𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
Miles POV

I'm not afraid to be honest: this might have been a dumb idea.

My car collides with another pothole that I can't avoid, and I wince. Yeah, this was stupid.

It's not like I keep my impoverished lifestyle hidden away from the public eye, but the thing is, I know for a fact that Parker doesn't come from a poor family. At least, those brand-new Nikes he rocks and that shiny Audi he drives are my first clues.

Or maybe it feels stupid because this is one of the first times in four years that I've invited a boy over to my house with no intention of stepping out of line.

By stepping out of line, I mean stepping out of my pants and into my new flings instead.

Not that I'm shooting that idea down, either. The only issue is that Parker made his preferences very clear last night at that football field when he macked on that blonde chick. If I had to guess, I'm nowhere near his radar.

Humming along to the radio, I focus on the lyrics instead of my sad sex life. I flick my blinker on and rotate my palm on the gear shifter, down-shifting as my Mustang rolls into the turn lane.

That same shiny black paint flashes in my rearview mirror as Parker follows close behind me. Maybe if his windows weren't tinted to 5%, I would be able to see his reaction to my neighborhood.

Look, this area is better than Mexico on the south side of Heroica Nogales or living in a box on the side of the road. Although compared to where Parker probably comes from, these sun-faded and weather-worn houses must look like gardening sheds to him.

Not that he will be complaining. I am changing his oil for free.

I down-shift again and pull my car smoothly up alongside the curb. As I unbuckle, I snatch my keys from the ignition and glance at my moms' van in the driveway. I was crossing my fingers for most of the drive over here that she would be at work already. I guess the universe doesn't always pull through.

I send up a quick prayer that she won't intervene before jumping out of my car. Parker slowly pulls up next to my car, and I hold up a finger, mouthing at him, One second.

His shadow nods behind the windshield. I pocket my keys and jog up the driveway to the garage door, punching in the key code on the pad.

"C'mon now," I mumble as I hold my thumb on the enter button. A second passes before the garage door starts to slide open. Each wheel screeches like a demon escaping hell, but I don't hear the sound over the blood rushing in my ears.

It's a miracle that I organized the garage yesterday; I find my wheel chocks with no issues.

Grabbing the chocks and an oil pan, I hurry back to the driveway. I toss the chocks down and wave my hand at Parker. That Audi engine purrs as he rolls up onto the driveway.

I motion for Parker to roll his window down as he gets closer. "Pull up here." I point at the blocks I brought out. He inches forward, and I kick the chock closest to me to align with the wheel. Slowly, his tires climb up. "Keep coming, keep coming... Good!" I hold out a fist for him to stop.

Parker parks, and the car rocks backward for a moment before settling. He cuts the engine and jumps out, squinting against the blinding sun. Two identical red notches are indented on his nose, most likely from sunglasses.

"Nice place, man. You guys got lucky with a nice location. It's quieter here than at my house," Parker says and shuffles in a full circle to look around the street. To my surprise, he doesn't sound sarcastic or look disgusted.

I chuckle and shrug simultaneously. "Thanks, it's better than nothing. You can actually thank the court and the government, though. They're the ones who set us up here."

"For real? Wow, at least they're good for something."

"Damn right," I reply and motion at the car. "Can you pop the hood?"

Parker nods and returns to his door, pulling it open to take the AutoZone bag from his passenger seat before popping it open. "So, you've done this before...?"

"'Have I done this before?' Boy, do you even know who you're talking to?" I joke and step in front of his hood, sliding my fingers through the slit. I feel the latch and finish prying the hood open.

"Well, if we're being one-hundred-percent honest with each other, not really." Parker laughs and raises his hands harmlessly, the bag rustling with the motion.

"Uh huh, and that's exactly why you shouldn't judge until my work is done!" I toss him a fleeting grin and grab an old skateboard resting against my toolbox before snatching an old hand towel off the box.

Snapping the towel over my shoulder and tucking the board under my arm, I snag a few wrenches and slip them into the waistband of my shorts. "I've been doin' this for a few years. We don't even take our vehicles to any mechanic anymore."

"Gotcha. Seasoned expert, then?" Parker leans against his car and studies me.

Maybe I would've been offended by that prod in the past, but now I can understand. If the roles were reversed and some random kid from school approached me, claiming that they knew a thing or two about cars, I would be cautious too.

Except the only difference is that I do know a thing or two.

I look at Parker as I turn around and wink as I walk back to the car, carefully setting the skateboard down. "You said it, not me. Oil isn't the only thing I can clean up." I wiggle my eyebrows as I sit down and lay my back against the grip tape.

Parker blushes furiously and hums as he looks away, making me laugh again.

"Since we're being so nosy here, I've gotta ask... This your daily ride?" I scoot under the car and cast a glance over the undercarriage. From top to bottom, this thing is cleaner than my damn dinner plates. I adjust the pan under the oil plug before pulling it off. Immediately, oil starts to pour out. I'm not fast enough to get my fingertips out of the way. Oil gets on my hands, and I wince, wiping my fingertips on the towel. Clean oil splashes in...

Hold up. Clean oil?

Parker squats down, or at least I assume that's the position that he takes. His dark hair flops in the corner of my eye. "Yep, it's all mine. Well, sorta. Daddy's money, as I said earlier."

"Honesty. I like it. Although, unless your dealing drugs or sellin' that divine body on the streets, I already pieced together that you weren't tossing forty bands at a vehicle."

"C'mon, who says I don't do either of those things?"

I raise my eyebrow and pick up my head to give Parker a look that makes him laugh, run a hand over his hair self-consciously, divert his eyes, and then stand up.

"Oh, whatever." He huffs, and I hear the sound of him leaning against his car again. "I got lucky with parents that spoil me rotten. They both have great jobs, and my dad loves Audi's... So, you know. I won't complain."

I snort and watch the oil get dangerously close to the top of the pan. "Fuck, I wouldn't complain either."

"At least you've got a sweet vintage car. My dad would love this thing. He actually wants to collect some vintage builds. He's been talking about doing that forever."

"He a car guy, too?" I ask, even though I already know the answer. No father would send their fancy sports car off for an oil change that it doesn't need. Seriously, this oil is unscathed. I could filter it with a cheesecloth and drink it.

"If you mean throw money at them, let another person do the dirty work, then admire the finished product in his garage... Then yes."

I snort and grab a wrench from my waistband. Fitting it snug around the filter, I use the tool to loosen the filter before screwing it off with my hand.

The wrench clinks against the pavement as I set it down, and I eye the oil filter. This thing is cleaner than the oil. That lack of car knowledge must run in the family—this car didn't need a change for another few thousand miles, at least.

"Watch your feet," I warn and chuck the old filter from under the car. Parker jumps, narrowly missing the filter as it spins on the pavement.

Wiping the sweat off my forehead, I screw the drain plug back in. It might be October, but the California sun doesn't give two shits. It's stifling under this car.

I press my hand against the pavement and scoot out from underneath the car, sucking in a breath of fresh air as I stick my hand up. "New filter, please."

"Oh, yeah, um." Parker glances at me and stammers, his cheeks going red again. It's probably from the heat, however, I like to think that I look pretty irresistible lying on my back. He doesn't look too bad from this angle, either. Genetics did a number on that jawline of his.

Parker digs around in the AutoZone bag and hands me the new filter. "Here you go."

"Thanks, man," I reply on autopilot since my mind is preoccupied with the thought of his facial structure. I peel the cardboard apart and toss the box alongside the old filter before scooting back under the carriage. One moment later and the new filter is on.

I double-check my work before slipping back out, the skateboard wheels clacking against the pavement. Parker stumbles backward to keep from getting his toes squashed. "Oil next?"

I quirk my lips and sit up as I push onto my feet. "That's right." I walk past him and lean against the front bumper as I unscrew the top oil compartment. "And here I was, thinking you didn't know how to do this."

"It was an educated guess. Here's this." Parker passes the new oil bottle over and hesitates. His face is like an open book.

"Gracias. Whatca thinking, chico?"

Parker's eyelashes flutter like he's taken aback that I noticed his hesitation. "Nothing. I'm curious about how the hell you know how to do... all of this. There are so many different parts. And stuff."

"Hey, I wasn't born with a head full of knowledge. Like I said earlier, it took time to learn. I had a good teacher." I pause and set the oil cap off to the side, my hands slowing at the memory. I can almost hear the question brewing in Parker's head, so I continue speaking.

"He was an old neighbor of ours in my neighborhood growing up. He moved next door to live with his aunt and uncle and worked on cars for extra cash. Actually, he owned that Mustang body. That's the first car I learned on and the first one we finished together."

"Was he some old guy?"

I laugh and shake my head as I unscrew the oil quart and pour it in. "Hell no. If that were the case, I would've gotten a lecture with every screw put in the damn frame. I'd still be in fucking Mexico attaching the bumper. Nah, he was a few years older than me. He was cool."

He's quiet for a moment, and I think that's the end of his curiosity, but it's not.

"What was his name?" Parker asks softly.

My heart thuds with useless memories. "Damian."

Parker finally goes silent. I hope he didn't put two and two together.

I finish dumping the oil in and tossing the container on the driveway before screwing the cap back in place, grabbing the hood, and hauling it down. Parker jumps as it slams.

"Well, there you go. Piece of cake." I face him and meet his eyes with a smile. His vibrant green eyes shock me out of any lingering thoughts of my past relationship.

"God, that was fast. Seriously, Miles, I can't thank you enough. At least if my entire oil ecosystem falls apart on the drive home, I know who to (A) cuss out and (B) bring it back to." Parker's smirk is shit-eating.

I scoff and look away from him, wiping my hands on the towel. "Boy, if that car falls apart, you better start dodging potholes rather than fucking hitting them head-on. At that point, you'd have a hell of a lot more to worry about than your oil system."

Parker grins, his entire expression lit up with the joy only a repressed comeback can bring. A different voice cuts in as he prepares to fire back at me.

"Miles Holt! I know you're not using language like that on my property, hijo!"

"Shiiiittt," I hiss under my breath. I should've known she would come out sooner or later. I paste on my best mommas-boy smile before turning around. "Yes ma'am, I know. That might've been the wind, you know. No need to point fingers here."

My momma scoffs and puts a hand on her hip as she walks over. I'll admit, she's pretty intimidating in her all-black waitress outfit with her long braids tied back in a bun. Her sunken eyes and scar-scratched face add to the picture. Leave it to drugs to age a person thirty years within a few months.

"The wind, my old black ass."

I bite my cheek to keep from smirking at the irony of her cussing and glance at Parker from the corner of my eye. Before I can introduce him, my mom is quick to jump to conclusions. "Who's this face now? New boyfriend already?"

"Jesus! Relax, ma!" I groan.

Poor Parker turns scarlet, awkwardly scratching behind his neck. He, always the charmer, stammers.

I quickly speak up to save his hide. "This is Parker. He's my classmate. He needed his car worked on, and I told him I know a guy."

"Mhm." Her eyes dart to the Audi on the wheel chocks before returning to Parker. She has always been better at hiding her facial expressions than me, but I can still read her eyes. And right now, they're screaming California money.

"Parker, this is my mom, Josephine. She's... my mom."

My loss of words knocks him right out of that silence. Now he's the one fighting a smirk, the little fool. As if he isn't the one who's still redder than a tomato. A really cute tomato.

"Hey, it's a pleasure, Mrs. Holt." Parker smiles and steps forward to offer her his hand. Man, he was quick to flick that charm switch back on. "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but... you know."

"I understand, hon. I've had to explain to Miles many times why he can't go around preaching about his momma to his new friends anymore." She winks at me and walks up to Parker, only to skip past his out-reached hand and pull him into a hug. "And please, call me Jo or Josephine."

Parker's eyes go wide to mirror mine, and he looks like someone actually dumped ice water on his head. Slowly, he pats her shoulder. I stifle a giggle.

Momma grins and lets go of Parker before coming over to me, giving me an equally-as-big hug. "As much as I'd love to stay and chat with you boys, I've got to scoot to work."

"No worries." I give her an awkward hug, careful to keep my oily hands off her outfit. I grimace when she kisses my cheek, especially when she makes it extra juicy just to make me squirm in front of my friend. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Tomorrow. It will be another late night, so don't wait up. I love you, and it was nice to meet you, Parker!" Momma smiles and nods at him as she walks over to her van.

"You too, ma'am— Ah, Mrs— um, Josephine." Parker smiles sheepishly, making her laugh as she climbs in her car. I smile and wave at her one last time as she starts the engine.

Even Parker gives her a small wave.

I exhale as she leaves the driveway and start to gather the trash I tossed around. "Sorry about that, I didn't realize she was leaving already."

"Don't be sorry, your mom seems cool. She's really nice," Parker says and helps me pick up the trash. He winces as he picks up the grimy filter. It might be clean oil, but it's still oil.

Smirking, I take the filter from him and hand him my towel before tossing the garbage in the can in the garage. "You just wait until I tell her that you thought she was 'cool.' She's gonna geek."

"It's not like it's a lie!" Parker laughs and wipes his fingers off.

"Wait until you know her better, and you'll take it back then," I joke and then frown when I realize my mistake. "Not that I'm saying—"

"No, I understand." Parker cuts me off and hands me my towel back with a smile that he's obviously trying to stuff down. The corners of his mouth twitch. "Thank you again, by the way. I wish I had cash to pay you, but..."

"In that case, I'll just take your card." I wait a beat for Parker's face to drop before grinning. "I'm fucking with you. Relax, baller. You don't need to pay me back. It's an honor to even touch your car." I feign waving my hands up and down like some Egyptian worshipper, which makes Parker laugh.

"Enough, I get it!" He grins and waves his hand dismissively. "If that's everything, then..." He fades off and sways between his feet. His eyes dart between me, the house, and the car.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow. That's everything I got for you. Be careful backing off of these tire holders, yeah?"

"Oh. Yeah, of course." Parker runs a hand back through his hair, making it stand on end as he nods and backs up a few steps. Digging the fob out of his back pocket, he turns around and opens the car door.

Parker puts one foot in and pauses to raise his fingers at me. "Later, Miles."

"See you." I nod my head up and watch as he gets in. The car door slams and quickly accompanies the engine roaring to life.

Parker heeds my advice and slowly, carefully backs down the driveway. Once his front tires are off of my chockers, I step forward and gather the blocks.

I put my back to Parker and walk back to the house before I can see if he'll wave again or not. That project wasn't a dumb idea to accomplish, but it might have been dumb of me to do it for him.

Because I still can't, for the life of me, figure out why he would have me change clean oil.