𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟻𝚝𝚑, 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

Hollywood seriously overhyped relationships. This was supposed to be the big moment where I meet my lover in the middle of the school lobby and give them a sloppy kiss, showing off our new relationship.

People would gasp. Hannah would faint. Meanwhile, I'd be basking in the attention alongside my partner.

Unfortunately, my life isn't a movie, and this isn't Hollywood. I'll be damned if I said I walked into school the next day as if I was living on cloud nine.

In all honesty, I spend my morning slinking around in the shadows. I may or may not have memorized Miles entire schedule the first week he joined this school. At least I know what hallways to avoid and what stairwells to skip. Acting like this makes me feel awfully guilty by the time history class rolls around.

It's the only class I have with Miles. I can get through this—piece of cake.

My heart is in my throat as I walk through the doorway. There's no blood left in my hands with how hard I'm clenching my books. I keep my chin down, however, my eyes deceive me and I glance up from under my eyelashes as I walk in.

There he is, in all his uncanny, confident glory, laughing with the redheaded boy sitting next to him. It's sickening how hard my gut twists and how high my heart leaps.

I should be the one making him laugh like that.

As much as I want to save my reputation and ignore him all day long, I feel an equally-as strong urge to choke out the redhead boy. That kid literally has a girlfriend. What business does he have making Miles laugh so hard?

"Good morning, nephew of mine."

A cold shudder runs down my spine as if my uncle physically took a bucket of freezing water and dumped it down my shirt.

Gluing on a smile, I halt my procession and turn around. "Greyson. What's up?"

"Nothing much." He sits back in his chair and crosses his feet at the ankle, waving his pen at me. "Come here. I want to check in with you. How are you doing?"

A muscle in my jaw twitches. I've never had the guts to disobey him, and I'm certainly not starting today. I pause by Greyson's desk and glance down at the wood grain pattern, tracing my pinky nail along it.

You know, the usual. Last night I agreed to be another boy's boyfriend, and I'm pretty sure that he-- Hey, why are you screaming?

I swallow those words down. "I'm alright. Nothing has changed from practice last night if that's what you're getting at."

Greyson squints at me. "Mhm. Well, something better change real quick because something has been off with you recently. I don't want to see you like this going into the spring."

"The spring?" I quirk an eyebrow.

I don't even get a Hey, do you need a heart-to-heart?, nor a I can tell you need a break for a while. Let me give you a week off of practice.

I guess I can't be mad because I wouldn't agree to talk to him or take time off.

"April? The All-State conference?" Greyson clicks his pen repeatedly. I imagine grabbing that pen from his fist and chucking it at the wall.

My shoes shuffle against the tile. Greyson is faster, leaning forward to set his pen down and shuffle his computer mouse.

He continues speaking before I can say anything else. "I got word this morning, personal word, that Tony Barnhart wants a private interview with you on Saturday during the conference."

Suddenly, I feel like I'd rather stab that pen into my neck. I rest a palm down flat on his desk to keep from swaying. I blink. "What?"

Greyson chews down a grin and nods like a toddler in a candy store as he reads from an email. "'Mr. Greyson Miller, I understand that you are bringing one of the state's biggest high school football names to the conference in the spring...' yatta yatta, '... However, I'd like to speak personally to the young Mr. Graham on Saturday after the main press conference. I believe that Graham is one of the biggest rising high school stars in this country, and there are a lot of people that would be interested in hearing the answers to the questions I have.'"

He doesn't try to hide his grin anymore as he swivels his chair to look at me. "Did you hear that? Biggest rising star in the country. Parker, this is huge! Bigger than huge! This is monumental!"

I wince as Greyson starts to get excited and wave his hands around, his voice projecting increasingly over the classroom. Miles can't hear this conversation.

"Yes, I heard you," I cut him off and run a hand back over my hair. "I... don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say a damn thing. I already agreed to the interview. In addition, I caught wind that Greg Sankey will be attending, along with Jimmy Pitaro, who became ESPN's president--"

A dry laugh rips from my chest, and I wave my hands. "Stop. You're going to make me puke."

"No, son, you're going to make me puke! A junior in high school, already capturing the attention of some of the biggest names in the college football industry." Greyson beams momentarily brighter than the sun. "You better strap in for a wild future, my boy, because this is only the beginning. And this is also why you need to be on your A-game! This isn't a joke anymore!"

As he continues speaking and hyping up this life-changing event, my mind transports me back to the end of elementary school when Greyson helped me into these little football pads, his eyes shining.

Enjoy the game, kid, he had said. Go out there and have fun. As long as you're enjoying yourself, that's all that matters.

I wonder what he would say if I opened my mouth and told him I am not enjoying myself anymore.

There's no chance for me to get a single word in. The bell rings shrilly, cutting off Greyson's excited tangent.

"Shoot, well, we can talk more about this later. Tuck this information in the back of your head, though. Tony Barnhart, Parker! Don't look so excited!"

He teases me and leans over the desk to swat my forearm in hopes of drawing a smile from my shell-shocked face. If anything, that move engraves a deeper frown as I turn away and shuffle like a zombie back to my desk.

Why did this stuff have to happen to me? Shouldn't Greyson have trained his own, legit son for this?

As I walk down the row of desks, my gaze finds Miles again. He's watching me like a hawk. His deep brown eyes are dark with questions. If my gut was twisting before, it does a complete flip now.

I can't answer anyone's questions. Not Greyson's, Miles, Tony Barnhart's, and certainly not my own.

That's what makes me glance away from my boyfriend and walk past him without a single hesitation.

It's only one more hour of ignoring him, I tell myself. What harm will it do?

- - -

That one more hour turns into me racing to the boy's locker room after class ends to eat my lunch in peace.

I won't lie. I don't even eat. My stomach is still in knots, so I throw every single thing I brought with me away. With each buzz of my phone, that knot tightens.

I ignore Miles, Atlas, Griffin, Rose, and Kendric.

The minutes rush by too fast, and I wait until the very last possible minute for me to leave the locker room before making a break for it in hopes of dodging my friends in the halls.

Miles can understand a lot of things, yet I don't think he'd be able to understand this. Not a single word can describe the turmoil running through my head.

I've been feeling the same turmoil for years, except it's different now that I'm roped up in a relationship. A gay relationship. Seriously, what was I thinking?

I must still have drugs running through my veins if I genuinely thought that everyone would be able to accept Miles as my partner. What sucks the most is that I have true, deeply running feelings for him. Only fear is running deeper.

Fear of failure: failing him, failing my career. Fears of the world shunning me. Fear of being the gay boy and being treated like an alien. Fear that the biggest names in college football will kick me out of the program before I can get a foot in the door. Fear that I don't even want to play.

I fear Miles seeing through me and dumping me because I can't break out of this shell.

It's heavy, suffocating. I spend the rest of my day choking on it.

I still haven't made any leeway with these anxieties by the time I walk towards the football field after school ends. The weight of my helmet under my arm feels like an anchor. I'm grateful we're not wearing the pads tonight because if we were, I don't think I'd be able to move.

My feet are heavy enough, scuffing the ground with each stride as I take the sidewalk to the field. My teammates are already down on the turf, stretching, talking, and laughing. Amping themselves up for another night doing what they love.

If I had one ounce of that same passion, I would already be down there by now.

"Parker!"

Miles voice makes me freeze. My palms are suddenly slick, sliding against my helmet, and I scramble to keep a hold of it as I turn around to face the inevitable.

He's jogging towards me, the folder from his last class of the day clasped in his grip. He must have sprinted across the school to talk to me before it was too late.

"Hey. Um, I'm sorry Miles, but this isn't really--"

"Did I do something?" Miles cuts me off and comes to a stop across from me, his chest fluttering as he catches his breath. "To make you mad. Did I piss you off? I'm sorry. I know that you said you needed to take this slow the other day. I only wanted to talk because I feel like you've been avoiding me all day. No one has seen you, actually."

I'm already shaking my head when he's halfway through his rampant. "No. No, you haven't done anything wrong. I've been..." Hesitating, I look up and meet his gaze. Miles entire face is drenched with worry, from the tightening of his eyes to the droop of his lips.

I try talking again. "I've been keeping my space on purpose. This change has been hard for me to get used to. I don't feel ready to put on a show for the school yet."

Miles tilts his head barely a centimeter. His tone is a little strained. "Is this a show to you? This relationship?"

"No! Fuck, no, that was a bad way of putting it." Shuffling my feet, I try not to think about how hot my face feels. I glance over my shoulder to make sure no one down on the field is watching us talk. "I'm sorry, no, this isn't what I meant. You're not entertainment to me, Miles. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around what's been going on. Not only with us but also with some information Greyson has told me about colleges. There's been a lot on my mind."

Miles nods, and his eyes drop over my body. I've known him long enough to be able to read his body language, and that wasn't a sensual look. Rather, he's searching for the lie.

"What's going on with the schools? Do you need to talk about it?"

I slowly let out a breath of air and shut my eyes for a moment. I never knew it was possible to love and hate someone so much at one time.

"As much as I'd love to, I don't have the time to talk. I need to get to practice." I point my thumb over my shoulder.

Miles bites his cheek, and I can tell my actions are stinging him. I wish I could drop down to his feet and sob about how much it's hurting me, too. The only reason I've been dodging him all day long is so that we wouldn't have to do this. I hate not being able to drop into my boyfriend's embrace and comfort him as much as I need to be comforted.

I quickly keep speaking before he can get a word out. "Look, I don't want to keep you in the dark either. Can you please forgive me? And could you please come over tomorrow so I can make it up? My parents will be around, and I'm sure they'd love to make dinner or something. And, you know, meet you as my boyfriend this time."

A smile pulls at my lips as Miles shoulders droop in relief. That was the confirmation that he was looking for.

"I'll forgive you this time," he teases with an over-exasperated sigh. "Sounds like a nice night. Let's plan on that, yeah?"

"Of course. I could use that time with you right now." I run my hand back through my hair and eye Miles.

God, I'd love nothing more than to step across the empty yard between us and find myself at home in his arms. It feels like centuries since we've kissed, yet I have no one to blame but myself.

Miles smiles back at me and dips his chin. "I know, trust me. Me too. Um..." he hesitates. He's definitely thinking the same thing as me from how he looks between my eyes, lips, and back again.

I lick my lips and look down at my helmet to fiddle with the strap. "I'm already late to practice. I'll talk to you later. Drive safe."

"Oh. Right. Thanks, have a good night." Miles nods and looks me over one last time as he slides his thumbs in his pockets and turns away.

"You too," I mumble and face the way I was going before. My heart pounds as I run down to where Greyson is waving his hand at me.

We're not even a week into this relationship, and I'm already ruining it.