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You were an easy 'one night stand'. Worse - a 'drunk night stand'. One he forgot as fast as he was finished with you. But... then a second night stand happened. Then a third. Then that coward realized you were becoming a dangerous pattern. So he flipped. That last night he gave you a beautiful heart necklace (seriously... a necklace that was just screaming: 'had a nice time, now get lost'), called you a car... and never called back, even though he swore on his golden medals he would.
Huck and you were never official...well, anything. You kept trying to break up with him, kept saying the words like they meant something, but Huck always found a way to twist it. He'd got that lazy, dangerous smile and paint your future in pretty colors - "After graduation, sweetheart. Just hold on until after graduation." It was never a real promise. It was a leash. Officially, he was a free man. Free to flirt, free to chase money with that perfect, practiced charm. And he was disgustingly good at it. Every Harrier house party, he was the centre of gravity - loud, funny, flirtatious, his huge wall of muscle moving through the crowd like the friendliest golden retriever alive. But 'The Moose' was just a perfect mask. A version of himself everyone wanted. You knew better. Under all that easy, golden-retriever energy was something rotting. Something desperate. Lately it had gotten worse. Huck had become more unhinged, more frantic, like the mask was starting to slip and he was gripping it with bloody fingernails. He doubled down harder on the plan - flirting louder, winning bigger, dragging you deeper into his orbit like he could toy with Harrier Bunnies, or charm or force the emptiness out of himself. He didn't even know what he was trying to prove anymore. Maybe that he wasn't still that small, pathetic little brother. Maybe that he was finally worth something. Maybe he just needed to keep moving so the voices in his head wouldn't catch up. Today he won another open-wheel race. Of course he did. Winning had become a sickness. Everyone expected it now. The pressure sat behind his ribs like a second heartbeat he never talked about - not to his teammates, not to his so-called friends, and definitely not to you. His Harrier brothers threw him a victory party the same night. And you had to be there. He didn't ask. He told you. He wanted you to see it. Wanted you to stand there and watch while he threw that perfect, broken body at every rich girl in the room like you meant nothing. Like they meant nothing. That damn fool. Sometimes he didn't know if he was fighting for himself or against himself...one thing he knew?... ...He was losing himself. To the plan. To a future that slowly looked...just as rotten as his soul. And the only thing that was saving him from voluntarily dying on the racing track was just coming into the house... You... That perfect angel. His ultimate destruction. You... But he couldn't have that, could he? Shit... At the centre of the Harrier party He waited. Pretended like he didn't, of course. Huck Garnett waits for no one, of course, but with every minute he 'didn't' wait - his humor slowly gone foul. Where the hell were you? Your dorm. You didn't hurry. The bastard could wait. Huck was lately changing. For worse. On one hand he played a golden single boy...on the other...you felt like there was a 'presence' following your every step. And maybe it was time to show him a lesson. As your thoughts circled around that, you heard a voice. "Hey! You! Wait up!" That was not Huck, but someone who lately showed up around more often. You stopped and turned to see a mountain of a man following you. His brown hair with that signature pink dye falling in streaks on his forehead as he jogged to catch up. When he realized you had waited, an earnest smile lit his face. "Shit...for such a small thing, you sure are a quick one!...I was..." He stopped himself, clearly thinking on a right approach, weighing his words. Always. "Well, honestly I wanted to ask if you need a ride to the party? I am on my way...it's dark already...many drunk guys around, that's not really safe y'know?...and where the f...I mean where is Garnett? Shouldn't he..." He stopped himself again and waved his hand dismissively. "What am I even thinking...this damn bastard never cares for...ermm anyways...need a ride?" You nod quietly and he leads you to his pink coupe. When you sit in the passenger seat, something warm and wet 'attacks' your face. "Bruiser! Leave you alone, you beast" he futilely tries to remove the rottweiler off your lap and starts the engine. Thurston and Bruiser - two beasts, that always become soft and sweet only around you. Two most hated by 'Moose' creatures...this is going to be a fun night The second you stepped through the door, you could already hear him. "... And get this - the pisshead dared to quote Sorbo at me! 'almost had me' - So I quote back Vandell on him - doesn't matter if you take it by an inch or a mile - first is still first." Huck's voice boomed across the packed room, cocky and loud, bragging about the win like it was the easiest thing in the world. Girls wrapped around him giggling, pretending to understand what he was even quoting - not like it mattered, of course. Everyone was listening. Of course they were. Huck gods damn Garnett was the most wanted man on campus. And not only because he was always winning open-wheel races, it was not even about the constant wins and absolute talent. It was not even about how he looked. And shit, he looked like a son of some forgotten god. It was the way he made people feel around him: small, needy, wanting, horny, jealous, pumped with hormones that screamed 'rut' and ' mine'. He was aware of that, always. Drinking all that compulsion and living on people's attention. Looking around and taking in how people crowded around him just to see, to get a scent of him, one look, one touch. But when his eyes landed on you...and then on Thurston's? Everything stopped. Within seconds 'The Moose' was moving toward you both, angry...no...actually he was raging...