Breaking Rules

by Tracie Puckett

  Five

  “Mandy, hi!”

  I turned when I heard my name, and I immediately saw Lashell tucked in the corner booth at the back of Maurine’s Diner. She motioned for me to join her, but I waved a hand as if to say ‘no thanks.’

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I wouldn’t be great company; I’m just grabbing a quick bite.”

  “Nonsense,” she said, standing up. “Get over here, and sit down.”

  I didn’t want to. I really didn’t. I’d made it for years without having to make small talk over meals. I’d grown accustomed to eating alone, and just the thought of sharing a table with another person made me too uncomfortable. If it wasn’t family, it wasn’t worth it. I never knew what to say or how to act.

  I looked around the diner for a moment, and then I finally took a few steps over to her booth.

  “How are you doing this morning, sweetheart?” she asked, sliding into the opposite side of the booth as I claimed my seat across from her.

  “I’m good,” I said, nodding uncomfortably. “And I guess… I guess it’s actually a good thing I’m running into you.”

  “Oh?”

  “I write for the school paper,” I started, taking my jacket off. She perked up as if that little bit of information had impressed her, and for some reason, that made me eager to keep talking. “I need to get ahold of Gabe to see if he’d be interested in doing an interview for an article I’ve been assigned. I wasn’t sure how to contact him, so I thought maybe you could call him for me, or maybe shoot him an e-mail?”

  “Or you could just ask him yourself,” she said, nodding at the door. “I was just waiting on him when you came in.”

  “Oh, he’s here?” I asked, and then I found myself scooting out of the seat. “Then I won’t bother you. Have your breakfast, and I’ll just catch up with him later.”

  “Ladies,” Gabe said, stopping me before I could stand. He stood at the side of the booth and stared between us, but I did my best not to make direct eye contact. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning, Gabe,” Lashell said, leaning into his light peck on the cheek.

  “Mandy,” he said, leaning over to catch my gaze. “Good morning.”

  If it hadn’t been for the distinct quality of his voice, I wouldn’t have known it was him. At first glance, Gabe didn’t look anything like he had the day before. Hovering over me in a blue, RI Staffer shirt and a high-collared jacket, I couldn’t help but study him closer. His face was clean and shaven, smooth enough to touch, and his cheeks were slightly reddened from the cool wind. The dirtied, blond hair that had been smashed beneath a ball cap just yesterday was now styled out of his eyes and off of his forehead. Between the change of clothes, a new hairdo, and a clean shave, Gabriel Raddick didn’t look half-bad…handsome, even.

  “So you prefer the clean-look, then?” Gabe asked, snapping me out of my lingering gaze.

  “Oh.” I shook my head, hoping to ward off whatever it was that had kept me staring. “I just… I didn’t recognize you for a second. You look…different,” I mumbled, and then I snapped a look back to Lashell. “It was nice of you to extend the invitation, but I think I’ll just go so that you guys can—”

  “Oh, no you won’t,” she said quickly. “Just sit there. Have breakfast with us. And for God’s sake, child, scoot over and let the boy sit down.” I looked at the empty seat next to me before turning back to her with a quizzical stare. “Honey, you’re half my size. The two of you would fit much better next to one another. This old maid needs her space. Now scoot. And you,” she said, snapping a finger at Gabe, “sit.”

  Taking her order, I moved over, and Gabe dipped down to slide in the booth next to me. The moment he was within reaching distance, I could smell the lingering scent of coffee on him, and I guessed that he’d already gotten his morning caffeine jolt before coming in for breakfast. Still, when the waitress came by, he ordered another cup.

  Careful to keep my distance, I managed to slide as far against the window as I could.

  “I don’t have rabies,” Gabe said quietly, leaning closer, deliberately brushing his arm against mine just to make me that much more uncomfortable.

  “I never said you did.” I pretended to read the menu I’d committed to memory years ago.

  I didn’t bother looking up when I felt his stare burn into the side of my face. Part of me wanted to, but I resisted the urge to give into my weaker self. The hormonal teenager half of me just sat tangled in a web of nerves, wanting to look up and steal a glance at his crooked smile or his blue eyes. But the responsible, budding adult I’d been working to mold myself into…well, she knew better. It didn’t matter how nice he looked, how successful he was, or how much everyone fawned over him. There’d been something between Gabe and me that hadn’t felt right from the start, something I just couldn’t explain. And whatever it was, it was new, and it was unwelcome. I had to ignore it.

  “Would you please stop staring at me?”

  “I wasn’t staring at you. I was looking past you.” He nodded beyond me. “Out the window. I was trying to read the sign hanging in the bookstore display.”

  “Oh,” I said, turning to look out at Lexy’s Book Nook. “Yeah, okay.”

  “No apology, then?”

  “For what?” I asked.

  “For yelling at me,” he said, feigning a look of hurt.

  “I didn’t yell at you.”

  “You snapped.”

  “Okay, so I snapped.”

  “Let me ask you something,” he said, shifting in his seat. “What in the world did I do to make you hate me so much, Amanda Parker?”

  “Don’t.” I cringed at the sound of those two words. I shook off an instant image of my estranged mother and shuddered, drawing a closer look from Gabe. “Don’t ever call me that.”

  “I can’t call you by your name?”

  “My name is Mandy, okay? Just Mandy.”

  He nodded once, and it almost seemed apologetic. For a few long seconds, Gabe held my stare, and the playful glint in his eye faded into something sincere. I couldn’t help but watch him then, wondering why he suddenly seemed like a completely different person. Something had changed in that moment, something had shifted. There was something there that I hadn’t expected, and I was at a loss as to what it was. There was a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t tell whether or not it had been sparked by hunger or by Gabe. But either way, I didn’t like the way it made me feel.

  “Oh, well, look at the time,” Lashell said, and our stare broke as both of our heads snapped in her direction. “You know, I forgot that I had somewhere I needed to be this morning?”

  “Yeah, with me,” Gabe said. “I made a thirty minute drive from Desden—”

  “I double booked,” she said, faking an apologetic frown. “Surely you understand—”

  “Don’t,” Gabe said, snapping a finger at her as she stood. “Lashell Rowland Dunham, don’t you dare—”

  “Well, it was good seeing both of you,” she said, slinging her purse up on her shoulder. “Gabe, I’ll call you later. And Mandy, I’ll see you later this week, okay?”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, and I’d never heard my voice so high-pitched. “Lashell? You can’t leave. I thought you were—”

  “Bye-bye now,” she said, scurrying away, and Gabe and I just sat there, open-mouthed and stunned.

  “She doesn’t have anywhere else to be, does she?” I asked, barely moving my lips. He shook his head, looking equally as shocked as I felt by her departure. I hadn’t seen that turn of events, nor was I at all pleased with how quickly I’d been left alone with Gabe. “Well, then, I guess we should go.”

  “Or we could have breakfast,” he said, lifting the menu. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

  “I’m not going to sit here and pretend—”

  “That would be foolish, Mandy,” he said. “We’re both here. We’re both hungry. We might as well.”

  “This wa
sn’t planned,” I said quickly, just so that he’d know. “I wasn’t supposed to meet her here, I didn’t know you were coming, and I had no idea she’d abandon us. I come here every Sunday morning for breakfast. This was just a freak coincidence.”

  “I believe you,” he said, looking down at the list of breakfast selections. “So, what’s good?”

  “Will you please move across the table?” I asked, ignoring him. I tried to move my arms, but I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe. “I’m suffocating over here.”

  “Right,” he said, sliding out. He moved over to the seat Lashell had just vacated, and then he started reading again. For a few minutes, I couldn’t see him behind the plastic-covered menu, and I much preferred it that way.

  I liked him much better covered in dirt, mud, and looking like death. At least then I could rest assured that I wouldn’t stare.

  “So what’s your deal?” he asked, dropping the menu flat on the table.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Mr. Davies tells me you’re a straight-A student.”

  “Well, technically, that’s not true,” I said. “I got a C in World History my freshman year, and last year I got a B in Chemistry. But for the most part, I do okay.”

  “So you’re a great student,” he said. “And you’re on the school’s dance committee, driven enough to participate in a charity competition, and… did I overhear you say you need an interview for the school paper?”

  “I write the occasional article, yes.”

  “So on paper, you’ve got it all together. What’s the problem?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have a chip on your shoulder, Mandy,” he said. “Big time.”

  “I do not have a chip!”

  He half-laughed as if he couldn’t believe that I’d even thought to argue. “Then what’s with the bad attitude?”

  “I don’t have a bad attitude.”

  “Well, you certainly don’t have a good one.”

  I looked down at the table and pretended to read the menu again for the second time in ten minutes, but I couldn’t concentrate on the words.

  “You know, you’re not being fair,” I mumbled under my breath. “I didn’t say or do anything to provoke that attack.”

  “I’m not attacking you,” he said, sitting a little taller. “I’m making an observation. I’m inquiring.”

  “The thing is, though, I don’t believe that you are. I think you’re trying to be a jerk.”

  “You think a lot, don’t you?”

  “I do. I have a mind of my own, and there’s not a thing wrong with that. I don’t get by in life by letting other people think for me. And you know what else, Gabe? I think we both know that you only like me about as much as I like you.”

  “Well, that would be unfortunate if it was true,” he said. “You don’t like me. I get it.”

  “Okay then.”

  “But tell me,” he said, folding his hands as he leaned closer. “What exactly did I do to cause the hostility, besides putting a dent on the front of your car?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Of course.”

  “I think you’re arrogant and a little superficial,” I said. “You always think you’re right. Your way is the only way. You’re Mr. Big Shot, and everybody loves you, and I think you thrive on the attention. I think it bothers you that I didn’t recognize you, and I think that’s why you played along and let me look like an idiot in front of Lashell. You got a good laugh at my expense, and that, I’m sure, only fed into your big, fat, celebrity ego.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, but his jaw clenched. I wondered if maybe he didn’t think it was quite as fair as he’d tried to make it seem.

  “And sure,” I said. “I know that I’m distant, and judgmental, and that I have a chip on my shoulder, okay?”

  “And you hate to be challenged,” he added.

  “Of course I do!” I said, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “The dance was a good idea, but you were shooting it down. I hate being told that I’m wrong when I’m clearly not.”

  “I wasn’t shooting it down,” he said. “I told you that I agree. I think it is a great idea.”

  “Please. You were two seconds away from scrapping the idea altogether!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

  “It was a great idea, Mandy,” he said again, reaching forward to lower my arms. He didn’t let his touch linger after settling my hands back on the table. “But it wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t enough. You were too close to the idea, too committed to something without accepting room for change. That kind of attitude thwarts success. You have to be open to suggestions, challenges, and opportunities for growth.”

  “Okay,” I said, looking off to the side. “So what? That’s my burden to bear and no one else’s.

  “Except when you let those things affect how you interact with other people,” he said. “Then it becomes everyone’s burden.”

  “Right,” I said, swallowing hard.

  His tone had said it all. I’d made my impression, and it wasn’t a good one. He didn’t like my attitude, he didn’t like that I had a mind of my own, and he didn’t like who I was even on a very basic level. He’d made up his mind about me, he knew how he felt, and that probably meant that I didn’t stand the slightest chance at winning the scholarship at the end of the program.

  It hurt to think that my worth as a person, as a member of his team, was being chalked up to what very little he knew about me. Maybe I hadn’t had the best attitude from the start, but he’d had a lot to do with that. He was taking what little observation he’d had, and he was making one very big assumption about who I was. And was that fair? Did Gabe have any right to judge me based on so little?

  Did I have a right to judge him?

  I didn’t know. Maybe what we saw on the outside, maybe that first impression was it. Maybe there was never anything more beyond that. Maybe he was right about me, and maybe I was the one who’d been wrong all along.

  Either way, I’d made a commitment, win or lose. If I planned to stick it out at RI and continue until it adjourned at the end of six weeks, I had to do whatever it took to impress Mr. Big Shot and change his mind at all costs. I didn’t want every run-in we had to end up in an argument, and I didn’t want to see his smug smile one more time. Nor did I want our time spent together to be uncomfortable, and when I was around him, discomfort was all I could feel. I couldn’t let that go on forever. I had to clear the air, even if it killed me.

  “Gabe,” I said, tasting the sweat on my lips. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m sorry you were standing in the middle of the street.”

  He tucked his chin and raised his brow, acting as if that’d been the exact kind of apology he’d expected. I took a deep breath and let it pass slowly through my lips.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, and I’m sorry I hit you. It was my mistake.”

  “It wasn’t completely your fault,” he admitted, finally taking some of the weight off of my shoulders. Had he known how long I’d prayed to hear him say that? “I shouldn’t have been in the street, you’re right.”

  “I felt awful,” I said because I thought maybe he should know. I hadn’t tried to apologize out on the highway.

  “I went to the doctor; I had it checked out,” he said. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving a hand. “Don’t get yourself worked up about it.”

  “But you were limping.”

  “It’s a character trait.” He cracked a smile, but I didn’t follow. “Listen, if it makes you feel any better, Mandy, please know that you didn’t cause my limp, okay? Give yourself a break. It was an accident. Now can we call a truce?” he asked, looking down to his hands before turning to look up at me. “Start over? Try again?”

  There was some
thing mischievous in his grin, and I hated that it intrigued me.

  “Yeah,” I said slowly, shaking the hand he’d extended across the table. “Truce.”

  Trying to ignore the steady pitter-patter smacking against my chest, I looked down at his blue, RI shirt and decided a change of subject was probably the best direction in order to move things along.

  “So do you always pitch in and help on the projects?” I asked, tearing my eyes away from him and back to the menu. “You don’t normally hear of the founder and president of anything stepping down and getting his hands dirty, and yesterday… well, Gabe, you looked borderline-homeless in that get-up you had on.”

  He tried to restrain a laugh, but he failed miserably.

  “I do what I can,” he said. “I pitch in where I’m needed, skipping around from time to time. We have the school competition now, the soup kitchen in Desden, the street team, and the park crew. I try to mix it up. It keeps life interesting.”

  “And how long have you been doing this? Running the Raddick Initiative, that is?”

  He tilted his head. “Really? I would’ve thought someone like you would’ve done your research.”

  Someone like me? I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. I wasn’t entirely sure I liked the assumption, but I took it as a compliment anyway.

  I allowed myself to sit there and ponder his meaning for so long that Gabe leaned forward to catch my gaze. “You all right there?”

  “Yeah,” I said, trying to think of the best way to respond. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t do my research, and I’d never even heard your name until they ran the article on the front page of Thursday’s paper. I’ve only learned a little about the program since Lashell hosted the assembly at school on Friday, and I know nothing about RI except what she and Carla have told me. That’s not much.”

  I tried to distract myself from his fixed stare by looking down at my hands, but that didn’t last long.

  “I started the Raddick Initiative six months after I left Iraq,” he said, and the corner of his lip twitched as he reached for his coffee. “It was never in the plans to start the program so early in life, but I had a wake up call, and I realized that if I wanted to do it, it had to be now. So Lashell and I teamed up when I got home, and RI is heading into its second year.”

  “That’s great.”

  “I knew what I wanted,” he said, trying to shrug it off as something that wasn’t nearly as impressive as it was. “I’ve always known.”

  “So the Raddick Initiative was always in the cards?”

  “Always,” he said. “I never doubted it.”

  “And the military?” I asked, leaning forward. “What happened? Was that your wake-up call?”

  A slight nod put an end to that discussion very fast, and the faint twitch at the corner of his lip made me think that maybe I’d pressed too far. See, that’s what I hated about shared meals. I always found a way to put my foot in my mouth.

  “Well, whadaya know?” I said, finally meeting his stare again. “You’re not half-bad, Raddick.”

  “Careful,” he said, taking a sip from his mug. “Compliments are dangerous. You wouldn’t want to feed into my big, fat, celebrity ego, would you?”

  “No,” I said. “I most certainly wouldn’t want to do that.”

  I checked my cell phone for the time. Even though we hadn’t ordered anything but our drinks, I couldn’t fathom the idea of sitting there any longer. No doubt I’d say something else to make the morning more uncomfortable than it already was.

  “Listen, I should go.” I dug a few bills out of my purse and set them aside on the table. “But before I do, can I get your number?”

  “My number?”

  “Or e-mail address,” I said quickly. “My editor really wants that interview on her desk sometime this week. And… you know what? Forget it. My dad says you’re a really busy guy and that your schedule is jam-packed. I didn’t even ask you to do the interview. I just assumed you would, and like an idiot I sat here rambling on and on—”

  “Hey, take a breath,” he said, reaching across the table to lower my hands for the second time that morning. The moment his fingers touched mine, there was an unexpected spark, a tiny snap that exploded between our hands—something took me by surprise and set my heart off on a wild cadence. I think Gabe felt it, too, because he jerked his hand away and examined the finger where his skin had touched mine.

  “I’ll do the interview,” he said, finally looking back up to me and dropping his hand to his lap.

  He sat there trying to pretend that spark we’d both felt had been nothing more than static electricity, but I think we both knew better. It had been something else, something huge. Something I couldn’t begin to understand. What was going on with me? What was going on between us?

  “But let’s do it in person, okay? We’ll do dinner tomorrow night at Shae’s.”

  “No, no, no,” I said, still caught off guard by the spark. I tried to steady my breathing as I collected my thoughts. I was nowhere near ready to sit through another awkward conversation, like the one we’d just had, so I shook my head. “A phone interview will do just fine.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t mind meeting you.”

  “I mind,” I said. “I just… I don’t do well in one-on-one settings.”

  “You’re doing fine now,” he said, and I felt my cheeks flush red with warmth.

  “Just let me call you, Gabe, please.”

  “Okay, sure,” he said. I programmed his number into my contacts. “Call anytime.”

  “Yeah,” I said, forcing my phone back into my pocket. “I will.”

  I stood up, slung my purse over my shoulder, and headed for the door.

  “’Ey Mandy,” he said, tilting his head back. “I’ll look forward to your call.”