𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟺𝚝𝚑, 𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

Miles. Miles. Miles. Miles.

My head is like a broken record player that refuses to shut off. I find myself thinking about Miles during class and how perfectly he handled my inexperience in bed.

I think about him on the way home from school and how he wrecked my life when he walked into it.

I wonder why I don't have the guts to look at him all day on Tuesday and then again on Wednesday.

I imagine a life where I'm not wondering those things and can comfortably sleep snuggled up against him all night without wondering if my life is over.

Miles is putting me back together.

He is ruining me.

And he's also ruining my football practice.

My cleats snag on the dirt, and I stumble at the memory of his hands racing down my chest to settle in between my legs. I loathe how these sexual thoughts come up at the worst times.

Curses fly from my mouth as I madly dash forward to catch the football that comes flying out from the machine. I'm a few strides behind, and the machine is faster. The pigskin grazes my fingertips as it launches past, narrowly missing Joshua, who's on standby.

Greyson sighs and shakes his head as he leaves his position at the cones to walk over to me.

"Kid," he starts and scratches behind his head, not-so-discreetly hiding his irritation, "what the hell are you doing?"

My chest tightens in a sudden surge of embarrassment.

Thinking about the boy that I hooked up with two days ago.

"I..." Swallowing, I lick my dry lips and adjust the helmet strap under my chin. "I'm sorry. I'm thinking about the state game. I got distracted."

Greyson snorts. "Parker. Son. Look, you've been in this sport since you could practically walk. I have damn near watched you grow up on this field, you understand me?"

I nod and look away. It doesn't take a psychic to know where he's taking this conversation.

"I'm only saying this because I know you. I know your habits, and this," Greyson waves both hands in a large circle, "this isn't fitting the bill. You've never gotten shaken about something as petty as a state game. Now, this time when I ask, don't lie to me. What are you doing?"

It hurts to inhale. I can't look at my uncle. Sweat drips down the back of my shirt. "I'm distracted."

"By what?"

The boys milling around at their stations slow down and crane their necks as they look over here, curious about why Greyson is practically bent down to my height.

"Dumb shit. Relationships, drama."

It's not the whole truth. However, it's also not a lie.

Greyson nods as if that confirms his suspicions, and he straightens up. "Well, if that's all it is, that's curable. What's more important to you, Parker? Your future, your career, or... What's her name? Hannah?"

Miles. Miles. Mil—

My answer is automatic. "This. Football is my future. I know."

"If you knew that, I wouldn't have to keep stalling practice every week to remind you. Let that shit go, son, or at the very least, leave it off the field, would you?" Greyson takes a step back and flourishes his hand. "I want to see you do that again like you actually mean it this time."

Huffing, I nod and put my back to Greyson as I walk back to the starting cone. Griffin, who's waiting his turn behind me, arches an eyebrow.

I meet his gaze and discreetly shake my head. I don't wait for his reaction or any other small nonverbal cues. Instead, I turn back around and hover in my starting position as I wait for the cue.

Snyder gives me a thumbs up, and I drive forward, my left toe spurring up turf with the momentum.

My breathing evens out with my strides. The ball machine makes a loud thwat sound as another football launches out. This time, my timing and relative position are perfect.

The football lands in my palms easily, and I swivel on the move, spotting the target net that the coaches set up. I do the math on the fly, trajectories and angles flitting across the forefront of my mind a split second before I send the ball off.

It's nothing but net, as Miles would say. A perfect hole shot.

Greyson hoots and claps his hands. "That's what I'm talking about! Great form and footwork! Much better, Parker. Let's get back into this side of you, please!"

I give Greyson a thumbs up and jog away, my fake smile falling the second my back is turned.

Kendric swings around when I reach the back of the line again. "Yo dude, why did Coach G have his panties in a twist?"

I scoff and put my hands on my hips to catch my breath, my gaze flitting behind Kendric's head as I glance at my uncle one more time. "Your guess is as good as mine. Heaven forbid that I mess up for once in my life."

"That's what you get for setting perfection as the standard, brother." Kendric slaps my shoulder. "Keep your chin up."

There's no energy left in my body to give another forced smile or witty comeback. I'm drained and, quite frankly, very sick of being perfect.

- - -

Once I escape the practice from hell and finish freshening up in the locker room, I fly through the streets toward Miles house.

My thumbs speed over the screen of my phone as I drive.

Shutting my phone off, I fling it on the passenger seat and run a hand back through my hair as I drive.

It's shitty of me to have ignored Miles these past few days. Bad habits are hard for me to kick, and unfortunately, this is one of them. Whenever I need time to think something over, I tend to block everyone out.

Except I'm sick of blocking him out.

Am I scared shitless to admit what I'm about to admit to his face? Absolutely.

Am I also terrified to let him slip away? Yes.

Some might think this decision I'm making is about the great almost-sex I had with Miles, but that's the farthest thing from the truth. The foreplay on Monday was great and everything, don't get me wrong, except our heart-to-heart talk was better. They're always better. It's terrifying how much he understands me and how much I've come to rely on him.

Miles will need some collateral for this conversation, so I swing through the nearby What-A-Burger before finishing the drive to his house.

My car barely makes it around the corner in his neighborhood, and a stupid smile is already on my face. As I get closer to his house, I see that the garage door is wide open, and so is the hood of his Mustang in the driveway.

Swinging alongside the curb, I turn off my car and grab the fast food before jumping out. The car locks behind me as I walk up the driveway and notice Miles sneakers standing near the engine.

I fight down my smile to something a little more passive and greet him. "Hey, Holt."

"Graham. I thought I heard your car." Miles grunts and backs up from his engine with a large automobile battery in his hands. He sets it down on the driveway and turns around, pausing as he looks at the food in my hands. "What is this? Bribery?"

My eyes snag on his chest while he speaks.

Mary mother and Joseph.

Yes, I've seen Miles with his shirt off before. This time, it's different. He's slick with sweat and a little bit of car grease, his abs and muscles flexing with each pant of his breath.

It was easier to be in denial about my sexuality a few weeks ago before we crossed our boundaries with each other.

"No, dumbass," I speak when my thoughts return to me and quickly look into Miles eyes. "It's kindness. I figured you'd be hungry, so..."

I fade out, holding the bag and styrofoam cup out toward him. It was easy to remember the burger and fries he ordered last time at the diner, plus I added a shake for good measure.

Okay, maybe this meal is a little bit of bribery.

"Huh, you speak my love language!" Miles says happily and takes the food from me. He sets the bag down on the edge of his engine bay and snags a handful of fries, chewing on them while he shakes his shake cup.

"Uh... gracias. I try to at least," I reply slowly, the foreign word tripping me up, as simple as it is. I should have paid attention in my Spanish class freshman year. Or, I may or may not still be a little flustered at the sight of his bare skin.

Miles looks up at me from under his eyelashes. "Sorry, what was that? Say it again."

"Stop smirking at me, you little shit. We're not here to discuss Spanish," I say and laugh, waving my hands. My heart is doing jumping jacks as I steer this conversation around.

"Oh, right!" He feigns puzzlement, quirking his lips. "Is there another reason why you hit me up to meet at this very moment?"

"Yeah, I met you here as an intervention for your drinking problems," I retort back at Miles and grin. It's sweet payback for the sass he is throwing.

Miles takes one of his fries and chucks it at me, making me laugh as I dust salt off my shirt. "Okay, okay! Seize fire!" I order and point at him when he starts to throw another fry. "Let's talk!"

"Thank you!" Miles responds and shakes his head as he smiles, leaning up against the bumper of his car and eating the assumed weapon. "So, what have you been dying to tell me all day, tesorito?"

Now that the moment is here, I don't know how to proceed. I've been playing this conversation over and over in my head all day, yet I'm frozen. In a desperate attempt to regain my confidence, I clear my throat and scratch behind my neck.

"You know how I came out to my parents the other week?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, I never got the chance to mention that they said some stuff that stuck with me. I've been worried about what people will think of me if I come out, especially colleges and future employers. But my mom said that in this generation, being LGBT+ isn't as big of a deal."

"Smart woman. You know, I really like her."

I crack a smile at that. "I know you do. Anyway, I did some research the other night, and there are many people out there, especially famous people, whose lives aren't wrecked. Like... Drew Barrymore, Kate McKinnon, Frank Ocean, Andrew Scott, Caitlyn Jenner..."

"Did you seriously throw in Caitlyn Jenner?" Miles asks, choking on his fry.

"Hey, stay with me! It's an example! She's trans, not gay, but people still like her! Look, my point is all of these people aren't hiding underground. They live their lives, deal with the naysayers, and play with the cards they're dealt."

Miles watches me speak and eats his fries slower, taking his time to sip his shake between bites. "Is that your only point?"

"No, it's not. I want your opinion first," I say and look him over.

The negative intrusive thoughts are still circling inside my head, but talking about this to someone who understands helps ease my anxiety. Besides, it doesn't hurt that Miles is easy on the eyes, especially with damp and perspired skin. His lips are a bonus too. To be honest, his kissing skills really tipped the scale for me.

"Yeah, okay," Miles says and wipes his fingers on his shorts. "I mean, you're telling the truth. It sucks when I have to deal with homophobes that would rather see me dead, bleeding out on a spike more than seeing me hold hands with a guy, but..." He shrugs. "Different people have different opinions. It's a fact. I could get backlash for dating a chick who is 5'5" instead of 5'8". People are fucking crazy."

I nod in agreement. "My parents said the same thing, basically."

"That people are fucking crazy?" Miles offers.

"No, they said the same thing about chicks and relationships."

"Oh, well, still. My point continues to stand. If I were to stand around waiting for the day when everyone on this planet loved me exactly for who I am, I would die waiting. Shit, even my mom tells me that I'm a dumbass once a month," he says and laughs, sipping his shake.

I smile at the thought of anyone scolding Miles, especially with those sweet brown eyes of his. Then I hesitate because wasn't I pissed off at him not too long ago, wishing that he would change?

"You make complete sense, trust me." I hold my hand out for the shake. He steps forward and hands it over. I take a drink before continuing. "This makes me feel better. I haven't been able to focus recently because I've been thinking about this choice, and..." I drawl out again, handing the cup back over.

Miles bites his cheek and takes it back, setting it down next to the food bag.

"And I think I'll be comfortable taking a relationship slowly," I finally say. I originally planned on staying serious so that Miles would take me seriously, except it's hard not to smile when he brightens up so fast that all of the lights in this city couldn't outshine him.

"You're fucking joking?!" Miles exclaims, throwing his hands up behind his head. His eyes are sparkling with unbridled joy.

"You think I would joke about this?" I grin and then laugh when he steps over and closes the space between us, his chest warm against mine as he plants kisses from my neck to my forehead. My skin explodes with goosebumps at the feeling, and I bask in it for a second until my eyes flash to the sidewalk across the street.

A neighbor girl is out walking her dog, each step jerky. Her jaw is slack as she watches our interaction. Realization is on her face, and she looks mortified.

My gut twists, bringing me down from the elation and back to reality.

"Hang on," I say and brace against Miles, making him pause and step back. He stops kissing my skin but doesn't let me out of his grip.

I rest my hands on his shoulders. His skin is warm and so unbelievably dark against mine. "I want to make sure that it's okay if we take this slow. Or, at least, at my pace. I don't want to sound like a douchebag asking this, but I've never really been in a real relationship before. Much less, you know..."

"Being with a guy?" Miles finishes my sentence, sliding his hands off of me.

God damn. I wish with all of my heart that I could enjoy this with him, except my mind and heart are in two totally different places, planning war against each other.

My heart is set on Miles, 100%. He stole that the minute we first talked to each other, and I haven't seen it around since then.

My mind, though? It's not shutting up about what my extended family will think, what my peers will say, how they'll look at us, and how I will be treated. My old, uncomfortable, but perfect life is completely shot.

"Yep. That," I mumble and look down at where my hands are resting on his shoulders, once again examining the stark contrast of our skin. Tack that under my mind's extended list: I'm dating a black guy, too.

Still, my heart whispers, it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

"Park. Baby. I'm up here."

My eyes shoot back to his, especially at his use of that new nickname. That's something I can get used to.

"Trust me. I will never do anything that is meant to hurt you intentionally. Talk to me when you need to. That's all I ask for, just a little communication when you feel uncomfortable about something. Okay? We can go as slow as you want," Miles says tenderly, searching my eyes.

The back of my eyes pricks with tears at his compassion. Fuck my anxiety and my overthinking brain. If it weren't for those two bastards, I would be popping a ring out for this boy already.

"Yeah, I understand. Thank you," I say quietly, nearly in a whisper.

Miles smiles and leans forward to my forehead, kissing it so delicately that, for a moment, I'm overwhelmed with the thought of him.

"You don't need to thank me. We're in this together now. Hey, while you're here, do you want to learn how to change a car battery?"