Once back in their room, Keenan anxiously sat on his bed as Tucker angrily paced the floor, hands on his hips. Occasionally Tucker would stop in front of Keenan and stare at him. Tucker would look as if he were about to speak; then he would run a hand through his hair, swear, and pace again.
Keenan braced himself for the inevitable eruption. Whatever Tucker was feeling, it had to come to a boiling point soon. Keenan hoped Tucker would get it over with. Keenan’s apprehension over what was to come was beginning to overwhelm him.
Finally, Tucker stopped. Standing with his back to Keenan, Keenan could hear him muttering something about how this wasn’t how he’d wanted it to happen. What did Tucker mean by that? What had he wanted to happen?
Tucker took a deep breath, turned, and walked slowl
