Unwritten Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  “Kendrick’s coming home in two hours. He’s been training all morning.”

  Haze nods, reaching for his keys in his jacket pocket. “We’ve got a fifty-minute car ride ahead of us. Come on.”

  IS THERE ANYTHING MORE AWKWARD THAN spending fifty minutes in a car with a guy you were intensely making out with barely an hour ago and having to pretend it never happened? Probably. But right now, it doesn’t feel like it.

  Haze and I haven’t said a single word to each other since we left the motel. He’s cold. Distant. Exactly the opposite of how I’d expect a guy to be after a kiss like that.

  “Shouldn’t you be training, too?” I break the silence, unsure if I want to know the answer. The fight is tomorrow. I have no idea why he’s here with me.

  “I didn’t exactly have time.”

  “Yeah but you could’ve left early to train. Why didn’t you?”

  I’m dying to know what’s going on in his head. Why did he kiss me? What does any of this mean?

  “I had other things on my mind.” I know what he’s talking about right away and wiggle uncomfortably in my seat.

  “Not at all worried about the fight, are we?”

  “Nope.”

  The coldness in his voice makes my blood boil. What’s his problem? I look ahead of me and see my house from afar. Maria’s at work. Only Kassidy’s car’s in the driveway. No sign of Kendrick anywhere. Thank God.

  Haze kills the engine. He doesn’t move. I don’t either.

  “You wouldn’t actually…” I pause. “Kill him, would you?

  He doesn’t bother looking at me. “Not unless I have to.”

  Of course he couldn’t be a decent guy and say, “No, of course not. I care about you and so I won’t kill your cousin if it ever comes to that. Peace out.”

  “What do you mean? We’re talking about my cousin’s life, and you’re telling me that you might kill—”

  He cuts me off. “What the hell do you want me to say, Winter, huh? That I’ll cancel the fight? That I’ll go gentle on him for you? Why? Because we made out a couple times? I don’t owe you anything. He’s nothing to me. He’s an enemy. That’s all. I don’t know who you think I am. But I’m not that guy who goes soft for some chick he just met. I’ll never be that guy.”

  His words feel like razor blades tearing through my flesh. His sudden change of tone and the anger radiating out of him renders me speechless. I clench my fists, a burning pain spreading in my chest.

  “Is that why you went out of your way to get my trust? Why you kept showing up at my house and texting me for the past month? Because you’re not that guy?” I shout. “Or maybe that’s why you kissed me? Because you don’t care?”

  “I don’t. I don’t care, Winter. I don’t care about you or Kendrick, or anyone else,” he barks. “It was supposed to be fun. Nothing else. You weren’t supposed to…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, rage flowing out of him profusely. “I don’t need you to guilt-trip me, okay? You knew what you were getting yourself into.”

  I’m confident that my eyes are bloodshot by the time he finishes his sentence. My emotions are at war. Anger, hatred, sadness… I can’t seem to decide which one’s going to win.

  When I look at him and he denies me eye contact, Bianca’s bitter words creep into my head: “You think you’re so special, don’t you? That you’ll somehow be that one girl who makes him fall in love? News flash: you’re not. And in the end, he’ll get sick of you. Because guess what? You’re not different. Or special. No one is.”

  She was right. Kendrick was, too. All along.

  “So, it’s true, huh?” My words catch him off guard.

  “What?”

  “I’m a game.”

  He doesn’t answer, looking down.

  “I’m a way to hurt Kendrick.”

  No response.

  “Say it.” I raise my voice, holding back the tears to the point of pain.

  “Winter, you’re only hurting yourself even m—”

  “Say it,” I scream as loud as I can.

  “Fine,” he snaps. “It was a game. All of it. I wanted to piss Kendrick off and make you fall for me so that I could see the look on his face when I told him that I fucked his precious cousin. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  My heart splinters into a million pieces.

  If the maid hadn’t stopped us, I don’t know what would’ve happened. If no one had knocked on the door, I might’ve removed his shirt and…

  I don’t even want to think about it.

  God, I’m such a fucking idiot.

  “You say your biggest fear is to end up alone,” I say, my voice trembling. “Well, you sure are good at pushing everyone away.”

  I shake my head and rush out of the vehicle, slamming the door loudly. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to stop me. But at the same time, he said everything.

  His silence did.

  Silence is not just the absence of noise. It’s the absence of possibilities. Possibilities of second chances and forgiveness. In the end, what hurts the most is not what people say. It’s what they don’t.

  Silence puts an end to the endless cycle we put ourselves through. To this never-ending torment that they call “hope.” Hope that it will get better. Hope that you’ll find your way back. Hope that you’ll get a happy ending.

  Because you can’t forgive someone…

  Who’s not sorry.

  Haze’s black car takes off in a roar almost as soon as I step out of it. I keep walking, refusing to watch him disappear although every fiber of my being is begging me to.

  I step onto my porch and insert the key into the hole. Just as I’m about to unlock the door, someone beats me to it, opening it from the inside. I come face-to-face with the last person I expected to see.

  “Will?” I try to find a reason for his presence at my house this early. “What are you doing here? Kendrick’s at Alex’s?”

  Shock occupies his eyes. He seems nervous, stressed. One thing is certain: he was not expecting me.

  “Winter, hey.” He speaks rapidly. “I forgot something here. I had to pick it up before training.”

  “Oh. Okay.” I force a smile, trying to ignore the painful pit in my throat and the tears begging me to let them out.

  “See you later,” he says, walking around me and making his way to his car that’s parked on the other side of the street.

  Well, that wasn’t weird at all.

  As soon as I’m alone, I collapse on a chair and let the tears roll down my cheeks as I bury my face in my hands like a pathetic mess.

  You’re such a dumbass, Winter. You did this to yourself.

  I have no idea what I expected. That he actually cared about me? That he was texting me every day and showing up at my house because he liked me? It all started with a deal.

  “Are you okay?”

  I jump and look up. Kassidy is standing in the kitchen. I completely forgot she was home. She gives me a look I know so well.

  Pity.

  I wipe my eyes. “I’m fine.”

  She arches an eyebrow and sits down next to me.

  “You’re not fine,” she whispers. “What did he do?”

  I’m a bit surprised by her tone. She’s not judging. Neither is she criticizing. That’s new. I would’ve expected her to be super hard on me after what happened at the dinner. I hesitate, mentally battling myself on whether or not I’m ready to share the story with her. Or anyone.

  “Winter, please. Let me be there for you.”

  Then I can’t hold back anymore. The story spills out of me like a never-ending waterfall. Kass doesn’t comment. I tell her everything. I tell her about the rooftop, the pool, the beach. All of it. She nods and chuckles at the funny parts throughout the story. I tell her about all the things that got me to where I am today. To being one more pawn on Haze Adams’s chessboard.

  To being a game.

  “He didn’t mean it,
” she says. “He’s afraid, Winter. Typical boy.”

  “Afraid of what? That I caught feelings and he didn’t?” I scoff. I refuse to let her get my hopes up.

  “No, dummy.” She pauses and sighs like she’s wondering why she has to be surrounded by idiots. “He’s not afraid because you caught feelings. He’s afraid because he’s feeling it, too.”

  To say this simple little sentence didn’t amplify my suffering by a thousand would be a big fat lie. The last thing I want to hear right now is that he didn’t mean it. I want her to tell me he sucks. I want her to tell me I’ll be okay.

  That I’ll get over him and his stupid blue eyes.

  “Oh shoot. I’m late for my shift. I have to go. But please, call me if you need anything, okay?” she asks, giving me a quick hug. “Oh, and don’t text him. Let him be alone with his lies for a while. Might be exactly what he needs.”

  I watch her walk out of the house in a hurry and enter the bathroom. I step in the shower, standing completely still under the hot water for a couple of minutes. The last words she said before closing the door echo in the back of my mind.

  “Never underestimate a man’s capacity to run away from something he’s afraid to want.”

  I feel it infiltrate my thoughts. It’s small and faint, but it’s enough to tear me apart like it never left. I bury my face in my hands, my wounds opening all over again.

  It’s back.

  The cruelest part of it all.

  The hope.

  F I F T E E N

  The Fight

  Empty is the only word I can think of to describe how I feel right now. As I lie in bed and listen to the silence floating around the house, I can’t escape the downward spiral. I went to bed at around 3:00 a.m. last night. To my great surprise, Kendrick never came home to lecture me about Haze. He texted me that we’d talk later and that he knows it wasn’t my fault.

  He doesn’t suspect that anything happened between Haze and me, and he sees me as an innocent victim.

  But I know I’m just as guilty as he is.

  Speaking of Mr. Heartbreaker, I haven’t checked my phone since yesterday. I turned it off almost as soon as Haze left because I don’t want to know if he texted me.

  But mostly… I don’t want to know if he didn’t.

  After several minutes of my brain trying to convince my body to move, I get up from my bed, exit my room, and drag my feet down the stairs.

  The fight is today.

  The information’s not registering.

  I turn on my phone, walk into the kitchen, and yawn. I need coffee. As soon as the screen lights up, notifications come rushing in one after the other, and confusing feelings consume me. I hope that he texted me.

  Just so I can tell him to never text me again.

  I know, I don’t make sense.

  Seven messages await me.

  At the exact same time, I receive an incoming call from Alex. They’ve probably been trying to call me for hours. I brush off the guilt weighing on me and pick up.

  “Hello?”

  “Well, hello, Miss I-Sleep-Until-It’s-Four-P.m. We’ve been trying to reach you.” I recognize Will’s voice.

  I gasp and my gaze jumps to the clock on the wall. “It’s not even eleven yet. Stop exaggerating. I’m sorry for not taking your calls. I was exhausted.”

  “I assume Haze kept you up all night? You weren’t too loud I hope.” I can literally picture him wiggling his eyebrows like the perverted idiot he is.

  I curse. Of course they would know about Haze by now. I’m not surprised that Kendrick told them all about his stunt. The crazy part is, Haze did keep me up all night. But not the way he thinks.

  “Give me that,” Alex says in the background.

  Muffled voices and shuffling comes down the line. I can’t restrain a smirk from remolding my lips, listening to them fighting over the phone.

  These guys.

  “Hello, Winter? Sorry about that.” Alex’s voice indicates that he won the war. “Will—” He moves the phone away from his mouth. “Don’t eat that. It’s for my sister’s school.”

  “Just a little bit,” Will’s distant voice replies.

  I snigger. “What’s going on?”

  “Damn it, Blake, can you take that cake away from him, please?”

  I laugh.

  “You guys are actual kids.”

  “Tell me about it.” Alex exhales. “We’ll be there to pick you in fifteen minutes. Be ready.”

  “Wait, what?”

  The line goes dead.

  I can honestly say I’ve never gone up the stairs faster in my life. I throw on a sweater and a pair of black leggings, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. That’s the best I can do today. I make sure to apply a little bit of makeup so that the numerous hours of sleep I didn’t get last night aren’t the first thing you see when you look at me.

  While I wait, I select the other unread text messages I didn’t have time to check yet.

  I have one message from my best friend, Allie.

  And zero from Haze.

  But that’s not what surprises me the most.

  What I can’t believe is the messages from the unknown number I completely forgot about until now. They didn’t text me again after I left the hotel. I thought it was merely the result of someone messing with me. Obviously, I was wrong.

  The messages were sent yesterday—more precisely right after Haze dropped me off.

  Unknown: How ironic that you would push away the only person who cares.

  I’m paralyzed, my breathing shallow.

  Unknown: Enjoy the time you have left and watch out for the scars.

  The scars? What the heck is that supposed to mean? What scars?

  I read the messages over and over again, hoping to remember something, anything, about yesterday. Maybe it was a suspicious car parked on the street. Maybe it was someone walking on the sidewalk. It could be anyone, anywhere. All I know is the person behind the unknown number saw it all. They saw Haze and I get into a fight; they saw me bolt out of the car and cry my eyes out like a pathetic mess.

  My stalker was here yesterday.

  And he might be here right now.

  I run to the window and shove the curtains open with one hand. No one except the neighbor. The nice granny who lives on the other side of the street waves at me while she waters her flowers. I wave back. For all I know, she could be the unknown number.

  I’m completely paranoid.

  When Blake’s car pulls up in the driveway, the inevitable question comes to me. Should I tell the boys about the messages?

  They would put the pieces together, understand that something happened between me and Haze, and make my life a living hell… but they might also be the only ones who know what “watch out for the scars” means.

  Blake gets out of the car, probably to knock on the door, but I decide to save him the trouble and step outside.

  “Come on, we have to go,” he hisses when he sees me.

  Immediately, I’m under the impression that Blake is either very angry at me or having an awful day.

  “What’s the rush?”

  “We have to get you ready for the fight. That’s the rush.”

  “What do you mean? I’m not the one fighting.”

  “Still, you need to be prepared for all the things you might see tonight.”

  “You think I’ve never seen two guys fight?” I arch an eyebrow.

  “You haven’t. Not like this, trust me.” He grows impatient. “Are you waiting for the grass to grow?”

  Okay, rude.

  We walk toward the car side by side, and I frown.

  That’s very out of character for Blake. I’ve never seen him in such a bad mood. I get into the passenger seat and buckle up, wondering what his problem is. I watch the vein in his neck throb in anger as he pulls out of the driveway recklessly.

  And I thought Haze drove like an idiot.

/>   I mentally slap myself when his name creeps its way into my brain again. It’s only been a day since I fought with him and I can’t stop thinking about him.

  Feelings suck.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “I’m sure I’m doing better than you.”

  I furrow my eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m guessing getting your heart broken by the town’s bad boy isn’t exactly pleasant.”

  He knows.

  But how? Kendrick might’ve told him about Haze’s stunt at the dinner, but that doesn’t justify Blake’s knowledge of… everything.

  “I showed up at your house yesterday morning. After Kendrick told us about Haze’s surprise visit, I thought I’d come and get it straight from you. I couldn’t believe it. That you’d agree to go with him after everything he did, and well…” He pauses. “I saw him drop you off.”

  “I…” I begin, but he interrupts me.

  “No need to explain yourself. The sight of you two fighting like a married couple told me everything I needed to know.” His eyes become hard. “You’ve fallen for him. Like they all do.”

  I lower my head to my feet. I always knew they’d react this way. That’s why I didn’t want to tell them. Because I knew they’d be the ones to tell me the truth I so desperately feared.

  “It was the only way Haze wouldn’t ruin Kendrick’s dinner. I had to go out with him. We made a deal—that’s all it was.” I can’t believe I’m still trying to justify my actions.

  “Let me guess, the part when you’re bawling your eyes out in Kass’s arms was also part of the deal?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, you saw that, too?”

  “I saw enough.”

  How long did Blake sit outside the house? He might’ve seen the person behind the unknown number. I battle the urge to ask him if he saw someone suspicious, well aware that now is not the time.

  Images of Will walking out of the house in a hurry burn within me. I still have no idea what he forgot that what was so important he had to come and get it at my house when Kendrick wasn’t home. But most of all, who let him in? Maria was already at work, and Kass was still in bed.