Breaking The Rules: Book 2

Prologue

𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟺𝚝𝚑, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸
𝟷𝟶 𝚈𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙴𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛
Griffin POV

"Get the ball, boys! Keep your eyes up!"

Dad hollers at Parker and me as we run under the shadow of the football, our giggles strained with each step. Parker jostles me as I squeeze past him, our elbows knocking together.

My fingers brush against the foam football at the last second, and I latch onto it like a fish on a hook, an umph! bursting from my mouth as I leap off the edge of the pool and into the water. Bubbles go up my nose. Parker dives after me, and we wrestle underwater for a moment, water pressing on my ears and deafening the sound of the party above.

I tuck the ball under my arm and kick him away, being careful to avoid connecting my foot against his head this time. The force from my feet pushes me above the waves, and I gasp for air, paddling over to the edge and grabbing the hot cement. Pool water slides off my body as I pull myself out.

"I got it!" I shout victoriously and take out the football from under my arm. Grinning, I hold it up as the football players do on TV after catching a winning touchdown.

"Nice job Grif!" Dad praises and claps his hands before opening his palms up. "Throw it back this way."

Water drains from the football and runs down my arm as I throw it back to my dad. The foam is slippery, and I'm tired from playing this game over the past hour, so the ball lands a few feet short of my dad. Disappoint flits across his face. It's weird because I've been throwing the ball today exactly how he's been teaching me all year long.

"That was a foul play!" Roselyn shouts from where she's sitting in a lawn chair over by my mom, red sunglasses perched on her nose and a small glass of iced tea with an umbrella in her hand. "Griffin pushed him! Parker almost caught it!"

"Roselyn, shut up!" I holler back at her, a weird weight sinking in my tummy. She has been pointing out many of my mistakes recently, and every time it happens, I don't feel good inside.

Besides, she's not the one out here training to be in the NFL like dad was. One of us has to follow in his footsteps.

"Griffin Reed Miller! Watch your mouth, please!" My mom scolds and tucks dark red pieces of hair behind her ears before picking up her drink and muttering, "These children...," followed by taking a long sip.

Uncle Emmett chuckles and opens up the lid on the grill, the smell of roasting hot dogs and chicken making my mouth water. "Those two are definitely your guys' children."

"You and Quinn just got lucky. Parker is a saint, especially compared to my son," mom replies and sets down her glass on the table with a loud clink.

Parker pulls himself out of the pool next to me, the sound of water hitting the concrete drowning out the rest of their conversation. I turn away from the adults of the party, my skin hot with embarrassment.

If dad hears their conversation, he doesn't comment on it as he squeezes the rest of the moisture out of the football and shakes it at us. "One more throw before we eat?"

"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!" Parker hops forward with each excited yell, his eyes glimmering with excitement.

I shake the water out of my hair as I follow my cousin, a little less enthusiastically, until the thought of one more race puts a pep in my step. This is my last chance.