Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Chapter 8: Fresh Meat

𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚎 𝟸𝟶𝚝𝚑
Parker POV

Hey what are you
doing this weekend?
...
Miles Miles Miles
Hellooooo??
Are you upside down in
a ditch somewhere??

Five recent texts sit vacant on my phone, unread and presumably unopened, considering that Miles hasn't answered me yet. Usually, he's great at replying almost immediately, no matter the time of day. I've been checking the text message chat every minute for the past half hour, and it's still the same result.

The tires on the car bump against the curb of the parking lot as I turn into the diner and recheck my phone simultaneously. I swerve to dodge an SUV barreling around the corner as I turn in, hardly giving it a passing glance as I read the time stamp of the texts.

"Still nothing? Really, Miles?" I ask out loud to the empty passenger seat as I pull into the nearest parking space.

I started to feel like something was out of order a few days ago when I tried calling Miles, only to get sent straight to his voicemail. Later, he called me back, all out of sorts as he quickly buzzed through our conversation just to practically hang up on me. I did my best to brush his behavior off until the next day when he said he didn't have time to talk.

And he always makes time to talk.

There's nothing worse than sounding like a big baby, but Miles knows how much it means to me to be able to catch up every day, even for a minute. Or, at the very least, he would try to make it up to me. Instead all I've been getting is slow replies, and his answers are dry as hell when he does reply.

His weird behavior is starting to give me ulcers. If he breaks up with me a few days before my birthday, I would drive down to the Golden Gate Bridge and jump off.

"Pull yourself together, man," I grumble to myself as I turn off the engine and grab my wallet before getting out of the car. It chirps, and the lights flash as I walk away, stuffing my hands in my gym shorts.

Yeah, that's right. My goddamn gym shorts. This diner food is my reward for going to the gym and working out five days in a row.

Partially also because both of my parents are gone tonight, and mom hasn't gone shopping in a while, so I need to eat something. I haven't eaten anything in nearly a full day, and my stomach is starting to retaliate.

My legs retaliate as well, cramping up as I raise my knees to walk up the steps to the diner. I wince at the fresh pain and internally curse my uncle for forcing me back into this lifestyle against my will.

Thinking about Greyson and how he's quite literally demanding I get my life back together almost makes me break out in hives. It's ridiculous that he can't leave well enough alone and accept that I'm not the best choice for this path anymore—especially not when he has a son that's perfectly capable of doing the same thing.

If I had to guess, Greyson is pushing me so hard because I've already got my name in the lights. I am, was, whatever, the poster child for high school quarterbacks in the nation. He worked damn hard to get my name out there over the past four years, and he probably knows it's too late to advertise Griffin.

Besides, I will never admit this to Greyson, but going to the gym daily has made me feel better. I'll be honest; I've definitely showered more in the past week than I have in the past two months.