Rules

by Doe, Anna B.

  “Max…” Brook breathes out, her whole body shuddering at my words, eyes falling shut as she turns her head away, trying to break our contact. Her throat bobs as she swallows audibly. “I-I can’t. We can’t.”

  My fingers dart underneath her chin, forcing her to turn around.

  “We didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, but my words have no effect on her. I tighten my grip on her chin just a little bit. “Look at me, Brook.”

  She tries to look away, but I’m not letting her go, so in the end, she complies. Her eyelids flutter open, and those piercing green eyes look into mine, leaving me breathless. There is so much hiding in those depths. Heartache and anguish mixing together and pulling me in, wrapping around my throat until it’s hard to breathe.

  One step forward, two steps back. It’s the same old dance we have again and again.

  “What we had was amazing, and…”

  Brook shakes her head. “What happened shouldn’t have.”

  “But it did…”

  “And it was wrong.” She pulls away but doesn't turn her back to me. No, her eyes meet me straight on, and for the first time, I wish she’d look away. Because they’re broken. Completely and utterly shattered. There are no tears, only emptiness and pieces of her soul.

  “I can’t do it… not knowing…” She shakes her head once again, a strand of her hair slipping out of her ponytail and brushing against her cheek.

  “Brook…”

  “I can be your friend, Max. I can be there when you need me. You can come here and study if you want. I’ll even help you if you need me to, but I can’t give you more. I just can’t.”

  My hand hitches forward, the need to touch her so strong I have to physically stop myself from reaching out. The ache in my chest is overwhelming. It’s like she’s squeezing my lungs with those small hands of hers, not letting the air pass through.

  Brook offers me a small smile, like that will help take away from the harshness of her words.

  I open my mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out.

  She nods—in understanding? in acceptance? fuck if I know—and starts to turn away, but my hand darts out, stopping her instantly. Her eyes grow wide, like just the thought of me touching her brings her physical pain.

  My hand hovers over hers. Not touching. Never touching. Just there.

  “Just friends,” I rasp. “If that’s the only thing you can offer, so be it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  BROOK

  “Will you ever show me what you’re working on?”

  “Huh?” I lift my head, startled. I’ve been so lost in what I was doing that it took me a while to register his words.

  Pushing a strand of hair I only now realized was in my face, I meet those gray eyes staring at me. A shiver runs through my body like it does every time he’s looking at me, but I ignore it. One side of his lips tilts upward in that knowing half-smile of his, but I pretend like I don’t know what it’s for.

  “Your art,” Max repeats. “Will you ever let me see it?”

  “You ask that question at least once a day.” I roll my eyes at him. “The answer is always the same.”

  After our confrontation weeks ago in this very room, I thought Max would steer clear of me, but like always, he did something completely different than what I expected. The friendship I oh-so-casually offered him, not thinking he’d collect on it? He most definitely has.

  The day after our confrontation, when I saw him standing in the doorway, I almost wet my pants in surprise. With wide eyes, I watched him enter the art room, closing the door behind him and getting down to his usual spot. He took out his books and started working on whatever the hell he needed to work on. I stared at him, searching for the right words to say, but when they didn’t come and he stayed silent, I picked up my jaw off the floor and went on with my business. Or tried to at least, because my eyes? They had a will of their own. And every so often they’d sneak a peek his way.

  That first day, we didn’t say a word. Or the second. Or the third.

  But every day like clockwork, he’d come to the art room and spend first period studying while I was painting.

  November turned to December, and the tense silence finally grew into a comfortable one. But then one day the worry marks started to appear on his face, and the silence was finally broken. We had a test in Spanish and he was struggling with the material, so I left my easel and sat down to help him.

  “Maybe one of these days you’ll change your mind.” Max shrugs, breaking me out of the memories and bringing me back to the present.

  He gets to his feet, hands going in the air as he stretches his body. The hem of his black shirt rises up, revealing his strong stomach and the V leading to his jeans. My eyes zero to the patch of revealed skin, my mouth going dry.

  “Or maybe I’ll just have to make you show them to me.”

  With my eyes still glued to his stomach, I almost don’t see him stalking closer. It only hits me when he’s so close I can sense his clean, soapy smell with just a dash of cologne filling my personal space.

  “W-what do you think you’re doing?” I stutter, my eyes finally lifting from his lower body to his face. Max chuckles lightly.

  Dammit, could you be more obvious in your staring, Brook?!

  “See something you like, Firecracker?”

  I swallow hard. The nickname rolls off his tongue so easily, you’d never guess he hasn’t used it in so long I almost forgot it exists.

  Schooling my features, I make sure to give him an even stare. “Fishing for compliments?”

  “Just stating the obvious.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, Hotshot,” I shoot back. “I’ve seen better. Waaaay better.”

  Something flashes in his gray irises. I’m not sure what, but they grow darker as he stalks even closer.

  Nibbling at my lower lip, I can feel my heartbeat rise.

  Stupid, stupid heart.

  He’s so close, our chests are almost touching. Almost, but not quite. We haven’t touched since that night. The night we don’t mention. The night I try my best not to think about, but most often fail miserably. Especially in the darkness of the night when I can’t sleep because the demons hidden in my heart are standing at bay, ready to let loose. Ready to haunt me and drag me into the darkness.

  I stare forward, and because of our height difference, I’m looking straight at his pecks. The black shirt fits him nicely. Not too tight to seem like he has the need to show off his muscles like some gym rats do, but tight enough to compliment the shape of his body. Wide shoulders, narrow waist, and the abs hidden beneath. I watch his chest rise and fall, his hot breath touching my skin.

  Something tickles my cheek. My breath hitches as I lift my eyes up, up, up, inhaling his scent deep into my lungs.

  “Have you now?” Stormy eyes look at me with an intensity I haven’t seen in them for a while. Ever since…

  I close my eyes, pushing the memories away.

  You’ll not go down that path, Brook. I chant. You’re stronger than that.

  I swallow hard, and just as I’m about to take control and step back, something wet touches my nose.

  “What…” I open my eyes abruptly, just in time to feel something wet touch my cheek. My fingers fist, and I realize what I’m missing. Paintbrush. He stole my paintbrush.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I yell, rubbing against the smudge he left, but the only thing I’m doing is spreading the color all over.

  Looking down at my colored fingers, I puff out a frustrated breath. Max laughs at my dismay, irritating me even more. Who the hell does he think he is?!

  “You bastard!” I try to jump at him to take back the paintbrush, but he holds it high in the air and out of my reach. Why is he so freaking tall?

  “Aren’t you an artist?” he muses. “You should try and be more creative. Bastard is so overdone.”

  “Max, I’m serious. Give that back.”

  “Nope, I th
ink I’m going to keep it. Every time you piss me off, I’ll pull it out and add some color on you. It should keep things interesting.”

  I try to reach the damn brush, just for the sake of it, but fail once again. “This is how you want to play it?”

  “This is how I want to play it,” Max confirms. His smile is so big as he watches my irritation grow. I probably look like a mess. And not even a hot one. Wild hair, paint all over my face, and the rest of it is most likely red from all the jumping around. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

  I stand still for a few seconds, trying to catch my breath when I see it. A smile curls my lips, and I’m thankful my head is bowed down so he doesn’t catch on. Asshat will pay for what he did.

  “Nothing,” I murmur, turning my back to him. “This is silly. You’re acting like a…”

  “Hey, are you…” His hand wraps around my wrist just as I grab for the palette sitting on the worktable next to my canvas. He spins me around just before I can take it, but my fingers scrape through the color piled on the surface.

  I collide into his chest, the impact leaving me breathless for a second. His fingers lift my chin, worry coloring his gaze, but it turns into confusion as soon as he sees my smile.

  Without giving him time to react, I outstretch my hand and touch his face. He’s so surprised, the hand that’s been around my wrist lets loose. I pull out of his grip and reach for the brush.

  But of course, it can’t be that easy. Just when I can feel the wooden handle under my fingertips, he yanks it out of my reach, making me stumble into him. The crash is so sudden, so unexpected, that for a second I’m prepared to crash to the ground. But in the last moment, Max’s hands wrap around me, pulling me into his chest.

  We collide to the ground, all the air kicked out of my lungs when we fall down, and I can hear a strangled sound coming out of him.

  “Are you okay?” I lift off of him, looking at his face curled in a grimace. I’m not even sure how he did it; he’s the one lying on the ground when it should have been me.

  I nibble at my lip worriedly, my hands cupping his face.

  “I’m fine,” he grits through his teeth, and it sounds almost painful.

  “You don’t sound fine.” I tilt his chin back, looking over his face worriedly. His irises seem to be dilated a bit. Maybe he has a concussion. That’d probably be a first. Knocked out by a clumsy hundred-pound girl.

  Max grabs my hands, pulling them off his face. “No more.”

  “Not so funny now, is it?” I ask, a smile spreading over my face. I try to get my hands out of his hold, but he doesn’t budge.

  “Don’t you dare,” he warns me.

  “You started this.” I lean forward, so close our noses are practically touching. “Two can play this game, Hotshot.”

  He sucks in a breath, his eyes growing darker. His tongue darts forward, moisturizing his lips as his eyes dart between mine and my mouth.

  “Brook…” he breathes. It almost sounds painful.

  His head leans forward, and I stop breathing. He wouldn’t… our lips brushing… almost there…

  “Hey, Brook…” The words are so unexpected they make us both jump up and away from each other. Like two naughty kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar just before the dinner is served.

  My heart, which was barely beating seconds ago, is now galloping at full speed so hard I think it’ll break out of my chest.

  “Jeanette…” Max says, but it sounds more like a curse than a greeting.

  We look at each other for a second, and I can see his eyes are wide, just like I assume mine are. My cheeks flush in embarrassment at being caught doing what exactly? I have no idea.

  Who are you trying to lie to? The devil on my shoulder is laughing so hard I want to smack him in the nuts.

  “This is obviously the wrong time.”

  My eyes dart to my best friend, who’s standing at the doorway. Both of them look like they’re stuck mid-step and they have no idea if they should come in or get the hell out of here. There is a smile playing at Lia’s lips. She and Jeanette exchange a knowing look before they turn back to us.

  “We can talk after school…”

  “Now is fine,” I offer in a hurry, smoothing my hand over my hair to try and gain some sense of composure.

  “No need!” This time it’s Lia interrupting me. She’s already pushing a stunned Jeanette out of the room. “You’re obviously busy; we’ll talk after school.”

  With that, they’re out of the room, door firmly closed behind them.

  What the hell just happened here?

  Not looking at Max, I turn around. “I think it’s best if we get out of here. The next class will start soon.”

  * * *

  “So…” Jeanette drawls, her eyes glued to the TV. “You and Max?”

  I want to groan in frustration but somehow manage to hold it in. I’m surprised it took them this long to bring it up.

  After school, Lia, with Jeanette in tow, cornered me. Apparently Derek has asked her to come to his house for a pre-Christmas dinner. Both of his parents work in a hospital, a doctor and a nurse, and one of them is working the holiday so they’re celebrating earlier as a family and they invited Lia to join them. Of course she accepted. The girl was so hopelessly in love she’d do anything for him, but now she was stressing out about what to wear. She legit turned her whole closet upside-down, but whatever we suggested to her, she found lacking. In the end, she made us promise we’d go shopping with her over the weekend.

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I don’t even grace her with my attention. My eyes are glued to the half-naked Tyler Hoechlin on the screen.

  Binge-watching Teen Wolf has become our favorite past time. All those shirtless guys wolfing out was our secret, not-so-secret guilty pleasure. There was no question that once we were done helping Lia clean her exploded closet, we’d stay for a bit and watch it together. Mrs. C’s cookies were just an added bonus to sweeten the deal.

  Now they’re rolling in my stomach uncomfortably, and I slowly regret my decision to stay here until my shift starts later this evening.

  Lia elbows me from the side, giving me a sly grin. “Didn’t look like nothing from where we were standing. You were practically dry-humping him in the middle of the classroom!”

  “I was not!” I protest at the same time Jeanette groans loudly. Her head falls back, touching the back of the couch, hand covering her eyes.

  “Did you have to say that?! That’s my brother we’re talking about. You can’t say shit like that. Now the only thing I can see…” She shakes her head, presumably to clear her mind of the picture of her brother and me… Yeah, you get the idea. “Somebody pass me the bleach before I gag.”

  Lia starts giggling, and I can’t help but join in. “That’s what you get for asking questions you shouldn’t be asking.”

  “Touché.”

  Jeanette’s face is still curled in disgust, and I can’t stop the laugh that comes out. Unfortunately, Lia’s not so easy to steer away from the subject.

  “I don’t see what the big deal is. I can totally see the two of you together. It’s not like either of you are into somebody else or anything.”

  Jeanette’s eyes land on me, but I can’t hold her heavy stare for long, so I break away. I love Lia, but sometimes she’s so clueless, and that’s why this whole thing hurts even more.

  “Right,” I agree half-heartedly, getting on my feet. “I should go. I have things to take care of.”

  Lia frowns. “What things?”

  Pulling my backpack over my shoulder, I shrug, turning away. “Things.” Looking back at them, I give a weak attempt at a smile. “I’ll see you at school.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  MAX

  The black screen of my phone draws my attention for the umpteenth time. Sighing, I push my notes to the side and grab it, swiping my thumb over the screen only to find a few notifications and a bunch of stupid-ass videos in a team group message
.

  Don’t they have anything better to do?

  Throwing the phone back on the stack of papers, I lean back in my chair, my hands going through my hair, pulling at the fine strands.

  Jeanette still hasn't gotten home, but for the first time, it wasn’t her I was worried about. It was Brook. I saw Anette and Lia haul her out of school after class, and they’ve been MIA ever since. And after everything that happened today in the art room…

  I still couldn’t wrap my mind around it. One minute we were at opposite sides of the room, just like any other morning during homeroom, and then we weren’t. I was on the floor, and Brook was sitting on my lap, wiggling her little ass to the point my pants became embarrassingly tight, only she was clueless about it, too immersed in getting back at me for leaving a teeny-tiny smudge of color on her face. And then she was so close I could feel her warm breath touch my cheek, so close her honey scent wrapped around me like a cocoon. So close I could feel her lips on mine, but then the two of them came in and it was like a bucket of ice water was poured over us.

  My whole body shivers with the memory of having her so close.

  Brook only wanted to be friends, but I wasn’t sure if I could do it, not after today. I’m not sure what we are exactly, but whatever it is, I need to figure it out. That one little misstep brought back all the memories of that one night. There was no fooling myself anymore. I wanted her. And no amount of pretending otherwise would change it.

  Unable to take the silence anymore, I get up and grab my stuff.

  If she’s not going to answer my messages, I’ll pay her a visit.

  Taking two steps at a time, I descend the stairs. Not that long ago, Mom checked in before she left with her friends, so the house was now dark and quiet. Just as I’m putting on my shoes, I hear keys jiggling and then the door slides open. Turning around, I’m prepared to see my sister, but it’s not her.

  “Hey, Dad,” I greet.

  “Hi, son.” The briefcase falls with a loud thump, and he starts to shrug out of his winter gear. His tired eyes look me over. “Going somewhere?”