Breaking All the Rules (Searching for Love Book 2)

by Kelly Myers

  “Ok yes, I’m not saying he’s perfect, but you’re attracted to him, right Elena?” Marianne raises one brow at me.

  I can’t hide my blush. It’s no use lying to my best friends or trying to downplay how much David turns me on. I have to be honest.

  “I don’t even like how attracted to him I am!” I blurt out. “It makes me so nervous and anxious, and it took away all my decision-making abilities the other night.”

  Marianne starts bouncing up and down in her chair, and even Zoe looks intrigued.

  “You kissed him, didn’t you?” Marianne squeals.

  I blink at her. If she is so much over the moon about the idea of a kiss, she’s going to faint when she finds out what really happened.

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “We kissed.”

  Bea reaches over and pats my hand. “I know it’s overwhelming for you to be with a guy who is not quite right or has complications, but I promise, it’s a good thing that you’re feeling stuff for other men.”

  Zoe is far more blunt. “You’ve finally kissed someone who wasn’t Logan, please tell me it felt good.”

  “It did.” I twist my hands together and lean into Zoe’s couch cushions while my friends whoop.

  Marianne is all for uncorking an expensive bottle of champagne, but Zoe announces she is hungry, so we decide to order food from a Mediterranean place we all like.

  Once the order has been placed, my friends demand that I supply them with all the details while we wait.

  “It just makes it worse that it felt good,” I say. “Because I can’t date him, I really can’t.”

  “There’s no rule against it though, right?” Bea asks. “I remember my friend in middle school whose dad dated our science teacher.”

  “There’s no official rule,” I say. “But I personally find it weird and uncomfortable.”

  Marianne rolls her eyes. “I stand by what I said before: Amy won’t be your student in a matter of weeks. You’re really going to let the man of your dreams slip away just because you can’t take a few weeks of awkwardness?”

  Restless energy and frustration causes me to leap to my feet. I start pacing as I push back against Marianne’s argument. “It wouldn’t be awkward for a few weeks – David and his kids are a package deal. It is a huge deal to date someone with parents, and I’m not interested in taking on all that baggage. And he is not the man of my dreams.”

  “You don’t know that!” Marianne waves her arms. “You haven’t even given him a chance.”

  “Maybe you could have a brief fling but keep it from the kids?” Bea suggests. Of all of us, Bea is the most sly. She’s always willing to engage in duplicitous behavior if it doesn’t harm anyone.

  “Yeah, at least sleep with the guy,” Marianne says. “You’ve only had sex with boring Logan for years, you’ve got to get back in the saddle with someone more exciting.”

  All my friends expect me to scoff and keep arguing my point, but I fall silent and cross my arms. Now is the time for full disclosure. I feel a jitter of excitement. My behavior is going to shock even my closest friends. They all think I’m a total prude who would never sleep with a guy on the first date. They all think it would take me weeks of hemming and hawing to even get to third base with David. In fact, they think it’s incredibly lame that I still use terms like “third base.”

  A small and victorious smile pushes at the corners of my lips.

  Zoe interprets the meaning of my silence first. “You have slept with him! Elena!”

  Marianne gasps and claps her hands over her mouth, and even Bea stares in shock.

  I sit down in an armchair, my arms lolling over the sides. “Yeah. We had sex.”

  “Elena, you brazen hussy!” Marianne starts to clap her hands while we all smile and roll our eyes at her dramatics.

  Now that the cat is out of the bag, I look forward to filling them in on the details of the night. Maybe they can help me make sense of it all. Maybe one of my friends has experience in the kind of man who is so utterly wrong for you but his every touch makes you forget all that.

  “It just happened,” I say. “He was so nice and charming at dinner that afterwards I let him kiss me, and I just wanted more.”

  “Did he pressure you or anything?” Zoe’s brow is wrinkled in a look of concern. It is so unlike me to have sex on the first date that she is clearly worried David was too pushy.

  “No, no.” My cheeks flame with embarrassment. “I invited him up to my apartment.”

  My friends sit in a stunned silence. Marianne’s mouth is hanging so open that I’m tempted to tell her that she’s going to catch flies if she doesn’t shut her mouth.

  I don’t blame them for being shocked. In all the years we have known each other, I have never made the first move. It’s become a running joke. I can’t be bold or assertive unless someone else does it first.

  “Wow.” Beatrice’s voice takes on a teasing tone. “We didn’t realize you were this thirsty. I guess it has been awhile.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not thirsty, I swear. I just...I don’t even know what happened.”

  “What happened is you met someone amazing and hot and successful,” Marianne says. “Someone who blows your pathetic ex right out of the water!”

  “Stop comparing them, please.” I slice my hand through the air. “It’s not fair.”

  “Gladly.” Marianne gives me a saucy grin. “It will give me great pleasure to never mention that slimeball Logan ever again. I’m officially Team David.”

  “There is no Team David.” I look to Zoe for support. She’s usually the one who can reel Marianne’s crazy moods back into a place of logic.

  Unfortunately, Zoe looks ravenous for more information. “So how was it? The sex?”

  “It doesn’t matter, it’s not going to happen again,” I say.

  “So that means it was amazing,” Beatrice jokes. “Right?”

  I shrug and then nod. What’s the point of lying? It was the best sex of my life, certainly the best first time I’ve had with anyone.

  My friends burst into excited squeals and giggles. I can’t help but smile along with them. It’s fun to be the one with the scandalous story for once. Usually, I play everything so safe. I never take risks or act on impulse. I’m happy to act as an observer most of the time, but I have wondered what it would be like to be the one with the crazy story the next morning.

  It’s not a feeling I want every weekend, but it’s a little bit fun. Just now with my friends. It wasn’t fun yesterday when I had to endure that awful conversation with David.

  The memory of yesterday sobers my mood as I focus on my friends again.

  “It was good, but it was just sex,” I say. “He left right after, and then he called me the next day, and the conversation was not pleasant. I told him we shouldn’t date, and he was upset.”

  “Because he clearly is smitten with you!” Marianne’s actress voice rings out in the living room.

  “Are you sure it was just sex?” Zoe asks. “It’s never just sex with you.”

  “Yeah, you’ve mentioned yourself that you can’t do hook-ups or one-night stands.” Beatrice throws my old words in my face. “You said there’s always emotion attached for you.”

  “Well, I can’t do hook-ups,” I say. “That’s exactly why the other night was a mistake. A small misstep.”

  “So you regret it?” Zoe is leaning forward now, determined to grill me until she understands exactly how I feel. She’s not the type of friend who can listen and wait patiently for you to suss through your feelings, she goes after answers with the ferocity of a bloodhound.

  “No, of course not.” I chew on my lower lip. “I’m glad I went on a date. I’m glad I was with another man. And I’m glad to know that I can be attracted to someone else when for so long I’ve felt so numb. But I know it can’t go any further. Dating David would be asking for trouble.”

  My friends all look at each other and then at my earnest face.

  “You guys, he’s so
hot and he’s a doctor.” Marianne blurts out information she has clearly been desperate to insert into the conversation. She whips out her phone. “Let me show you his photo.”

  Zoe and Bea cast me apologetic looks but swarm to Marianne’s side so they can look.

  “He doesn’t even look that old,” Beatrice murmurs.

  “A surgeon,” Zoe notes. “Jeez, Elena, you really pulled in a catch.”

  I frown but I don’t begrudge them the right to ooh and ah over David. If the roles were reversed, I would be just as curious. I just can’t have them thinking he’s the answer to all my problems because he’s not. I’m not ready to jump into a serious relationship, and the truth is, with David it would be serious. A father with kids and an older man with a demanding job – there’s no way to not get serious, even if we tried to keep it light.

  The food arrives, and we all settle down around Zoe’s kitchen table. I use the distraction of filling our plates to gather my thoughts.

  Once we’ve dug in, I look up at my friends, my fork clenched tight in my fist.

  “He is a catch,” I say. “For someone else, not for me.”

  “I get that he has kids and is older,” Zoe says. “That’s heavy stuff. But if any of us could handle it, it’s you.”

  “She’s right,” Beatrice says. “You’ve always wanted kids and a family, and yeah, this isn’t the most traditional set-up, but at least you know he values the same things you do.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not just the kids. It’s that he’s had a wife die, that’s too much for me, and I don’t even know what he wants from me. I’m not in the right frame of mind to date him at all.”

  “But none of the difficult stuff matters if he’s the One!” Marianne spears a piece of chicken and gives me her most sincere look.

  We all gaze back at her with different expressions. Zoe scoffs and rolls her eyes since she doesn’t believe in stuff like soulmates. Beatrice looks torn – yes, she believes in love, but she also detests corniness.

  I know that I just look sad. I’ve always been a believer in soulmates and true love, but that belief took a big hit after Logan. I want to believe again. I really do. I’m just not ready.

  “He’s not the One,” I say. “I don’t know much, but I know that.”

  “No offense, but you thought Logan was the One,” Zoe says. “Clearly, your judgement is off.”

  Her words should sting, but she says them with such love, and her point is so true, that I can’t help but smile.

  “My judgement may be off.” I clench my hand in a fist and place it down on the table. “But it still exists.”

  And that’s the final word on the subject. We finish our dinner and chat about other things, but my friends keep giving me weird looks. I know they’re going to badger me about David for the next few weeks, thinking that something else is bound to happen.

  They can pester all they want; I’ll have nothing to report. Because David and I will never speak again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Over the next week, my life falls back into its old routine. I’m happy about that. I am. Yes, every afternoon, I glance at my desk phone, wondering if David is going to call again.

  He doesn’t. Clearly, he has given up. I asked him to give up. I should be happy that the phone remains silent.

  By Thursday afternoon, I know he won’t call. It’s over. Good riddance.

  At the same time, I didn’t have David pegged as a quitter. I know I’m in no position to complain about him giving up, but it’s clear he wasn’t that into me.

  I don’t know what’s gotten into me though. I’ve never been the type of girl who played games. I didn’t reject David because I wanted to force him to try again and again. I said no to a second date because I feel it was the right thing to do.

  I get through my last few classes alright on Thursday despite the students’ growing restlessness. The weather gets nicer and nicer each day, which only makes them more distracted. They’ve still got a whole month left in the school year, but they’re already talking about summer vacations and camps and all that stuff.

  Instead of heading home, I head to the classroom where I advise the student newspaper club. Every teacher at the school has to advise a club or sport, and since I’ve always been hopeless at any and all sports, I insisted on supervising a club when I started here. For my first year, I did drama club, which was painful. I think I got the job simply because there was no one else. Sure, I have managed to overcome the stage fright I had as a child, but I can not act at all. Plus, every teacher knows that drama kids are into drama for a reason. They’re sweet, but every little thing is a whole production with them.

  Fortunately, I was taken off drama club in my second year since the new chorus teacher also had acting experience. I ended up with the school newspaper which is just fine by me. Journalism isn’t my favorite style of writing, but it’s fun to help the kids identify big news stories at the school and then put together a bi-monthly paper.

  This week, we’ve been working hard to finish up a special edition to hand out at the Spring Festival this weekend. It’s basically a big carnival where all the clubs come up with little booths to raise money. There will be lots of parents, and the kids are excited out of their minds for the day of games and events.

  When I arrive at the classroom, a few of the students are already there, chatting at their desks. Amy Russo has been on the newspaper since the beginning of the semester. After she joined my class, I suggested she might enjoy it, and she has been a dedicated member ever since.

  I smile at her as I walk in, and she grins back at me.

  I feel a surge of relief that I’m not dating her dad. If I was, I would feel a twinge of guilt and bitterness every time I looked at her. I wouldn’t be her favorite teacher if I dated her father, would I? She wouldn’t even trust me.

  I made the right call. It just feels bad because I’ve been out of practice with dating and dealing with hard conversations.

  “Hello!” I chirp. “I’ve got the layout we were working on last week right here.”

  I spread out the mock-up of the paper on the table in front of us, and the kids crowd around. It’s just a simple four-page affair. Nothing fancy. But hte kids take it seriously. As far as they’re concerned, this might as well be the New York Times.

  They spend long minutes debating if the middle school chess team should really be on the front page, or what section the student spotlight on basketball stars belongs. They even have this adorable little op-ed about the rearrangement of the cafeteria tables. Maybe it seems trivial, but they’re all so proud of the pieces they write.

  While they haggle over the lay-out, I call each student to me one by one so we can finalize any edits before the paper gets sent to print. Normally, I’m not the biggest fan of a harsh revision process since it can be hard on students’ morale and drive them away from writing, but with a newspaper, it’s absolutely critical. And all of the students in the club this year are perfectionists. They want a perfect paper to hand out to their parents at the Spring Festival.

  When Amy sits beside me, she smiles and nods at all my edits. Overall, her piece on the Spring Musical is great, and I tell her so. Her little face lights up, and my heart warms.

  “Thanks,” Amy says. “Do you think I need more quotes?”

  “No, I think you did a perfect job of balancing quotes with insightful descriptions of the event.” I point to a few red marks. “The writing just needs a little tightening – remember, efficiency is key with news writing.”

  Amy nods and soaks up all my feedback like a sponge. She’s been great the last few weeks. She hasn’t been in a sad mood at all, and she’s been participating more and more in class. After the trauma of losing her mother, I’m glad she seems to be doing better.

  I’m pretty sure me dating her father wouldn’t help her development at all. And that’s what I decide to tell myself when I start to wonder if I’ll ever see David again or if another man will ever kiss
me like he did. Those are pathetic and self-pitying thoughts, and I refuse to go down that rabbit hole.

  Amy is sweet, and I want her to have a healthy life free of unnecessary stress. Getting too involved with David, even if we just hook up as my friends suggested, is too complicated. I don’t need or want complicated things. I want the simple things, like what Logan and I had in the beginning. Someone to come home to. Someone to share a meal with. Someone your own age and at the same stage of life as you.

  I send Amy off to finalize her edits on the computer and discuss the articles with the remaining young journalists.

  We chat about the lay-out a bit more, and I suggest that they all get ready to pay attention at the Spring Festival since we will probably do one more issue, and an article on the festival would be great for a year-end newspaper.

  The last matter on the agenda is planning our table for the festival. In an extremely uncreative move, I have decided to do a bake sale.

  I remind all the students in the club to bring baked goods to the table on Saturday morning.

  “Bake whatever you can – it’s ok if we double up on brownies or cookies, I’m sure we’ll sell whatever we manage to get.” As I look out at the ten students, I notice Amy’s frown. “We’ll man the table in shifts, and use the signs we made last week.”

  I gesture at the clock and tell them all to head home, and I’ll see them tomorrow. I want to kick myself as I glance at Amy’s crestfallen frown.

  Most of the kids will just ask their moms to bake something or pick something up at the store (I’m really not particular about my baked goods). While I’m sure David would do anything to make sure Amy could be able to bring in a plate of brownies like everyone else, he’s probably got a busy schedule, and Amy might feel strange asking him for help. Plus, she’s got to know that this is a classic Mom activity.

  Why didn’t I realize that earlier? By asking the kids to all bring in baked goods, I’ve unintentionally made Amy uncomfortable.

  I really have always thought of myself as a perceptive and sensitive teacher, but now I’m rethinking all of that.