A Quick Delivery

TRISTAN

"Oh, please," my sister scoffed, turning her head to stare out the passenger window. "You've had a crush on Hunter since the first time you played against him, and bullying the guy you want is such an old high school trope."

The truck veered slightly as my hands jerked on the leather wheel. Heart jackhammering against my ribs, I fought to correct the course, the tires shrieking loudly against the asphalt.

"Shut your mouth, Evie." The words ripped out of my chest as I snapped my gaze away from the road to her. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

"Oh, but I do," she shot back, her dark brown eyes firing straight daggers as she faced me head-on. She wasn't the least bit afraid of my anger, clearly aware that the real monster lived back at the house, and not in this driver's seat. "Know what you talked about for two weeks straight the first time you played against the Ice Reapers? Hunter Beaumont. You claimed to hate his smugness and attitude, but your eyes, they were alive, Tristan. ALIVE. Do you know how much it hurts living with a literal robot of an older brother for years, and then one day he gets back from a game he lost and his eyes are no longer blank walls, but hold actual fucking emotion? You like him, and God, I'd give anything for you to admit it and--"

"I said SHUT UP!"

My sneakers slammed down hard onto the brake pedal.

The truck jolted to an abrupt halt, violently throwing Evie forward.

"Tris!" A gasp tore out of her as her forehead nearly slammed into the hard plastic dashboard, but luckily, her seat belt was on, and she was yanked back to her seat.

My heart was hammering against my ribs, the chaotic rhythm making my lungs burn. It felt like the air in the truck had turned to thick glass and nothing was coming into my windpipe.

I couldn't be what she was insinuating.

If Lucian ever found out---if my father even suspected for a single fraction of a second that I was looking at another guy's mouth...or his hands on my body--he wouldn't just use his belt or fists.

He'd put that fucking service weapon to my forehead and pull the trigger himself.

I didn't wait for either her or myself to calm down before reaching across the console and roughly snatching her arm. "I am not gay, Evie."

Tears instantly welled in her eyes. "But you're only attracted to guys, Tristan."

"Yes," I conceded, the word tearing out of my throat like shards of broken glass. My jaw worked so hard a thick knot of muscle ticked painfully underneath the skin. "I know that. But that doesn't make me gay. It only makes me a sick fuck wth an unnatural sexuality. I can't fucking change it, but it doesn't mean I have to indulge in it!"

My younger sister's expression crumbled, fresh tears spilling over her eyes. "Oh my god, Tris." She sobbed. "What has Dad done to you? I'm so sorry."

The pity. The fucking pity. 

Hissing through my teeth, I tore my hands off her and kicked the driver's door wide open.

"Tris! Tristan, wait!"

I slammed the door shut, drowning out her cries as I stormed off down the pavement without looking back. The keys were in the ignition, and she knew how to drive the truck. She'd get her ass home.

I couldn't be anywhere near her right now because I didn't trust myself, and I'd be damned before I ever hurt my little sister.

The soles of my Converse pounded against the concrete as I moved further and faster away from her.

It's okay to be gay.

Yeah, I fucking knew that. I wasn't an idiot. The world was changing, and people moved on, but nobody else in this goddamn backwards town cared. Nobody in our stupid, holy-than-thou church believed that shit.

And most importantly--it might be okay for others, but it wasn't okay for me.

My...whatever the fuck it was...is a curse. It was a filthy, disgusting disease, and it was the reason my mother was currently sitting at home with a broken mind, completely susceptible to my father's whims.

By the time my legs were burning so much that I had to slow down, I realized I was somehow standing in front of my bestfriend's house.

A nerve twitched in my jaw.

Carter hadn't shown up at school today, and I'd already planned on swinging by later to check on his lazy ass, so this was as good a time as any.

Walking up the driveway, I spotted his beat-up motorcycle parked in the garage.

"Carter!" I called out, banging my fist against the front door.

There was no answer.

I knocked again, harder this time. The bastard was definitely inside if his back was sitting right there. He never went anywhere without it, much to his mother's frustration.

There could be only one explanation as to why he wasn't getting the door. His ears were blocked while gaming. I swear he was addicted to that PS4 console.

Rolling my eyes, I reached up behind the porch light fixture, snatching the plastic fake rock hiding their spare key. With it, I unlocked the door.

The house was pitch black and dead silent, telling me Mrs. Virell wasn't home. Carter had a knack for pulling all the curtains in the house down when he was home alone.

Jogging up the wooden stairs, I prepared to creep up behind him and scare him, but when I pushed his bedroom door open, I froze dead in my tracks.

"Oh--"

At the sound of my voice, Carter scrambled backward on his bed, hurriedly smacking his phone screen to kill the display.

The loud groans of the guy begging to be fucked harder in the ass cut out instantly, leaving the room in an awkward silence.

I just stood there in the doorway, staring at him.

Carter's face was burning a shade of bright crimson as he sat there mostly naked with a bottle of lotion beside him on the bed.

"Bro..." He finally said, biting his bottom lip as the tips of his ears got redder. "Fuck, man... I...I'm sorry."

Shaking my head, I swallowed past the lump in my throat and pressed my lips into a neutral line. "Nothing to be sorry about. Can I come in?"

"Yeah. fuck, yeah, come in." He blurted, pulling his duvet over his lap as though just realized his state of undress.

I dragged my feet across his room, perching on the edge of his desk chair. Fuck, it was so awkward you could slice it with a knife. 

Carter kept his eyes glued to the floor, his cheeks still flushed bright red.

I looked at him for two more seconds until I realized I couldn't take it anymore. "Are you gonna wash those hands or what?"

He looked taken aback for a brief moment, bringing his palms up to his face, then suddenly he barked out a laugh that instantly shattered the tension in the room.

"Fuck off, man," he snorted, shaking his head as he sprang off the bed and practically bolted into his adjoining bathroom. The sound of the faucet running filled the room for a while.

A few minutes later, he walked out, wiping his hands over the shirt he must have pulled on in the bathroom as he tossed himself onto the mattress. "Soooo...what'd I miss at school today?"

Recalling all that happened today, a smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I leaned back in the desk chair. "You wouldn't fucking believe it if I told you."

For the next ten minutes, I broke down the entire circus today was--from the beatdown in the locker room to the whole investigation with Beaumont.

When I stopped for a breather, Carter's mouth was practically hanging open. "Holy cow. Are you kidding me? Hunter Beaumont is going to our school?" he groaned. "Why do I always miss the best shit?"

I snickered, crossing my arms over my chest. "Because instead of being on the ice, you were at home jacking off to gay p**n."

The air became tense again. Carter licked his lips, his hazel eyes darting up to mine as if he was searching my face. The intensity in his eyes made my gut tighten uncomfortably.

Stamping down the panic flaring in my chest, I tore my eyes away, looking out the bedroom window onto the quiet street below. "Well, his mom is hot as fuck at least," I muttered, throwing in an icebreaker.

Carter let out a shaky breath, nodding fast. "Oh, yeah?"

Nodding, I leaned over, reaching into Carter's bottom desk drawer to pull out the small wooden box I knew was hidden behind his old textbooks.

Pulling out a pre-roll and a lighter, I flicked the flame to life. "Yeah, she looks like a model or something."

"Damn," Carter whistled. "Prolly where that arrogant fucker gets his looks."

I shrugged, taking a deep drag of the weed. The skunky smoke filled my lungs, burning me before I puckered my lips and blew it out toward the ceiling. 

Fuck that was some good shit. I felt its effect on the first hit as the sweet, hazy haze began dulling t he sharp edges in my mind.

With a smirk, I passed the blunt over to Carter, and he took it gratefully.

We smoked in silence for a few minutes, and all the odd tension between us slowly fizzled out until all that was left was this nice buzz.

Weed was always the answer to me and Carter's problems.

I watched him suck on the blunt, holding the smoke before smoothly letting it out through his nose. Show-off.

"So," he broke the silence between us as he handed the joint back to me. "Are you in trouble with your dad again? That why you came here? You spending the night?"

So many questions.

I blew out another cloud of smoke, a lazy smirk pulling at my mouth as I shook my head. "Are you saying I only come over to your house when I'm in trouble? Huh?"

Carter only flipped me the bird in response, and I couldn't help the light chuckle that left my throat.

Hours later, the sun had finally dipped, and the cool night air was whipping against my face as I kicked the starter on Carter's motorcycle.

"You better come back one-legged if you wreck my bike, Reeves!" Carter shouted as I tore down his driveway.

Grinning, I ignored him completely, revving the loud engine until it roared through the quiet street.

Gripping the handlebars, I navigated out of our neighborhood, leaving the decent streets behind as I headed for the shadiest part of town.

As the motorcycle hummed beneath me, I reached down with one hand, tapping my hoodie pocket to double-check the plastic bag I'd just taken from Carter's house. My stash house, basically, even though he hated me for it.

It was there. Thank fuck.

I couldn't risk slipping up again, especially after how those assholes showed up at my school those weeks ago. It wasn't just about missing the payment deadline; it was losing Boss's trust. 

It had taken everything to convince him to give me another shot, and I wasn't going to fuck it up this time.

The cut from all my deliveries was what would get my mother far away from Lucian one day.

My thoughts ground to a halt as I slowed the motorcycle. Confirming that the new drop location matched, I cut the engine in front of a greasy, rundown pizzeria, pulling off my helmet.

After killing the engine, I dismounted and strolled across the street to the pitch-black alleyway close to the diner.

My pulse pounded wildly in my ears as the shadows swallowed me whole. I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder, imagining my father catching me here. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd do.

Cold sweat beaded at the back of my neck as I tried to school my expression. This wasn't my first delivery, dammit. Nothing would go wrong.

The sounds of footsteps scuffing against the floor snapped me out of my thoughts.

I straightened just as a tall figure stepped into the mouth of the alley. Draped in an oversized black hoodie with the hood pulled low over his face, he looked like the Temu version of Batman.

That killed some of my anxiety.

"You got it?" The guy rasped once he was close enough.

"You got the cash?" I shot back, keeping my voice flat.

He reached into his pocket, making me tense for a second, but when he withdrew his hand, there was a thick brown paper bag which he shoved toward me. 

I snatched it, checking the stack of bills inside, before pulling out the plastic bag from inside my hoodie, tossing it into his hands.

Without another word, the guy turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

A wave of relief washed over me as I stepped out of the alley, jogging across the empty street toward where Carter's motorcycle was parked. 

As I climbed on the seat and reached for the handlebars, my eyes accidentally drifted over toward the dirty windows of the pizzeria across the road.

Maybe I should get some for Evie.

As I chewed on the thought, my breath suddenly hitched in my throat.

Because standing in the diner with an apron tied around their waist was a figure I'd recognize anywhere.