𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟸𝟸𝚗𝚍
Parker POV
"Fore! Clear the course, I'm coming through!" Miles shouts and runs down the side of the pool, hops up onto the diving board, gets in one good bounce and jumps off. He manages to squeeze in one full front flip before cannon balling into the water.
I laugh at the splash that he makes and put my back to the spray of water that flies.
He resurfaces and shakes his curls out like a dog, then cheeses and backstrokes towards me. The moonlight and faint blue light from the under glow in the pool cuts across his muscles like a knife, showing off every edge and crevice.
"What was the score on that one?" He asks.
Humming, I slowly cut through the water and meet Miles halfway. He's still smiling, his teeth white against the contrast of his skin.
"I'd say a solid eight. Just because your right foot slipped on the take off," I note and tilt my head to the side as he rolls over to face me and tread water. His curls drip. Droplets create ripples on the surface of the pool.
"Tough crowd tonight. I slipped, alright? Cut me some slack." Miles laughs and splashes me.
I grin and splash him back. "Fuck off, you're the one who asked!"
"Hey, swear jar! Cheeky bastard!" With that, Miles jumps forward and dunks me underwater. My laughter is cut off with one final gulp of air.
All I can think of as I go underwater with his hands holding me down is, I love him. Those three words are a song that sometimes fades in the background or gets lost among the chaos of the noise that comes with every day, but it's still always there. Tonight though, I'm happy to bask in the clear beat of the music.
With all of the shit that's been going on recently, we both agreed that we needed one night to each other with no distractions. No Kenya, no parents, no friends, no worrying about Griffin. Just a few hours to reconnect and rekindle.
I sputter for air as I break above the surface and point a finger at him. "Oh, it's on."
"Is it? Huh?" Miles lips quirk as he slowly paddles forward. The look in his eyes makes my cheeks burn.
"Miles, I'm gonna—" I cut off as he sinks under the water and darts forward. His swimming ability always slips my mind until the moments like this. I know better than to kick out or swim away; he's as agile under the water as he is above it.
Instead, I hold my breath and trust that he won't do anything stupid as his dark forms approaches. I see him only because of the under glow lights. He slides one hand up my left leg, and uses his teeth to bite my right thigh.
Gasping, I laugh and reach underwater to grab his hair as a warning. "Hey, chill, my parents are still home!"
It's hard to say whether Miles actually heard me or not, but at least he stops testing that boundary. He drags his lips up my leg and abdomen as he takes his sweet time resurfacing. When he breaks the surface, he takes a moment to inhale before giving me a kiss.
"You lost that fighting passion real quick," Miles teases and kisses my cheek.
"Shut up. One of these days I'll kick your ass," I reply and wrap my hands around his neck. My thumb brushes over the hairs behind his neck and I rub them. He shivers from the sensation, which gets a smile from me.
"Keep telling yourself that, baby." Miles chuckles and rolls his head to the side to kiss the soft spot underneath my jawline. Then, he pauses and straightens up to meet my eyes. "Whatcha thinking?"
This kid. He knows my thoughts before I do.
Exhaling slowly, I take my hands off of his neck and paddle over to the side of the pool. I brace my hands on the concrete and haul myself up. Water drains off of my body. I spin around and sit on the edge as Miles drifts behind me.
"I've been thinking a lot recently—"
"That's new."
"You're a bitch!" I laugh again and kick water at his face.
Miles yelps and raises his hands in surrender. "Lo siento!! Lo siento! Quit fooling around! I'm listening, talk to me."
Grinning, I waggle my finger at him as a warning. "As I was saying... I've just been thinking. This is our last year in highschool, Miles. Ever."
"Mhm," he hums in agreement and swims beside me. He kisses my calf harmlessly. I've gotten good at reading his kisses, and I can tell that that one was him nonverbally saying, I'm here.
"I know that I'm too young for a midlife crisis, but that's what this is starting to feel like. We're at a crossroads and at some point we're going to have to make a few important decisions." I look down at Miles. He's rubbing one of my feet and watching the city lights blink far in the distance but I can tell that he's listening, so I continue.
"Like, for example, do we want to go to college? The same college? Or a trade school? And if so, where too? Is it worth moving away? Or do we start shooting porn and, like, selling that shit?"
"That would definitely make the most money. Probably more than any fuckin' official football team. More than the president," Miles says and snorts. "If you're trying to hint that we should start a sex channel then I'm gonna have to stop buying Takis and Oreos."
"No, I'm not hinting at that!" I reach down and mess up his hair, although it's not as satisfying because he doesn't react. That shit sets me off, but he likes it. "What I'm saying is that we have to figure our shit out."
"Babe, I'm just glad that we get to have this conversation." Miles looks up at me and taps my knee. "I like living my life one day at a time."
"I know you do, but you've got to have an idea of what you want to do one day. Or, at the very least, one goal. So here's a question for you: what do you want to be when you grow up?" I smile softly at my own humor and tap my fingers on his head.
Miles shrugs. "I don't know. I'm good with my machines. Maybe something along those lines. I do fine in my classes but nothing has really gotten my attention." He hesitates and rubs his hand up and down my leg thoughtfully. "You need to be careful talking like this though, Park. Don't limit yourself to one path. Life is meant to be lived, you know? I'm no rush to figure shit out because I don't want to look back at my youth when I'm dying and regret flying through the most prime years in my life because I was too worried about chasing a degree or some shit that, deep down, I never wanted."
"Jesus Christ." I shake my head in disbelief. His words seriously pierced me in the heart, even though I know he's right. "Fuck cars. You need to be a philosopher."
"Nah man, I can't read the damn stars."
Pausing, I squint at him. "That's an astronomer."
"Same shit, different pen. How 'bout you? Are you ready to be the best quarterback that the worlds ever seen?"
"No. Hell no. You know that's not where my heart is." My eyes flash down to him and meet his gaze. "I'll see this year through, but after that, I'm done. I don't care about the scholarships and the fame and all the shit that my uncle is constantly after."
"You hesitated. What's up?"
"Well..." I start and tilt my head back to look up at the night sky. It's hazy from the city smog, but white stars are still poking through the black. It's easier to admit this to the abyss. "I sort of want to go somewhere where no one knows our names. I want to go to a small college in the middle of the midwest where no one knows our names. After we get our degrees or whatever, we can move back to the ocean and live the rest of our lives out on the beach. Eat fresh fruit. Do our stupid jobs. Have sex in the sand."
Miles nods along, although his face twists into a cheeky grin at that last part. "Let's get hitched somewhere fancy though. I've always wanted to go to Greece."
"God damn. Marriage talk?" I tease and poke him with my foot. I play it off as silliness, although the idea of marrying this boy makes my heart palpitate. It's stupid, but I'd be ready for the altar by the end of next week.
"Better than kid talk," he notes.
"Fair enough." I chew on my cheek and watch as he kisses my leg again. "Look, I have to ask, what do you think Griffin is going to do? His dream has always been the NFL."
Miles frowns and turns around to rest his elbows on the side of the pool. "I thought we weren't talking about him tonight?"
"I know. I'm sorry. I can't help it, I worry too much."
Thankfully Miles doesn't agree with that, though he has every reason too. Instead, he replies, "Are you sure that's his dream?"
"What do you mean?" I raise an eyebrow and drag my feet around in the water.
"C'mon man. That's his dads second-hand dream. We both know it," Miles says.
"No way! You don't know him like I do. He's talked about playing for a big league team since preschool. He's been broken up about it ever since the accident."
"Parker. Love." Miles tilts his chin down and looks up at me like, seriously? "You know who he's been growing up with, right? You're smarter then this, babe. When I was seven, I was so ready to grow up and take over my dads business. You think by the time I hit highschool I still wanted to do that shit? I only thought about it because it's all I knew."
Pressing my lips together, I glance between each of Miles' eyes. "Grif has never talked about doing anything else, though."
"When's the last time you talked to him about it?" Miles asks quietly. His tone isn't rude or questioning. It's careful, curious.
How he asks it doesn't matter. It still hits my gut, as if someone kicked a dodgeball right into my stomach. It knocks the breath from me.
"Honestly?" I whisper. "Years."
Miles nods as if that explains everything. "I know that he's... a little much, but really, Griffin and I are almost the same person."
That claim makes me laugh. My obnoxious, over the top cousin being the same person as my sweet, protective, caring boyfriend? Give me a break.
"Bullshit," I scoff. "You two aren't remotely the same."
"You're looking at it from the wrong angle. Eldest child, always being compared to the rest of the kids in the family tree? Abusive fathers of various natures? Getting our future careers spoon fed to us as toddlers?"
"At least his father didn't fucking shoot him."
"Don't downplay his trauma, Park. I got lucky because I got away from my dad. Griffin is practically chained to his."
"Fuck." I groan and run my hands over my face. God damn Miles and his truth bombs. He doesn't get going like this often, but when he does, he makes me rethink my entire life.
I've always hated the term daddy issues, however in this case, it's the only one that makes the most sense. Of course Griffin has such a complex outlook on his life. I'm sure that if Miles didn't find outlets for his emotions and thoughts over the years, he'd be in the same boat as Griffin right now.
The thought of my boyfriend acting with the same ruthlessness of my cousin makes my heart hurt. Seeing him snap last month was bad enough.
This conversation is still making me feel guilty as hell. While Miles has been busy pouring out his thoughts to any breathing person that will listen, I haven't heard Griffin say the words I'm really sad in over a decade.
What a great cousin I am.
"Don't overthink this, now. I didn't bring this shit up to make you feel bad," Miles adds. "Although I understand that Grif has his own issues, it still doesn't excuse the things that he's said and done in the past."
"Do you think I need to talk to him?" I slide my hands off of my face and let them collapse onto my legs. "I've been a big bitch. I never really thought about it like this before."
Miles shakes his head. "Not yet. Let me talk to him first."
I exhale through my lips so hard that the hair on my forehead flips into the air. "Okay."
With all of this being said, we both go silent. Miles stares off into the distance again and I study the water as it rotates and ripples.
I've always scratched Griffin down as the black sheep of the family. To me, he always seemed jealous and I ignored it. It always seemed childish, and frankly, I didn't care. I've always been aware that uncle Greyson could be over the top, especially about football, however I've never truly put myself in Griffins shoes and having to constantly live with the man.
Griffins attitude issues started so early that I've become desensitized to his blinding anger and fiery hatred towards the world. On the outside, his problems seemed minuscule compared to mine. Sure, Griffin hasn't outwardly struggled with self-image, crippling anxiety, or crashing depression, and I know that he definitely hasn't struggled with internalized homophobia, but Miles is right. Trauma is trauma. I only should've came to this conclusion sooner.
Miles claps his hands and scares me out of my spiraling thoughts.
"Alright, enough of this feeling-bad-for-each-other-pity-party," Miles says and sticks out his hand. "Can you help me out? I'm turning into a raisin."
"Sure. Let's go watch a movie or something," I reply and climb onto my feet before reaching down to grab his hand. I'd welcome any distraction to stop simmering on my thoughts.
"That sounds good. Maybe that new one that came out on Netflix with Adam Sandler?" Miles offers and braces against the hold.
"Oh, yeah, the one about— Shit!"
Miles yanks me forward so forcefully that I do a full front flip as I fall towards the pool again. It wouldn't matter if I let go or not— he grabbed my wrist with a death grip before I even knew what was happening.
Bubbles float from my nose as I crash underwater. Beyond the sound of water rushing in my ears, I hear that son of a bitchs' laughter.
He might be a bitch, but he's a fucking smart one. When I resurface, he's already swimming towards the other side of the pool with a big smile on his face, giggling like a child.
"You whore!" I yell after him and give chase. It's hard to pretend to be mad with him giggling like that.
"I prefer the words, awe-inspiring, breathtaking, delightful..."
His rambling turns into more laughter, until I launch myself at him and tackle him under the water. We wrestle for a moment, a tangle of arms and legs, both trying to get the upper hand.
Then, Miles, always the master of getting out of trouble, manages to grab my head and give me a kiss.
The fight drains out of me as fast as it burned.
And just like that, the rest of the world and it's problems are forgotten.