The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2)

by AC Netzel

  I frown. He’s lying. My cell phone never went off. Then I remember… the beach picture. I shut my phone off while I was sitting at the fountain to stop me from throwing it in the water.

  “What did you want?” I ask, ignoring his question.

  “You. You’re the only thing in my life I’m sure about. I want you. I’m sorry. I made a mistake. Please, Julia. Let me fix it.”

  “Until the next time you don’t know what you want?”

  “I always wanted you.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “I know I hurt you. I’ll make it up to you. I don’t know how, but I will. I’ll earn your trust again. Julia, I need you.”

  “Ben, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can subject myself to this anymore.”

  “I love you,” he says, grabbing my hand.

  I hold my breath at his touch then exhale slowly. “I know you do.”

  “But you can’t forgive me,” he says quietly, releasing his hold.

  I sigh. “I know you’re going through a lot. I wanted to help you. But it had to be on your terms. Even now… you change your mind and I’m just supposed to forget how you crushed my soul this morning. I love you, Ben. I love you more than I can say… but you’re killing me on the inside. I don’t want this for us. I don’t want this for me.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to talk to me before things get impossible to fix. I want you to stop making decisions for me. If you’re in pain, let me help you. You think you’re honorable by shutting me out of your problems and protecting me by doing that, but it’s selfish and it hurts.”

  He nods. “You’re right.”

  I exhale a breath. “Oh Ben, what am I going to do with you?”

  “That’s your decision to make.”

  “Talk to me,” I implore, shaking my clasped hands in front of me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How are you? The truth.”

  “You want to know how I am? Shitty. For starters, I fucked-up, tried to make it right immediately, and my girlfriend won’t forgive me.”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I correct.

  “I do not accept that.”

  “Are you making decisions for me again?”

  “No. Call yourself whatever you want. You are my girlfriend. I can be whatever you want to call me. I fucking love you. You love me.”

  “I’m not debating that.”

  “What do I have to do? Beg? Grovel? Is that what you want?”

  “You internalize everything. I want you to talk to me, share things with me.”

  “I can’t write. I’ve tried. It’s not there anymore. I can’t tell you how many times I almost threw my laptop through a window.”

  “Looks like you came pretty close to doing that yesterday.”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry you saw that. I’m frustrated and angry about so much lately. I lost control.”

  “You need to get your shit together. Ben, I don’t care if you never write another word. I don’t care if you broker again. I don’t care. What I do care about is us and what all this anger and frustration has done to us. If you don’t want to talk to me… then find someone to talk to. Look how self-destructive bottling it up has been. You nearly lost me.”

  “Nearly?” he asks, his tone optimistic, his brow raised.

  Dammit, he picks up on everything.

  The buzzer to the washing machine sounds, startling the two of us.

  “I have laundry to move,” I say, flustered.

  He grabs my hand, making my heart beat faster. “It can wait. Nearly?” he asks again, hopeful.

  I pull my hand away. “I’ll be right back.” I get off the couch and head toward the hallway.

  After walking quickly to the laundry closet, I open the doors to the washer and dryer. I have to get away from him. I can’t think clearly when he’s near me. I pull out the wet clothes and toss them in the dryer and set that to go.

  Glancing down at my drenched handbag on the closet floor, I bend down and grab my cell phone out of it. I turn it back on and stare at our happy beach picture. What I’d give to go back in time to that day.

  As I’m staring, the message count numbers are increasing. There are nine missed calls and one voicemail from Ben. I tap on the text message icon. Message after message, all from Ben, are waiting.

  I sit down in the hallway next to the closet and scroll down and read the texts.

  *I’m sorry. Where are you?*

  *Please pick up your phone.*

  *I love you.*

  *I love you.*

  *I’m at your apartment.*

  *I left a message. Please call me.*

  *I’ll wait here all night.*

  *Just let me know you’re ok.*

  *I’m going out of my mind. Are you ok? Text me back.*

  *Your neighbors think I’m going to mug them.*

  *They’ll probably call the cops.*

  *If I’m not here when you get back, check the jail.*

  *That’s supposed to make you smile.*

  *Something I’ve failed to do recently.*

  *I’m sorry for that.*

  *Where are you???*

  *It’s 6:25. I’m still here.*

  *I’m a jackass.*

  *I love you. I love you. I love you.*

  *Please answer your phone.*

  *You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.*

  *I failed you. I’ll never forgive myself.*

  *But I hope you’ll forgive me.*

  *Tell me to fuck off. Say anything. Just let me know you’re safe.*

  *I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. Tell me.*

  *I hate what I’ve done to us. *

  *I miss you.*

  *Battery is dying. So am I.*

  I tap on the voicemail icon and place the phone to my ear.

  “Julia, I’m sorry. I’m not thinking straight. I lost sight of what’s important to me. You’re all that matters. I know I hurt you. I know I fucked up. I’m at your place. I can’t find you. You won’t answer your phone. Please call me back. Let me know you’re okay. I’m worried about you. I love you.”

  I check the time the first text came through. He wasn’t lying, he did chase after me.

  “Damn,” I whisper to myself.

  His immediate regret tells me that although he may be broken, he’s not beyond repair. I rake my fingers through my wet hair, trying to figure out what to do next when Ben shows up standing in front of me. Holding his towel closed, he sits down next to me on the floor.

  “Hey,” he says, nudging his shoulder lightly against mine.

  “Hey.” I nudge his shoulder back.

  “You were gone a while,” he says, concerned.

  “Catching up on some reading.” I turn my palm over and show him my phone.

  He nods, glancing at the long list of illuminated texts.

  “I was worried about you,” he says softly.

  “So I read.”

  “I love you,” he says, sincerely.

  “I read that too.”

  “I’ll make an appointment with Dr. Larkin. Work on my anger at the world.”

  “Good. Are you doing that for me or you?”

  “For us.” He twists slightly, grabbing hold of my hands and staring directly into my eyes. “I can’t lose you. I’ve lost everything else.”

  I look down at our hands then back at him. “You always had me.”

  “I know you don’t trust me now. You think I’m going to hurt you again. But I’m going to earn your trust back.”

  I nod, pulling my hands away and looking down at my lap.

  He takes an index finger, lifting my chin and turns my head until our gazes meet again.

  “Julia, I’m going to win you back.”

  I shake my head. “You never lost me.”

  “I’ve done so much wrong.”

  “Yes. But I know you’re a good man in a bad place right now.”

  “A
re we going to be alright?” he asks.

  Maybe we needed all this crap to come to a head so we can finally address all the awful shit that’s dragged us down.

  It’s almost cathartic… in a horrible, horrible way.

  I could waste time and put myself through unnecessary misery by keeping him at arms distance, but I’m just punishing myself. I won’t kick him when he’s down. It would probably hurt me more. And we’ve both had enough pain in one day to last a lifetime.

  From his messages, I know for certain, he immediately regretted the things he said this morning. I take some comfort in that. He sat in the rain waiting for me for hours. And he worried.

  As a bonus, he scared my idiot neighbors, which earns him a few extra forgiveness points.

  I’ve read that the best gift you can give is forgiveness. Forgive yourself and those you love, and you’ll be rewarded. I look at Ben and know despite his flaws, having him in my life is my reward.

  He needs me and I need him. It’s not because either of us are weak… we're just stronger together.

  I love him. He loves me. It’s that simple.

  “Ben, you’re not easy.” I shake my head.

  “I know.”

  “But you’re worth it,” I say, mimicking the words he once said to me.

  Wrapping his arms around me, he exhales a long breath with a look of relief in his eyes.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he whispers in my ear, rubbing his cheek against my hair then trailing feather-light kisses on my neck.

  “I know,” I whisper back.

  I feel his smile against my neck. I close my eyes and smile too.

  ~o0o~

  “Why don’t we get off the floor,” I say.

  “Alright.” He stands, his towel opening slightly, allowing me a quick peek at the goods. Holding out his hand, he helps me off the floor, never letting go of my hand.

  The smile he was wearing just a minute ago is gone and replaced with a serious expression.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He cocks his head slightly and gazes at me with love in his eyes.

  “Thank you, Julia,” he says quietly. He gently pulls my arm toward him until he’s holding me again. “Thank you,” he whispers in my ear.

  I close my eyes and my heart pounds quickly in my chest. My stomach flutters and I know… somehow I just know… We’re going to be okay.

  ~o0o~

  We’re eating cold leftover pizza on my bed, still in our towels. Ben peeks over at me, with a look of wonder, like he can’t believe we’re here. I suppose I can’t either. Our gazes meet briefly, and I look away, biting the inside of my cheek to hide my smile.

  That saying was right. Forgiveness is far more rewarding.

  “Did you have enough to eat?” I ask. “You must have been starving.”

  “I’m good. Thanks,” he says, wiping his mouth with a napkin then placing it on my nightstand.

  He leans over and kisses my shoulder, looking back at me apprehensively. I understand why. He doesn’t want to push me before I’m ready.

  But the truth is—I’m tired. I’m so tired of all the heavy shit. It’s not me. It’s not him. It’s not us. The gratitude in his eyes when he looks at me lessens some of my fears. I don’t doubt his sincerity. I never doubted that he loves me.

  He gazes at me longingly. I know he wants to touch me, but he pauses as if he’s conflicted. Blinking a few times, he takes a breath as if he made a decision and pulls me onto his lap. I curl into him, my head tucked under his chin because for as much as it hurts to be this close to him… it hurts more not to be.

  He holds me tight, whispering over and over “I love you. I love you.”

  I want to move on, but there’s something inside me that holds back. Self-preservation, maybe. I don’t know. I’m confused by my feelings.

  I look up at Ben and see in his expression that he’s having the same turmoil. I see his need for me, it reflects mine for him. We don’t need words anymore. We need connection. We need to get lost in each other. We need to love each other… because despite all the crap… loving each other is our salvation.

  I uncurl myself from him and get off the bed. I need to show him that I trust him. I need it for him and I need it for me. I stand to the side of the mattress. He watches me untuck the towel wrapped around me. It falls to the floor and I stand naked in front of him.

  He follows my lead, his expression wary and serious. Never breaking eye contact, he removes his towel, allowing it to fall to the floor.

  We stand naked in front of each other. The playing field is leveled, with each of us equally exposed and vulnerable. It’s a quiet honest moment. With everything stripped away… the walls, the hurt, the anger, the pain…

  We’re just two people, desperately in love, trying to get it right.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispers. I tear up because I can see in his eyes he didn’t say it about my naked body.

  He said it about me.

  Even though things are messed up now, I know I still want this. Us. I’m willing to fight for it because I know we’re meant to be together.

  I hold my hand out to him, and he takes mine, leading me back to the bed. I lie down, sliding across on my side. He joins me, sliding his body close to mine, my back to his front. He wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him and inhales my hair. My body a perfect fit against his.

  I want to make love and I don’t. Feeling his arms wrapped around me, his warm body pressed against mine is intimate… in some ways, more so than sex. It’s safe and beautiful. I don’t want this moment to end.

  “Sleep,” he whispers. “Tomorrow will be a better day.”

  Passion doesn’t have to be over-the-top and grand to be moving and powerful. It can be small and quiet, like a broken man rediscovering his strength by holding the woman he loves in his arms.

  Meaningful.

  I wrap my arm around his, close my eyes and drift off into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter 23

  “Good morning, Beautiful,” he whispers.

  “Good morning,” I say, pulling the sheet over my mouth.

  “Morning breath cover-up?”

  The man knows me well.

  I nod, holding up one finger. Rolling to my side, I open my nightstand drawer. Nestled right next to BOB is his new roommate, my breath spray. I keep it in supply since Ben and I started our sleepovers.

  After a quick blast of morning wintergreen, I roll on my back.

  “Better?” he asks, amused.

  “Yes.” I smile shyly.

  Ben leans on his side, staring at me, lost in thought.

  “What are you thinking about?” I ask.

  “You.” He smiles, caressing my cheek with the back of his free hand.

  “What about me?”

  “I’m so fucking lucky to have you.”

  “Yes, you are,” I agree. We need this… something light and playful for a change. This feels like us, the part of us that’s been missing.

  He chuckles. “For hours I sat outside your building trying to figure out what to say to you. I thought I’d grovel for weeks to convince you to give me another chance to make things right between us.”

  “Oh, there’s going to be groveling.”

  “I haven’t groveled enough?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

  “Not by a long shot. Off the bed, stand in front of me.”

  “I’m not wearing any clothes,” he reminds me.

  “I’m very much aware of what you’re not wearing. Go.” I wave my hand, gesturing him to move.

  He raises a brow and smirks. Cautiously amused, he slides off and walks to the foot of the bed, facing me.

  The fact is we’re both naked. We both enjoy being naked with each other and doing naked things together. Sex won’t solve our problems, but it sure as hell won’t hurt. We’re always better when we’re connected.

  I’m unsure of so many things… but somehow… I’m sure about us.


  Anyway, all this pent-up hurt breeds unexplainable, unstoppable horniness.

  I drink in every beautiful inch of him, every steely contour of muscle, that sexy “V”, his shoulders, that delicious stubble that drives me wild, his dark bedroom eyes. He’s so fucking handsome and incredibly sexy.

  Goddamn, this man is perfection… at least on the outside.

  But he’s also sweet. And kind. And a good man. I could go on and on about all the good qualities I see in Ben.

  “Turn around.” I twirl my index finger in a circle.

  “Seriously?” he asks.

  I nod with a wicked smile.

  He smirks and reluctantly spins in a circle. Ben has asked me to strip and twirl for him dozens of times. Now I understand why. I’m liking this show.

  “I said turn around. You spun. I want a look at your ass.” I bite the side of my mouth, trying to keep myself from laughing.

  “I apologize.” He turns until I have his perfect bare ass in view. I want to bite it.

  “Flex,” I order.

  “Flex?” he asks, confused.

  “Yes. Flex.”

  “Okay,” he answers guardedly, flexing his arms. Damn nice gun show.

  “Not your arms… your ass. Flex it.”

  He twists his head, looking at me over his shoulder with an amused expression. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  “Groveling etiquette 101: Ask no questions and do as you’re told.” I wave my hand dismissively and he turns his head back around.

  “I can’t believe you’re asking me to…”

  “Are you in any position to question me?” I tease.

  “No.”

  “Then less talking, more flexing.”

  “Jesus—fine.” I know he’s rolling his eyes. I don’t care. It’s a small price to pay for his sins. He flexes his ass cheeks.

  Dear Lord, what a glorious sight.

  I know he’s smiling and I’m conflicted over what I want to see more, his beautiful smile or that sexy specimen of flexed flesh in front of me.

  “You’re objectifying me. I feel so cheap,” he jokes.

  “HmmMmm,” I moan in agreement, appreciating the perfection in front of me. “Now get your objectified body on this bed and start groveling.”