Page 139 of Shut Up and Score
Will lifts his head just enough to deadpan, “Sure, Blackman. And Iletyou take my red shell.”
“Exactly,” Micah says, like that proves his point.
Luke groans. “God, you two are already insufferable.”
I take a slow sip of my coffee. “Get used to it.”
Micah’s knee bumps mine under the table. “Yeah. We’re only getting worse.”
Luke shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Fine. But if you bring that gross couple energy toMario Kartnight, I’m separating you.”
“Try it,” Micah says, teeth flashing in a way that tells me he’s already planning exactly how to make Luke regret the threat.
I can’t stop grinning. Even with all the chirping and threats of video game violence, the reality’s humming in the back of my mind—we’re walking into my mom’s house tonight. Together. No hiding. No excuses.
THIRTY-SIX
MICAH
The closer weget to Colton’s parents’ place, the tighter my chest feels. Not bad tight—just that restless buzz you get before a big game.
It’s been years since I’ve been here. Years since I walked up that driveway with a duffel bag slung over my shoulder, ready to crash on the couch after a Friday night game. Back then, Mrs. Taylor would fuss over us, Colton’s sister would steal the good snacks before we got to them, and his dad would grunt from the recliner without looking away from SportsCenter.
I tell myself it’s no big deal. Just dinner. Just Colton’s family. But then we turn onto their street, and I swear my palms actually sweat.
Colton’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting warm and steady on my thigh. He hasn’t moved it since we left campus. Every time his thumb drags absent-minded circles against my jeans, it’s a tether—pulling me out of my head.
“You’re quiet,” he says, glancing over with that faint smirk that means he knows exactly why.
“Just thinking,” I mutter.
His smirk turns softer. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve been here a hundred times.”
“Not as your—” I cut myself off, because the word boyfriend still catches in my throat. Not because I don’t want it, but because it’s still new enough that it makes my pulse trip.
“Boyfriend.” Colton squeezes my thigh, filling in the blank for me. “They’re gonna be happy you’re here.I’mhappy you’re here.”
We pull into the driveway, and the house looks exactly the same. Same porch swing. Same potted plants by the steps. Same welcome mat that saysWipe Your Paws,even though they’ve never owned a dog.
I take a breath as we get out of the truck. Colton comes around to my side, close enough that our arms brush, and for a second, it’s just us on the front walk. His eyes find mine—steady, certain—and it hits me all over again that I’m not walking into this house alone. And this is probably a bigger deal for him.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. And somehow, I almost believe it.
Colton knocks once out of habit before opening the door like he owns the place—which, I guess, he sort of does.
We barely get one foot inside before Mrs. Taylor barrels into view, moving faster than I’ve ever seen her.
“Micah!” She says my name like it’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue for years. She’s got a dish towel over one shoulder, oven mitt still on one hand, and this wide,beamingsmile that hits me right in the ribs. “Oh, look at you—you haven’t changed a bit. Well, except you’re… taller? More…built? Handsome.” She waves both hands vaguely, physically pushing compliments in my direction.
Colton makes a low sound in his throat that’s probably supposed to be a laugh, but I can feel the warning in it. “Mom…”
She ignores him completely, stepping forward to hug me as if she’s making up for the last two years in one go. “I’m so glad you’re here. So glad. You have to know we always thought the whole thing was ridiculous—Colton told us it was blown out of proportion from the start, but I just…” She shakes her head, pulling back only to grip my arms. “I hate that you went through that.”
“Uh. Thanks,” I manage, and it’s not that I’m uncomfortable—just a little stunned. I didn’t expect her to hit the ground running withall of it.
“And listen,” she continues, already ushering us toward the kitchen, “I want you to know this is a safe space, okay? We support you, boys, one hundred percent. One hundred and ten! I even got rainbow napkins. And pie. I don’t know if pie counts as being an ally, but?—”
