Rules Of The Game: Book 1

38; Showers Aren't Just For Concerts

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

The end of the week comes much faster than I expect it to. Greyson has been pushing our team night and day to the point where we've been meeting him at the gym first thing in the morning for drills, and then after school, he keeps us for an extra hour after practice is supposed to end.

I get that he's nervous about the state game and trying to cram in as much practice for us as he can, but it seems overkill.

This group of boys couldn't be more prepared than we already are. Besides, I've barely had time for Miles at all this week other than quick hangouts around our friends. This probably isn't the week to complain to Greyson about practice and my love life. In 24 hours, the season will be over.

"God, time flies," I grumble to myself and shove the foyer door shut with my shoulder, dumping my gear bag on the floor. Greyson promised that we would all be home at a decent time tonight so that we could be ready for the drive to Fresno tomorrow.

Yet, we still got out thirty minutes late, and it's now eight at night.

I kick off my shoes and shuffle to the living room. Mom looks up from her spot on the couch, nestled next to my dad, and smiles.

"Hey, honey. How was your last practice as a junior?" She asks.

"Hell." I snort. "It went by too fast but also too slow. Greyson had us run the same drills so many times that I could probably do them with my eyes closed tomorrow during the game."

Dad grins and shakes the TV remote at me. "I would like to see you try that!"

I roll my eyes and walk past the couches to the kitchen. "Relax, I wasn't serious. Is there food somewhere?"

"Yes, I left dinner in the microwave for you. Does it feel weird to be done?" Mom asks more questions.

I practically leap to the microwave and punch the numbers to warm up my food. "Kinda. I'll miss it for a while, but I'm also ready for the break. If I know Greyson as I do, he'll have me enrolled in all sorts of camps and shit until the next season starts. He won't let me sit and get stale, so I know I'm not genuinely done for the year."

My mom hums in agreement. "Speaking of that, you have paperwork to fill out for a weekend camp in January. It's in San Diego, at the State University. I'm pretty sure it's the team, the Aztecs? Does that ring a bell?"

The microwave beeps, and I pull out my plate, nudging the door shut. "Yeah, it does. Remind me again on Sunday. I'll fill it out then."

I put an end to the conversation by walking to the kitchen table and taking a seat. No hate to my mom. The only thing is my rope is frayed, and I need some peace. I don't want to even think about football until tomorrow when I'm pulling my helmet on.

As I shovel this casserole into my mouth, I pull out my phone and dig up my messages to Miles. If there's one person on Earth that can distract me, this is the one.

Hey stranger, I am finally done
with the hell show. I've missed
spending time with you, can you come over?

I pause and think before adding, Maybe we can have that sleepover. You can ride w us to the game tomorrow.

My heart hammers as I turn my phone off. It's difficult not to stare at the screen as I wait for his reply. This casserole suddenly starts to taste dry with each passing second. That is until Miles texts me back. I almost send my phone flying off the table because I grab it so fast, clicking the notification.