Rules Of The Game: Book 1

20; POV: You Sleep With Your Crush

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟹𝚛𝚍, 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

After I drag Miles out of the beach house, like literally drag, and get him buckled up in my car, I hop in and buckle myself.

"Okay, do you remember your address?" I ask and look over at him as I push the start button on my vehicle. There was that one day when I followed him home after meeting at the car part store, but I don't remember the exact location.

Miles hums thoughtfully and runs a hand over the leather seat. "Nope. Not really."

This is exactly what I need to be doing at 11pm: driving around town on a wild goose chase.

Slowly, I inhale and stay patient with him. I'm secretly glad for the excuse to ditch that party, anyway.

"Okay, that's fine. What are the landmarks around it again? Is it near any stores?"

"Uhhh... Yeah, you know the Corner-Mart? The mart that sits on the corner by the tree?"

"Yep, I do. That's all I need. Hang on tight." I smile when he grabs the door of the car with white knuckles, although it's hard to fully appreciate the irony of him holding on for dear life this time around as I start to drive in that direction.

That little market is tucked away on the other side of town, right in the center of the... Unprivileged folks. I don't want to assume that anyone's poor in that area by any means, yet I won't deny that that neighborhood is a far crying difference from mine.

Miles leans forward to look out of the side mirror, watching the party behind us get smaller and further away. Once it's out of sight, he sighs and leans back in his seat.

I risk taking my eyes off the road to look at him. "What's up? Are you still feeling okay? Or are you going to be sick again?"

He wrinkles his nose. "Whoa, 21 questions! Relax, I'm hanging out. I have nothing left to puke up anyway, except my spleen. Don't ever mix your alcohol, man."

My stomach hurts from thinking about consuming as much alcohol as he did. Plus, after watching him get sick like that? Yeah, I'm good waiting until I'm of age.

"Weren't you the one who promised me that you don't mix your alcohol?"

"Did I? Huh, doesn't sound like me. Must've been your imagination." Miles turns his head to grin at me, his eyes gleaming from the passing streetlights behind the drunken haze he's in.

"Bullshit. You can't talk back against the sober guy. I have all sorts of things that I can hold against you now." I laugh as his words from earlier come back to me. Except so do his actions.

The feeling of his silky curls are imprinted into my hands. I can almost feel the weight of his head in my lap as I drive, how his chest rasped against my legs with each breath.

For the second time tonight, I get an unintentional boner from thinking about it. Fuck. There's no hiding this one this time-- all I can do is hope that the darkness will conceal me as we leave the town, and the bright streetlights, behind us.

"You talk pretty big for a short guy," Miles replies, holding up his index finger and thumb in case I missed his point.

"Buzz off, I'm not short! I'm almost six feet tall, dude. You're the fucking Green Bean Giant guy that's on the bags of frozen vegetables!" I joke and rest my left elbow up on the windowsill of my car to feign relaxation.