"Miles Xavier Green. Downstairs. Now." Dad's voice filters through my door, even from his spot at the foot of the steps.

I shiver. That tone means one of two things. I'm either grounded as fuck, or Mom has gotten through to him again and I will get away with a lecture and maybe a mild sentence. For my sake, I hope it's the latter.

When I reach the bottom of the steps, my dad is standing by my mom, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in a disapproving glare. Mom pats his elbow, but his rigid stance doesn't budge.

Great. This will be fun.

"Look, Miles, I know we try to give you some freedom and we're okay with you doing the things your friends do, but we've gotta draw the line somewhere, you know?" He unfolds his arms, his posture softening. "When you don't tell us where you are, it worries us. Especially with my job."

I sigh. Of course, it does. 

Being a detective means he's constantly brushing shoulders with criminals and shady people. People behind bars who'd love to get back at him somehow. It's a miracle he even lets me out of the house without hourly check-ins or an officer trailing me—or worse, calling in a "fun dad" favor to have someone in plain clothes watching me.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I'll let you know when I'm planning to stay at Harlow's from now on."

He shakes his head, letting out a huff. "It's not just that, Miles. You reek of alcohol. I'm worried it's becoming a problem."

My spine stiffens. "I'm not an alcoholic, Dad."

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying I know how it is--"

"I'm not you. I know how to control myself," I interrupt.

His jaw tightens with a click, and I immediately know I went too far. "You're grounded for a week. Until time's up, you are to keep up with your classes and come straight home after school."

I open my mouth to apologize, or to at least protest, since Harlow has been helping me with my math, so coming straight home will affect that, but Dad cuts me off.

"Harlow will have to come here for your tutoring sessions. No 'if's 'and's or 'but's about it. Got it?"

I lower my head. "Yes, sir."

I shouldn't have said that to him. He's just worried, I know that, but... I'm fine.

I know my dad partied a lot at my age. Fell into the wrong crowd and got into a lot of addictive substances. Tagged along for gang activity with his "friends." He was lucky he was never affiliated with a gang or he might not be where he is now.

With that, I turn and slink back upstairs. Shutting my door gingerly, I flop onto my bed, bringing my phone to my ear as I call Harlow.

My phone rings twice before harlow picks up. He was no doubt waiting around to see what would happen. He was more anxious about it than I was, if that was even possible. "What's the deal? How bad is it?"

"Honestly, it wasn't supposed to be as bad as it is. But I had to go and run my mouth." I roll onto my back and fling my arm over my face. "I'm grounded for a week. So, our study dates will have to be here." 

Being stuck at home is going to be a pain in the ass, but it isn't as bad as it could be. They could have made me study on my own or taken my phone or games away, but they didn't. My being grounded was simply my dad's knee jerk reaction to my insolence after last night.

"Don't call them that," Harlow grumbles from the other side of the line. "If anything, you're forcing me to help you with your math—which is a lost cause, if you ask me."

I fake a gasp. "Rude. I know what I'm doing; I just need help with the process."

I can practically hear him roll his eyes through the phone. "The process is the math." He sighs. "Anyway, are you trying to sneak out this weekend for the Anderson party? Apparently, Tanner Prescott is going to be there, and I heard some pretty interesting tea last night."

"Oh?" I sit up, curiosity piqued. I could never say no to tea.

"He came out as bi. About damn time, if you ask me. I see the way he looks at Josh."

"Wait, really?" Tanner, bi? A whole new lane of potential partners just opened up for him. With his curly black hair and handsome-as-hell face, I'm not ashamed to admit that I'd be pretty close to the front of the line if the opportunity arose.

"I wouldn't be telling you if it wasn't true."

Biting my lip, I groan. "Thank God all of that isn't wasted on just women."

Not only that, but there are very few openly gay kids at school—particularly ones that aren't in the theater department, because it's not surprising when they come out. One more person that comes out means one more kid that feels a little less alone.

Harlow laughs. "You're such an idiot." He's silent for a beat. "But seriously, are you going to sneak out?"

I sigh. "I probably shouldn't risk it. They might ground me longer if I get caught." I chew on my lip again. "But then again, they might ease up a bit by then and let me go out. I'll have to play it by ear."

"Well, if you end up sneaking out, let me know, and I'll have you back in enough time that they won't notice," he says. "And that means absolutely no drinking."

I groan as if his statement physically pains me. He doesn't understand, because he hardly ever drinks. Parties just aren't fun when you're not drinking. 

"Too bad. One of us has to be responsible, here."

"You sound like my dad."

"Get over it." Three hollow thunks sound in the background, and he calls, "Wait a minute," in the background before returning to me. "Gotta go. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," I say, but he already hung up.

After scrolling on social media for a bit, I toss my phone onto the bed beside me with a sigh. I stare up at my ceiling, counting the rotations of my fan. One...two...two and a half...

Damn, life is boring in prison.

I roll over and sigh again, louder this time and more exaggeratedly. Maybe if my dad hears, he'll ease up a little. Maybe.

Then something bounces off my window, emitting a sharp sound that makes me jump. I pull back the navy-blue curtain covering it and scowl.

Harlow, straddling one of the thick oak branches outside my room, gestures to the lock impatiently, waiting for me to let him in.

"You know, just because I'm grounded doesn't mean you can't use the front door," I tell him as I open the window. "My parents are basically in love with you."

He shrugs. "What fun would that be? Besides, I'm sure you've had plenty of fantasies about a guy climbing in through your window. Now let me in before I fall out of this tree."

Times like this make me want to give him a little shove backwards. It's not too far to fall, so he wouldn't get hurt. Anything to wipe that look off his smug face.

Instead, I grab the collar of his shirt and yank him through the window.

"Hey! You're gonna stretch out my shirt," he whines, adjusting the fabric as he regains his footing. He strides over to my mini fridge and plucks a Pepsi from it before sticking his tongue out at me.

"You'll live." I roll my eyes. For someone so nonchalant around other people, when it's just us, I swear he's the biggest whiner.

"Asshole," he says.

"Dickhead."

"Fruitcake."

"Fruitcake?" I raise an eyebrow. "Of all the things you could have called me, you came up with that?"

He shrugs, walking over to my bed. He sits down and smoothes out the comforter. "Am I wrong?"

"Yes! I mean, no? I don't know. That's a weird insult." I walk to my TV stand and turn on the Xbox. As it displays the startup icon, I search the shelf that houses my games. "COD or Halo?"

"Miles, I have a question to ask you. And I need you to tell me the truth."

I frown and face him, brow furrowed at the sudden shift in atmosphere. Have I done something wrong? "What's up?"

"James came running down the steps at TJ's before you came downstairs."

Shit. I know where this is going. And I'm not sure I can lie to him. He'll see right through it. "That wasn't a question."

He gives me a look before rolling his eyes. "Did something happen between you two? Did he start something? I know things have been rough with you two lately since your coach picked you for hurdles instead of him."

Actually, I forgot about that. Until now. Still mad about that.

I hesitate before saying, "No. I didn't even see him."

Harlow shakes his head and sighs. "You're a terrible liar. What happened?"

"I told you, nothing happened." I cross my arms. James said not to tell anyone, and while I know Harlow won't say anything to someone else, I can't do that to James. Not unless I actually talked to him first. For all I know, the kiss was just a drunken accident, and he didn't realize who I was.

Plus, maybe James was drunk enough that he wouldn't remember. I've been blackout drunk a few times and barely remembered anything. Maybe that happened to James.

One can hope, anyway.

Harlow may not believe me and James may hate me, but I know what it's like to be closeted. If he's going through something like that, it's not my place to tell anyone.

Then my phone chirps, and when I jump, Harlow and I both glance down at it.

"Can we talk?"