𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

The end of the week comes much faster than I expect it to. Greyson has been pushing our team night and day to the point where we've been meeting him at the gym first thing in the morning for drills, and then after school, he keeps us for an extra hour after practice is supposed to end.

I get that he's nervous about the state game and trying to cram in as much practice for us as he can, but it seems overkill.

This group of boys couldn't be more prepared than we already are. Besides, I've barely had time for Miles at all this week other than quick hangouts around our friends. This probably isn't the week to complain to Greyson about practice and my love life. In 24 hours, the season will be over.

"God, time flies," I grumble to myself and shove the foyer door shut with my shoulder, dumping my gear bag on the floor. Greyson promised that we would all be home at a decent time tonight so that we could be ready for the drive to Fresno tomorrow.

Yet, we still got out thirty minutes late, and it's now eight at night.

I kick off my shoes and shuffle to the living room. Mom looks up from her spot on the couch, nestled next to my dad, and smiles.

"Hey, honey. How was your last practice as a junior?" She asks.

"Hell." I snort. "It went by too fast but also too slow. Greyson had us run the same drills so many times that I could probably do them with my eyes closed tomorrow during the game."

Dad grins and shakes the TV remote at me. "I would like to see you try that."

I roll my eyes and walk past the couches to the kitchen. "Relax, I wasn't serious. Is there food somewhere?"

"Yes, I left dinner in the microwave for you. Does it feel weird to be done?" Mom asks more questions.

I practically leap to the microwave and punch the numbers to warm up my food. "Kinda. I'll miss it for a while, but I'm also ready for the break. If I know Greyson like I do, he'll have me enrolled in all sorts of camps and shit until the next season starts. He won't let me sit and get stale. I know I'm not genuinely done for the year."

She shrugs in agreement. "Speaking of that, you have paperwork to fill out for a weekend camp in January. It's in San Diego, at the State University. I'm pretty sure it's the team, the Aztecs? Does that ring a bell?"

The microwave beeps, and I pull out my plate, nudging the door shut. "Yeah, it does. Remind me again on Sunday. I'll fill it out then."

I put an end to the conversation by walking to the kitchen table and taking a seat. No hate to my mom. The only thing is my rope is frayed, and I need some peace. I don't want to even think about football until tomorrow when I'm pulling my helmet on.

As I shovel this casserole into my mouth, I pull out my phone and dig up my messages to Miles. If there's one person on earth that can distract me, this is the one.

I pause and think before adding,

My heart hammers as I turn my phone off. It's difficult not to stare at the screen as I wait for his reply. This casserole suddenly starts to taste dry with each passing second. That is until he texts me back. I almost send my phone flying off the table because I grab it so fast, clicking the notification.

My lungs fill with oxygen, and I can finally relax. I give his text a thumbs up before going back to eating.

Since my attention is focused on the food in front of me and the thought of Miles being here soon, I don't hear my parents get up.

"Alright, bud—Whoa, easy!" Dad speaks from behind me and puts out his hands when I jump.

I spin around on my chair and hold my hand over my hammering heart. "Lord! When did you guys get so quiet?"

Mom drops by to give me a quick one-armed hug. "We never got quiet. You only got distracted. We're going to bed. We've got an early drive in the morning, so we need to sleep at some point. You should probably do the same thing."

"I know, I'm planning on it," I say as I hug her back. "You guys should know I invited Miles over, so we'll go to bed when he gets here."

Dad snorts. "Uh-huh, I'm sure..."

I don't need a mirror to know that my face turns bright red. "Seriously. I know what's at stake tomorrow, so we'll get sleep, don't worry. Go to bed, you guys. I'll see you in the morning."

"Pushy!" He laughs and heads towards the stairs. "Tell Miles we said goodnight."

"Have sweet dreams!" Mom echos and follows after dad.

"I will do both. Good night!" I smile and get up as they disappear to their room.

Bringing my dishes to the sink, I rinse them off and put them away in the dishwasher. One of my parents must have loaded it earlier because it's nearly full, so I add the soap and start it. As the water runs in the washer, I hear the front door open.

He's right on time.

I grin and turn toward the door, walking over as fast as possible.

Miles is setting down his shoes in a neat pile next to mine. He must still be worried about throwing off the organized aesthetic of the house. His whole disposition lightens as he straightens up and faces toward me.

"Long time no see, baby!" Miles says cheerfully and closes the space between us, wrapping me up in his arms.

I chuckle until he squeezes me so hard that the air gets wrung out my lungs. Either way, I hug him back just as hard and shut my eyes as my face gets crushed against his chest. It feels like it's been eons since we've been able to embrace each other like this in solitude.

"How have you been?" I mumble into his shirt as we stay hugging. It's a battle to see who will let go first, and I don't want to be the loser.

"Good, for the most part. It's been weird not seeing you as much this week. Are Greyson and the other coaches keeping you busy?"

I scoff and ease my hold on him so I can look up. "That's an understatement. They are all wearing me into the ground. It's a good thing that the season is almost over, otherwise I would be tempted to quit."

"I'm sorry that it's been shitty. Hang in there one more day." Miles kisses my head, then immediately retracts backward. "Oh my god, have you showered?!"

"What?" I laugh when he lets go of me quickly as if I shocked him with a wire. "Are we seriously back on the whole smelly thing?"

"Um, yeah! We are! That's gross, how can you stand that?" Miles questions.

I grin devilishly and lead the way toward the stairs, letting him follow. "I dunno. It's my routine to come home, drop my stuff, eat, and then deal with bodily necessities."

Miles bounds up the stairs behind me and shakes his head. "Park, if I'm going to be sticking around, then you might need to rethink that routine. Cleanliness is next to godliness, you know."

"I've already been told multiple times by multiple people that I'm nearly a god, so what reason do I have to be clean?" I tease and turn to look at him, bumping my bedroom door with my back as I open it.

Miles grins and rolls his eyes in a way that suddenly makes me feel like I want to be the one that physically makes him roll them again. The hormones in my body suddenly hit like a damn bus as I check him out.

We've been apart for way too long, or those athletic shorts look too good on him.

"You and I both know that's a shitty excuse," he replies and walks past me to flop down on my bed, pulling out his phone.

I blink when he passes by me like dirt on the road. We haven't been alone in nearly a week, and he doesn't even touch me as he passes? "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Miles asks, glancing up at me. "I'm laying down... What are you doing?"

Slowly, I push my weight back into the bedroom door. It clicks shut. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Okay." He looks back down at his phone and types something.

I chew on my cheek and shuffle toward the bathroom. "Like, right now."

"... Alright, baby." He sounds a little confused, but I'm confused that he's not picking up on my cues.

My feet drag on the carpet, and I look over at him as I flick the bathroom light on. "Alone. With the door open."

It takes a second for Miles to understand, finally. He looks up with his attention completely on me, his eyebrows raised.

Hook, line, and sinker.

I don't give him a chance to respond as I turn around and disappear into the bathroom, my heart pounding faster than a hummingbird's wings. For the cherry on top, I grab my shirt and pull it off in a way that I hope is enticing to him.

Whatever I tried to do must work. The bed squeaks as Miles gets up, his footsteps padding across the carpet. Acting nonchalant is my last resort to staying sane as I toss my shirt on the ground and go to the shower, turning the water on.

Miles slips into the bathroom behind me. He shuts the door behind himself and clears his throat before asking, "Are you sure about this?"

God, this boy and his manners. I appreciate the consent, but sometimes I want to jump into the action without thinking about it or getting questioned.

"Yes, Miles, I'm sure. Come here," I demand and hold out my hand to him.

There's no hesitation or argument as he steps forward and takes my hand. I tug him closer to me and kiss him, my stress from earlier melting away. Football is the last thing on my mind.

Besides, it's been way too long since we've interacted like this. Sharing a kiss or two during school this past week was starting to do more harm than good; he always left me craving more.

Consequently, I'm desperate to get this show on the road. My lips press harder against his as I try to quicken our kisses and wake up the side of him that must be as desperate as I am.

Miles puts his free hand on my jaw and pulls away long enough to mumble, "Take it easy. There's no rush."

He's right, although my screaming testosterone is telling me otherwise.

I take his word for it and slow down. Miles hums happily, and lets go of my hand to run his hands down my bare sides. In return, I slide my fingertips into his shirt and drag it up.

He digs more pressure on my sides and carefully guides me backward, his lips pushing mine further apart. Elation runs down my spine when his tongue brushes against mine. I'm more than willing to let our kisses get messy. It's the least I can enjoy if he wants to keep the pace so damn slow.

His fingers run into my waistband and tug it down before he bumps me into the counter. I grunt when the cold air hits my legs, and he maneuvers my pants down past my thighs.

When the waistband hits my feet, I kick my pants off to the side. My hands are fluttering as I grab handfuls of his shirt and pull it off. There's no way in hell that I'm nervous. I'm just wildly acute to the feeling of my straining boxers and that we're this close to being naked for the first time with each other, much less in the shower.

With that knowledge, I don't waste time grabbing his shorts and practically yanking them off.

Miles grins against my lips as we reconnect, making him harder to kiss, so instead, I graze my mouth over his neck.

"What?" I ask against his skin and guide my fingertips into his boxers. My skin feels like it's on fire. I can't believe that we're actually doing this. However, I also couldn't want it any more than I do right now.

"Nothing, you're just fun to rile up." Miles laughs and brings one of his hands behind my neck. I suck in hard when his other palm drags right over the front of my boxers—this little bastard.

To get back at him, I bite his neck and make him yelp in surprise.

"Fuck! Or not." He hooks one of his thumbs on my waistband. I hover my hips away so they can fall easier.

"You deserve that," I try to say provokingly, except I end up giggling, which makes him smile. His breath is hot against my ear as I pull his off, too. This is one of my wet dreams come true. All those nights pining for his naked body and trying to imagine what he must look and feel like, it all came down to this.

If we would've tried this a month ago, there's no denying that I would've wussed out. Tonight, I grab Miles by the neck and grind up on him, my breathing ragged. He's as hard as I am, and fuck, he feels good.

I groan and reach down to grab myself, readjusting how I'm rubbing on him. His hands pull on me wildly, guiding my hips closer. A hot flash washes over me as I'm uber-aware that no pieces of clothing are keeping us separate anymore.

"Miles," I gasp when he readjusts, rubbing on a different spot. "Can we have sex now?"

My words throw him off as if he didn't see this coming the second we stripped each other down. He fumbles and loosens his grip on my hips.

"Breath it through, not yet," he reassures me in between breaths, and I hiss in irritation. How much self-control can a guy have?

"What the fuck is your problem?" I snap and spread my legs in case he needs further invitation.

Miles laughs, fucking laughs, at my words. "Trust me, okay? Here, c'mon." He steps away from me and my advancements, making my hands itch with annoyance. Still, I take this chance to check him out.

It only irritates me further when he opens the door to the shower and jumps in, ducking his head under the water.

I bite my tongue and follow him, securing the glass door behind us. My eyes observe him, and I forget about our plan for a second.

The running water makes Miles dark, flawless skin even more refined. It traces down every single one of his muscles and curves, showing off the accents on his body. Water drips from his hair and weighs it down over his chocolate-brown eyes. It's not possible that I've ever seen a more alluring person in my life.

Miles faces me and grins as he puts his hands on me, pulling me towards him. There's no way he can miss my look of complete lust, yet, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he takes the knuckle in his thumb and drags it down harshly against the indent of my spine. There's no helping the second whine that escapes my mouth. I shut my eyes and arch my back, pressing my body into his.

"Take it easy and follow my lead. Let me know if anything hurts or makes you uncomfortable," Miles mumbles into my ear. I nod aggressively, wrapping my hands around his back, my fingers running over old scars.

We resume the easy momentum we had going earlier. This time, Miles lets me get away with a faster-paced kiss. It takes a minute to fall back in rhythm, but when I do, I take this chance and run with it.

He hooks his hands around my body and leads the way. We don't accomplish any actual showering.