𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝚗𝚍, 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parker's POV

Saturday night doesn't come nearly as quick as it should. Actually, the entire week seemed to keep dragging on. Every day felt like playing a broken record.

Wake up. School. Football. Homework. Sleep. Day after day after day.

The only intrusion to my schedule is Miles, who I actively try to avoid.

Ever since I got an earful from Greyson at practice on Monday, I have had to internally scold myself every time I laid eyes on that kid. My thoughts slip more than I care to admit. It has been especially difficult in history class, but I quickly realized that there's no time for conversation with him if I show up exactly when the bell rings.

Not that I'm trying to be a bully to the new guy. However, I don't have the time to give him that type of attention right now. I barely find time for my own friends anymore.

Gritting my teeth, I brush away the topic as I pull my car into Earhart Park. Guys and girls from school are walking out in packs to the football fields, their mouths moving soundlessly as the beat of my music fills my ears.

Heads turn as I maneuver my Audi near the back south side of the lot, next to Griffins' Hellcat.

We both try not to flaunt our families riches. Still, it isn't his fault that his dad is a retired NFL player, his mom an OBGYN nurse, and my mom is a top-ranking therapist married to a professional photographer.

I wave at Atlas as he jogs by, his wavy black hair flopping in the breeze as he carries a few footballs to the field for the game. Smiling to myself, I tuck the car keys in my pocket and hop out.

The evening is perfect for some friendly competition. The sun is tucking down low over the far side of the hill, casting a golden haze on the hillside. Long shadows stretch from the base of the stadium lights that perimeter the field, which are starting to slowly flicker on one-by-one.

I scan the area as my tennis shoes reach the field grass, searching for familiar faces. My football team, or at least those who could make it, are lingering near the closest football goalpost. The rednecks have their trucks backed up as close to the grass as possible without going over the curb, bumping music from speakers set up in the beds, and passing out clear bottles of alcohol from coolers.

"Hey, do I need to get you a drink or something?"

I look away from the hive of activity and turn to see where the overly-friendly question came from. Hannah is walking up, her smile a little too eager, her shirt a little too tight. My eyes flash back to her face and I hate how my cheeks redden.

"No thanks, I don't drink alcohol. I need to be able to drive home tonight," I reply and scratch my neck as Hannah wanders closer.

"Gotcha. You're a good influence because I feel sorta guilty now." Hannah looks down at her cup and swirls around the contents before peering back up at me underneath her long, mascara-packed eyelashes. Those blue eyes are almost menacing.

I shrug and shuffle my feet away. A boy nearby dumps more ice into a cooler, and I think I would rather keep my face under the freezing lid for twelve hours than validate her bad choices.

"Well, it's not too late to dump it out—"

"Hey, Parker!"

Joshua comes over from the group that's hovering near the goalpost and grins, sticking his hand up for a high five.

"What's up, man?" He exclaims happily. "You ready to play tonight?"

I smile, grateful I'm saved from this conversation and slap his hand. "Not a whole lot, just living life. I've been ready all week. What's the plan?"

"The boys are going over it right now. Come on, we'll need you." Joshua looks at Hannah like he just realized she was here and winks flippantly. "Mind if I steal him away?

Hannah smiles, but it's different from her earlier carefree smile. This one screams murder. Yet, she's still sweet as honey. "Not at all, only if you promise to bring him back in one piece."

Joshua laughs and elbows me a little too harshly. I hold down a wince as he jeers, "This is capture the flag night. I'm not promising shit! C'mon." He waves his hand, giving me no choice but to walk away from Hannah.

As I join my teammates, the boys call out greetings and slap my back and shoulders. My heart warms, and I can finally relax as I greet my buddies. "Hey, what's going on?"

Kendric, my third-closest friend after my cousins and the type of guy that can only count to ten in Spanish yet claims he's the "real deal" because his mom is from Mexico City, answers me first. He points out at the field with a can of washable spray paint. "We gotta go out and mark the zones for capture the flag, then break up whoever wants to play into teams. Speaking of..." he waves the can around. "Who's our two captains?"

"I have dibs," a male voice says from behind me, sidling up into our group. Griffin. The stale scent of alcohol follows him, which makes me tighten my jaw.

Look, I have nothing against drinking except when the beverage is being abused. Or if it's underage kids consume it for brownie points in their clique. Or if it could put my family and friends in danger.

Kendric tilts his head up in acknowledgment and gives him a thumbs up. "Okay, Griffin has one team. Who wants the other?"

I glance around the circle, all too aware of the eyes on me. As one of the football team captains, the guys assume that I'll probably want a shot at manning this game, too. But tonight is supposed to be fun, and I'm open to letting someone else take a stab at it first. Seriously, anyone.

Silence settles for a second, so I start to open my mouth, but one of my other teammates, a tight end, beats me to it and gains the title of a second captain.

Now that positions are taken care of, Kendric and another boy jog off onto the field, spraying down white boundary lines as they go. I take a moment to step away and walk over to the trucks, trying to avoid the babbling group of girls near the parking lot. I don't see Hannah around, but I also don't feel like running into her again, so I keep an eye out for her as I subtly look for who I invited.

Instead, I spot Forrest and Rose standing near a truck bed, and I smile at them. Rose looks over and spots me, immediately beaming as she waves.

"Parker, hey! I'm surprised that I didn't see you come in," Rose says brightly.

I laugh a little and stoop down to open a cooler by the truck near them, choosing a bottle of water floating in the sea of soda. "I just got here a minute ago and parked in the back. Are you guys playing tonight?"

Forrest shares a look with Rose, having a fast mental conversation with her. He then shrugs and looks at me again. "Yeah, I might, just to burn the midnight oil."

Rose laughs and nudges him with her elbow. "Shut up, it's not even 8pm yet. I don't think I will. All of you boys get too rough out there. I'll be nervously watching, ready to dial 911."

"Hopefully it won't come to that this year," I soothe her and grin at the memory.

Supposedly four years ago, some seniors got too rough while playing and ended up at the hospital with major limb injuries. One of the injured seniors was Greyson's best wide receiver for the season, so to this day, he preaches safety about capture the flag games.

Rose nods in agreement and takes Forrests hand. "We're going to walk down to Alex's truck, it sounds like he brought a grill over and is making some food. Do you want to come and eat before the game?" she offers.

I scan the surrounding area, shifting my weight between my feet. "Nah, I'm good. I gotta do something first. Thanks for the invitation."

"Alright, no worries! Good luck if I don't catch you before the game starts!" Rose calls over her shoulder as she and Forrest start to stroll away, their hands intertwined.

I raise my hand in reply and crack open the water bottle, taking a swig as I turn toward the small crowd hovering around the trucks.

Miles made it sound like he was coming the other day, although I still haven't seen him. Chewing on my bottom lip, I walk towards the other trucks in case I missed him by accident.

The girls waiting patiently look up and automatically gravitate closer to my presence as I walk over. They drop their chins, blink up at me under fake eyelashes, flaunt their crop tops, and swing back their hair to reveal their bare shoulders. Although that's not what I'm focused on right now.

I mumble greetings on autopilot when some girls are brave enough to greet me or comment on my outfit. I don't stop long enough to entertain their conversations.  I'm too caught up on making sure Miles isn't here distancing himself.

Right as the thought crosses my mind, I notice a classic car swing into the parking lot below the hill. The blue paint and white racing stripes give it away. There's no missing that goddamn Mustang.

The vehicle zips up the parking lot, only to tuck back into a parking space behind someones moms' van. A few boys crane their necks to check the car out, their attention piqued.

My stomach clenches at this realization. That can only mean one thing: he actually came.

I knock back the rest of my water and toss it in a nearby garbage bag tied to someone's truck hitch. Glancing over in the direction of the parking lot, my assumption is proved correct.

Miles is walking in this direction, warily taking in the sight of all the people. He looks good wearing a black-on-black outfit, and bright yellow Nikes on his feet offset the lack of color. The bright neon looks insanely good against his dark skin.

Stop it, I think to myself as that weirdly worded thought fills my head. I hate that every single day, I find something fucking cute about him.

It's because he's new. The novelty will wear off. I need to blow off some steam tonight, I mentally tell myself as I walk down the side of the field where Miles is approaching.

When he notices me, his eyes brighten. I'm forced to greet him now that he knows I'm watching. "Hey man, you made it!"

Miles laughs and stretches out a hand to me as he approaches, which I mirror apprehensively. I blink as he dabs me up, taking it in stride.

"Yo, I told you that I would come. Didn't we already have a conversation about how I stick to my word?" he replies, taking a step back into his own bubble. My cheeks go warm for a different reason when I notice how his eyes drop down my body.

"Yeah, we did, but still. This isn't your usual school-sanctioned event. Tonight, the worst side of everyone will be brought in the light. It's like a battlefield," I explain, pivoting to lead the way towards the field in a lame attempt to hide my blush.

Miles follows me and grins, teasing me as he parrots my words, "Ah, dark sides are being brought to the light? Dog, that's my specialty."

I scoff as my neck heats up under my shirt collar. My brain spins, trying to decipher if he meant that sexually or not. Kendric saves me as he walks over, raising an eyebrow as he looks between Miles and me.

"What's up, guys?" Kendric says cautiously, eyeing Miles like the stranger that he is.

Miles either doesn't feel the tension in the air, or he doesn't give a shit. He smiles warmly and offers a hand to Kendric, giving him the same greeting that he gave me.

"Nothing much, bro. Happy to get out of the house, that's for sure," Miles replies.

Kendric nods and laughs awkwardly. "Yep, I hear that. You aren't playing tonight, are you?"

I bristle at that accusatory question. Kendric is trying to gatekeep Miles from a stupid schoolyard game. I inhale, ready to snap at my stupid friend, but Miles beats me to it.

"Hell yeah, of course I am. By the looks of your friends out there, I think you might need a little color on the field to win."

Finally, Kendric laughs with actual humor in his tone. Nothing like a little racist-friendly humor to bring teenage boys together.

"Wow, call it what you want but don't talk us down yet, dude. Say, where are you from again?"

Miles starts to reply, but I don't catch his words as he and Kendric walk together toward the field. Miles doesn't even give me a passing glance.

I rub the back of my neck as the two walk away, betrayal gnawing on my stomach. Not that it matters. It's good to see someone that doesn't hate his guts, especially since the person is Kendric. He'll make sure to give Miles a good name, and hopefully the air will clear. Though I still feel weird to not have gotten any appreciation.

And... now I sounded like an attention-seeking fool.

I don't have much time to sulk as Griffin stomps over, looking pissier than usual.

"Who the fuck invited that whore?" Griffin snaps, motioning to where Miles is talking with some more guys from the team.

"I did. Can you stop calling him dirty names?" I shoot back, clenching my hands by my sides.

Griffin recoils, acting as if I trash-talked our entire family name. "You invited him here?! He's going to try and get in the pants of every single guy--"

"Griffin, shut the hell up!" I yell at him, capturing the attention of some people around us.

I cast them all apologetic looks before turning to Griffin, my voice lowering dangerously. "Listen to yourself. He doesn't have some disease, okay? He just moved here. Have a little grace and let him make some damn friends."

The look Griffin gives me is harsh enough to melt titanium. At least he's quiet. I can tell there's more on his mind, except our conversation is cut short as Atlas blows an air horn out on the field.

I walk away from my cousin without another word and try to pull myself back together. I came here tonight to relax, have some fun, and not deal with Griffins' mood swings. Again.

Atlas's little party trick works like magic, and soon all of the players are gathered on the field. There's got to be at least 50 students out here, including me, itching to play and get dirty after a long week.

Joshua stands next to Atlas and grins, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention.

"Alright, ladies!" Joshua hollers, placing his hands on his hips. "Tonight, we're playing capture the flag!"

The enthusiastic boys whistle and cheer, and Atlas blows his air horn again to regain silence. Joshua continues.

"For those unfamiliar with the rules, here's the rundown. There will be two teams, one captained by Griffin and the other by Anders. I have one regular football down there as a flag and a blue one on this end as a flag. Guards can't be within 6 feet of their teams flag and tagged people have to sit right where they're touched. The first team to bring the opposing team's ball into their end zone is deemed the champion!" Joshua says, pumping his fist in the air.

I grin and clap my hands, which makes the other boys start to whoop and get excited. Everyone is immediately energized as things begin to get real. Sometimes I wonder if my team takes this game more seriously than actual homecoming.

Griffin and Anders go to the front of the pack and eye the group wearily as they mentally decide on their teams. Griffin is given the option to choose a player first, which he instantly takes. I'm not surprised when he picks me.

I glance over where Miles is standing by the rest of my friends and we share an apprehensive look as we make eye contact. He smiles timidly, which I immediately pick up on.

He wants to be on the same team. Knowing my cousin, that's not happening.

As I stand next to Griffin, I watch the two boys pick their team members one by one. I bump knuckles with every kid that joins our side, giving only Forrest a high five when Griffin picks him. Unsurprisingly, Anders eventually chooses Miles.

I look away as Miles walks by, not wanting to be caught watching him walk up. The choosing process goes fast, and soon we're all on our respective sides of the field starting the game.

At first, we ease into the game. Shoulders are lightly touched, some guys go as far as baseball diving for ankles, and both numbers on the teams start to drop one by one.

As the sun finishes its descent behind the ocean, only five members are left standing on each side.

Griffin, me, and three boys from various sports on one side. Miles, Atlas, and three boys on the other.

I share a glance with Griffin as we prepare for the ambush. A group of girls, who are playing ref, blow Atlas's airhorn and we all jump into action.

All of the boys left standing on the other team are fast, but they have nothing on my cattiness. Greyson chose me as the primary varsity QB because of my throwing skills and raw running talent, which I'm more than happy to put in use tonight if it means winning a silly victory.

Sweat runs down my back as I sprint onto enemy territory and descend upon some brunette boy I don't remember the name of. He runs head-on at me, which is his first mistake. Then, he breaks into a more significant stride, which is his second mistake.

I use his faults and quickly shorten my stride at the last second, swooping around his offside, which makes him trip over his ankles as he tries to block my move but sends his own ass to the ground.

The guys who are tagged out holler and cheer at my ability to outsmart the brunette boy, and their support makes me run faster. Since we're down to such a small number of players, it's easy to run into the end zone and snag the blue football.

Too easy, I think smugly and turn around, hightailing it out of the enemy territory.

My tagged teammates scream in glee as I sprint, and Griffin shoves one opposing kid away, creating the perfect opening for a home run.

As my feet start to near the middle of the field, one guy on my team makes a mistake that allows Miles to slip right by his hands. I'm complacent, knowing there's no way he'll be able to catch up. He's at least five yards behind me, and with the body that kid has, there's no way he can be quick enough on his feet to catch up to me.

I start to get a little cocky with my talents and slow down a hair, just enough to egg Miles on.

Grinning a little, I leisurely run and listen to my team cheer and clap for me, knowing we have this game in the bag. I know we have this game in the bag.

Until, their cheers turn into screams.

"Go, go, go!!"

"Fucking run, dude!"

My feet falter, and I wonder why they're screaming at me to run. There's absolutely no way that Miles is—

Out of nowhere, I am slammed from behind.

My breath is squeezed out of my lungs before I hit the ground. I grunt as Miles flops down on top of me, and he lets out a very unmanly yelp, probably shocked that he hit me so goddamn hard.

I groan and shut my eyes as he lays on me for a moment. Except the shock of the fall is overridden by every single nerve in my body standing on edge at the feeling of his weight on me.

Like, on me.

My body must have cushioned his fall because he starts to laugh and rolls off of me, getting on his knees as he giggles and pushes the dropped football out of my range of reach.

The giddiness in his laughter makes me roll onto my back and smile up at him, despite getting tackled into the next dimension.

I manage to choke out, "Maybe I should've let you stay at home."

**
Something tells me that Parker likes to be on his back a little more than he lets off...

If you happen to agree, drop a vote & comment! & if you disagree, well, maybe reread the chapter tehehe