Rules Of The Game: Book 1

5; I'd Crash My Car For You

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parker's POV

The following morning I wake up feeling groggy, like an 18-wheeler had run me over the night before.

I groan and kick my feet to loosen the sheets wrapped around my legs. I collapsed into a dead sleep last night, although my anxiety must have kept me moving around.

My back aches as I adjust to lay flat. I shut my eyes against the hazy sunlight streaming through my blinds and rub my eyes with my palms until I see stars. Generally, I would be on the move to go for a run by now, except that was before Miles annihilated me last night.

Today's schedule looks more like a soak in the tub and a handful of painkillers.

Making a mental note to give him shit for this on Monday, I inhale sharply as I throw the comforter back and climb on my feet. I stretch slowly and sigh as my spine pops.

My legs are heavy as I stagger over to the bathroom that connects directly to my bedroom. I smack my hand against the light switch and squint as the lights beam down full force. I'm quick to adjust the lighting to a soft glow before going in and handling my business.

I grab a washcloth afterward to wash my face. I glance at my reflection as I run the cloth under the warm water. Tired green eyes peer back at me, made more prominent by the dark bags under my lashes. My skin seems to have lost its tan overnight. I look like a northerner stuck in the middle of winter.

Exhaling softly through my lips, I look away and squeeze the excess water from the cloth, running it over my face. The events from last night will plague me for the rest of the day. It's made even more obvious with the growing discomfort in my joints. Greyson would be beyond pissed if I had to miss practice tomorrow because I'm too sore to function.

The drawer in my vanity sticks as I yank it open, pawing through old prescriptions, new and outdated vitamins, and empty moisturizer containers.

"Where in the world..." I mumble under my breath and grab the Aleve bottle tucked in the back of the drawer, giving it a good shake. Empty. "Shit."

It wasn't on my agenda to go to the store today. However, I'll have to if I want to play football tomorrow.

The urge to eat hits me first, so I leave my bedroom after I am done in the bathroom. Glancing to the right, my parent's bedroom door sits open at the end of the hall. They must either be downstairs or out running errands.

I drag my feet over to the staircase and follow the spiral to the living room. Sunlight from the large windows that line the main living room light up the entire space. I narrow my eyes against the brightness as I shuffle over to the kitchen.

My mom sits at the island, her unnatural, dyed blonde hair covering her shoulders, sipping her morning tea as she reads the latest news on her phone. She looks over her shoulder hearing my socks scuffle the ground and smiles at me.

"Good morning! You slept in late... and you look terrible! Did you get any rest last night?" she asks, sitting up straighter in worry.

I nod and grab an orange from the fruit basket before going to the garbage. Resting my foot on the pedal to open the lid, I start skinning the fruit.

"Yeah, I slept great, believe it or not," I reply and grimace as my morning voice cracks.

She scowls and eyes me, looking for any cracks or signs of a lie in my body language. It's a therapist thing that she does.