𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

Pink and grey? Copper and black?

I scowl and hold up one outfit to myself and then the other in front of my mirror. Both would fit the vibe I'm going for in their own ways. Except which is better?

If someone had told me six months ago that I'm agonizing over outfits today to impress my crush, I would've laughed in their face. I've never had an actual, attainable crush in my life.

That's probably because I never assumed my crush would be a boy. Sure, my bisexualness was always whispering in the back of my brain, but I made sure to keep that door duct-taped shut. Until now. And I might be sick.

Not from being gay. Bisexual. Whatever.

If Miles walked into this bathroom right at this second and asked me to bang it out with him, I'd agree before a pin could drop.

The thing that makes me nauseous is people finding out. Like the public, my friends, or future employers. Anything outside of heterosexuality gets people fucking murdered in other countries.

Still, I don't know if I can keep lying to myself. Especially after the week I've had dancing around Miles. Our time together last night nearly sent me over the edge. Moving away from him each time one of my cousins started to look back at us was torture in itself.

That's why I need to rip the band-aid off. Talking to my parents is the way to start.

I hastily change into black sweatpants and a grey shirt, tossing the plaid copper-and-black jacket on top. It takes a second for me to finish getting ready before running out of my room in a rush to catch my parents before they leave for the day.

As I descend the stairs, I see my mom digging through her purse on the island. Dad is standing near the foyer, zipping up his photography equipment.

Mom turns at the sound of my feet pounding down the stairs and smiles. "Good morning!" Her smile falters as she evaluates my body language. "Is something wrong...?"

I seriously underestimate her years of professional therapy training. There's no way I'm not an open book right now. I smile as merrily as I can, even as my nerves start to flutter. This will be a huge gamble, like when I told Griffin. They'll either run to the store and buy a pride flag to hang off the front porch, or my ass will be living on the streets. At the very least, I know that my dad won't be fucking shooting me.

"Hey, mom," I reply. My voice cracks. Shit.

"How was your guys' night?" Dad asks, oblivious to the situation, as usual. He's still bent over his bags, trying to unstick a zipper.

"It was fun. Lots of fun. At least, as fun as horror movies can be." I ramble on, and mom clears her throat, finally catching my dad's attention.

He looks up and eyes me, taking note of my tight posture. "That's good. Say, is everything alright? You look sick. Did you eat too much candy?"

I look between them both, and my heart skitters.

There's no good way of doing this. Griffin was easy because I could've ignored him if worse came to worst, but my parents? I'm stuck with them until I'm 18; they're my sole providers. There is no chance of ignoring their texts or reactions. I should get this done cold turkey.

"It's a long story... We can talk about it when you guys get home from work?" I offer politely.

Yeah, fuck that cold turkey.

"We have time, Parker. Talk to us. I can tell that something is bothering you." Mom insists and pulls out a stool from the island, sitting down to prove her point.

Her and her stupid therapist tactics. I almost want the prodding questions, so I have an excuse to blow up, storm off to my car, and run away until I turn sixty.

Instead, I slowly blow out air through my lips. "Okay. Um, look, so a month after school started..." I talk.

And talk. And explain a little bit here and there. I also leave some things out, like my urges when I'm alone, the party when Miles had me on the counter, and the other weekend when I stayed at his house.

The more I talk, the more I see my mom's face get heavy with recognition. She knows. I look over at my dad, and he still looks confused. Clueless, even.

Finally, I reach the end of my storyline. "I've been trying to ignore this feeling in my chest for the past few weeks, except things keep happening, and we keep talking and... Something might be there. Something happened this week, though, and I now know for a fact that--" the words catch in my mouth. My throat closes, and I press my palms against my eyes. Partly to keep from crying, partly so that I don't have to see their reactions. "I'm gay. Or, at least bi."

Silence. My own body goes stock still like it's waiting for the gavel to drop. This conversation is either ending in innocence or an execution.

Dad is the first one to break the tension. "Wait, so you weren't telling us that story about a new best friend? You guys love each other?"

"Fuck, dad." I can't help but to swear and laugh, dropping my hands. "Don't toss around the L word like that. I'm not putting it like that. I dunno. I don't want to be just friends."

He tsks, looking over at my mom. "Didn't I call this back in kindergarten when we all had the conversation on why boys don't usually marry boys?"

"Oh my god, did everyone know I was gay before I did?!" I exclaim and throw my hands up in the air.

Mom shoots my dad an equally-unamused look, mentally saying, Emmett, this is not the time.

"Breathe, sweetheart. We're shocked, for sure, but it's amazing that you trust us enough to tell us." She gets up and walks over, wrapping me in a hug. I wince as she sacrifices wrinkling her Missoni shirt against me, but I don't refuse the affection. Instead, I shut my eyes and hug her tightly back. "You know that we love you, no matter what. We trust you and your decision-making. I know that this can't be easy for you."

"Plus, this means we don't have to worry about premature grandkids, right?"

"Emmett! Lord!" Mom gasps and lets go of me to smack dad, making him laugh. "This is serious!"

"I know, I know!" He clears his throat and gets himself back under control, looking at me. "I'm sorry, however..."

I smirk knowingly. "You have a point."

"Exactly. See Quinn? Thank you. Parker, we will always be here for you. There's no need to worry about what we think because we'll always be on your side, okay? Well, unless you do something terrible, except I don't see that happening in this lifetime."

Cracking a smile, I nod and blink back some tears. I need to stop underestimating my close family. "Thanks, guys. This means a lot."

"So..." Mom drawls out and grins. "What's he really like then? We knew he is nice from running into him these past few nights. I still don't know him, though."

My cheeks instantly burn, and I laugh nervously, using this chance to buff out the scuff marks on the floor with my toe. "I dunno, he's really cool. He's funny, too, has a deep heart, and sees outside the lines. I don't want to explain his personality. You guys need to talk to him."

My parents smile like fools, exchanging glances at each other like teenagers in the back of a class.

"When do we get to get together and meet him?" Dad asks curiously.

That question makes me pause. "That's... something I didn't tell you guys. We haven't talked about having a relationship yet because no one knows about my sexuality, except him. We can't really have an open relationship until everyone knows. I've got too much of a reputation, and I can't spoil it by showing up to school one day hand-in-hand with him, you know?"

Mom shrugs. "It shouldn't be this big of a deal either, though. This is a new generation, sweetheart. You definitely aren't the first bisexual person that's lived in California. There's a chance you would get backlash by dating the wrong girl, so why not get backlash about being with someone you genuinely care for?"

I nod and feel my eyes water again. She makes it sound so easy.

"I know," I start to say until my voice cracks again. When I try talking, I have to wipe my anxious tears away. "I know, but it's more than that. Colleges look at this shit, and I don't want to be looked at as the gay kid or whatever slur people will use. This could wreck our family's reputation, my career--" I'm forced to stop talking when my throat closes up.

Mom, forever a saint, comes back to me and pulls me in a hug again.

"Relax, honey," she says softly. "This seems like a really big deal right now, although, in the grand scheme of things, it's just another life transition. There are different doors in this life, and they are not all locked.

"I know you have been relying on sports and your reputation as an exit to adulthood, but that doesn't have to be the case. Imagine the possibilities if you stepped out of your comfort zone! Maybe you'll get more scholarships and traction because we all know colleges love diversity. You could weed out the people in your life that don't need to be there, people will hail you and pat you on the back once they get over the shock, and you'll have a lovely partner by your side for all of it. Life will move on."

I choke up as I listen to her talk, clutching her wrinkled shirt. Deep down, I know that she's right. However, at this moment, I want to break down on the floor and accept the fact that my life is over in one way or another-- either lose my reliable career path or my boy.

It feels like the world is against me.

- - -

One hour later, when I park in the school lot, I've finally come to a conclusion.

The least I can do is admit the truth to Miles.

As I reach over and grab my backpack, I can feel the bile rise in my throat at the thought of telling him. It's hard to know whether it's a good or bad type of puke. My eyes lift to the car's rearview mirror right in time to see a familiar blue Mustang drive by.

Scratch all of my puking shit. I need to talk to Miles. Today. If anyone is going to help me troubleshoot my issues, it's going to be him, like it has been for the past however-many weeks.

Immediately I shut my car off, snatching my phone, keys, and backpack all in one hand as I jump out. My car rattles as I slam the door shut, pacing towards the school.

I scan each vehicle as I walk, determined to catch that boy before we get into the building. There's no way I'll be able to talk to him during the school day, and I don't want to wait until tonight.

My eyes catch on a blue vehicle, and I inhale, jogging slightly to catch the driver. Instead of the Mustang logo, it's three little badges. Stupid Buick's.

Stress pumps through my blood as I cut over to the next row of cars.

Why did the school make this parking lot so massive?

"Park?"

I swing around at the word, almost as if Miles physically took my arm and yanked me himself. Relief washes over me, soothing the hot rush of adrenaline.

"Oh, thank god. Look, we need to talk," I insist and walk over to where Miles is locking his car up. He is such a sight for my sore eyes right now. I can feel my brain unwind from being near his calm energy.

Unfortunately, his familiar calmness shifts at my proclamation. He raises his eyebrows and takes in my wild expression. "Does this have something to do about...?"

"Yeah, something like that. I wanted to catch you before school starts."

Miles tenses and examines the parking lot around us, making sure that the group of lallygagging girls walk past before he responds.

One of the girls has the audacity to waste our time by calling over. "Hey, Parker! Nice game the other night. Orange didn't know what hit them!"

The rest of her clique giggles and nudge each other around. It's painfully obvious that they dared her to talk to me.

Two years ago, I would've eaten this up. Now, it's a different story. "Thanks. I'm a little busy right now."

The ring leader who spoke to me blinks in shock and apologizes. Even her friends giggle nervously as they scamper off. My response wasn't on their script. Exhaling in annoyance, I face Miles again. He's smirking, the little bitch, but jumps back into our conversation now that we're alone.

"Anyway, now that your fan club has moved on..." He drawls out, gaining the stink eye from me, "Did you..."

The school bell rings and cuts Miles off, its shrill warning echoing over the parking lot. I flinch and hope he will talk faster since I know we only have a few minutes left.

"Are you two deaf?!"

The question takes both of us off guard, making me whirl around to see who dares to cut us off. Again.

Atlas, from my team, is running over here from the back of the lot, huffing and puffing. "Parker! And Miles! Did you guys hear the bell?"

He finishes his run over and stops by me, out of breath. Maybe he wouldn't be so breathless if he didn't slack off during football practices.

I glance over at Miles and recognize that look of irritation only because I know I'm mirroring it. Miles meets my eyes for a moment, and I can read his expression. We can talk later.

My jaw ticks. I can't fucking wait until later.

Slowly, I turn back to Atlas and paste my best fake smile. "Oh, is that what that sound was?"

"Yes, you idiots! C'mon, if Mr. Brown sees that we're tardy, we will get our asses handed to us." Atlas starts to walk, waving his hand. "Let's go!"

I draw out a long breath as I walk after him. Mr. Brown can kiss my gay ass.

Miles quickly catches up to me, his fingers grazing my elbow once Atlas turns forward. As quick as it is, his touch brings me back to Earth. I relax and shake out my shoulders to fling off the anger.

There's no mistaking Miles smile as he sidesteps away right as Atlas looks back at us.

"I hope you guys don't mind if I use you as my reason for tardiness. I always get out of the house late and get stuck in traffic, so I get a bad parking spot. I have five tardies now. Five. That's with talking the secretary out of four others!" Atlas gripes, quickening his stride.

"That sounds shitty but can't you wake up earlier?" Miles offers, slipping his thumbs through the loops on his backpack.

"Tried that. I ended up passing back out and overslept my alarm. It threw off my sleep cycle, you know?"

Miles smirks in a way that makes me bite my tongue, partly to keep from laughing and partly to keep myself in check around Atlas.

"Uh-huh, I know the feeling all too well. We better run then, dude. I would hate to see you suspended for being late!" Miles responds and breaks into a run.

"Fuck, you're right! Hang on!" Atlas calls and sprints to catch up.

I laugh and keep walking after them, content to accept whatever my fate might be for now. Besides, I need to burn all my time until I get a real chance to talk to Miles.

- - -

My car doesn't kick up nearly as much dust this time as I pull into the same park where we met a few weekends ago. This must be our new meet-up spot because Miles actually managed to text me first once school ended.

Literally, his message popped up as I was hovering over my phone, trying to piece together the perfect invitation.

I wasn't about to turn him down. So, here we are.

I can't wipe the smile off my face as I get out of my car and walk over to Miles. This is some major deja vú because he's leaning against his car again, his head dipped over his phone.

He looks up and brightens as our eyes meet. Turning his phone off, he tosses it through his cracked window into his car. "'Sup homie?"

"Not a lot... my guy." My smile gets wider as he laughs.

"Wow. That was weak. We need to work on your greetings." Miles drops his gaze over my body.

It might be November, but California is still cooking hot. Once the cold fog disappeared and the heat settled in this morning, I left the jacket in my car. My sweatpants alone are making me sweat, and this grey shirt is starting to stick to my body.

As much as I want Miles attention on me, it still makes me nervous. I shuffle my sneakers in the dirt. "We need to work on my greetings?" I echo him. "How about we work on your history grade instead? I saw your score when Greyson passed those tests back. The fact you managed to get seventy percent is impressive."

"Hey! Don't judge me! This wasn't one of my best weeks, leave me be!"

I keep grinning only because I can tell he's not pissed about my nosiness. "Colleges won't be thinking the same thing, that's for damn sure."

Miles laughs and looks away, waving his hand carelessly. "Psh, whatever. Fuck those schools anyway. We have a whole 'nother year. Enough about me. Let's talk about you and that game two nights ago! I've never seen anything like that before, Park."

I smile again at his compliment, and I'm touched, really, but I don't want to talk about the game with Orange County. I want to push his buttons. Miles asked me here for a reason, and I want to hear it. "Did you make me drive through San Francisco traffic just to talk to me about the football game?"

His laugh sounds nervous this time, and he rubs behind his neck. "Uh, well, no. First of all, if I remember correctly, you wanted to talk to me first this morning. Second, I'm just trying to be a gentleman and hype you up."

"Ohh, gotcha! My bad, proceed." I nod and wave my hand, leading the way down a park path that splits off in a few different directions.

"Gracias. Like I was saying, that shit was bonkers. Those plays, dude?" Miles whistles and whacks my arm, making me laugh as I rub it. "Genius! That was a fucking battlefield. I've never had so much fun watching a football game before. You guys deserve that state trip."

My cheeks go pink at his heavy praise. "Thanks. It took a lot of hard work to get to that point. There were tons of crazy talented people out there."

"You included."

I look over at him and go redder when I see that he already has his eyes on me. "Thank you. Speaking of talented... you bitch!"

Miles eyes widen in surprise at my outburst, and he looks at me again for a different reason. "Jesus, what? Did I say something?"

"No, you idiot! It's what you haven't said!" I exclaim since this topic reminds me of the past few nights we spent together. "Why have you never told me that you played basketball?"

Fear encases Miles eyes when I bring up unspoken words until I say that last part. That's when he relaxes.

"I dunno. I guess it never seemed important to bring up. I had to stop playing, so... There's nothing more to say." He shrugs passively.

"All of those awards beg to differ. You're like me, just in basketball form. Do you know how cool that is? I would love to play again one of these days when we're not loopy and see if they were spoofs or not." I grin and prod a little to gauge his reaction.

Miles lets out a real laugh, eyeing me up and down. "Oh-ho-ho. You want to play me again? I only get better when I'm sober. And I've got nearly six inches on you, buddy. I'll show you real quick how I gained those awards. You'd be better off staying in your lane."

I grin as he gets cocky because it's a funny side I never see in him. My eyes drop down to his pants when he mentions the six inches—lord knows that's probably true in all sorts of ways—I quickly bring my eyes back up.

"Big talk. You can only say so much until it comes time to prove it," I tease and elbow him as we walk.

"Yeah? Is that right?" Miles suddenly jumps in front of me, and I laugh as I'm taken off guard, especially when he does that basketball guy thing where he pretends to dribble the ball, bouncing in quick succession on his feet. "You think you can keep up with me?"

Grinning devilishly, I take his bait and jump into this little game. I get all up in his space as I pretend to get the "ball," shuffling my feet around. There are a few different meanings behind my words as I reply, "Trust me, I think I would take you by surprise."

I reach out and grab his wrists to bring him back to reality. My palms tingle at this simple touch. If I were ever to touch him below the belt line, I would die on the spot.

Miles teasing grin suddenly transforms into something more personal and understanding as he stops his make-believe game. We look into each other's eyes for a minute before I realize I'm still holding onto him.

I let go hastily and clear my throat, continuing our walk down the path. A boardwalk through the trees catches my attention, so I change course. "Um... if I'm not here to tease you about history grades or sports, then what's the scoop?"

Miles follows right behind me. I know by the sound of his footsteps joining mine in succession on the planks as we walk toward the end of the dock. He's quiet for a moment. I can almost hear the wheels in his head turning.

"Look, I remember what happened after the homecoming party. And our drive and our smoke session. I can't stop thinking about you."

His words stop me in my tracks. To be fair, two more yards and my ass would be in the lake water. Still, a shock runs through my veins, and I turn around on my heel to face him.

Whatever he sees on my face spurs out more words. "Okay, look, my story probably isn't straight, and a lot of things are really fuzzy, but... I remember you promising me a date to dinner, and your goofy laugh, and the look on your face when I changed, your voice in my bed, your hands on me after we smoked, and last night when you were close to me and... and," he stammers for a second, running both hands over his braided hair as he looks me over. "I felt something between us this past week, Parker. I thought these weird emotions were jokes over the past months, and I thought I would wake up normal again this morning, but..."

Miles fades off for a second and drops his hands. "But I woke up thinking about you. I wondered what you were doing, what changed this past week, where you were last weekend when you left and why you left, but I couldn't remember doing anything to scare you off. Fuck, I just wanted you back next to me that morning, except it was already too late."

He won't stop talking. I keep looking between his eyes and those perfect lips.

"All I knew this morning was that I never wanted a morning where I wake up not knowing what's going on with you. You've been keeping me sane through this life transition without even knowing it, and I think I'm getting vibes that you have some feelings for me, but maybe I'm reading this situation wrong, and now I regret it, and I hope our friendship isn't messed up because if it is--"

"Miles, shut the fuck up," I finally say and stride forward, closing the space between us. This time, there's no hesitation.

I know what I want. I've known as long as he has. Thus, I grab Miles by the back of his neck, pull him down to my height, and kiss him. Hard.

And I don't want to stop. He feels as good as--shit, even better--than I remember, and it's only been 48 hours since our last kiss.

We break apart for a moment, and my gut wrenches as Miles meets my wild-eyed gaze.

What if...

There are no what-ifs.

Miles grabs a handful of my hair and pulls me back to him, returning the kiss deeply.

I can't stop. All of those sleepless nights imagining us being together fell to this moment. All those dreams came down to this. Every single school day staring at the back of his head and memorizing those curls, instantly pinpointing his laugh in the lunchroom, praying for a text, a moment to run into him, finding my solace of peace around him.

There's no getting enough. As he strengthens the kiss, I run my fingertips down his intricate braids, parting my mouth. Wow, he's good at this. His hand slowly releases my hair and slips down to the back of my neck.

Finally, I need air. I break apart only to inhale, but I try not to breathe too deeply in fear of waking up from this dream. Besides, there's so much lost time to make up for.

The sun warms my back as I raise my chin to meet his lips again, and we kiss. And kiss again. And again. Still, that feeling of delirium doesn't diminish; it grows.

Miles is on my same wavelength because he suddenly groans, his hands sliding down to my waist. I'm so caught up in kissing him that my feet stumble when he pulls me backward, his breath hot against mine.

My heart plummets when Miles gets grabby, although it's in a good way. This is so much different than Hannah. The only difference is that the connection between us is tangible. Plus, he's a fucking fantastic kisser, and he's hotter than hell. I can actually imagine losing my virginity to him.

I'm suddenly very aware of the heat racing across the point where our hips meet when that thought crosses my mind. The magic of this moment is still here, except I want that magic redirected onto me.

We hit the dock rail, and Miles spins us, pressing my back into it. I'm the one who grunts this time, opening my mouth wider to taste more of him. We keep our kisses somewhat slow, but I twitch when his tongue slips into my mouth.

I'm so desperate for him that I moan. My feet instinctively shuffle further apart as I finish getting hard. Maybe we should be taking this slow since I've never kissed anyone like this before, yet I can't shake the desire to want him to take me right here.

Miles tests the waters, his hands tightening on my waist. All it takes is for him to pull my waist closer to his, getting rid of all the space between us. His body meets mine. There are four layers of clothing between us, but I'm down so bad for him that I grind right up onto his hips.

A gasp escapes my mouth at the feeling of his hard muscle between my legs.

Miles grabs my bottom lip between his teeth gently as we press on each other. I need to get closer. My hands tighten around his neck, and I shuffle closer, frantic for him.

That is until my foot slips off the dock.

There's no catching my balance.

Within milliseconds, our moment together is over as I drag us both down into the lake.