The Only Exception [BoyxBoy]

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I gaped. "Are you kidding! Bryan was at the party, too! He was the one who was supposed to bring the alcohol in the first place."

Bryan nudged me. "Dude!"

"The point is that neither of you are supposed to be bringing alcohol to anywhere," Scar interjected with a concern look in his turquoise eyes. He was usually the less strict of the two, but whenever Jamie said something, he always co-signed it.

"But it was for Bobby's party! I had to do it for him because I'm his—"

"Both of you are grounded," Jamie stated with a harsh tone. "No after-school activities, no phones, and especially no parties for two weeks."

Bryan threw his head back and let out a loud grunt. "But what about football?"

"Football's fine," Scar clarified, and it was with those words that I wanted to chew both of their heads off.

"Are you guys fucking serious! This is unfair." I pushed my chair out of the table and popped out of my seat, slamming my fists on the table. "You're acting like you've never been to high school parties. You're acting like you weren't a fucking teenager once!"

Jamie's eyes hardened at my sudden outburst, and he rose to match my level of anger. "You broke the rules and there are consequences for breaking the rules, so sit the fuck down and eat your food!"

And in that moment, I truly resented him. "You can't tell me what to fucking do. You're not my father! You're just some super-controlling faggot!" With those words, I tore my eyes away from Jamie and Scar just so that I wouldn't see their reaction, and I took off running upstairs to my bedroom.

The second I stepped into the comforts of my own room, I slammed the door with an unbelievable force, not even caring that the door frame rattled as I did so, and collapsed onto the bed. My first thought was to pull out my phone to tell Bobby what happened and that my phone would be in my parents' custody just so that he wouldn't send me things that would further incriminate me.

Just as I was about to dial his number, the bedroom door swung open and my brother crept inside with a disapproving look on his face. I decided to ignore him and return to my phone call, but he pissed me off further by saying, "Way to fucking go, Ryan! Why did you say that to Jamie?"

I tossed my phone to the side. "Don't give me shit. Jamie was being a dick."

Bryan rolled his eyes so deep in his sockets that I swore they'd be stuck in the back of his head. "Well, of course! I don't like it anymore than you do, dude, but that's what parents are supposed to do. They're supposed to be hardasses."

"They're not our real parents."

I seemed to shut Bryan up with that remark because he looked at me like he couldn't believe I had just said that, and then he shook his head. "Really, Ryan?" When I didn't justify his dumb question with a response, he said, "They care about us way more than our actual parents did!"

"You don't know that," I muttered under my breath as I turned over on my side to stare at the framed photograph on my bedside table. It was taken back when we weren't in system, when we were just three years old, and when our parents were still in our lives. They both wore huge smiles on their faces, like they were so happy to be taking this picture—our mom, especially. She was so pretty with her tan skin, dancing hazel eyes, and long brown locks. Our dad was donning a creepy mustache, but he still was still pretty handsome with those insanely straight teeth.