Bad Habit

twenty four

Moss was only slightly vulnerable and weak as he drove to practice that afternoon. But that was really an understatement. He felt like he was collapsing into himself with each passing second; he wondered if anything with Finny had actually been real. He couldn't be sure if they actually kissed or if it was all just in his head. He felt like a bitch, though, and that was clear. After having a severe breakdown in front of the boy he liked, he cried as he told that same boy his disgusting, perverse truth, and then proceeded to kiss him like he had never kissed before. That was an interesting sequence of events that Moss didn't necessarily want to relive. Though, he wouldn't mind kissing Finny again.

Kissing Finny managed to somehow be intense and calm at the same time. As much as Moss wanted to progress things, he wanted them to stay innocent. He didn't want the kiss to be seen as another mistake-hook up, and he was glad that it didn't get farther than just mouth to mouth. He didn't want Finny to think he was taking advantage of him the same way he used Brock, because he sincerely wasn't. And Brock was a whole other issue at hand.

Moss regretted not allowing Finny to explain exactly what he had said, because he felt like he was walking in blind to a conversation with Brock. And then he realized he hadn't even looked at the texts Brock sent that Finny had spoke of. With this in mind, he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket while he swerved into the school's parking lot, opening up his texts. He clicked on his coach's conversation and began to look. His face contorted from disgust to nervousness to anger as he read through, coming up on the last one.

From Coach:
Tell your friend Finny to go fuck himself. I have half a mind to go and tell your dad all about you right now after what you've done. You have no right to laugh at me, you're just as pathetic, if not more. Fuck you, Teddy
Sent at 2:27 PM

It would be safe to assume Moss was taken aback. He didn't know what to think or how to respond, but he pulled slowly into an empty parking spot and shut his phone all the way off. He tossed it on the passenger seat and got out of the car after swinging his bag over his shoulder. And then, finally, he was allowed at least two minutes of deep thought as he walked the haul from the parking lot to the locker room.

What could Finny have even said? Moss asked himself, shaking his head. What exactly could've made Brock so mad? Moss wasn't worried about Brock telling his dad because he just knew that he wouldn't, not after Finny let him know that he knew. Brock was probably just scared, and rightfully so. He was upset that Moss told someone about them, even though he didn't tell Finny directly. But Brock was none the wiser to that fact. Either way, Moss was going to have to apologize to Brock one way or another, which he was not exactly looking forward to.

After getting inside, he changed alone in a fast pace and then hustled out to the football field, his mind every where else except football. He noticed the team running drills and he sucked in a breath of sharp air before jogging towards Coach, figuring that was the smartest first move. Coach's back was to him but Moss could still see that his arms were crossed as he yelled at some team members about their passing. "Coach," Moss said, cursing himself out after his voice cracked severely. Brock turned around slowly, a livid expression already on his face.

"Wow," he hissed through gritted teeth, "you've got some balls, Mosspack. Showing up an hour late after sending that twink into my office? Unbelievable."

"I didn't know he went in there," Moss cried in a hushed tone. "We got into a fight and I left my phone at his house, he had it. I never saw those texts until ten minutes ago, Brock—"

"Get fucking running, Mosspack," Coach yelled, directing him towards the track. Moss sighed and gave him a 'are you fucking kidding me glance?' before he started off in that direction. "And be in my office when practice is over." Moss felt a shiver run down his spine. There it is, he thought to himself, thanks, Finny.