𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢
Miles POV

This isn't the first time I wished that boyfriends came with manuals.

Why is it that I hardly hear a word from Parker all week long, and then suddenly, a few hours before I go over to have dinner with his parents, he's texting me about how excited he is for the evening and that he hopes I'll wear the grey shirt with the funky pattern he loves so much?

And I'll be damned if I said I didn't wear that shirt. I even dug out a pair of charcoal grey pants and retro Champion sneakers to match the fit.

Since I know at least one person will like how I look tonight, it gives me enough confidence to keep my chin up as I walk into Parker's house.

He shuts the door behind me once I cross the threshold and smiles, his eyes lazily dropping over my body. "See? I told you that shirt was a good choice."

"I didn't realize that you watched my closet so closely. I haven't worn this thing since—"

"—The first week you came to school. I know, that's why I wanted to see it again. It looks good on you." Parker grins at me.

I lean down to slip my shoes off and smirk at him. "Just how good?"

"This good." He grabs me by the chin and pulls me closer since I'm already leaning down on his level. It's difficult to force my stupid smile into leisure before our lips meet. His breath is clean and minty, sending a new, rejuvenated energy through my blood. I've barely felt his touch all week, and that little kiss suddenly makes me want the feeling of his breath on my neck.

Instead of voicing that, I only smile bigger as we break apart. "I wonder what some of my amazing shirts would get me, then."

"Jokes on you. That level doesn't even require having a shirt on. Come on, stop distracting me. My parents are waiting." Parker's big smile doesn't diminish as he stands on his tippy toes to plant another kiss on my lips before walking off.

I try to wipe my goofy grin off as I follow him, my fingertips buzzing with elation.

His parents are busy as bees in the kitchen, swooping between the stove, stirring dishes on the counter, and grabbing utensils from drawers. It's like they're caught up in their own dance. Only decades-worth of marriage can explain how fluently they work together.

Quinn, Parker's mom, notices me first and brightens. "Miles! I'm so glad you could make it! It's great to see you again!"

"Just on different terms this time. Is this when we're supposed to lecture you about dating our son?" Emmett looks over at us from where he's taking a pan off the stove and winks.

Their immediate kindness catches me off guard. I laugh to humor them because I don't have the heart to explain that I've dated the majority of my boyfriends behind their parents' backs.

"Only if you feel the need to. I feel like I understand the gist, though. Have him home by eleven each night, keep the room door open three inches, call you guys every time we go somewhere, don't mess around and get pregnant..." I grin cheekily.

It's a shot in the dark to see if they'll find my joke funny or not. Thankfully, they do.

Poor Parker turns scarlet and smacks my shoulder defiantly while his mom shakes her head, trying to control her giggles.

Even his dad laughs and sets the pan down on a hot pad. "You said it, not me! It sounds like you understand the ground rules. At least I can save my breath." He steps back from the kitchen island and rubs his hands together. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry," Parker pipes up and weasels his way past me to go into the kitchen.

Quinn sticks her elbow into his side, making him squeal. "Uh-uh! One, that's a bald-faced lie considering you've told me every single morning this week that you didn't have an appetite. Two, shouldn't you be a gentleman and let Miles go first?"

I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch them interact. These people are the best. A few years ago, I never would've dreamed that I was dating someone who let me be a part of the family.

Parker pouts in that irritating way that makes me want to kiss every line on his face. "C'mon, that's a different scenario." He glances over at me from under his eyelashes and flutters them. "Do you mind?"

It's difficult not to roll my eyes and not laugh—what a diva. "Not at all. It's whatever. Knock yourself out."

"Thank you! See mom? Communication." Parker grabs a tortilla and slaps it onto his plate.

His mom reads my mind and rolls her eyes so hard that I'm shocked they don't get stuck. "You're both playing nice, don't act coy. Miles, all you!" She steps back and flourishes her hand at the island. "We're doing it buffet style tonight. I'm sorry that these tacos aren't authentic."

I step up when I'm called forward since I know better than to argue against an adult. My mouth waters as I come around the corner and see all of the garnishes they prepared.

"Don't apologize to me. I love all types of tacos. Have you guys ever tried cooking tacos de barbacoa?" I ask and start to help myself, letting the pile on my plate steadily grow.

"Barb..." Emmett starts to mumble, and he hums thoughtfully. "You mean barbecue?"

"How in the hell can you understand him?" Parker laughs as he takes a seat at the table.

His dad shrugs and picks up a plate. "I enjoyed Spanish in high school and even took another course in college. I'm better at translating rather than speaking it."

"You've got it right," I say and walk over to the kitchen table, taking a seat by Parker. "My family used to get together during the summer back home and slow-cook meat in a smoker. Abuela would make this kick-ass chili spice blend for the meat. Later the dads would chop it up, the ladies would make homemade corn tortillas, and we'd dress them up. When I say that's the best shit I've put in my mouth..." I whistle knowingly and swallow down the saliva at the memory. "It was the best."

"That sounds amazing! Do you remember any of the recipes?" Quinn asks as she walks over and takes a seat, setting her plate down on the table.

I think for a moment and shake my head. "Not really. I was kinda young back then. My momma probably does, though."

"We should do that this summer. I've got this smoker in the backyard that I never use," Emmett says as he joins us at the table.

It's nice of them to assume I'll still be around by then.

I haven't been with Parker for long, yet the thought of having to break up with him makes my stomach twist. Even as I pick up this delicious taco.

Instead, I hide my apprehension and nod in agreement. "That would be nice. I know my mom would appreciate it. We haven't made that food in years."

"Speaking of..." Quinn begins and swallows her bite of food before continuing. "What made you two move into the west coast area?"

That question makes me laugh a little. Sure, why don't we start with the most loaded question for an icebreaker?

"That's a long story, but I'll try to make it fast. Look, I'll be totally honest with you guys, so you know what you're getting into."

There's no missing the way Emmett glances at Quinn in worry. But she remains steadfast, nodding as she keeps eating.

"I didn't really have a dad in my life growing up, like a lot of people in my... demographic," I fumble for the word and set my taco down. "He was caught up in the wrong shit with the wrong people, and my mom fell into those hard things with him. Generations of gangs ran over our area in Mexico, and they didn't appreciate... Modern thinking," I stutter again, for the lack of knowing a better word. I don't want to sound stupid in front of these folks.

"I was young when I found out that I liked boys more, and when my dad found out, he tried to get rid of me. People in that place would never even entertain the idea, much less know that one of the boss's sons preferred that stuff."

Emmett is actually the one to gasp quietly, his eyebrows shooting up as I talk. Quinn is still quiet, listening. I have their attention now, and everyone's food is back down on their plates.

I glance over to meet Parker's eyes, and he nods a little at me, encouraging me to go on.

Clearing my throat, I keep talking. "My mom had to call the cops, of course, except she busted herself for the use of drugs and drug possession when they came. The court put my dad in jail, sent my baby sister to my grandparents since my mom wasn't fit to raise a toddler, and they shipped my mom and me off to America so she could get her act together."

I pause, taking a sip of water. "We've been drifting to whatever state pays the most for these sorts of situations ever since. Sometimes my mom's case lawyer tells her to go to different areas. We were told to pack up and move from Arizona at the end of this summer, so... you know. Here we are." I motion around the house with my hands.

Emmett's eyes glisten as he tries to absorb all this information. Quinn is still quiet, looking thoughtful and sad. Parker is totally his dad's spawn because he also looks emotional.

I brighten up and straighten my back, desperate to change the somber mood. "But hey! I've met a ton of awesome people like you guys, I've seen a lot of places, and I've been able to learn a lot through all of this. I wouldn't change any of it, especially if it meant I wouldn't have met you guys. You." I direct that last word at Parker and smile, getting a smile back in response. He reaches his foot under the table and taps mine in a knowing acknowledgment.

"Gosh, I'm sorry that I asked. You've been through a shit storm," Quinn says, which makes me laugh. I didn't scratch her down as the type of woman that swears like a teenager.

"Nah, it's cool. Now that you know the ins and outs of my life, we'll all be like..." I raise my hand and cross my fingers. "This close."

Emmett chuckles a little. "That's one way to put it. If you don't mind me asking, what exactly is going to happen with your dad?"

"Good question," I mumble and look at my hand again, counting my fingers. "It's been almost five years since all of that happened, and he got thrown in the slammer. The judge gave him a five-year probation period, and at the end of that, we pretty much go through the process again."

"The process?" Parker asks. This is news to him, too.

"Yeah. He'll get a whole slew of appointments and court dates to see if he's fit to be released. That motherfu— Uh..., idiot, has a lot of big charges stacked up against him. All of the shit with the drugs, abuse in all forms, whatever. Unfortunately, he also has a lot of old buddies to stand on his side. So... I don't know."

Quinn hums thoughtfully. She looks heartbroken for me but not surprised. I forget that she's a therapist and must hear about stuff like this all the time. "That means that if his probation officer sees him fit at the end of this sentence, you and your mom will have to go deal with that?"

I falter and nod, not daring to look at Parker as I reply. "Yeah. Supposedly the trial could last for months, maybe even years. Mom says the court is really backed up with cases. Still!" I snap my fingers. "I'm not worried. First, he needs to get through his sentence. If that man-bitch is anything like he was when I was a kid, he'll probably get himself another five years before we have to go through this. At least."

Finally, I dare to look at Parker. This is all information that I withheld from him because I knew he wouldn't be happy. Like now. He looks shaken. My lack of worry must calm him down because he meets my eyes and nods hardly. I can hear him thinking, I trust you.

"Well, I'll be praying that that's the case. That sounds terrible," Emmett says and shakes his head sadly.

I shrug again. "It sucks, but whatever. Gotta take things one day at a time, right?"

"Yep, you're right. Smart kid," he responds and pushes his chair back. "After that talk, I need a bourbon to go with this dinner."

"Emmett," Quinn warns him before looking at us. It takes a lot of self-control not to ask for a blended scotch on the rocks.

He shrugs helplessly and wanders over to the bar cart in the kitchen.

Quinn shakes her head and turns back to us boys. "Not to change the subject, however, I'll admit that I've been curious. How exactly did..." she waves a finger between us, "this happen?"

I smirk and take a sip of water as I turn to look at Parker. The glass settles back on the table with a quiet clink. "Yeah, Park, let's hear it."

Parker groans, although I don't take it to heart at the way his face immediately lights up.

My worries about moving away are buried as we dive into the next topic.

- - -

We spend the next hour discussing relationships, cars, and photography to the point where I feel like I could write a book on all of the subjects.

We finished eating a long time ago, although we've been enjoying each other's company so much that none of us are in a rush to leave the table. I've spent more time laughing in the past two hours than in the last two months.

Finally, Quinn shoves her chair back when our last round of laughter dies down and stands up. "I think all of our talking has kept you boys long enough," she apologizes. Her movement also spurs me to stand since that's usually the cue my mom gives me to help clean up. "Parker, why don't you show him the rest of the house? Don't worry about dishes, boys. We'll clean up tonight."

"Thanks, mom," Parker says and stands, walking over to me. His fingers brush against my wrist.

"Seriously, thanks, Mrs. Graham. Dinner was great," I say respectfully and follow Parker as he wraps his hand around my arm, dragging me out of the dining room.

"Thank you! Come say bye before you go later!" She says, her eyes flicking down to Parker's hand on my arm so fast that maybe I mistake it. Yet, she smiles in a way that makes me wonder if it wasn't a trick on my eyes.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry you had to talk about your family like that," Parker apologizes the second we leave the kitchen. His hand still doesn't come off of my arm.

"My family...? How many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing?" I laugh when I remember how much I trauma dumped on his poor parents and walk with him toward the stairs. "It's like I said, I feel better that they know about my situation. Now we won't tiptoe around each other."

"I get it, but still. I'm sorry about your dad too. It's hard to hear about all of that."

"What can I say? Life's a bitch."

Parker snorts. "You can say that again. Enough about all of that. I need a break. Especially when my parents are involved, they talk so much."

"Mmm, they aren't that bad. Do you need, like, a mental break or a break?" I let my tone drop to tease him.

We're higher on the stairs and away from his parent's line of sight. I hook a finger into one of his belt loops, bringing him to a stop on the steps.

Parker turns to look back at me, and I use my other hand to grab his jaw, pulling him down to my height. He's only one stair-step in front of me, but it's the perfect height to kiss.

After a moment, we break away, and he grins in a way that makes my heart throb.

"Let's go see if you can figure it out."

"Done. Let's go." I beam and slide my hand off his face to jog up the rest of his stairs. I reach his bedroom first and go in, looking around the same space I saw the last time I was here. It's baffling how clean and organized he keeps it here.

Parker must shut the door behind us, except I don't hear it as I look around. Even his bed is immaculate, every pillow fluffed to perfection.

"Geez," I start to say and turn to check out the glistening trophies. "You must be the only guy on this planet that keeps their room this clean."

Parker shrugs and steps behind me, snaking a hand around my elbow. I might be distracted by the cleanliness of his room, however he is distracted by me, which is odd for the boy who's been dancing around me all week long.

"You can thank my parents for that. We have a house cleaner that comes by every week. We're all so busy, and this house is so big that we can't keep up by ourselves," he explains and tightens his hand around my arm. He goes as far as to move forward and kiss my shoulder once, twice. There's no way that he's not trying to distract me right now. And fortunately, it's working.

"House cleaner? Damn, must be nice." I laugh and stretch my arm down, opening my hand as an invitation.

"We're grateful that someone's willing to come help us out. Quit talking and kiss me." Parker begs a little as he slides his hand down into mine.

Bold talk.

His words light up that familiar fire in my belly.

I love many things about Parker, and one of my favorite things is how much he surprises me.

The second is definitely his poor attempt at being bossy. Doesn't mean it's not hot, though.

I turn around fast and grab him by the waist with one hand while my other hand, locked around his fingers, pushes him up against the wall. The assortment of decorations on the wall rattle from the force, and Parker sucks on his teeth. His cheeks go red from the sudden blood rush.

It's only fair because mine is rushing too. Not to my face, though.

Maybe it's not right to be attracted to someone this fast within starting a relationship. It definitely doesn't feel wrong, either.

""Kiss you"?" I mock him, bringing my face so close to Parker that I can feel his shallow breaths on my lips. His eyes, green as jades and flecked with enough gold to make a miner rich, dart from my eyes to my mouth. "What makes you think that you get to boss me around?"

As I speak, I bring myself closer to him, letting my mouth graze along his jaw with each word.

Parker squeezes his eyes shut for a moment at the rush of euphoria, and I relish the feeling of him shivering under my touch.

I like to dangle the dominant side of me in front of boys, only to snatch it away and leave them wanting more. It's easy to play the soft, gentle persona and make them think they can boss me around outside the bedroom.

Now, nothing about me is soft or gentle. That trial period is over.

Parker comes close to cracking. I can see it when he grabs my face and pulls it closer to his. There's a burning curiosity in his eyes underneath all of that passion, like he's wondering if he can keep coaxing this dominant side of me into the light.

I always knew that he wouldn't want to be the top in this relationship at the end of the day.

"What, you don't think I can be on your level?" Parker manages to respond, breathless.

I tighten my hand around his, and he shuts his eyes again when I move closer. Our hips brush, and I watch the way his dark eyelashes flutter, obviously trying to fight the rush of hormones.

I chuckle and lean down closer to Parker's ear, letting my mouth graze it as I speak. "Baby, you're not even in my game yet, much less on my level," I whisper, grazing my teeth down the side of his jaw.

Parker makes a low whine in the back of his throat, making me smile against the skin of his neck.

"Then fucking teach me already, would you?" He demands quietly after taking a second to breathe. He is still as stone, a far-crying difference from the boy that was crawling all over me last weekend.

That's how I know that the fact my hands aren't all over him yet is driving him insane. I can feel how crazy it's making him.

I hum thoughtfully, slipping my fingertips into his shirt and touching the soft skin of his abdomen. His muscles flex under my touch. "Are you that desperate?"

"Miles, I swear to—"

"Answer me."

Parker swallows. "Yes. This is torture!"

I grin in amusement, putting more weight from my hips into his. "You're sweet if you think that this is bad. But..." I pause, dragging the time on. I can feel how hard he's getting through his basketball shorts.

It's nearly killing me to act so slowly. However, I know how to play these boys like a fiddle. I enjoy letting Parker work himself up and seeing all of the little emotions dart across his face. Years of practice make me patient, even when I'm nearly shaking with restraint.

Finally, Parker gets frantic and crumbles as he tries to press his pelvis against mine.

I'm faster, taking a step back, letting him connect with air. He knocks his head back against the wall, and from the look on his face, he's ready to start cussing at me.

"But," I say again, playing it as cool as a cucumber, "we can take this slow. If I make you uncomfortable, let me know, okay?"

"Okay! Fuck!" Parker curses. His back arcs to meet my fingertips, his chest heaving.

That's the green light I needed.

We meet in the middle again, our mouths instantly tangling with the type of urgency that only a week apart can create. It's easy for me to work his mouth open with my lips and slide my tongue in, exploring all of the space I could only dream about a month ago.

Parker lets out a breath of relief, muffled by our mouths, and his hands scramble over my hair, searching for purchase. My tight braids hold steady as he claws, then gives up and grabs fists full of my shirt.

Our kissing stays fast and messy as we find a rhythm.

I let go of his waist to slide my hand into his pants. We're past the pleasantries of taking it easy, and he already gave me consent. Besides, if his body language isn't enough reason to dive right into the act, then he's one great actor.

These next steps are ones that I relish, taking the time to explore each other's bodies more intimately. More profoundly. There is lots of catching up to do.