I had a reader give me the vague idea of a story about the characters in this story. Thanks Ryan. As usual, if you're not 18 and aren't supposed to be here in the first place, go else where. This story doesn't contain any sex yet, but it will.
Rimshot@planetaccess.com Rimshotsplanet@hotmail.com
Thanks, Dan
Southern Knights 1:
Bryce Walker let himself into the house trailer he shared with his mother and went straight to the bathroom, pulling off his blood covered t-shirt. It wasn't as bad this time, the slapping around he got. It was sort of a routine he had with a couple of the local bullies. Usually, they didn't punch him, but Curtis Mann had been there, and he always punched.
Bryce took a washcloth out of the cabinet and ran warm water over it, looking in the mirror at the fresh bruises on his thin frame. His left eye was swelling, and his long shaggy light brown hair was matted with sweat. Bryce sighed and began his weekly clean up, pausing to hiss through his teeth when he touched his ribs.
Bryce was not tall, coming in at just under 5' 7", and his build was slight but muscular, like a long distance runner. He weighed only 135 pounds, and his eyes were normally a deep soulful brown, tending to make him look like a lost puppy.
The eye and nose were the worst. He cleaned his swollen nose and went to the kitchen for ice. He dropped his jeans in the doorway of his room and flopped onto his bed in his briefs, placing the ice over his eye and nose.
He fell asleep for a couple of hours. It was dark when he woke up, and the trailer was still empty except for him. Not real unusual, since his mother often worked double shifts at the cafe to pay the bills.
Bryce cooked a box of Mac and cheese and ate in silence, not really wanting to watch TV tonight. His head ached, and he carefully washed his dishes, cleaned the stovetop, and went back to bed. Another typical day came to a close.
Tate Corbridge was running behind, as was his norm. The alarm clock had gone off at 6:30 am, again at 6:45, and again at 7:00. At 7:15, he had finally tumbled out of bed and pulled on his boxers and stumbled into his bathroom.
"It's about time, Tate! I am not going to tell your counselor that you needed to be late again." Lorna Corbridge put her hands on her hips as Tate crashed down the stairs, still pulling on his t-shirt. Her usually faint southern accent was at full depth as she angrily shouted out the door at he son. "You had best be hurryin' up, boy, and try sleeping at night!"
"Love ya, Momma!" Tate smiled an award winning killer smile at his mother and blew a kiss as he climbed into his recently restored 1970 Camaro. It was his pride and joy, and he loved the look on his mother's face every time he put the whip to it heading down the drive. He and his father, Pat, had bought the car as a rusted heap, and it now glistened in deep maroon, with a black interior. His dad taught him to rebuilt the engine, and it turned out so fast, it even scared Tate sometimes.
But not today. The tall dark haired captain of the Riverbend High football team grinned like a wolf and dropped the hammer, feeling the sleek vintage sports car surge towards town with a roar. The roads were wet from early morning rain, and it started to pour again, causing him to slow down and hit the wheel in disappointment.
As he neared town, along a street that nearly everyone called skid row, the rain really hit, and he had to slow down even more. He rounded a gentle curve near a couple of trailer parks, and he had to swerve to miss what looked like a small boy running along side the road.
Tate braked hard, his heart feeling sorry for the poor kid. He rolled down the window, intending to offer the kid a ride to the middle school, a new reason for his mother to excuse him for being late.
The boy approached hesitantly, and Tate tried to not look threatening. "C'mon!" He called, waving. The boy stopped for a second, and Tate sort of recognized him from somewhere. He pulled the door handle and pushed the door open, and the kid scrambled in, soaked and shivering.
"Thanks." The kid chattered. Tate smiled and cranked up the heater. The powerful car surged back down the road.
"Where to, buddy?" Tate asked. "The middle school?"
"Nuh Uh, the high school." Bryce answered, not surprised that someone as popular as Tate Corbridge didn't know who he was.
"Oh, yeah?" Tate's eyebrows went up. "I never seen you there."
"I keep a low profile."
As they pulled up to the school and parked, Bryce jumped out as though the car was electrified. It had been decent of Tate to give him a ride, but he didn't dare anger the muscular sports star. "Thanks, man. I really appreciate it." He called to the other as they ran for the doors.
"It's cool." Tate pulled the door open and held it. "What's your name?"
"Bryce Walker, sir."
Tate chuckled as they entered. "Don't call me sir, Bryce, my daddy ain't dead yet." He looked at the soaked kid in front of him, and for some reason, he liked him. He shook his head. "If it's like this after school, Bryce, meet me here, and I'll drop you home, got it?"
Bryce was shocked, and his brain wouldn't move fast enough. He nodded quickly. "Yes, s.., I mean, yes, Tate. Thanks."
Classes went quickly for Tate. During gym, the football team met in the free weight room behind the pool building. It was still raining hard which canceled practice, so the coach put them through hell with the weights. Tate pulled off his t-shirt and wiped his face with it as he entered the locker room to shower. Gym was the last class of the day, so there was no hurry.
He worked the com on his locker and opened it, then eased him self down on the bench. Today had been squat day, and he was feeling it. He absently listened to a couple of the defensive tackles joking about somebody they'd pounded yesterday. He pulled off the rest of his clothes and went to the shower, letting the water work on his back.
The two big idiots soon followed, and he found himself again listening to them describe what they'd done. Tate wasn't sure, but he thought he'd seen a black eye on the kid he picked up, Bryce. The kid's hair was so long that it was hard to notice, but the memory caused him to jerk his head up.
"He don't even scream no more." Curtis Mann, a grossly huge hunk of meat with large jowls and beady deep-set eyes said. "Used to be funner 'fore he got used to it."
"Yeah, but I still get a kick out of it." Herky Renthrow, almost as big as Curtis but not as fat, scrubbed his shaved head as he laughed. "I tell ya, Curt, that scrawny little fuck can take a hit for a midget."
Tate ground his teeth and turned his shower off. He absolutely detested beating up anybody that didn't have it coming. As he dressed, he decided to get a better look at Bryce, then maybe take a couple of pigs out for a good old fashioned Tennessee whooppin'.
Bryce fidgeted near the main doors, trying to make himself as small as possible. He hated being noticed, and he was about to run out into the rain when Tate ambled down the hall. Bryce swallowed hard, determined not to anger the captain of the team.
"Hey." Tate smiled and waved as he walked up. Bryce's hair was dry now, and Tate looked closely at Bryce's eye. The kid looked down, ashamed, and Tate put his hand on Bryce's shoulder. "Look at me." He said firmly but kindly, and Bryce looked up.
Tate sighed through his nose, anger boiling up into his throat. "Lemme guess, Mann and Renthrow." Bryce's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. Tate used his arm to steer the kid towards the door. "C'mon, boy. You an' me are gonna have a talk."
The car moved gracefully through the rain under Tate's expert hand as he listened to Bryce's story, prodding him to continue from time to time, getting angrier by the second. When Tate was in elementary school, a bully had hit him in the nose. Instead of running, Tate had learned from his dad what to do, and had cleaned the kid's clock. Bryce had no dad, and the bully was up several points. That was okay. Tate loved a tough game.
"Why don't you come to my place and do homework?" Tate asked, even surprising himself. "You said your mom ain't home. We'll have some chips and cokes or somethin'".
"I really appreciate the ride, Tate, but I don't want to be a problem." Bryce's heart pounded. It was so cool to be asked, but so terrifying at the same time. He felt trapped.
"Bullshit, little buddy. You ain't a problem. I like your company." Tate sailed passed the trailer parks and headed for home.
"You do?" Bryce almost whispered. Oh please, God, let it be true. Please let him like me a little. Loneliness crashed down on his shoulders. He went for long periods where he forgot he was alone, and then this type of thing would happen. It usually ended up with Bryce bleeding, or the butt of some joke.
Tate glanced sideways and smiled at Bryce. "Yeah, I do. Is that such a surprise?"
"Kinda."
Tate laughed and pulled into the long curved drive to his parent's house. The place had been a plantation a hundred years ago, and Tate's dad bought it the year Tate was born and restored it. That was the elder Corbridge's profession, and it paid well.
Bryce looked around in awe at the immensity of the grounds, and the size of the house. He followed Tate inside after they parked in a huge six-car garage. They took off their shoes in the mudroom, just off the kitchen, and Bryce was immediately ashamed of the condition and color of his once white socks. Tate smiled and placed his hand reassuringly on the back of Bryce's neck, guiding him into the kitchen.
"Oh, Tate, sweetheart, I have a few..." Lorna stopped as she came in from the hall and immediately smiled; slipping into what Tate called Hostess Mode. "Hello young man, I'm Lorna Corbridge, Tate's mother." She held out her hand while at the same time assessing the new friend and coming up short.
Bryce shook her hand and introduced himself. "Ma'am, I'm Bryce Walker, from Tate's school." Tate's mom smelled real nice, and was a very warm person. He instantly liked her.
"Bryce and I have a biology assignment together, Momma. Can he stay for supper?" Tate felt Bryce flinch, and he tightened his hand on the kid's neck just a little, letting him know it was cool.
"Certainly, Honey. It'll be a late supper tonight. Your father won't be home from Nashville until eight. Why don't you boys head up to your room and get crackin', and I'll make some snacks." Lorna allowed her son to kiss her cheek.
"You're the best, Momma." Tate led Bryce towards the back stairs.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Corbridge." Bryce waved with a little smile.
"Call me Lorna, sweetie." She smiled back, impressed that such a rough looking little urchin had such perfect manners. Hopefully they'd rub off on Tate. She started humming as she set about making toasted cheese sandwiches for the boys.
Tate ushered Bryce into his room, which anyone else would call a suite, and tossed his jacket on the chair by the door. Bryce stopped and stared in amazement at the size of the room. Rooms. They stood in the bedroom, a long rectangle with several French doors that opened onto a balcony that ran all the way around the house on the second floor.
In between two sets of doors, a king size bed was against the wall. At the far end, two doors led into a walk-in closet and a large bathroom, and a guest room with a queen size bed. At the other end was an entertainment center, a table with two chairs, and a computer desk and printer stand.
"Holy shit." Bryce whispered, not daring to sit anywhere.
Tate stopped taking his socks off and turned to face Bryce, instantly feeling guilty. "Bryce, take your coat off and stay awhile. You don't have to be afraid in here."
"I don't want to break any thing." Bryce said cautiously. Tate took his jacket, and he sat in one of the chairs at the table. Tate's mom came in and set two cokes and a huge plate of cheese sandwiches on the table, the handed Bryce a pair of gray sweatpants and a blue sweatshirt.
"I thought you might like to get out of those wet things, Bryce. These were Tate's a couple of years ago, but I think they'll fit until I get yours dry."
"Oh, you don't have to.." Bryce stood and began to protest, but Lorna just smiled.
"Don't make me make it and order, young man." She said sweetly.
"Trust me, Bryce, you already lost." Tate laughed.
Bryce smiled nervously and followed Tate's directions to the bathroom. When the door closed, Lorna looked her son in the eye and smiled. "Biology my Aunt Sadie's rear, Tate. I've got to here this story." With that, she turned and left the room, glancing over her shoulder and meeting his eye knowingly as she left.
"You're a saint, Momma!" Tate called, and then helped himself to sandwiches. In a couple of minutes, Bryce entered the room again wearing the somewhat baggy sweats and carrying his wet clothes. "Set 'em by the door, buddy. We'll take them down later."
"You guys don't need to go through this trouble, Tate. I feel like I'm puttin' y'all out." Bryce sat down at the table and took the coke Tate offered him.
"Have a sandwich." Tate deliberately ignored Bryce's comments and tore into another one himself. He watched as his new friend hesitantly took one and began to eat it slowly, obviously savoring it.
"Can I ask you something, Tate?" Bryce asked after a moment. "Why are you bein' so nice to me?"
Tate thought for a moment, making sure he knew his own mind. "I think it's your turn." He said simply. "Nobody should get pounded on a daily basis because they're to small to fight. It ain't right, Bryce."
Bryce swallowed a bite of his sandwich and set it on a plate. "You mean that?"
"Yeah, I do."
Bryce smiled, an almost warm smile, one that he rarely got to use. "Thanks, Tate." He said.
Over the next week, Tate began to pick Bryce up every morning for school, and they finished the day at Tate's to do homework. To Tate's amazement, Bryce smiled more often, and even began to show a little dry humor from time to time. On Friday night, they had pizza and watched a movie, a new experience for Bryce.
Saturday morning, Tate knocked on the door at Bryce's trailer. It opened as He looked around at the dreary trailer park, trying not to be judgmental. He silently thanked his dad for being rich.
Bryce stepped out onto the porch and closed the door. "My momma gave me some birthday money. I'm supposed to get a hair cut."
"Probably a good idea, before we have to take you to the dog groomer to be shaved." Tate quipped, then dove to the side as Bryce tried to punch him. He jumped the rail of the porch and turned to watch his student.
Bryce sighed, placing his hands on the rail. Several failed attempts at jumping the rail were behind him, and he hated looking foolish in front of Tate. He inhaled, and then pushed off with his feet, clearing the rail, and landing with a sort of hop, but staying on his feet. He looked up at Tate, shocked.
"You did it!" Tate shouted, offering a high five to a now excited Bryce. "I told you, it's practice, not talent. Have I ever lied to you?"
"No." Bryce laughed and walked towards the car with Tate.
"You didn't tell me it was your birthday." Tate said as they climbed in. "I want to get you something."
Bryce looked stricken. "Tate, don't make a fuss, please? You don't need to get me anything."
"Aw, don't be like that. It should be fun to have a birthday. Besides, I already have an idea." Tate grinned broadly and started the car, then pulled it out into the lane.
"It kind of scares me the way you said that." Bryce settled into his seat and shook his head. "I shouldn't have told you."
Two hours later, they walked out of the mall towards the car. Bryce reached up to touch the short spikes of hair sticking up on his head, and Tate lightly slapped his hand away.
"Leave 'em alone, or they'll lay down. You look real cool, Bryce." Tate said warmly.
Bryce blushed and looked down at his new Stussy t-shirt and carpenter pants and felt his chest swell. "The clothes are great. Thanks again." Self consciously, he reached up and touched the new small silver hoop earrings that dangled from his ears, careful not to bump them. They were still tender from the piercing gun.
"Happy birthday, buddy." Tate opened the doors to the car. "My dad says that if you want a job at his office cleanin' up, he'll take you on. He really likes you."
"I like him too. It'd be cool to buy more clothes like this." Bryce climbed into the Camaro. "You're a good friend, Tate. I owe you a lot."
"All I want is what we got, Bryce. That's it. No strings." Tate pulled the car into traffic and headed for home. "I have a lot of friends at school, you know? But none are, I don't know, real. Know what I mean? I like hangin' with you."
"Me too. Are we still on for fishin' tomorrow?" Bryce asked, relaxing into the seat and listening to the tunes on the radio.
"Oh, hell yeah!" Tate laughed. "I got the old man's truck for the trip to the lake. Dress warm, though. The late winds are a bitch."
"I will. By the way, if you still want to see it, I'll find 'Young Frankenstein' in my videos. I love that show. Ever see it?" Bryce turned down the radio and turned to Tate.
"Never saw it." Tate maneuvered through traffic onto the turn off for their houses.
"Wow. I thought everybody's seen it. You probably saw it and don't remember."
Tate shook his head. "No, don't ring a bell."
"As cool as you are, and you never saw Igor, or Frau Blucker?" Bryce was shocked. Tate shrugged. They road in peace back to the trailer park. Bryce got out and closed the door, then leaned in through the window. "I'll find my copy of 'Young Frankenstein'. I can't believe you never saw it."
Tate smiled and shook his head. "Bryce, contrary to the popular opinion, I don't know everything. I miss shit, too."
"I know. I just assume you've done it all." Bryce patted the side of the car. "See you at six?"
"You got it, buddy." Tate waved and watched as Bryce went inside before pulling off. As he pulled away, he grinned and reflected on the success of his work. Bryce looked awesome with the hoops and the short spiked haircut, and his new clothes made him part of the now, not an outcast.
It was funny how important they had become to each other. Tate had a lot of friends, many of them since he was little, but it was like he had never gotten attached to any of them. He couldn't explain why, but Bryce was like a part of him. Over the last little while, they had become very close, and Tate thrived on Bryce's emergence into the world, a little more everyday.
He pulled into the garage and parked it. As he got out, his mother came out of the kitchen door. "Oh, Tate honey. I'm headed into Nashville to pick your daddy up at the airport. We won't be home until about ten, so I left money for you and Bryce to get pizza or whatever."
"Thanks, Momma." Tate kissed her on the cheek and opened her car door. "It's s'posed to rain again, so be careful drivin'."
"We will, dear. Please pick up your room before your friend gets here." Lorna pulled the door shut and started the car. The power window slid down on her Eldorado. "I wouldn't want Bryce to think I've slack up on you."
Tate smiled and waved as she pulled out, then bounded into the kitchen to raid the fridge. He finished his chores and jumped in the shower, then stretched out for a short nap, setting the alarm.
Bryce emptied the trashcans in the trailer and took the bags to the door, then ran the vacuum for his mother. He kept their shabby little double wide pretty clean, not wanting his mother to have to worry. The washing machine stopped, and he pulled his momma's uniforms out and put them in the dryer on gentle, then turned to take the trash out.
The door closed behind him as he hefted the bags, shivering slightly in the autumn chill. From his porch to the dumpsters was a bit of a walk, following behind several of his neighbor's homes, and down a path cut through some dense bushes. When he got to the dumpsters, he heaved the bags up into the dumpster, then turned and walked into a huge stomach.
"Well looky here, Herk. Our little bitch done fancied himself up for us." Curtis Mann's meaty hands closed on Bryce's shoulders, pinning him in his spot. "Ain't that sweet. Where you been, cupcake? We been lookin' all over fer you."
"Yeah," Herky Renthrow smiled, displaying teeth caked in brown crud. "All over."
Bryce went cold, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to plead with them, tried to get them to leave him alone, but his voice wedged in his throat, nearly gagging him. Involuntarily, a half whimper, half gasp came out of his mouth.
"Oh, now don't be scairt, Cupcake. We wouldn't hurt you." Curtis leaned down so that his tiny eyes were right at level with Bryce's. "I got somethin' special planned fer you tonight, Cupcake. It'll change yer whole life!"
Bryce was yanked off his feet and carried into the woods behind the trailer park. Herky followed, laughing and dodging the branches snapping back at him. He had no idea what 'somethin' special' was, but with Curtis, it was always a hoot, believe that.
Bryce tried to resist, but the terror he felt froze him. He could barely breath as he anticipated the beating that was coming. Desperately he wished Tate was here, and he silently reached out, wishing he was psychic.
Curtis through the small boy on the ground and pulled out a roll of strapping tape. "Hold yer hands out, shithead, 'fore I break the fuckers off." Bryce did as he was told; shaking hard, and the giant bound his wrists tightly, almost to the point that the circulation was cut off.
"Pull his shoes and socks off, Herk. Hurry the fuck up!" Curtis wheezed as he knelt down, knocking Herky out of the way after the items were removed. He laughed out loud when he saw how wide Bryce's eyes were. "Got yer attention, do I?"
"Whatcha doin, anyway?" Herky asked, suddenly feeling real nervous about what his friend, actually his god, was doing.
"Why, I'm havin' a little fun is what I'm doin'." Curtis leered into Bryce's eyes. "I'm gonna show this little bitch what happens when yer bad, and don't show up fer yer beatin's on time." The obese boy reached into his pocket and pulled something out, flicking his wrist. A knife with a 6" blade snapped open, and Curtis belly laughed when Bryce jumped.
"That's okay, baby. I won't leave a mark on ya." Curtis jerked Bryce forward by his wrists, and started cutting from the neck down the back of Bryce's new shirt, then up each sleeve, allowing the now shredded garment to fall completely off. Bryce moaned, and Curtis quickly cut off one of the sleeves, jammed it in Bryce's mouth, and taped it in.
"Uh, Curt? Whatcha doin', man?" Herky shifted on his feet nervously. This was starting to feel really wrong. A good pounding was one thing, but this was goin' bad fast.
"C'mere an' pull him up." Curtis ordered, and then glared when Herky didn't respond fast enough. Finally Herky nodded, moving behind Bryce and lifting the small kid under his arms. "Good. Now hold him still." Curtis started at the bottom of each pant leg and sliced up, severing the new pants all the way to the belt, and cutting through Bryce's underwear. Soon, Bryce shivered in the nude before him, and Herky looked like he was going to throw up.
It was starting to get dark as Curtis hefted himself up of his knees. His face twisted into a joyful sneer as he fumbled for his fly. "You've had this comin', you little bitch!" He wheezed.
Tate pulled on his letterman's jacket and grabbed his keys. He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he got in the Camaro. The nap was good, but hard to shake off. He woke up feeling tense, like somebody had run over his dog or something.
When he got to Bryce's, there were no lights on, and the front door was unlocked. After knocking several times' he stepped inside and called out. "Bryce? Hey, Bryce?" Spooked, he stepped outside and looked around. A small child road his bike in the driveway next door.
"Hey kid! Have you seen Bryce, the guy that lives here?" He asked, and the little boy looked up with a vacant expression and nodded, his mouth hanging open. "Where?" Tate asked, leaping over the rail of the porch.
"A fat guy and another man carried him in the woods." The boy drawled thickly.
"What!? Where!?" Tate knelt down and took a hold of the boy's shoulders.
"Back by the garbage." The boy was suddenly frightened and pulled away. "I gotta go in."
"Yeah, thanks, kid." Tate turned and dashed behind the trailers onto the path, swatting limbs out of his way. He found the dumpster and looked around frantically, then spotted a trail heading into the woods. He dived into them and ran through brambles, bursting into a small clearing and stopping dead in his tracks.
Herky Renthrow stood behind Bryce, holding him up. Bryce teetered on his feet, which were taped together as well as his wrists, and Curtis Mann stood in front of Bryce, pulling his zipper down. Tate felt the world go in to slow motion. "What the fuck are you doing, Curtis?"
Curtis' head snapped around, and his face went beet red. Anger washed over his face, and he quickly pulled his zipper back up. "You need to get the fuck out of here, Corbridge." He growled.
Without thinking, Tate punched him in the face, and then kicked him in the oversized mass of a stomach. Mann went down in a loud woof, the air blown out of him. He lifted his hands to protect his face, but it didn't help. Tate's next kick contained the force of rage, and it landed on Curtis' right temple, spinning his head to the side.
"Hang on, Tate!" Herky threw up his hands, dropping Bryce in the process. "We was just gonna scare him, that's all." Tate's fist caught Herky in the mouth, and he backpedaled, falling over Curtis.
Tate knelt down and pulled Bryce up. "Jesus, are you okay?" Bryce's eyes were full of tears, and he nodded, trying to get closer to Tate. Tate picked up the knife Curtis had left on the ground and carefully cut off the tape around Bryce's mouth, then his wrists and ankles.
"Get me outa here, Tate!" Bryce whispered, throwing his arms around the other's neck. "Please!"
"Can you walk?" Tate asked, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around Bryce's naked form. Bryce tried to stand, but his feet were pins and needles and nearly fell. Tate caught him and looked into his terrified eyes. "Hang in there, buddy, okay?" Bryce nodded, and Tate scooped him up.
"You shouldn't ought to've interfered, Tate." Curtis gasped as he stood up. "That was real dumb."
Tate stopped ant turned to face the other two. His face went cold, and he spoke quietly. "Plan on bein' off the team." He said. "I haven't decided if you're gonna die yet. That's up to Bryce. If you get near him, I'll beat you fuckin' ragged, believe it." With that, he turned and headed up the path.
Curtis watched, shaking with rage and humiliation. "This ain't over." He hissed through clenched teeth.
Herky looked at him, and then shook his head, ashamed. "All this time I thought I was the dumb one." He whispered to himself.
Bryce's arms were so tight around Tate's neck it was almost painful, but he didn't mind. As they walked up the path past the dumpster, he could feel Bryce's sobs against his chest. They rounded the corner by the trailer, and Tate stopped for a second, not sure what to do.
Bryce solved his dilemma. "Please take me home, Tate. I don't want to be here alone." His voice was so quiet, Tate almost didn't hear it, but he caught it and headed for the car. It was dark as he opened the door and set Bryce inside.
As soon as he got in the other side, Bryce moved to wrap his arms around his neck again, nearly dislodging the coat. Tate wrapped it around his friend more closely, then held him as he cried. Bryce slid all the way over onto his lap.
"I was so scared." Bryce whispered thickly through the tears. "I needed you so bad."
"I got there, didn't I?" Tate soothed, stroking Bryce's hair. "I told you nobody was gonna hurt you again, and I meant it."
"I love you, Tate." Bryce whispered.
Tate felt tears roll down his cheeks, and he had to swallow to talk. "I love you, too, baby. I love you too." He wrapped his arms around Bryce and hugged him, burying his face into Bryce's neck. After a moment, he carefully started the car and pulled out, steering around Bryce, and frankly not even worried about what it looked like if anybody saw. They had dodged a bullet, and they were together.