I am halfway to the diner when my phone starts blaring. Harry's name comes up on the caller ID. I sigh - chances are that Whittney is with him.

The three of us had been inseparable ever since middle school, but recently I have been hanging out with them less and less. They aren't in the same social circle anymore.

Harry had stopped being friends with my crowd when he started to keep more to himself. It didn't take long before he started dropping all his extracurricular activities, like swimming and cross country, mostly due to how severe his Asthma has gotten. This really distanced him from all his friends - Rodney holding the biggest grudge. When I first met the two of them, they seemed close, but they fell out soon after Harry quit doing sports.

Even though he isn't popular among my group of friends anymore, that doesn't change his place at my side. He is one of the nicest guys I know, and it would be foolish to abandon him like the rest did. All he needs is a little nudge out his shell every once and awhile.

Of course, Whittney is a different story. He is the very definition of the guy on the wrong side of the tracks. His older brother Jeremy is a dick, so it doesn't surprise me that he's been following in his footsteps. Rumors even started going around a little while ago that Whittney was dealing for his brother around school.

He always denies the accusations when I ask him, making the chasm wedged between us as friends even wider, since I know he's lying.

I answer, putting the phone on speaker.

"Hey, Harry. What's up?" I ask, putting my foot down on the break for an upcoming red light.

"Well, Whittney and I were wondering if you were doing anything, um-" Harry is cut off by Whittney's voice. He must have taken the phone right from his hand.

"Dude, where the fuck are you?"

I roll my eyes - typical Whittney.

They always seem to call right when I am on my way to hang out with my other group of friends. "I'm on my way to the diner, like every day before a big game."

"You can't skip it once? My brother forgot a few ounces at home," Whittney says, as if this would change my mind. Weed is not something I have any interest in these days.

All my addictions had gotten me into a lot of trouble in the past, and I promised Sabrina I would be better.

"That's an even better reason not to come over," I say, a sigh escaping me when I hear cussing in the background. "Come on, Whitt. You know how busy I am during football season."

"Yeah, whatever asshole." With that, he hangs up.

I don't feel bad for making Whittney upset. He's been getting mad over the smallest things lately, and I can't help him if he never tells me what's going on.

When I pull into Jack and Jill's Diner, I push all my thoughts aside and put the car in park. After getting out, I see Bradley walking towards the diner.

"Brad," I yell to him after locking the car door. "Wait up!"

He waits as I catch up to him. I'm not as close with Bradley as I am with Rodney, but we still get along pretty well.

"Hey man." He greets me with a smile.

"Any idea what Rodney has planned for tonight?" I ask, curious as usual.

"Just because I'm his cousin doesn't mean I know everything," Bradley explains. He opens the door of the restaurant and I follow right behind him. "He doesn't even tell his little brother Joey anything. But, knowing Rodney, I'd prepare myself to do something incredibly immature and stupid."

I smirk. "Immaturity and stupidity are a couple of my favorite things."

Brad laughs, shaking his head. "I'd keep your sarcasm on the down low," he warns. "Rodney's really excited about the whole thing."

"Should I be worried?"

"It's Rodney." That's all the reassurance I need to know we are in for one heck of a night.

Most of the team is already sitting at a group of small tables pushed together to make a longer one. Brad and I take our usual seats while we wait for Rodney, the team captain, to start whatever mini speech he had prepared this week.

"Almost everyone is here, so let us begin," he addresses the group. "As you all may have heard, a very important scout is coming to watch me play at the game tomorrow." The team cheers for Rodney, but he silences the applause, even is enjoying it. "Okay. Okay, calm down. Of course, we are playing one of the state's best teams tomorrow, the Crossfield's Timberwolves."

'Boos' come from the tables and I can see a waitress, who I recognize from school, roll her eyes at us. I know her face well, but I can't put a name to it.

"Which is why we are paying them a little visit tonight, showing them who's boss." He doesn't go any further into detail. All he does is place a roll of toilet paper on the table next to his tray, and the team whoops in excitement.

Bradley and I exchange amused glances. It is just as we predicted - we are going to be doing something immature and stupid.

Rodney also proposes that we go to our rival school, Rodnick, and graffiti their team captain's car, but no one is willing to get caught for that one. I've had my fair share with dealing with the police in the past, and I wasn't about to get back on their radar. It's also not worth how angry my father would be if anything like that reached his attention, and since I'm his son, no doubt the stunt would reach the papers or social media.

Andrew Griffin is a person of interest when it comes to the news. People always want the latest scoop on him and our family's life, and if the wrong thing is to come up, I would surely not get off easy.

My father isn't a celebrity, or a senator, or anything, but he does hold a lot of power in the community. He owns most of the business in this area, so our family is very well off. Being the son of a millionaire isn't all fun and games, especially being the son of Griffin Corporation's CEO.

When I notice the waitress smiling down at me, my thoughts are scrambled and thrown away. Her smile is bright, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Apparently, having to wait on a table of childish football players is not something she has the patience for tonight.

"I'll just have number four, please." Every week I always get the same. The grilled chicken with a side of curly fries and a chocolate milkshake. This is the only time I can stray from my strict diet plan I've self-enforced, so I take advantage.

She nods and takes note of my order.

It's Brett's turn to order, and as always, he makes an impression. "I'll have fries and a side of you," Brett says, winking. The cheesiness of his pick-up lines know no bounds.

"Oh, Brett," she sighs, her smile now turning into an amused smirk. "I'm afraid I'm out of your price range."

The whole team bursts into laughter, and besides the blush that coats Brett's cheeks, he doesn't seem too bothered by her joke.

"If that'll be all, your food will be ready in just a few!" She clicks her pen and sends the whole table a satisfied grin before heading back to the kitchen.

"I think I'm in love." Brett's eyes trail her all the way there until she disappears behind the doors.

"Good luck with that, man." Cole is still laughing quietly to himself from what she said.

After we all get our food, Brett's grin widens more than ever. The girl must have thought the pick up line was better than she let on, because her name and number were left in the corner of his napkin. He fist pumps the air, not at all modest about what just happened.

I can hear Candice giggle as she walks away. It's surprising how many beautiful girls you miss at school when you're only looking at one for such a painfully long time.

When every mouth has been fed, we are ready to spring into action. This is definitely going to be one hell of a night.

Quietly, I close the door behind me. Sneaking past my father's study is usually easy, but tonight he is on high alert.

"It's a quarter til one." I stop in my tracks when his voice drills into my ears.

"I was out with the guys. Lost track of time." My tone is tense, like it always is when I speak with him.

He turns his chair so that he can face me. Those dark brown eyes bore into my own as he tears me apart with his gaze. "Correct me if I'm wrong," he says, standing up. "But I could have sworn that tonight was a school night."

"It is," I say warily, fearing where this is going.

"What happened to our school night agreement? No later than midnight. I don't know why I keep on having to remind you every time. Maybe I'm not being clear enough." He is distracted by the state of my shoes. Noticing the mud covering them, he scowls in aggravation. "What were you even doing out past curfew?"

There's no point in lying to him, but I try to be vague. "I was just out. You know messing around with the guys."

The arrogant man in front of me with his arms crossed doesn't look convinced. "Yeah, and what exactly were you and the guys doing that could get your shoes so dirty?"

A shaky breath leaves me as I prepare to tell him the full truth. "We were teepeeing the Timberwolves high school."

"Are you out of your mind?" His tone shook every nerve in my body, making my heart beat faster with every passing moment. Noticing the way I flinch when he steps forward, Andrew sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stands there for a few second before letting out a frustrated grunt. "I can't deal with your thoughtless actions right now. Go to bed."

My father waves me off, and I take my chance to get away without hesitation.

Before I'm out of hearing distance, he speaks up once more. "If I find out that this catches the attention of anyone, I won't be so understanding."

I only nod as I leave for my room. Once I close the basement door behind me, I can finally take a steady breath again. Leaning my head back, I rest it against the door and close my eyes.

Luckily, I don't have to sit through a whole lecture given to me exclusively in yells. If there is something that my father is good at, it's lacing every word with venom that slowly eats away at me. Even after he's finished, the words haunt me long after they're spoken.

Sometimes I wish I didn't share such a resemblance with my father. Both of us had the same dark-chocolate brown hair, our eyes were the same warm hazel that turn cold while angry. Andrew's cheekbones, like mine, are visible, but not prominent. Also, our heads have almost an identical shape, as well as our noses, except his is more narrow than mine.

Walking down the stairs, I can feel sleep start to take over me. Soon I will be lying in bed, my comforter wrapped around my body like a cocoon.

Some people aren't a fan of having a room in the basement, but I've always loved it. I get so much more privacy down here. Since I chose against using any of the upstairs bedrooms, my parents had the whole top floor fashioned into an even bigger Master bedroom. The top floor has the least square footage in the whole house, so it worked out perfectly.

When I reach the bottom step, the first room I walk by is the home theater room. This is where all my video game systems are set up, and where I usually throw my Superbowl parties. If friends come over, this is usually where we'd be.

There is a full sized kitchen down here, as well as a wet bar. All cupboards are stocked with food, the fridge too, making it easy to hide out down here away from my parents even easier.

I reach my room, but there are more rooms further down. The whole family is obsessed with being in shape, so we have a whole workout room set up with all sorts of fitness equipment. For me, that equipment consists mostly of boxing stuff. My punching bag comes in handy the day of a big game, but has also served its purpose when I needed to blow off some steam.

Even though it seems like I have everything under control to everyone, in reality there is so much in my life that I can't manage. There's so much people don't know about me. My secrets have secrets, but I can't let surface.

'Your reputation is everything, son', is what Andrew always tells me, and he is beyond right.

He is always right.