Bea says. “Good point. We can do this revenge tour together. Co-baby, go find someone to exact revenge on, too.”

“Jack, probably,” Cole says, tapping his chin like he’s thinking. “He cut in line while we were wakeboarding. It was my turn and he took the tow-rope right out of my hand.”

He sets off to find the boy, who has left Trevor alone at the bow of the boat. Jack has joined his family in the tiny sitting area near the helm. Trevor looks serene as he watches the waves pass.

Time to ruin that.

Honey walks over with the sunscreen in hand, tapping it against her opposing palm until it’s clapping loudly and drawing Trevor’s attention. By this point, she’s right in front of him and waiting for him to turn around. When he does, she wordlessly hands over the bottle of sunscreen and turns her back.

Her hair is tied up from the car ride, but the flyaways are flying from the open windows and the wind from the moving boat. It’s worse because she’s facing away from the wind now, so Honey brings her hands up to retie the handkerchief. She knows that her body is moving with her reach and she hopes that the wide expanse of her back is titillating enough for him to jump at the opportunity to touch her.

She knows it works when she feels his thumb brush over the dragonfly at the base of her spine. From position alone, she knows that he’s stroking over the wing of the bug. His hand leaves her lower back and rises to cover the lotion that he wiped across her shoulderblades.

They don’t speak, but they don’t have to. Honey doesn’t feel pressured to say anything. She just lets Trevor cover her with the sun protectant until her back is sufficiently done up. It’s then that she turns to face him and raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Trevor hands the bottle of lotion back. He’s standing now, over her, and he abandoned his towel when he stood up. His hair is drying now, but his nose is a bit too pink and sunkissed for her liking.

Honey hums. She opens the bottle and squeezes out a little dollop onto her index finger. She plops it on Trevor’s nose, but leaves it for him to rub in. As he does that, she covers her chest in the lotion. She tosses the bottle down onto the cushions on the bow and stands right in front of Trevor. He’s shameless with the way his eyes look down her cleavage and Honey is fully aware of it. He just smiles when his eyes make their way back up to her face.

She smiles back, then devilishly folds down the band of her swimsuit just enough to make sure she’s not skimping out on her coverage. The extra skin, particularly the tan line that he rarely ever sees, and her smirk definitely gives Trevor the idea that she wanted him to have– that he’s forgiven for his little tirade last night and that she wants to hook up with him again.

Honey leaves him there for now. She goes about her day– she sits with Ellen and Luke. She watches Quinn put Bea on his shoulders while on the wakeboard, then watches them wipe out seconds after they find their balance.

They resurface laughing and Jack asks if Honey wants to try, but she says no. She watches Cole jump at the bit, his own revenge tour in the spotlight now. It takes all of two seconds on the board for Jack to realize that Cole was out to get him– when the boy hooked his legs over Jack’s shoulders and laced his fingers beneath Jack’s chin, it clicked.

Within a split second– Honey wishes she had filmed it so that she could watch it back in slow-motion– Cole had leaned back and went head first into the wake. He pulled Jack down with him in a satisfying slapping noise that Honey knows will result in a bright red splotch. Jack will complain about it all day long and he’ll sleep on his stomach tonight, asking for his mom to rub his back until he falls asleep.

He’s such a boy. Always whiny and needy when he gets sick or feels bad. Honey is so glad she hasn’t had to deal with something like that since she and Thomas broke up.

With one look back at a laughing Trevor, she realizes her mistake. He’s probably even worse than Jack and now she’s fucking him– she wishes she had some wood to knock on, because she has definitely jinxed herself.

Just as the sun starts to get lower and the sky begins to turn a more vibrant shade of blue before dulling out, Quinn pulls Honey aside. Jack is now driving the boat, resolutely ignoring Cole and his feigned apologies.

“What does Bea want for her birthday?” Quinn asks, sitting on the port side of the boat with Honey. His legs are spread and Honey really likes the color of his boardshorts. They make a nice contrast with his skin and the hair on his thighs, although she thinks that might be a weird thing for her to say to him. She’ll tell Bea to tell him later.

“Shouldn’t you ask her?” Honey replies with a quirked brow. “I’m not a mind reader. These days, you spend more time with her anyway.”

Quinn stares for a moment, unimpressed. “What would Bea like for her birthday?” He rephrases. “From me. I never know what to get people.”

“Especially not the people you’re fucking, hm?” Honey laughs.

“I wanted to get her a necklace or something,” Quinn says. “But I don’t know if that’s, like, too serious.”

“I think it’s serious enough,” Honey says. “We can go shopping on Tuesday. I’ll tell Ada I can’t come into work and it’ll be fine. There’s a store in Winston that has some good stuff that she’ll like.”

“You’d help me?” Quinn asks, sounding surprised.

Honey scoffs at him. “Of course I’ll help you, moron. It’s actually the perfect time for me to buy her a present, too. I haven’t gotten around to it.”

The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifts. “Too busy?”

He sounds too knowing for Honey’s liking. She knows that he knows about her and Trevor, but that doesn’t mean she likes the way he’s comfortable enough to tease her about it. She doesn’t want him to feel comfortable enough to pry.

“What did Bea tell you?” Honey asks, tilting her head and pursing her lips.

“Everything bad,” Quinn says. “All the stuff that I enjoy hearing about Trevor. His shortcomings. He didn’t make you come last night?”

Honey grinds her teeth. “Fuck off.”

“I wouldn’t tolerate that if I were you.”

“I’m working on it,” Honey growls. She stands abruptly and leaves Quinn snuffling with laughter on the bench. Stalking over to Bea, she flicks the girl right on her hickey and tears up her comment about the pretty color of Quinn’s boardshorts like a piece of paper into a million little pieces.

Once the sun starts to set, Jim steers them toward the dock but stops the boat a few hundred feet away. They can see the lights on the pier and will be able to drive back there easily in the dark.

The light fades and the fireworks start. There are a couple of houses and campsites on the reservoir. Honey and Bea often come here on summer holidays to watch the fireworks from the pier. It’s better on the boat.

Honey also thinks it’s better because she can see Bea curled up in Quinn’s arms, petting over his arm hair like she always does. She’s wearing his blue sweatshirt, buried in the fabric with the hood over her head. She’s absentmindedly smiling and making comments to those around her and she looks so content that Honey feels just as warm and fuzzy inside as Bea probably does.

Honey shifts her weight on the cushions where she sits, unsticking herself from the leather. She’s definitely got prints on her legs in the design of the cushions, like she just took a really good nap and the impressions of the sheets are still printed on her skin. Ellen gave her a blanket to cover up with earlier when the sun started setting, chilling the air significantly with the way it bounces off the rolling waves.

She’s comfortable and warm and alone, pleasantly, until Trevor joins her. She supposes it makes sense– there was room next to her and that she was staring at the happy couple… who aren’t an actual couple. Honey’s a little jealous, but she’s mostly happy for Bea.

“Room for another?” Trevor asks. He’s already lifting the corners of the blanket and sliding under, not bothering to listen for a response from Honey.

“I’m saving this blanket for someone who follows through with things they commit to,” Honey retorts, although she loosens her grip on the blanket so that he can cover himself. “You’re stealing all the warmth.”

“It’s not a big enough blanket,” Trevor says.

“Yeah, that’s why I was the only one using it,” Honey tells him. She sounds defensive, but she’s joking and so is he.

He steals the rest of the blanket from her and wraps it around his shoulders, which are, inanely, still uncovered by any shirt or sweatshirt. Maybe he deserves the blanket more, but it was Honey’s first. He’s such a little thief.

He makes up for it when he pulls her onto his lap and wraps the blanket around her shoulders. He completely covers her with his arms and plasters his chest to her back, hooking his chin over her shoulder. His hands clasp in front of her chest, his wrist falling on the swell of her breast. He certainly makes himself comfortable, shifting underneath her until he finds a good position.

“What are you doing?” Honey whispers, looking around at the other people on the boat. All of them are facing out towards the fireworks and the twinkling stars near the skyline.

“Missed you today,” Trevor replies at the same volume, kissing Honey’s cheek swiftly before leaning back until his back meets the hull of the boat. Honey rests back on him when she’s sure that no one is looking at them.

He’s daring, but she could still roll off of him in an instant if she needed to. Plus, it’s kind of nice– his cock is nestled underneath her and it’s still mostly soft. She can feel it and she’s not shy when she wiggles around on his lap just to torture him a bit. It works until he shifts his arms so that the tip of his pinky can settle under the band of her swimsuit. He brushes against her underboob, lighting a fire in the pit of her stomach.

“You’re very brave,” Honey whispers. “Acting like this after you left me out to dry last night.”

“You had it coming, you brat,” Trevor teases. He presses his hips up and he’s definitely growing harder as a result of her wiggling. “One of these days, I’m going to put you in your place. You got a taste of it last night.”

“Oh, you think you have that power over me?” Honey asks.

“I think I could have that power over you,” Trevor whispers.

Honey doesn’t like how his voice raises goosebumps on her neck. She puts her weight on him, letting her head fall back. She looks up at him in the darkness and he looks especially handsome when the sparks light up his face in a myriad of reds, greens, and golds– because no one could be bothered to buy red, white, and blue fireworks for the holiday.

“If you let me,” Trevor continues, finishing his thought with another tiny kiss on her cheek.

Honey shivers. “You have to prove that you’ve earned my trust.”

“Baby, when have I ever let you down?” Trevor asks.

“Last night!” Honey hisses. “You left me– on your bed– last night!”

Trevor chuckles and moves a hand to her hips. He positions her right on top of his bulge. “I’ll make up for it later,” he promises, rolling his lap in a sensual curve, only exacerbated by the rocking of the boat from the waves of the lake.

It’s then that Honey moves off of his lap with a little bit of a struggle from the boy. He doesn’t want her to get off, but she tucks herself into his side and throws her legs across his lap. He keeps an arm around her, keeping them bundled in the blanket. It’s even warmer this way, with Trevor acting as Honey’s own personal furnace.

“Not tonight,” Honey tells him.

Trevor pouts a bit. “You don’t want me to make up for last night?” Trevor asks, his question rhetorical– because if it wasn’t, Honey would call him out very loudly for being a gaslighter.

Honey shrugs one shoulder, knocking Trevor’s arm down to her waist. His fingers spread over her side as widely as he can, touching as much of her skin as possible. His burning touch keeps her in place, stuck like her childhood handprints near the cement of her back steps.

“Not really.” She smiles. “I do okay on my own.”

Trevor frowns and groans at that, pressing his forehead to hers and wincing, as if wounded by the idea of Honey getting off without him.

Honey chuckles out a breath, then turns back to the fireworks. They stay like that throughout the rest of the fireworks show. Trevor rubs soothing circles on her skin underneath the blanket until she’s squirming and reconsidering her denial. Right at the grand finale, through the thousands of little pops that echo over the water, Trevor tilts Honey’s head up and steals a kiss from her.

He moves out from under the blanket and wraps it securely around Honey’s shoulders. He pulls at the edges to make sure it’s in place, smiling softly at Honey and nodding in a nearly invisible motion before scooting away. He lets a respectable distance linger between them. It’s electric and sizzling, like there’s a live wire pulling at Honey, encouraging her to crawl back into Trevor’s lap.

She wants to throw caution in the wind and say ‘screw it.’ She wants to bundle up next to him like Bea and Quinn and take whatever chirps she gets.

Her mind just will not allow her to do such a thing. She can barely fathom it, so she stays planted in her spot. She smiles at Bea before looking away, just making a moment of eye contact that will definitely leave Bea wondering and texting her later.

Other than that, she just tries to look out into the distance. She’s quiet, but not unresponsive. She talks to the Hughes brothers, to Cole, to Jim and Ellen… even wishing Trevor a good night.

The mood has certainly shifted, just between Honey and Trevor. It’s thicker. She’s got a lot of thoughts bouncing around in her head, but she can’t identify any of them. Same with how she feels– she feels something, but she’s not sure what.

It’ll solve itself eventually.

41:90 – TREVOR

Trevor has never been to the wine bar in Litchton before. He didn’t even know it existed until today. Apparently, Ellen had gone out to do some shopping in the one, little boutique in Litchton and the very kind shopowner had asked her if she liked wine. Ellen had said yes, then the shopowner had revealed that there was a cute, fairy-light-lined wine bar just around the corner through the alley.

It had seemed sketchy at first, walking through an alley in a tiny town to get to a bar, but with a group of six men including five professional athletes and one former-professional athlete who has transformed into a very protective husband… Ellen seemed okay.

Once they got to the wine bar, they realized that nowhere in Litchton could be sketchy at all because it’s all so eclectic. The bar is outdoors, mostly. It’s a wooden patio with flower boxes with wildflowers planted inside them near the entrance. There’s seating inside, but it’s just a bunch of couches in silly colors. You have to go inside to order, but it’s such a nice day, so the group sits outside.

Ellen and Jim insist on paying for everyone, so Cole and Jack dive head-first into the IPA menu. Luke and Jim settle for some bottled domestic beer. Ellen and Quinn both go for a ‘refreshing white’ wine and Trevor is left staring at the menu while everyone makes their way to a table outside.

“Not much of a wine guy?” The bartender asks. She’s smiling at him like she’s holding back a laugh, then looks him up and down.

She’s checking me out, Trevor realizes.

She’s not bad-looking, obviously. Part of being a bartender is looking your best to receive the best tips possible. In Anaheim, maybe Trevor would steal a second glance at her and flash one of his dashing smiles.

She’s wearing a pink button-up and a long cream skirt that has a slit in the middle. He can see the bootstraps of two tall brown boots from where she stands behind the counter. Her hair is dark and she’s pretty. She’s definitely older than Trevor, but not old enough for it to be concerning or weird.

He normally likes interactions like this, even. It would be so easy to turn on the charm and get a discounted drink.

But, Trevor just smiles tightly and turns the menu over in his hand. “No, not really. Beer and liquor, mostly, but I’m trying to extend my palette.”

“Have a moscato. It’s an easy place to start. Nice and sweet,” she says, turning her back and picking through the selection of bottles behind her. She returns with a bottle and a glass in her hand, setting both in front of Trevor delicately. As she uncorks the bottle and pours the wine, he spots the glimmering ring on her finger.

Good– his choice not to flirt with her has already paid off.

“How did you learn so much about wine?” Trevor asks. “It’s pretty daunting.”

“How did you learn so much about beer?” The woman returns. “It’s the same thing, basically.”

“Good point.”

“When your husband grew up in Napa Valley and his one big move in college was to take girls out for wine and cheese, you learn a lot. There are only so many dates you can go on with a man like that before you start picking stuff up,” she jokes. Then, she spreads her arms out and gestures to the bar around them. “And now we own this place, so it all worked out.”

Trevor nods, following her gaze around the bar. He likes the mood-lighting and the funky plush chairs strewn around the room. “It’s a great place. My girlfriend would love it.”

The word comes naturally. He's telling the truth, too– Honey would love this place.

“You’ll have to bring her around sometime,” the woman tells him. She extends a hand over the counter for Trevor to shake. “I’m Sarah.”

“Trevor,” Trevor replies, shaking her hand. He reaches for his glass of wine and takes it from the counter, holding it by the stem so that he doesn’t ruin the temperature of the chilled wine.

“Oh, you’re Trevor,” Sarah says. She takes a deep breath like it’s a big revelation, who he is. “Wow. My mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since she tried to teach you how to knit three weeks ago.”

Trevor had thought she looked familiar. She’s Scarlett, only thirty-five years younger. Trevor is surprised he didn’t connect the dots sooner.

“Tried?” Trevor asks. “She succeeded. I’m a terrific craftsman.”

“And humble, too,” Sarah says with an eyeroll. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear that you have a girlfriend.”

Oh, fuck.

Trevor’s eyes widen and he feels his heart stop. He hadn’t thought anything of it when he called Honey his ‘girlfriend’ to this random stranger, but now, Sarah isn’t that much of a stranger. She’s the daughter of a woman with whom Honey hangs out every Tuesday morning, a woman who loves to gossip and can’t keep a secret. Trevor doesn’t even know Scarlett, but he’s seen enough of her and hung around enough to have a feel for her character.

He’s screwed. He told someone in Honey’s circle that they’re dating… when they’re supposed to be a complete secret. Especially considering they're not really dating. She keeps saying no when he invites her to dinner.

Sarah doesn't know who he’s talking about, though. That's his saving grace. Maybe he has a girlfriend back home. For all she knows, his girlfriend is far, far away from here.

Sarah’s smile widens. “I know that look,” she says. “This girlfriend isn’t going to be very happy with you, huh?”

Trevor bites the inside of his cheek and begrudgingly looks down at his feet. He scuffs his shoes against the bar, then dares to meet Sarah’s eyes again. “I’ve said too much.”

Sarah gives him a nod, making a show of locking her lips.

Trevor bows his head in concession, then thanks her after a pause that went on for slightly too long. He goes to join the rest of his party outside, but Sarah calls after him.

“Trevor,” Sarah says.

“Yeah,” Trevor replies, coming back to face her with fifty feet of space between them.

Sarah licks her front teeth, seeming to debate her following statement. She beckons him forward and Trevor comes closer. Sarah leans over the counter as far as she can and Trevor turns his head so that she can speak directly into his ear.

“Tell Honey that you both are welcome here any time. I’ve got a bottle of grüner veltliner with her name on it.”

Trevor pulls back, blinking at the dark-haired woman a couple of times. She quirks her lips and gives him a bowed head of her own before turning to reorganize the cooler behind the bar.

Trevor stands there for a few moments too long. He stays planted in one spot before he’s able to scrub a hand over his face and turn back to the door that leads out to the patio. He doubles back.

“How did you know?” Trevor asks.

Sarah shrugs, picking up a glass from the drying rack and running a clean cloth over its base. “Old women love gossip, Trevor,” she explains. “But they love to watch their babies fall in love. Scarlett is hoping there will be an open bar at the wedding.”

Trevor flushes. He's not sure what to say from here, so he just gives Sarah an awkward wave and shuffles out to the patio.

He wishes he could give Jim and Ellen his full attention during their last few hours in town. He tries his hardest to talk to them and contribute to the conversation, but his mind is elsewhere.

A wedding.

The thought of marriage has never crossed Trevor’s mind before.

Never. Not in regards to any of his past girlfriends or childhood crushes. His future was always hockey, not a wife and two kids and a golden retriever and a picket fence.

Then, he imagines Honey in a long white gown, with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in her hand like the ones that grow in her backyard. Like the ones in the vase on her kitchen counter, the ones she toyed with as he put her fruit away on Monday.

With barely over half a summer to go before he leaves, Trevor has an abrupt revelation. It's all Sarah’s fault, which means that it's all Scarlett’s fault by extension. Trevor is never knitting again.

Because just like a quick snap of his fingers or a gunshot at the start of a race, he’s thinking of marriage with Honey and he doesn’t dread it at all.

It's really hard to make eye contact with anyone for the rest of the day.

Trevor goes to his bedroom as soon as he gets home, kissing Ellen on the cheek to say goodbye and shaking Jim’s hand. He stares at his phone for a while, looking at Honey’s most recent message of “Come over?”

He stares at her contact name. It’s the honeypot emoji, all on its own. It's inconspicuous enough, although relatively obvious to anyone who knows them both. Honey would kill him if she saw it. She’d kill him if she knew he thought something was missing from her name in his phone, and kill him more if she knew that the thing that he thought was missing was a ring.

He turns his phone off and throws it across the room. She barely even likes him, although she's warming up to Trevor at a snail’s pace.

He’d be a fool if he let one elderly woman’s comment about marriage change their whole relationship. They're not getting married. He and Honey, they're just– well, they're just hooking up. They're just having fun. She’s not looking for all of that.

Why did he think it was a good idea to call Honey his girlfriend?

42:90 – HONEY

Honey is about at her wits end. Six hours ago, when Bea called her and informed her that the parents were gone, Honey didn’t think she’d still be stuck in the basement of the rental house. The first few hours were fine with Bea updating her whiteboard and Luke entertaining them by trying to cook a late lunch. He was craving tacos, so tacos they would have, and it was a pleasure to watch him do all the work.

Jack, Cole, and Trevor are playing some video game that Honey can’t be bothered to learn the name of. Luke is upstairs cleaning up his mess. Bea sits firmly on Quinn’s stomach, pinning the boy down on the couch, and she’s taking a pair of tweezers to his eyebrows.

It’s devastatingly domestic. Honey hates how Quinn’s eyes are half-open and blink up at Bea like the world’s laziest cat. She hates the concentration on Bea’s face as she leans closer to the boy to get a better look at the stray hairs she’s itching to pluck. She hates how Bea’s lips purse when she frowns out of pure focus and she hates how Quinn smiles at Bea after his gaze drifts to her lips. She especially hates that when Quinn complains that it hurts, which it doesn’t, because Honey has plucked her own eyebrows enough times to know that it doesn’t, Bea soothes the affected area with a kiss and then plops another on Quinn’s mouth before continuing.

She’s never felt so single in her life.

Honey thinks this might be her payback from when she and Thomas were together and Bea was the single one. She remembers being in high school and driving around with Bea in the backseat and Thomas behind the wheel. They would go to the Target in Charlotte almost every day, just for something to do. Bea had to deal with her shrieking laughter when Thomas was touchy and overbearing because they were ‘in love’ or whatever high schoolers claim to feel at the time.

When Honey ignores the way the relationship ended with Thomas, she thinks it wasn’t so bad. It was fun, even. She really liked Thomas. That’s what made his eventual betrayal so hard to deal with.

Her other problem is that when she looks over at Trevor, she has started getting the same butterflies that she would get with Thomas. Like just before they started dating, when Honey would go to his baseball games because their games were always just before her practice, and he would point at her with his baseball bat before he went up to bat.

“K, baby, you’re all done,” Bea murmurs with a pat to Quinn’s cheek.

It pulls Honey from her thoughts and her face immediately contorts with distaste.

Quinn takes his hands from where they were resting on Bea’s bare thighs– she’s wearing underwear and a big shirt like a slut, Honey could kill her– and wraps his arms around her waist. He sits up, keeping her firmly on his lap, and kisses her.

“Thanks, Sweet Bea,” Quinn replies at a similar volume, punctuating his sentiment with another peck.

Honey might actually put her hands around her own neck and start squeezing. She’s revolted by how sickly-sweet they are.The most frustrating bit is that they don’t even want to put a label on their relationship. Bea is still fucking Jack and Cole in addition to Quinn– and Quinn doesn’t care. He still treats Bea like she’s the only girl in the world.

Meanwhile, the guy that she doesn’t have a label with is sitting on the couch between two of his best buddies, cajoling about something stupid. He’s wearing a muscle tee that he clearly made himself because the arm holes are so wide that when he leans forward, Honey can see the way his tan stomach folds and flexes when he breathes.

She really ought to check her calendar. Her normal schedule is completely out of whack after her period came early last week. Her hormones are running rampant.

Or, that’s just the best, most scientific excuse for her behavior.

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Honey announces, standing from her spot in the room and clasping her hands together. “Goodnight all.”

“Goodnight,” Jack bids, singing a little bit. He’s distracted from his latest win in that stupid game.

“Bye, Hon,” Bea says. She’s got her legs wrapped around Quinn’s waist now and he’s got a hand in her hair. Honey refuses to reply to her. She’s petty and annoyed and Bea is the cause of that annoyance.

Stop having such perfect sex! Honey wishes she could shout at Bea. I’m so jealous of how happy you are!

And Bea would be perfectly nice about it, and probably never bring Quinn up again, but then Honey would feel guilty for making her stop talking about her romantic life… until the cycle just started again.

So, instead, Honey leaves.

Well, she means to. She makes it to the door before Trevor catches her hand and pulls her back. He tilts his head and pushes her hair behind her ears, clearing her face.

“You’re upset,” he says. “You’ve been glaring at them all day. What’s wrong, Honey?”

“Nothing,” Honey says petulantly. She can’t just tell Trevor that she’s jealous that Quinn and Bea can be all lovey-dovey without a shred of consequence. It’ll just make him think that she wants to act that way, and she really doesn’t. Quite frankly, she’d rather him fuck her until her mind is completely blank from pleasure.

When Trevor hums out a contemplative little “baby,” Honey feels herself snap.

Her fingers circle his wrist and she pivots, turning from the front door and dragging Trevor upstairs. She wrenches open his bedroom door and then slams it behind them, pushing him into the bedroom with both of her hands on his chest until his knees hit the side of his bed and he falls on his back.

“What are you doing?” Trevor asks as Honey paws at his shirt. She tugs the hem over his head, catching him slightly on the neckline.

“Don’t call me ‘baby,’” Honey hisses, correcting the boy for multiple transgressions with an aggressive tug to his shorts.

Trevor smiles and helps her kick the shorts away when they reach his ankles. “Sorry, baby. I didn’t know it made you so mad.”

“God, shut up and do what you do best, Trevor,” Honey spits out. She pulls her own top over her head, freeing her chest. She tries to stomp all of the butterflies that flap around in her stomach when Trevor’s eyes fix on her favorite accessories.

“Ooh, yes ma’am,” Trevor teases. He bites his bottom lip and his eyes shine when Honey unbuttons her jean shorts and forces them down her legs. Her underwear follows, which is when she comes back to Trevor on the bed.

She snaps the waistband of his boxers against his hip before taking the final item of clothing off of him. She’s hyper focused on her actions, unable to see the way Trevor looks down at her. He reaches to touch her hair, but she smacks his hand away.

Their encounter is frantic. Honey climbs onto his lap and has his cock inside of her so quickly that the whiplash is better than a quippy response. Trevor moans at the feeling and goes to grab her hip, but Honey stops him.

“Don’t touch,” she commands. “This is about me.”

“Oh, I see,” Trevor says. “You’re just pent up from the other day, aren’t you?” He ignores her directions and places his hands on her waist.

Honey glares at him, fixing him with a look so lethal that he really ought to curl up into a ball and die.

He just laughs and continues, pulling at her body until she starts to move against him. His cock, pulsing inside of her, erases some of her jealousy and frustration from her body. She rolls her head back, her eyes closing from sheer fulfillment.

“Need my cock to fix your problems, babe?” Trevor asks, snapping his hips up once in a shocking movement that has Honey pitching forward.

Her mouth falls open and her hair falls into her face. Honey’s nails dig into Trevor’s pecs, just like how they did when she came all over his fingers the other day. Those marks have probably only just healed, too, and now Honey is millimeters away from digging in too deep and breaking his skin.

“I hate you,” Honey pants, shaking the hair out of her face. She rocks her hips, bouncing on Trevor’s– unfortunately, very satisfying– length. She retracts her talons and presses her hands flush against Trevor’s chest. She moans when she imagines his cock leaking inside of her, her hand going lower until her thumbnail scrapes his nipple.

He hisses, pelvis stuttering beneath her. “Big talk for a girl who pushed me down and took my cock before I could get to the bottom of all of this,” Trevor quips, one of his hands steadying Honey while the other tweaks her nipple in retaliation.

She whimpers from the spark of his touch, but bounces more harshly. Her knees are practically screaming in pain from the position, but she continues to work up and down over Trevor’s cock. She’s close already and she can’t let her sore joints stop her from reaching the orgasm that is just over an arm’s length away.

“It’s the only thing you’re good for,” Honey says, but the end of her statement twists with a moan as Trevor snaps his hips again, pushing his cock even further into her.

“The only thing?” Trevor asks, a smug smile pulling at his lips. “I seem to remember you begging for my fingers last week. And my tongue two days ago, come to think of it.”

Honey scratches down his chest, leaning so that her face is right in his, their noses almost touching. “I don’t beg,” she reminds him, grinding down on his cock in circular motions when the tip of his dick prods at her sweet spot. “You should know by now that I do not beg.”

“You should,” Trevor says. He lifts a hand and brings it down on her asscheek, the slap filling the room and jolting Honey. She straightens up again and rides Trevor with a renewed fervor that has her eyes rolling back. “Do you like this, baby? Riding me like I’m a toy for you to use?”

Honey struggles to breathe through the moan that is ripped from her throat. She bounces on his cock, first fueled by his words, then driven over and over by the building feeling in her stomach.

Without sliding out of her, Trevor rolls them over. He throws Honey’s knee over his shoulder and crowds her space, lewd noises echoing between them with each snap of his hips. “Or do you like this?”

Her hands scramble for purchase on his shoulders. This is exactly what she was looking for– a hard, harsh fuck that has her practically wailing beneath him. She’s not even sure she’s making noise, but how could she not when she feels this good? Her nails are out again, leaving long, red, raised lines on Trevor’s shoulders and upper back as he fucks into her. The marks will certainly spark some chirps from the guys if they see them, that’s for sure, but they still don’t know that the chick Trevor is pulling is Honey, and that secret is more delicious than the stiffness in her hands as she marks him.

“Yeah, you like this best,” Trevor mewls, leaning down to lather his tongue over her breast. He catches her piercing between his teeth, tugging at it until she whimpers. Then, he releases it and pounds a nail into her coffin: “My big cock,” he whispers, voice dark and gruff. “Filling you up and fucking you until I come inside you. Want me to warm you up, Honey? Put all my cum in this pretty, pretty pussy?”

He’s smug, but he’s right, and Honey kind of wants to hit him for it. She won’t give him the satisfaction of agreeing, of telling him that she absolutely wants him to warm her up until she’s leaking.

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, their teeth clashing in a messy, heated kiss. “I hate you,” Honey repeats, nibbling Trevor’s bottom lip after she says so. She bites down gently and tugs, arching her back and rolling her hips down to meet each of Trevor’s thrusts.

Trevor bends down to leave a line of kisses along Honey’s neck and clavicles, sucking a hickey under her ear in the same spot where Quinn marked Bea while the parents were in town. He laughs, a breathless little chuckle that settles on Honey’s chest and makes a home there. “If you hate me so much, why are you still letting me fuck you?”

It’s because of the feeling that washes over her shortly after his thumb makes contact with her clit. He’s hitting her g-spot consistently enough and they’re fucking bare and he’s kissing her and his thumb is there– and she comes. It feels like a kaleidoscope, the way her vision goes white and spotty as he ruins her.

She’s gone limp, unable to control her muscles except to pull Trevor closer. She feels him come, too, spilling inside of her.

Their climaxes are sloppy and sweaty, bodies sliding against each other through the aftershocks. Trevor is still fucking into her, barely. His dick twitches as he’s pulling out, pressing kiss after kiss to her neck.

“Better?” Trevor asks softly. He rolls off the bed and finds his boxers, pulling them back on before rejoining Honey on the bed.

“Temporarily,” Honey replies. Her tone is a little clipped, but she’d hate to lie to Trevor and say that all is solved. She’s still a little wound up, but his dick did work wonders. She particularly lost her head when he was a little rougher– the spank while she was riding him was like a revelation. “I’ll need another session in about a week.”

Trevor snuffles out a laugh. “I’ll be needing one sooner than that,” he says. “How about tomorrow? You don’t have work, you’re not busy… I can feed you fruit afterwards…”

He trails off with an enticing wiggle of his eyebrows and Honey laughs aloud. She rolls her eyes and pries herself from the mattress, grimacing slightly as his cum starts to drip down her thighs. She crinkles her nose and hobbles toward his bathroom, hoping that she’s not leaking onto his carpet. While sex without a condom is hot in her mind, it’s rarely ever hot in practice.

She uses his toilet and rifles through his drawers a little just for fun before Trevor calls for her.

“There’s clean underwear in the basket near the hamper,” he says. “I just haven’t folded it yet. Grab whatever you like.”

Honey makes a face at herself in the mirror. She has clothes. She doesn’t need his clean clothes. They won’t even fit her– and plus, she likes her old pajama boxers way more than she would like his.

She returns to the bedroom, all clean and no longer dripping. “I’ve got clothes, Trev,” she says. To prove her point, she bends down and collects her underwear, shorts, and top. She starts to pull them on, but pauses when she catches Trevor rustling in bed and battling with the top sheet.

“You’re not staying?” Trevor asks. “C’mon, baby, come sleep with me.”

“Already did,” Honey quips. She points a finger at Trevor briefly after the joke, then finishes dressing. She pulls her hair up into a ponytail, then realizes she doesn’t have a hair tie because she gave it to Bea earlier, so she just lets her hair drop back down past her shoulders. She smiles at the boy, who is frowning at her. She purses her lips in an air-kiss. “Don’t call me baby.”

She starts to leave, rolling her eyes when Trevor whistles at the sight of her backside in her shorts. She tries to wipe the smile off of her face in case she runs into one of the other boys or, God forbid, nosy Bea McLean.

She gets lucky in two ways: the sex earlier, pun definitely intended, and in the way that no one catches her sneaking out. She can still hear them playing that stupid game and she has a feeling that Bea is in one of the bedrooms with her choice man of the evening.

When she’s alone in the car, that giddy smile overtakes her face like it couldn’t behave for a second longer.

Honey feels like she’s swaddled in the butterflies that have been flying around in her stomach these past couple of weeks. She’s digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole that will be very hard to climb out of come August when Trevor leaves, but for now, she’s got a man that she likes who lets her play pretend enemies until she’s ready to tell him the truth. It’s not a label, but it’s enough.

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