Forgotten Rules: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Eliah Greenwood

  I’ve tried connecting with her, the way I’ve connected with Ethan, in vain. The two of us are worlds apart, which is weird considering the relatively small age gap between us. Behind the counter, Jenny is adding up the register cash. She doesn’t acknowledge my presence. She looks… sad.

  Something’s wrong, no doubt.

  “Jenny?” I request her attention.

  She looks up.

  “Oh, hey” is all she says.

  Not a single comment about me being late for the first time. She doesn’t crack a smile or initiate her go-to polite chitchat. Trying not to look too far into this, I drop by the break room to dump my belongings and return to the storefront. Ten minutes of awkward silence later, I succumb to curiosity. The store is completely empty. Might as well confront her and spare myself a mind-numbingly boring eight hours.

  “Jenny, what’s wrong?”

  Color spills from her face. She knows she’s busted.

  “That obvious, huh?” she breathes.

  “I knew from the moment I walked in.”

  “I’m going to put my happy face back on in a minute, I promise. I just need a second.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I question.

  “No, it’s fine.”

  “Look, you can either talk about it or let it ruin the rest of your day.” I recycle my dad’s line. That’s what he used to say to get me to spill the beans as a kid. Taught me it was better to let it out, deal with your issues, and move on.

  She pauses, hesitant to open up.

  “So… there’s this guy,” she gives in.

  She goes on to tell me she met him a year back. Some eye candy she was instantly attracted to. The feeling was mutual, but not only was he a taken man, he also had a kid with his partner. He kept coming in and out of her life, playing with her heart every time he felt like it, and while she knew he was wrong for her, she couldn’t stay away. I nod my head along to her story. She explains her family immediately disapproved of her dating him. Viewed her as a homewrecker. He’d constantly dangle promises of telling his girlfriend about them in front of her eyes but never did.

  Until a while ago, when the guy’s girlfriend found out on her own. Jenny tells me she feels this relationship has been destructive and wonders if she made the right decision by staying with him.

  She doesn’t elaborate after that, and I spend the first two hours of my shift comforting her. I end up making her smile again, which awakes an unexpected sense of pride in me. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Jenny and I can grow to develop a real complicity after all.

  Will

  “What the hell is up with you today, man? You still hungover or something?” Alex observes as he steps back into the ring, chugging the rest of his water bottle.

  “I don’t know. Just a little out of it, I guess.” I wipe the blood dripping off my mouth with the back of my hand, and Alex grins. I have to admit he got me good.

  “I don’t mind. I can beat your ass all day,” he mocks, but we both know he can’t pull off cocky. Alex doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body.

  “Yeah. Try that again. See what happens.”

  Alex is a good fighter, but I’ve been fighting longer than he has. I usually go easy on him, but today, my head’s not in it. It’s pounding like a little bitch, courtesy of yesterday’s party.

  “Can’t really blame you. You looked gone last night.”

  “You have no idea,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Get any sleep at all? Or did Callie keep you up all night?”

  Blurred, distorted memories wash over me. All I could see were shapes as Callie dragged my ass into a cab less than five minutes after Kass left me stranded with a boner.

  “You saw us leave, huh?”

  “The whole party saw you leave. Piece of advice, if you’re going to keep banging Callie Cooper, wrap it before you tap it. The girl’s been known to give dudes baby scares.”

  I scoff. “Noted.”

  I could tell him he’s got it all wrong. That even though Callie brought me back to her place, palming me through my jeans the second I stepped foot through the door, nothing happened.

  But I won’t.

  And I especially won’t tell him that it didn’t do shit for me. That she didn’t do shit for me. That I jerked her hands away before she could get my pants down and bolted. Frankly, I don’t think she’ll ever speak to me again. Not that I care. I’ve got more important things to worry about.

  Like why didn’t she do it for me?

  Is my dick broken?

  Nah, it can’t be broken, dumbfuck. Not when it twitched in your pants when you saw Kass without a bra.

  Fuck, I’m thinking about it now.

  Yeah, definitely not broken.

  “Where’s Kendrick?” I change the topic, glancing around the old, abandoned gym we use to train whenever we can’t work out in Alex’s attic.

  “On his way over. He’s going to try, but no promises.”

  I’m not the least bit surprised. Kendrick took such a savage beating that he had to slow down. We’ve been trying to get him back into the game unsuccessfully. We can’t push him too far for now, but we need our leader back. The timing was terrible, to top it all off. The fight Haze Adams challenged him to is coming up quickly. He better have his shit together by then. His cousin Winter’s future depends on it.

  “Hey, you haven’t heard the news.” Alex captures my attention. “Blake’s getting back together with Kass.”

  What the fuck?

  “Sorry, he wants to. Told me he missed that ass last night.”

  Again, what the fuck?

  “Woah. Everything okay, man?” Alex flinches.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “You looked like you wanted to murder someone for a second there.”

  I did?

  I must still be wasted.

  “Sorry.” I rub my eyes. “Just running on three hours of sleep.”

  “Anyway, he’s going to be disappointed because I’m not covering for them anymore,” Alex resumes. “They barely got away with it the first time. Kendrick would rip his balls off if he found out Blake deflowered his baby sister.”

  Guilt crushes me, because yes, he would kill him. Just like he would kill me for kissing her in the fucking bathroom last night. What the hell was I thinking? But most of all, why did I want to do so much more to her right there on that counter?

  Granted, Kendrick ripping Blake’s balls off would not be the worst thing in the world. It’d save me the trouble of doing it myself. I remember how cocky he was when he bragged about taking Kass’s virginity. I didn’t give a flying fuck at the time, but now? I feel like he disrespected my friend. Like I have to defend her honor or some shit.

  Sleep. You need sleep.

  The texts, the night in her bed, the kiss… It’s all Blake’s fault. Blake and his blabbermouth. Sure, I’ve always known she was my type. Perky tits, gorgeous, tan. Don’t even get me started on those big blue eyes. Checked her out whenever I came over—especially in summer. Thank God for bikini season—but that’s as far as it went.

  Then Blake had to go and pique my interest. Everything he told me about her sounded like a challenge. The way she struggled to open up, obsessed over all she couldn’t control, yet happily played doormat to her sociopath, self-absorbed best friend.

  She strangely reminded me of me.

  When I dropped by Blake’s place and found him burying his dick into another girl, he told me he’d dumped Kass over text the night before. I caved, told myself she was fair game, and gave in to my curiosity.

  Started talking to her out of fucking nowhere.

  Just to see how much of it was true.

  All of it.

  All of it’s true.

  I had no intention of bonding with her. But then again, I also had no intention of shoving my hands up her dress last night, and look how that turned out.

  “I’m going to bail. I’ll put in the extra hours tomorrow.” I collect my T-shirt off the chai
r in the corner of the room and slip it over my head.

  “Okay.” Alex eyes me suspiciously. Understandably so. I never bail on training.

  You know what else I never do, Alex?

  Say no to a good fuck, and last night, I did. Something’s off. And I need to fix it. I check my phone on my way out of the gym.

  Guess I was wrong about Callie never speaking to me again.

  Callie: Hey sexy. I have the house to myself. Come over for round two? ;)

  But that’s not the only text I have.

  I double-check the second sender.

  Kass.

  Kass: Just finished my shift and my shitty car broke down. Can you give me a ride?

  Attached below is the address of the place where she works. Conflicted, I slip inside my car, read both texts over and over again, and sprint down the street in a roar.

  Kassidy

  When I receive a text from Morgan saying, “Be there in ten,” I sigh in relief, messaging her back “Thanksss. I love you” and hastening out of the pet store to wait for her.

  That’s when I see it.

  The name on the top of my screen.

  Willy Wonka.

  Wait, I texted Will?

  How could I not realize I selected his name? In my defense, he and Morgan have been competing for the spot of the last person I texted lately.

  Kass: Shit. Sorry. Wrong person. Forget it. I’ll manage.

  I expect his reply to consist of a careless “Okay”—if he even replies at all—but instead…

  Willy Wonka: Too late. I’m coming to get you.

  My pulse quickens.

  Kass: That was meant for Morgan. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she can help me out.

  A reply lights up my screen right away.

  Willy Wonka: I don’t care. Wait for me.

  A smile tugs at the corner of my lips.

  That easy?

  I doubt he had anything better to do if he said yes, but still. Scenarios of what he was doing when I texted him arise in my mind. He was probably working out. He seemed on his way to the gym this morning.

  My joy quickly gives way to racking anxiety. I wasn’t expecting to see him twice in one day. You mean I’ll have to deal with my annoying crush again?

  Conveniently, I found myself without a ride right as my mom was about to start her shift at the hospital. She couldn’t bail just to give her daughter a ride, so she hit up a friend of hers who owns an auto repair shop. He towed my car thirty minutes ago with the promise of getting it back to me in two days tops.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m beginning to think Will was messing with me. Then I see his car pull up in the distance. He comes to a slow stop in front of the store, and I swallow hard, making my way over.

  I open the door, slide into the passenger seat, and drink him in. He’s wearing a black hoodie and his go-to gym sweats. He looks a bit sweaty—but hot sweaty—which tells me I was spot-on: he was training. He smiles at the sight of me, quickly averting his focus to the road.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice a bit strained. He looks exhausted.

  “Hey.” I fasten my seat belt. “Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

  “What? And miss your heartfelt declaration? How else would I know how much you love me?” he teases, knocking the gear into drive.

  “Shut up, I thought you were Morgan.” I flush.

  “Whatever you say, control freak.” He speeds out of the parking lot, gaze shifting between the road and me for a few seconds. When we reach a red light, he straight up stares, eying me up and down and spurring my self-conscious side to life. I changed into clean jeans and a long-sleeved V-neck black shirt before work.

  “What you looking at, creep?”

  “Your shirt.” He picks at the fabric of my sleeve.

  “What?” I search my clothes for a stain of some sort.

  “Where’d your friends go?”

  I immediately connect the dots.

  The fucker is talking about my nipples, isn’t he?

  “Oh, for the love of God.” I roll my eyes, and he bursts out laughing at his own joke. “I’ll jump out of this car, I swear.”

  He lifts a hand to his chest, nurturing an imaginary wound. “You’re mean. I liked you better when you thought I was Morgan.”

  I can’t help myself.

  “I liked you better last night.”

  His eyes flare.

  Then we almost swerve off the fucking road—I wish I was kidding. Will doesn’t swing the wheel back into place a second too soon. He was not expecting that. It’s my turn to die laughing.

  “That’s for pretending not to remember this morning.”

  He lets out the fakest laugh I’ve ever heard and clears his throat, careful not to look my way again. I can’t help noticing how tightly his fingers are squeezing the steering wheel. The tension between us has shifted. It was playful, light, and now? It’s back to thick and heavy.

  Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

  Desperate for a topic change, I say, “I hope you didn’t have plans.”

  “I could’ve.” He shrugs. “But I chose you.”

  If that isn’t cute, I don’t know what is.

  “Thanks.”

  “You already said that,” he mocks, but he’s not nearly as confident as before.

  We lock eyes at a stop sign.

  “I meant it.”

  He responds with a faint smile. That single look holds more meaning than his words ever could. It answers my question, informing me that everything is back to normal.

  Yes, we may have been all over each other less than twenty-four hours ago, but I’m willing to bet Will’s never going to bring it up again. His reaction to my blunt recollection made that clear.

  He most likely won’t give me an explanation. Because to him, there’s nothing else to say. It happened and that’s that. Doesn’t mean he wants us to date. Nor does it mean that he’s ready to change his beliefs about relationships. That’s not how he works. The thought twists a knife into my stomach.

  We’re back to just being friends. Friends who made out.

  Hard.

  And that’s okay…

  For now.

  Kass: Help. Help. Help.

  Willy Wonka: What?

  Kass: I managed to sneak away to the bathroom before dessert. I’m going to need you to call me in 5 minutes like we talked about.

  Willy Wonka: About that. I think I underestimated the value of my services as a date crasher.

  Kass: Willll!

  Willy Wonka: Think about it. I have to stop what I’m doing in five minutes entirely for your benefit. What do I get out of it?

  Kass: For fuck’s sake. What do you want?

  Willy Wonka: Nothing for now but I’ll get back to you.

  Kass: I hate you so much right now.

  Willy Wonka: You can always drop my services and go back to your date.

  Kass: He’s been talking about his autographed baseballs collection for two hours. TWO HOURS.

  Willy Wonka: Aww. He’s just trying to impress you.

  Kass: And failing. Are you in or out?

  Willy Wonka: If I do this for you, you owe me a favor. Whenever, however and wherever I want.

  Kass: How about a blowjob with that?

  Willy Wonka: I mean… if you’re offering

  Remind me again why I’m friends with this guy?

  Kass: That’s it. I’m blocking your number.

  Willy Wonka: Talk to you in 5.

  Annoyed, I stomp out of the bathroom stall I’ve been holed up in for seven minutes now. What the hell was I thinking going on a date with some guy I met at work? He was cute, and when he swung by the counter to ask me out, I thought, “What’s the harm?” But now, I’m calling my reasons into question.

  Why did I say yes?

  To forget Will? To convince myself I don’t have a crush on him? That I never did? Didn’t I learn my lesson stringing Luke along?

  It’s been a few day
s since he kissed me. As suspected, things went right back to normal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that night was all in my head and nothing ever happened. We’ve been texting constantly, which doesn’t exactly make getting over my dumb crush easier. I’ve never texted anyone as much as I’m texting this guy in my entire life. You’d think it’s a good sign. And it would be.

  With literally any guy on earth but Will.

  I’m starting to put together a clear picture of who he is. To him, shit like that doesn’t mean anything. Or if it does, he doesn’t let himself look too far into it. All he knows is he likes talking to me.

  So he does.

  I’ve seen him flirt with a few girls in the halls, too, a reality-packed reminder that our daily convos don’t make us an item. I tell myself I don’t care—going on a date with someone else was supposed to solidify that—but it’s still a pinch to the heart whenever I see them. Will leaned back against a locker, flaunting his panty-dropper smile while his girl of the week giggles.

  He told me during one of our 3:00 a.m. talks that his flirting doesn’t actually translate to sex and he’s just bored, but a part of me wonders if he’s trying to distract himself. Perhaps lining up candidates to replace Callie, whom he is definitely not sleeping with anymore. Zoey said Callie’s practically growing spiderwebs down there.

  I scoff, thinking back to fourteen-year-old Kass looking up sad quotes on the internet and sharing them on social media.

  One in particular comes to mind.

  I thought I was special until I realized you talk to everybody like that.