Rules Of The Game: Book 1

45; Waiting...

D̸e̸c̸e̸m̸b̸e̸r̸ 1̸8̸t̸h̸,̸ S̸a̸t̸u̸r̸d̸a̸y̸
i̸ w̸o̸n̸'̸t̸ b̸e̸l̸i̸e̸v̸e̸ i̸t̸
Parker POV

Miles and I don't return to my house after leaving his.

I didn't even have to ask him to take the long way home— he just knows. Seriously, I'm not joking when I say he can read my mind. We drive around the city, following a road that stretches along the coast.

The sun is finishing its descent under the horizon, and San Francisco is illuminated toward the east. As the sky darkens from navy blue to a deep purple, more and more lights flicker on. Life is continuing to happen, even if mine is stopping.

"How are you doing?"

I jump, stolen away from my thoughts. Miles takes his eyes off the highway to look over at me for a moment, his face contoured with a deep sadness. He's been trying to hide that look for the past two weeks, even though it's always there, under the surface.

"I'm doing as good as you can expect," I respond and look back out the window. Suddenly, the air from the car vents feels stale. My lungs squeeze in panic, and I frantically push my finger on the window button. The window rolls down, and cold, fresh air hits my face. I shut my eyes, turning towards the wind.

Another car whisks by with a loud thrmmmm.

"No, I know that. It's not a secret that this situation is killing us. I want to know how you're really doing now that it's almost Sunday," Miles pushes softly.

Now that our time is almost up. He doesn't need to say the words. I can read his mind, too.

Slowly, I inhale and ground myself at the smell of saltwater from the ocean. It's hard to put a finger on what I'm feeling exactly. I've been playing emotional whack-a-mole so much recently that I haven't bothered letting myself feel any emotion besides sadness.

That's why I stay quiet for a minute, letting the wind run through my hair.

"... Parker?"

I don't even want to think about how I'm doing. Although, as he says my name, one of my dumb emotions pops out of its hiding hole. Anguish bursts through my body as I'm hit with the thought that I'll never hear my name from his lips again one day, sooner than later.

My chest rattles as I inhale again. "It wasn't supposed to end like this."

"I know, baby. I know," Miles mumbles and reaches over, his hand rubbing my knee.

We've been dating for months, and still, his touch drives me crazy and calms me down in one fell swoop. I reach down and grab his hand, my fingers shaking as I bring his knuckles to my lips and press a warm kiss to his skin.

We drive in silence the rest of the way home, the city lights twinkling through the windshield. It's a depressing reminder that no matter where we go from here, life will keep moving on.

- - -

I keep my emotions bottled long enough to stay dry-eyed as Miles pulls into the driveway. My brain is either empty or moving so fast that I can't focus on a single thought.

Somehow, I make it through the front door. I try to imprint the sight of his shoes next to mine before we head upstairs, his hand on my back. Neither of us speaks as I shut my bedroom door.