𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟾𝚝𝚑, 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
Miles POV
Although it's been three days since I was nearly black-out drunk at Turner's party, I can still feel Parker's body under my hands, the skin of his neck against my lips.
I'm not proud to have treated him like that while running on a joint and a gallon of liquor, but I am still riding the high of how he reacted. Some of the words he spoke to me are still swimming in my brain.
I bet you've been dreaming about having me on your lap. Where do you recommend we start?
My heart clenches as if Parker physically squeezed it himself. Was that even the same boy I'd had my eyes on all these weeks? I only remember a soft-spoken, calculated, blushing boy, not the confident athlete that arced his spine under my touch.
"Holt! Laps, now!" O'Conor blows his whistle in a quick, sharp note that makes me flinch.
"Yes, sir!" In return, I salute mockingly, gaining the gym teacher's stink eye. If I were to make an educated guess, I would scratch him down under racist.
Breaking into a jog, I take off after the group of running students. My tennis shoes slap against the hardwood floor as I lengthen my stride, passing the walking, gossiping girls who must have slipped under O'Conors radar.
Now that I'm distracted, it's easier to forget the Parker issue I have going on.
Okay, maybe not. That boy is going to be the death of me.
First, he blatantly ignores all my dropped signals and refuses my flirtatious shots. Next, I watch him partially make out with some chick. The next few days after that, he gets weird with her too. Then he's inviting me to these parties, and suddenly I'm back at arms-length getting chewed out by his scary cousin.
This is the real kicker and the one I've been hung up on all weekend long: One night later, he's moaning in my ear.
I've walked into jails and talked to more mentally stable people than Parker.
Even after all this shit, I haven't been able to shake the feeling that there's something there. Maybe.
Or maybe it's my hormones talking because next time, I wouldn't mind taking things a little further. Just the thought makes me feel hot and bothered.
"What's up, Kilometers?"
I look over to my side at the voice and swallow as my eyes fall on dark brown hair. It's not black hair, so I know it's not Parker.
Griffin.
"Not much, man." I keep my sentence short, too nervous to make a joke about the shitty nickname or ask a question back at him. Ever since our little "chat" at the football game a few nights ago, I didn't think Griffin would be coming near me to make pleasant conversation.
At least, not without cornering me in an alley with a gun first. My eyes instinctively drop to his pockets.
"Nice. How was your weekend?" He eyes me darkly. There it is.
Suddenly a thought dawns on me.
Does he... know?
"It was fine. Well, as fine as getting over a hangover can be," I joke lightly, hoping to strike a note of relatability.
I'm talking to a tough crowd today because Griffin doesn't even smirk. "As long as you're staying out of trouble. I would hate to see you making the wrong choices."
This motherfucker.
Why not outright say, "Hey, I saw you rubbing up on my cousin after I told you not to get near him. Meet me in the back parking lot after school. I have a special snack for you called mouth full of bullets"?
"Uh-huh." I hum nonchalantly instead, my eyes flicking at our peers running near us. I wish I had a pencil. I should write them all thank-you notes for helping play a part in keeping me alive and playing witness. "I do my best with the circumstances."
"Sure you do. Watch your back." Griffin tilts his head up, mocking me with a kind goodbye as he runs faster, slipping into the crowd.
What was that all about? He definitely knows about Parker and I's rendezvous, but it was a stupid one-time thing... Even if I wish otherwise.
A part of me, actually all of me, longs for a relationship with that boy, except I know that that's not feasible. Griffin had a point the other night and settled that point just now, too.
Keeping Parker out of trouble is keeping me out of trouble.
As much as I love being around him, talking with him, messing around with him, touching him, and simply staying close to his energy, I don't want to be the one to cross his boundary lines. If he isn't ready for a relationship, I won't pursue it.
This has to be Parker's choice because I can't wreck another life.
- - -
When the third hour rolls around, I keep to myself as I walk into history class. Not only do I want to avoid Parker after what Griffin had to say, but I also have a lot weighing on my mind, apart from the whole gay-or-not mystery.
By a lot, I mean my family and some news my mom sprung on me last night.
Just trying to think about family drama makes my stomach hurt.
Dude, take your mind off of that shit, I scold myself. School now, life problems later.
My little pep talk pulls me out of my stupor, and I feel a little better, yet it still doesn't solve my problems.
I glance up from the tiles and hook my thumbs into my backpack straps. Horse shit.
Parker is already here with his feet propped up on my chair, non-discreetly looking at his phone. I catch his gaze zip away from mine as I look at him. Real slick.
"Miles! How has your Monday been so far?" Greyson asks cheerily as he looks up from where he's highlighting lecture notes behind his desk.
I slow down to smile at Greyson. His son might be a major dick, but he has always shown me kindness. Plus, he's one of the only adults that treats me fairly here.
Okay, and maybe he's a major DILF.
"Pretty low-key, it's just another day in the life. You?" I ask politely, spinning around on my heels to walk backward toward my desk so I can still face Greyson.
"Oh, you know. As you said, it's another great day in life! You better take your seat. I'll be starting here in a minute." Greyson punctuates his point by shuffling his papers down on the desk and getting to his feet.
I nod at him before turning back around, casting Parker a mannerly smile. My brain feels mucky because I have no idea how to move forward with this kid. Do I start ignoring him? Give him too much attention? Pretend nothing has happened? Friend-zone? What is he thinking behind those green eyes?
Parker smiles in return and casually tilts his chin up, making his dark hair flop back. My gaze naturally tracks the movement.
"What's up?" Parker asks casually, keeping his attention a little too focused on my face. Usually, he'll act normal and look at my outfit, my hair, my shoes, and his phone. Now, he's acting fake-casual.
"Same old same old. What about you? How was your weekend?" I ask and slide my backpack off, resting it on the floor before sitting down.
Parker takes his feet off my chair and sits straight, his shoulders tense. "Good," he answers too quickly. "I've been busy."
"Mm, doing what?" Why the fuck are we speaking to each other like soccer moms running into each other at the grocery store?
"You know, helping my dad outside. We have some things to get done before winter comes."
I nod again and glance over his body. He's holding his frame taunt like he's expecting something or holding something back. His eyes dart around at some point inside the classroom before falling back onto my face, always my face.
He's either really uncomfortable about what happened a few nights ago or gained a serious crush overnight. I don't know which situation would be worse.
The least I can do is take a stab at the situation and see how he reacts. "Sweet, that's nice of you to help your family. You're lucky to get outside. I've been nursing a fucking migraine all weekend. That party at Turners about took me out."
He stills. I can't read his expression, but I don't expect the question from his mouth.
"Oh... So, do you remember anything then?"
Your skin, your hair in between my fingers, your hips under mine. Something was between us that night, but the feeling ran deeper than that sexual tension.
"Nope." I scratch behind my neck, playing cool. "Nothing but walking inside the door at the party Saturday night and then waking up in my bed Sunday morning."
Parker deflates, although I can't tell if it's out of relief or grief. "Huh."
The bell suddenly rings, making me jolt. God, I'm unbelievably flinchy today. For the first time in weeks, I'm glad for the excuse to turn away from Parker and away from our dry conversation.
"Alright, class! The partner project is due in five days!" Greyson claps his hands and walks out from behind his desk. "These next few days should be reserved for making edits and final copies, assuming you all have started the project."
A few people snicker, and Greyson smiles as he sits on his desk. "I also know that this week is homecoming..." He pauses for a moment, letting the other students whoop excitedly. "So, I'm going to lighten the course load. Not only for your guys' sanity but for mine, too, because I'm too busy making plays to be worried about grading homework.
"This means that most of this week will be spent with your partner doing alterations to your project. You guys can scatter out in the hall with your partner for more peace, but please, don't go any further. If I catch scent of anyone doing something sexual or illegal in private, you're doing your presentation in Spanish."
I can't help but grin because I almost prefer speaking in Spanish. Maybe that way, Parker and I could finish what we started in the janitor's closet?
Greyson notices my dumb smile and snaps his fingers at me. "Holt, wipe that look off of your face. That warning goes to you too... Except I would make your punishment worse. Capiche?"
To fuck with him, I respond while nodding, "Si entiendo."
Greyson scowls harmlessly and points a warning finger at me before he keeps talking. "We've already wasted enough time, folks. Let's get this show on the road! You and your partner can speak to me if you want to sit in the hall. Otherwise, find a spot in here. Let's go!" He claps again, using his coach voice to dismiss us.
I find myself still smiling as I turn around in my chair, tapping a finger on Parker's desk. He looks up at me from his project papers and lifts an eyebrow in question.
"Alright, Park, what's the game plan? Would you like to sit on the hard-ass ground they mop once a month or stay in our comfy chairs at the desk?" I ask politely and hope he'll catch my drift.
Parker smiles, melting away the hard lines he had on his face earlier. The energy shifts, almost back to what I'm used to—a comfortable, solid friendship.
"You drive a tough bargain. The two options are close, but... I think you sold me on the desks," he retorts and leans down to grab his computer from his bag.
"Cool, because you wouldn't have had a choice otherwise." I laugh and swing my legs around, scooting my ass back onto my chair as I straddle it, waiting for instruction.
Parker glances up as he retrieves his laptop and must accidentally catch a glimpse of my whole crotch because he goes red and moves fast to sit back up. So fast that he swings his laptop up and cracks it into the corner of his desk.
He curses and hastily checks it for blemishes. I blink in surprise and lift a hand at the other nearby pairs. "Nothing to see here," I say to them and apologize. "Keep working. We're all good."
The two girls sitting at the desk closest to us shoot us matching glares, which makes me smile apologetically as I turn forward again.
Fuckin' bitches.
"It's in one piece still, so let's get to work," Parker says as his fingers fly over the keyboard, working fast to unlock the computer and pull up our assignment.
"Yes sir, your wish is my command," I respond and steal the pencil he has lying on his desk. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I start to twirl it between my fingers.
"What?" I ask and lean back.
"Nothing. You have a strange addiction to my pencils, though."
"Have you looked at me? All I can afford is what I can take." I laugh and use my free hand to motion at my body.
Parker snorts and looks back at the screen to pull up our PowerPoint. "Bullshit. I think you like bothering me."
"Bothering you? Man, c'mon, this is bothering you." Grinning, I lean forward and poke his arm muscle with the eraser. Lord above, he has nice arms.
Parker scoots his arm away by an inch. "Ha ha, real funny," he retorts and casts me a look. This time, his eyes sweep over me, making my breath hitch. "If you need ideas for a career path, you should consider those people that go door-to-door... Ah, what are they called? Mormons? They bother people too. You'd fit right in."
I laugh at that and shake my head, tsking. "Wow, who's talking now, Mr. Comedian? Besides, they would kick me out of their cult so fuckin' fast."
"Why's that? You'd talk their ears off?" Parker looks at me from under his eyelashes as he scrolls to find the PowerPoint, a smile tugging at his lips.
"Hell no. I would need conversion therapy and gallons of holy water to wash the gay out of me. Otherwise, my brothers in Christ would turn into partners in Christ."
Again, I watch Parker quickly recoil, deflating back into himself as he loses his smile. "Let's maybe not joke about that. We have work to do. Let's get it done."
I quirk my eyebrows, shocked at how he suddenly turns the table. He was the one to bring the stupid Mormons up, anyway.
Something is wrong, but I don't know how to ask.
So, I leave it be. We only talk about our project for the rest of the hour. When the bell rings, he leaves without a goodbye.