Rules Of The Game: Book 1

39; A Revealed Secret & A Hidden Secret

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑, 𝚂𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

I wish I could say that Miles and I finished our shower and went to sleep at a decent time last night, as my parents requested, but truth be told, it was impossible to settle down after we dried off.

So, we thought we would be better off after going again on the bathroom counter. That hardly did anything except get us more amped up until after round three in bed, when we finally passed out and ran out of teenage-fueled testosterone.

It explains why on Saturday morning, after getting four hours of sleep and having three rounds of various sex, I wake up feeling like I got hit by a bus.

Don't get me wrong; it was a party bus that gave me the time of my life while hitting me, however, I feel genuinely annihilated.

Inhaling sleepily, I stretch slowly as I wake up because every single muscle is so sore.

Like, every muscle.

Miles shifts when my feet graze his shins as I stretch out. He nuzzles up closer from where he's spooning behind me, his head tucked behind my neck.

Slowly picking up my hand, I rub away the sleep crusties on my eyes before blinking them open. Early morning sun rays are starting to brush against my blinds, but my room itself is still dark.

Fuck my internal clock, I curse to myself and shut my eyes again. It's too early to wake up already, especially after the night we had.

It's instinct to lean back into Miles and press against his warm skin as I fade back to oblivion. His hand tightens on my abdomen, pulling me closer to himself in his sleep. Content, I sigh quietly when he presses up against me. I don't know why we haven't slept naked together before because it's an entirely different experience.

His quiet snores slowly guide me back to sleep. There can't be anything better than this. Not even getting the top spot on the football team—

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

Today is the state game.

Suddenly I'm wide awake. My eyes fly open, and I sit up, the tendons in my back lighting on fire. Even my fucking thighs and legs burn, worse than the time Greyson had me doing HIIT workouts every day for a month.

I groan in pain but push through and lean over to grab my phone. Tapping on the screen, the time lights up. 5:37.

"Good lord," I mumble and slowly lay back down.

Miles inhales tiredly and rolls onto his back, his snores tapering into deep breaths. He looks serene and enticing, like some of the Greek statues we had to study in art class last year. The Greeks would have gone crazy over his body and built statues in his resemblance.

As much as I want to take my time waking up this morning, I don't get that luxury. We need to be on the road in nearly forty minutes, and neither of us has clothes on.

Instead of shaking Miles awake, I roll over and bump up close to him. He doesn't even shift, his breathing steady.

I chew my cheek for a moment and observe his face, noticing how his ink-black eyelashes flutter with each breath and how his perfect lips are gently split open. It's incredible how his facial features tie together so seamlessly, so perfectly. I've never understood how parents could rave about their babies being perfect, but I think I'm starting to get it. There's not a single atom in this boy that I would change.