A Hater's Gamble (BxB)

THIRTEEN

"Lost in your current like a priceless wine."

M I L E S

'1343 Spartan Creek St. Spring Valley, 1097.'

Jake texted me the address to where we were supposed to meet. I looked it up, and with surprise, I realized it was an art museum.

An art museum?

I took a bite of my apple as I contemplated whether or not I should cancel. It wouldn't be out of lack of interest, it would be because my guts felt like they were having a screaming match with each other. My leg was bouncing uncontrollably and my head was pounding again.

I mentally scolded myself for allowing myself to be...nervous. It wasn't a date. I...I didn't want it to be. Friends.

One thing that made me much happier was that Liam would be sour today after the tantrum he threw yesterday when I told him I was ditching him for Jake. Good. Let him feel anything other than superiority for once. I had still messaged him some review material. If I hadn't, that'd make me an incompetent tutor.

You already are an incompetent tutor. You're ditching Li—.

"Miles?," my mother croaked as she entered the kitchen. Her eyes were blood-shot and her aging auburn hair was in a loose bun. "What are you doing up so early?"

Early.

Early.

It wasn't early. It was ten-thirty in the morning. Hardly early. Who knew where she'd been last night. That wasn't what I told her, though.

My mother eyed the counter expectantly and her eyes lit up when she spotted the envelop of money that I had left the night before.

"Are you feeling okay?," I asked, looking past the delight in her eyes.

She smiled, it wasn't warm. "Now I am, son," she said, holding up the envelope. "Make sure to bring twice as much of this tonight."

That was her departing statement as she slugged her way upstairs and shut the door behind her. Half the time I didn't know where she was, even if she claimed she was a hairdresser. For a while I believed she spent the hours of the day styling hair, but the more time went on, it didn't seem like reasonable logic.

Since the start of freshman year, there was never a 'Are you doing okay, Miles?' or a 'Do you need anything for school, Miles?' or even a 'How did you get those bruises, son?'

It used to make me ill with grief, but now, I accepted that my mother depended on me and that I was never again to depend on her. She was unstable, and she may have had a psychological disorder or two...but she was my mother. The first person who ever loved me. I would always help her.

I shook those thoughts out of my head and threw my apple away. With a lump in my throat, I freshened up in my bedroom and pulled on my favorite black jeans with my dull red sweatshirt.

Ridgeview High colors.

Jake was going to have a laugh.

It was now eleven o' clock and I ran a hand through my dark hair. Good enough, I thought as I took one final look in the mirror.