Rules Of The Game: Book 1

2; Extending An Invitation

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝚜𝚝, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parker's POV

I grab the edge of the lunch table and look behind my shoulder so fast that my water bottle tumbles onto the floor with a loud clang.

Atlas, one of the guards on my football team that's more solid muscle rather than bulk, grumbles under his breath as the bottle falls next to his feet. He leans down to pick up the bottle for me, his unruly black hair flopping over his eyes.

I mutter a thank you, but Griffins' comment overpowers my words.

"Good lord, he's black too? That kid is seriously asking for it," Griffin objects as he strains to see Miles more clearly.

Rose gasps, leaning over the tabletop to smack her fraternal twin brother with a ziplock bag full of pretzel sticks. "Griffin Reed Miller! That is not okay to say!'

Griffin bristles and smacks Roses pretzels away, except he's too slow and swats at the air. "What? Because I'm speaking facts?" He looks over his shoulder again, sparing the kid one more glance. "He's walking into the lion's den by going here and saying shit like that."

Hannah tucks her hair behind her ear with one hand while stabbing a fork into her salad with the other. "He probably didn't have the option to hand-pick what school he attended."

I could almost hug Hannah for standing up to Griffin, except he can't, won't, accept defeat and admit that she's right. "Do you think his parents put those words in his mouth, too, huh? He had the option to keep that gayness to himself. Seriously, how hard can it be..."

As I watch Miles walk closer to the lunch tables, everyone's bickering turns into background noise. His presence is like a magnet since he's so new, although his famous speech isn't exactly chalking him down as a celebrity.

This time, a different energy hovers over the room. Rather than feeling like anticipation as it was earlier, it feels like judgement.

Every single empathetic string in my heart tugs for Miles. I recognize the way he's holding his shoulders back too tightly with his chin too high. His thumbs are tucked into his pockets like he's trying to convince the prying eyes that he's totally at ease. It's a stance that I'm too familiar with.

Miles scans the bustling lunch room, his eyes bouncing from person to person, taking in all the unfamiliar faces. I can see the gears turning in his head from where we sit. It doesn't appear that he's nervous or fearful of meeting people. He simply looks tired.

Rose must be picking up the same vibe as she sips her vitamin water and sets it down, clearing her throat. "I feel kinda bad for him. Should we invite him over—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

Heat lights up under my skin as I turn to look at Griffin. His face is steely, brown eyes as hard as rocks. I know that it's pointless to even bother arguing; however, he's really starting to piss me off— more than usual.

"Dude, what's your problem?" I demand, crunching up the empty sandwich bag in my fist.

Griffin shoots his signature glare at me, his jaw tight. "I don't want to be associated with a queer." He spits the word out like a cherry pit.
"That would wreck our entire fucking reputation. Let him dig his own grave and die alone in it."