Rules Of The Game: Book 1

42; The Shit Hits The Fan

𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟼𝚝𝚑, 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢
𝟷𝟸 𝙳𝚊𝚢𝚜
Miles POV

Driving back home by myself on Friday night was one of the worst fucking things I've ever done.

I couldn't stop thinking about how Parker looked at me. It was terrifying to see that look of pure hatred, fear, and anguish on his face. Honestly, I couldn't tell if he was going to punch my lights out or break down into a puddle of misery.

By the time I got home that night, I felt like I was going to do both.

It didn't help that when I walked back inside my house, the first thing mom asked was, He's such a nice boy. Why didn't you trust to tell him?

Two nights later, I'm still trying to figure that out.

I have no excuses for keeping that secret except for my fear of losing our relationship. There is no denying the connection between Parker and me. I know that for a fact.

Unfortunately, I also know that Parker flips his shit each time an ounce of strain is applied to that connection.

Since I have to move out of the country, it's safe to assume that's quite a bit of strain.

"God damn, this sucks!" I hiss in annoyance as I try texting Parker again. He's been ignoring my attempts to get in touch all day long. I wouldn't be surprised if this is his way of getting back at me since I played this game with him when we first dated. This is not the game I want to be playing on our first day of Christmas break.

At least he had enough decency to text me a few words yesterday morning to ease my anxiety.

I need to process.
Plz leave me alone today.

So, I left Parker alone. Until today, now that it's been twenty-four hours, and I'm getting nothing from him but silence. Our relationship has a fucking timer on it, and he still chooses to ignore me.

Yes, I get that it sucks major ass to know that our time together is limited, but wouldn't that also spur him to come back to me?

"That son of a bitch," I mumble and roll out of bed. Parker might want to pretend that I don't exist right now, except I don't feel the same way. I've got to go see him and explain myself.

Grabbing my car keys, I check my phone one more time before I leave my room. Nada. Nothing. Shit.

I grind my teeth and slip on a pair of sandals before leaving the house, locking the door behind me. It's no surprise that I'm home alone today. The only shocker is that my mom isn't at work; she gets to spend most of the day down at the courthouse scribbling on paperwork.

We will be doing a lot of that over these next few months.

As I get in my car and start the engine, my entire body convulses in a barely-contained panic attack. Just the thought of what I will have to endure these next few weeks makes me want to drive my car off the Golden Gate Bridge. I'd rather fucking drown in the Pacific Ocean than move forward with a life where I have to leave Parker to deal with my deadbeat dad.

Correction: deal with my homophobic, abusive, drug-dealing, gang-banging, rotten excuse for a father that nearly put a bullet between my eyes.