𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

I wish I could say that Miles and I finished our shower and went to sleep at a decent time last night, as my parents requested, but truth be told, it was impossible to settle down after we dried off.

We thought we would be better off after going again on the bathroom counter. That hardly did anything except get us more amped up until after round three in bed, when we finally passed out and ran out of teenage-fueled testosterone.

It explains why on Saturday morning, after getting four hours of sleep and having multiple rounds of various sex, I wake up feeling like I got hit by a bus.

Don't get me wrong; it was a party bus that gave me the time of my life while hitting me, however, I feel genuinely annihilated.

Inhaling sleepily, I stretch slowly as I wake up because every single muscle is so sore. Like, every muscle.

Miles shifts when my feet graze his shins as I stretch out. He nuzzles up closer from where he's spooning behind me, his head tucked behind my neck.

Slowly picking up my hand, I rub away the sleep crusties on my eyes before blinking them open. Early morning sun rays are starting to brush against the blinds, but my room itself is still dark.

Fuck my internal clock, I curse to myself and shut my eyes again. It's too early to wake up already, especially after the night we had.

It's instinct to lean back into Miles and press against his warm skin as I fade back to oblivion. His hand tightens on my abdomen, pulling me closer to himself in his sleep. Content, I sigh quietly when he presses up against me. I don't know why we haven't slept naked together before because it's an entirely different experience.

His quiet snores slowly guide me back to sleep. There can't be anything better than this. Not even getting the top spot on the football team—

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Today is the state game.

Suddenly I'm wide awake. My eyes fly open, and I sit up, the tendons in my back lighting on fire. Even my thighs and legs burn, worse than the time Greyson had me doing HIIT workouts every day for a month.

I groan in pain but push through and lean over to grab my phone. Tapping on the screen, the time lights up. 5:37.

"Good lord," I mumble and slowly lay back down.

Miles inhales tiredly and rolls onto his back, his snores tapering into deep breaths. He looks serene and enticing, like some of the Greek statues we had to study in art class last year. The Greeks would have gone crazy over his body and built statues in his resemblance.

As much as I want to take my time waking up this morning, I don't get that luxury. We need to be on the road in nearly forty minutes, and neither of us has clothes on.

Instead of shaking Miles awake, I roll over and bump up close to him. He doesn't even shift, his breathing steady.

I chew my cheek for a moment and observe his face, noticing how his ink-black eyelashes flutter with each breath and how his perfect lips are gently split open. It's incredible how his facial features tie together so seamlessly, so perfectly. I've never understood how parents could rave about their babies being perfect, but I think I'm starting to get it. There's not a single atom in this boy that I would change.

My heart suddenly surges as I look at him. It hits so sharply that I'm left breathless, my hands tingling.

I'm in love with Miles.

These emotions run deeper than the sex and the emotional support. He means more to me than being someone that I can rely on or turn to for anything. If anything ever happened to him, to us, I would go feral. I have never realized exactly how much he holds me together.

There's no holding back the grin on my face as I realize this new information. Sure, I always knew I loved him, but it suddenly feels genuine and tangible.

I wish I could bask in this feeling while checking out my boyfriend, but unfortunately, the world is still moving on outside these four walls.

Guilt tugs in my stomach as I lean down and kiss Miles neck. He needs to wake up.

"Miles, hey, get up," I say quietly and graze my lips over the bruise I left on his neck last night. Bracing my elbow on the mattress, I run my hand over his worn braids while I let my other hand slide down his bare chest.

It's a blessing that we finally broke the ice because I'm not afraid to touch him anymore, and I let my hands go where they want to go. I spent so many hours thinking about this day that this feels surreal.

Miles grunts and stirs under me, his eyelashes fluttering. It's still not enough to wake him up.

I frown before leaning down and running kisses down his jawline, working down his neck. My tongue runs over his collarbone, and I gently suck on his skin while grabbing his braids tighter.

Finally, Miles exhales sleepily and arches his back. One of his hands runs down my back, his fingertips rubbing in slow circles. I wince when he finds a knot in one of my muscles and rubs it out.

"Good morning to you, too," Miles mumbles sleepily. His morning rasp itches a particular part of my brain just right.

I kiss his skin again before lifting my head and smiling. "Morning. Jesus, you were out like a light."

"Can you blame me?" He laughs and keeps running his hand up and down my back. It's the type of laugh that makes me suddenly ready for round four. But he doesn't push me over on my back. Instead, he keeps talking. "I'm surprised that you're not knocked out too."

I shrug and press my palm down on his chest. His abs flex under my hand. "I was, but my body woke me up. We can't sleep in, anyway. It's—"

"State. Damn, I almost forgot." Miles shuts his eyes for a moment and exhales through his nose. "When do we have to get ready? Don't we leave soon?"

Glancing at my phone, I ponder his questions for a second. "Soon, but not quite yet. We have a few minutes," I murmur and lean down to kiss him.

Miles hums in acknowledgment and kisses me back. Before I can pull away, one of his hands comes behind my head and holds me down. I smile around our slow kisses. It's a blessing to have a partner that can read my mind.

I bring my hand down on his abs as we kiss, searching lower until I find what I'm looking for and grab it. Miles chest heaves, and he groans.

"Wake me up like this every day," Miles whispers between our kisses.

"We need to have more sleepovers, then," I whisper back and grin as he runs his lips over my chin. Using the skills he taught me last night, I carefully run my palm over him and apply pressure. Miles moans again. Maybe if we work fast enough here, we can squeeze in a quickie before having to get ready.

The thought gets shot down the second that my doorknob rattles.

Miles and I curse at the same time. He lets go of me and wildly grabs the comforter that got twisted up around our legs last night, doing his best to pull it up over the thin sheet.

I've never moved faster in my damn life, not even during games.

It takes me literally one second to fly up and grab one of our boxers off the ground— I don't take the time to look at whose they are. Pulling them on, I grab my sweatpants from last week off the ground.

I barely get the waistband over my hips before the door opens.

My dad inches into the room, his eyes trained on the hall like he's avoiding to look at anything he shouldn't be seeing. "Boys... oh, you're awake!" He sees me on my feet out of his peripheral vision and brightens up, turning around.

"Sorry to intrude, but I needed to let you know that we have to go soon. Twenty minutes until the train leaves the station," dad says, pushing the door open wider. Light from the hall spills in, igniting the mess on my floor.

We thrashed blankets and pillows off my bed and onto the floor in our haste last night. Even our towels are thrown carelessly by the bed, and I never put away the extra toilet paper roll.

I'm in deep shit.

Dad looks down at the floor and freezes. He looks at me and suddenly seems to realize that I'm shirtless. Then he looks at Miles. There's no missing his bare shoulders, and how he's gripping the blanket over his stomach resembles a cliché teen movie scene.

My dad's mouth gapes like a fish. "I— Uh, We... we'll be waiting. Downstairs. Twenty minutes." And just like that, he whips around and walks away in shock.

I'm rooted to the spot for a second until my sanity returns. He left my bedroom door wide open, so I jump forward and shut it, smacking my forehead on it. "Oh. My. God."

It's silent for a second, and then Miles bursts out laughing. "He knows!"

"No shit Sherlock!"

It's hard to be embarrassed when Miles is laughing like that. I turn around and grin at how he's buckled over with giggles.

"Stop laughing! It's not funny!" I scold, yet still can't break my smile. Picking a towel off the ground, I throw it at his face. "Go and change, dude!"

"What?! C'mon, it is so funny! You're just lucky that your dad won't fucking shoot you!" Miles laughs again and whips the comforter off, swinging his legs out of bed. I look away when he wraps the towel around his legs. My modesty came back in full force over the past two minutes.

"I count my blessings and luck every day, believe me!" I laugh again, but it's more forced now that he's said that. It could have been funny if it weren't for Miles having had that scenario happen to him.

He grins and shakes his head. "I need to get ready. I'll be out in a minute."

"Okay, take your time." I nod and go into my closet, my heart still palpitating.

This is about to be one long car ride.

- - -

It's not only a long car ride. It's also a long-ass day.

My poor dad hasn't been able to look Miles or me in our eyes all day. What makes it worse is that I can not walk normally. Every single stride pulls my groin muscles tighter than a rubber band.

Ibuprofen hasn't helped. Walking around the Fresno Hawthorne high school all afternoon, meeting scouts and the public crowd hasn't helped. And Miles knowing smirk definitely hasn't helped. It's not fair that he's off of the hook here.

By the time the game rolls around, I've started to walk off the pain some. I'm still unbelievably sore, but I'm powering through it. At least everyone is believing my lie of, Oh, I'm okay. I strained some muscles at practice this week. Don't worry about that. Worry about my talent and my throwing aim.

That usually shuts people up.

Even now, the Hawthorne team looks worried as our offensive line gets in order on the scrimmage line for the start of the game. I bite my tongue to keep from wincing as I bend down behind Declan, our offense center.

I glance up at one of the tackles on the Hawthorne defense line. He's watching me curiously, but he tips his chin up in respect when we make eye contact. I return the gesture before tilting my head down. Hopefully, that'll put me on Hawthorne's good side.

Besides, I really do respect them too. We've faced this team twice in the season, and each time they're the only team in the bracket that loses to us by a few points. Usually, we can cream our competitors, but this team has been a battle all season.

And, of course, the one night my team could use all of my skills, I'm practically crippled.

The ref blows his whistle to signal the start of the game, and I snap out of it, refocusing my attention on Declan. I can't hear the hollering of the crowd. Everything is white noise.

One more game. We'll be done if I can lead my team one more time for the year. I'll have my life back.

"Twenty-three, nineteen!" I call out and raise my hands in preparation to catch the ball.

I need to get through this.

"Ready, set... hut!"

- - -

The clock buzzes two and a half hours later, signaling the end of the game right as the ball I throw lands in Joshua's hands.

My ears ring as the crowd screams their glee. That shot couldn't have been more perfect, even if we had planned it. It's an easy, final touchdown. Joshua practically saunters into the end zone and raises his hands to the sky as everyone cheers.

A giddy laugh escapes me, and I rip my helmet off, running my other hand through my hair. After a long and crazy season, it came down to us winning by over ten points and showing the scouts what we can really do.

One year ago, I might have shed a tear or two at the last game of the season. Now, I can't stop grinning as I run over to my teammates.

Griffin laughs when he sees me and rattles my shoulder when I join the group's embrace. "Nice playing, young legend! What a way to end the season!"

"You all fucking killed it!" Atlas praises and smacks the helmets of everyone around him. I wince when his hand collides with my bare head, but it doesn't deteriorate my joy.

"Atlas is right. We all did great!" I grin and look around at the faces of my friends. Everyone is beaming, even the seniors who played their last game ever. "I'm proud of everyone for persevering and kicking ass throughout this season. None of us would be here now if we had stopped working together as a team. Go home and sleep well knowing we're the new state champs, boys!"

All the guys cheer and slap helmets, shoulders, and backs in celebration. I smile and step away from my teammates, my attention drifting to the crowd.

The football field is turning into chaos. People from the bleachers are starting to stream out onto the field— family members looking for their sons, partners on the watch for their boyfriends, and peers from our schools trying to find the appropriate team to congratulate.

Since I am finished here, I start my search for Miles. I'm more than ready to collapse into the embrace of my boyfriend and go home. Those four hours of sleep aren't cutting it anymore.

I hardly get two strides away before Kendric calls me back over. "Parker, hey! We need pictures!"

My feet come to a halt, and I try not to grind my teeth as I turn around, pasting on a smile. "Yeah, sure. That's right."

Rejoining my teammates, I slip under Kendrics arm and smile at all of the phones of the parents that found us. Naturally, they all coo and aww, raining down praise as they rotate us through pose after pose. My cheeks start to hurt after a while.

That's when I notice my parents join all of the others. They are both smiling proudly as they watch me. Even my mom has goddamn tears in her eyes.

I smile and give them a small wave, but my gaze slips behind their shoulders. Did they leave Miles behind somewhere?

At first, I don't see him, and my stomach drops. But then I notice his tall frame and the intricate braids, his head bent down over his phone as he walks. His thumbs are pounding on the screen furiously.

God, it's so weird.

I tried bringing up his weird behavior this week after dinner at the diner, but he brushed it off and said that his mom was dealing with some personal stuff. Since I know she's had problems in the past, I completely believe him. However, it doesn't stop my curiosity. He never wants to talk about it and always balks or changes the conversation when I bring it up.

Otherwise, his behavior and personality haven't changed, so it can't be too serious.

"Okay, boys, I need to get going. Great job again! See you all on Monday!" I exclaim and break away from my teammates. They all huff and puff about me leaving early, but I manage to get away.

My parents shuffle off to the side and wave at me to get my attention, so I go to them first.

"Ohh, congratulations, honey!" Mom croons and grabs me, crushing me in a bear hug.

I grunt in surprise and hug her back with a smile. My eyes flick back at Miles. He stopped walking, his attention on that fucking phone.

"Thanks, mom," I reply lamely and hug my dad back when he hugs me.

"We're so proud of you! That was some awesome playing. Even the people around us were impressed. They kept talking about you each time you went out on the field. You're a celebrity!" My dad grins and pats my shoulder as I pull away.

"Thanks! Yeah, you know me, I do my best to impress the public," I say sarcastically, which makes him snort. "Say, what's Miles doing?"

"Oh! Sorry, we lost him coming down from the stands." Mom turns and searches the crowd before pointing. "There he is. He mentioned something about talking to his mom? I guess it's urgent."

"Gotcha." I swallow and hand my helmet to my dad. "Can you hold this? I should talk to him."

"Of course, we'll be right here," dad replies and takes the helmet from me.

I mutter my thanks and dodge around my parents, walking to Miles quickly. Usually, he's ecstatic after games. He always reaches me first, laughing and praising me like I'm the one who put the stars in the sky.

Miles looks up from his phone and smiles at me, his eyes brightening. That's the look I wanted to see. It makes me grin, and I walk faster, itching to be in his embrace.

When I consider running to go and jump in his arms, Miles balks and looks at his phone again. His eyes darken just as fast as they ignited. He taps the screen and raises his phone to his ear. I see his mouth move, saying, Seriously? You need to talk right now?

My smile falls. Miles glances at me and raises his finger, mouthing, Hold on.

I watch as he turns his back on me and walks away, arguing with whoever is on the other line.

The ground suddenly feels like quicksand, and I come to a dead stop. This is the second time in one week that he's walked away from me to handle his mom's "business."

Something about this feels fishy.

When we first met, I barely knew him, yet he told me every single detail about his life growing up. I can still remember our talk in the diner that one night when he explained his backstory involving his parents and his mom's drug shit. So, I know for a fact that if something were genuinely wrong with her, he would tell me.

Whatever's going on with his behavior isn't about saving his family.

I have a feeling that it's about saving this relationship.