Rules Of The Game: Book 1

23; Not The First Date I Pictured

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸𝟿𝚝𝚑, 𝙵𝚛𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢
Parkers POV

Hannah's hand lands on my forearm and squeezes appreciatively as I pull the chair out for her. "Wow, Parker, you outdid yourself with this restaurant! How do you know about this place?"

My ears ring with the superficial way she says my name, so hurried that I hardly hear the vowels. Still, I put on my best smile as I walk around the table and remind myself: you wanted this.

"My parents. They brought me here after I won my first awards at the football banquet as a freshman. It's kind of a hole-in-the-wall place. In all my years of living here, I didn't know about it until that night," I explain as I pull out the chair across from Hannah and sit down.

There's no other way to describe this location. Thousands of people drive past this restaurant daily because it's tucked a few blocks away from the main road. It's high enough on the hill to have a perfect view of San Francisco sprinkled beneath us, with the ocean lolling in the distance. The sun is slowly starting to set, setting the city ablaze.

I know I should be enjoying this moment, but I'm not. My stomach is tighter than a knot as I look over the cocktail menu I'm too young to order from, desperate for any excuse to keep my eyes down.

I bet if Miles was here with me instead, he could get away with ordering something off this menu. I would probably be having more fun with him too.

"You got that right!" Hannah laughs and brings me back to reality. "I always drive on the same streets, so I never would've thought or known of this place."

The menu clatters as I set it back in place, and I make myself look her in the eyes, my smile taunt. "Well, now you do."

Before we can keep droning on and on about this place, the waiter whisks by to drop off the food menus and take our drink order. I have to double-take and blink sharply to make sure I'm seeing straight.

The waiter is a tall, dark-skinned boy who expands the balloon in my chest by looking at him. One of the only reasons I know it's not Miles is the hair; rather than intricate braids, this boy has his buzzed. And he's missing that sultry accent. I can't recall if I even said what I want to drink. A gallon of water would be nice to wet my dry throat.

"...otherwise, pop makes my stomach bloat too much. Isn't that weird?" Hannah asks.

My eyes snap away from the retreating waiter and back at Hannah's face. It's sad how these darker boys don't need a dab of makeup to look so fine, yet she caked her face with the stuff, and my heart still doesn't pound in her presence.

I swallow. "That is weird."

"Right? Anyway, do you have any plans for Halloween?" Hannah tucks long, stray pieces of hair behind her ears. She drags her fingers down the strands to lay them over the top of her dress that plunges dangerously low between her boobs. Quickly, she plays it off by dropping her hands to pick up the food menu.

Seriously, the amount of trust she has in these outfits to hold her boobs in is almost impressive.

"Um..." I grab my menu and scan it as another excuse not to look at her. It's unbelievable that I couldn't wait to hang around her a few days ago, but now that we're here, I can't wait to get away. "I do."