Forgotten Rules: A Brother's Best Friend Romance

by Eliah Greenwood

  “Thank fucking God.” A familiar voice startles me.

  My gaze descends to the ground.

  He’s right there.

  Staring up at me with worry, doubt, and relief in his eyes.

  Will.

  Never mind, I’ll take the bear.

  “You’re here,” he pants.

  Was he… running?

  He came all this way for me? How did he even know where to find me? I sure didn’t tell him about what happened. Come to think of it, I didn’t text him once today. I’m quickly reminded of why I didn’t text him.

  Right. He’s sleeping with Callie again.

  “What are you doing here?” I zero in on the sunset.

  He scoffs. “You’re asking me? News flash, this is still my tree house.”

  I don’t grant him a response, wishing he’d retire to Callie’s bed and leave me alone. I’ve been hurt enough for one day.

  “What are you doing here?” he returns the question.

  “Oh, you know, just contemplating how people are heartless liars who will inevitably disappoint you in the end.”

  I purse my lips in anticipation of a snarky reply that never comes. Dumbfounded, I look down at him.

  “What? No sarcastic remark? No ‘I warned you about feelings, control freak?’” I scoff.

  I get everything but a joke.

  I get a look.

  One that reeks of pity.

  He knows.

  Great.

  “I take it from the sad puppy eyes that you know?”

  He nods faintly.

  “Kendrick is worried sick, Kass. You need to go home. Or at least call your brother.”

  That explains it. He’s here as Kendrick’s messenger.

  “So that’s why you’re here.” I scoff, hugging my knees to my chest as though it’ll keep my ruptured heart from completely shattering. “Kendrick sent you.”

  He frowns. “What? No. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  Lies.

  “I’m here because you went through hell today and I was worried about you. Is that a crime?”

  “I’m fine. You can go now.” I switch up on him, and he pulls a surprised face, assessing me carefully before climbing up the old ladder without a word.

  Crap.

  I don’t move a muscle, my knees still operating as shields between my heart and impending pain. I pretend like his presence doesn’t affect me. And I pretend even harder when he plops down by my side.

  “I’m not leaving until you are.” He scoots closer to me.

  Okay. That’s kind of sweet.

  Kass, he was probably just inside Callie, for fuck’s sake!

  “Sucks to be you, then, because I’m not going anywhere.”

  He shrugs. “Then neither am I.”

  Irritation cuts through me.

  “I told you to go. I’m fine.”

  “Stop lying. You’re not fucking fine.” He sees right through me. “Why come here if you’re fine, huh? Something happened tonight. And it hurt you. Just admit it.”

  “That’s rich. The guy who’d rather go to the end of the world than admit his feelings is giving me lessons on how to feel?”

  He’s taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Forget it.” I draw a breath.

  “No, by all means, enlighten me.”

  “How’s Callie doing by the way?” I spit.

  His eyebrows shoot up.

  He pauses, clearly wondering how I came to find out about his booty call. Then he nods in realization. It’s not rocket science. Girls talk.

  “Okay, I guess.” He collects himself. “Although she sure didn’t look too happy when I broke things off with her and left her to rot because my friend needed me.”

  Shit. The fucker got me with that one.

  My heart feels lighter.

  Like it shed a thousand pounds.

  I make it a point to remind myself that it doesn’t change squat. That I’m still just a friend. And he’s still off-limits.

  “Good for you. Can you leave now?” I shut him out.

  I’ve managed to keep it together up until this point, but if he keeps pushing, I’ll break.

  “I’m staying. Deal with it.”

  “Fine. Then I’ll leave!” I jolt up, aiming for the ladder. Before I know it, Will’s back on his feet, gripping my arm and hauling me to him.

  He cups my face with both hands, forcing our eyes to meet. “I’m here. With you. I’m fucking here, Kass. Let me be here.”

  My heart.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he shouts.

  I’m afraid if I start crying, I’ll never stop.

  That’s when I start to shake.

  My sight gets blurry.

  My knuckles turn white.

  Rage takes a hold of me, and I pray I can stay afloat a little while longer.

  “You want me to talk to you? Is that it?” I propel him off me. “Okay. What do you want me to say, Will? That it fucking destroyed me to find out about my dad today? That I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust a man again? Or believe in love? That I’ll never be able to walk into my mom’s bedroom without thinking of my father fucking my boss?” I push him once. Twice. I lose my shit, plain and simple. And the craziest part? It makes me feel better.

  In control.

  I need this rage. This burning, uncontrollable anger. If anger is my only lifeline in this ocean of disappointments, I’ll hold on to it until I drown.

  “Kass, calm the fuck down!” Will yells, but all I can see is red. Red like my heart as it breaks from finding out the first prince in my life is a frog. Red like the blood that spilled out of me when my family drove a knife into my back.

  I pummel Will’s torso with strong blows. He doesn’t flinch, taking every hit like a champ.

  “Do you want me to say I’m barely holding it together and it’s taking me all I have not to break down right now? That I can’t believe that I thought for even one second…” My voice splinters. “I thought he gave up on us.”

  I’m well aware that I’m probably not making any sense to him. No longer having it, Will clutches my wrist, holding me in place and keeping crazy Kass in check.

  “You don’t get it,” I belt. “Nobody gets it. It’s not Kendrick he stopped loving. It’s not Kendrick who wasn’t worth it. He didn’t give up on us.”

  I burst out crying.

  “He just gave up on me.”

  The second the first tear spills down my cheek, I know I’m done. I’ve lost. Kass, 0, Life, 1. Desperate to secure the remaining shreds of my dignity, I opt for my last option: run. Run before Will sees me collapse. I rush toward the ladder, but Will springs into action, almost as though he anticipated my escape, and spins me around in the same way he did before.

  Only difference is, this time…

  It’s to capture me in his arms.

  He traps me into an embrace I didn’t expect, resting his chin atop my head. I fight, I kick, I claw, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, he only holds on tighter. His strong arms feel like home. But I don’t want to feel at home.

  Not unless he feels it, too.

  Once I’ve run out of rage, strength, and pride, I let my cheek hit his torso and take it all in: his scent, his warmth, his arms squeezing me tight. I listen to his heartbeat and let myself cry.

  That’s all I do.

  I cry and I cry while Will holds me. I imagined this moment so many times—his arms around me, refusing to let go. But I never would have thought it’d happen like this.

  “You should’ve seen the look on his face.” I sob into his shirt, clasping the fabric. “He looked at me like I wasn’t his little girl. Like I was nothing.”

  I pull away to see my pain staring back at me. It’s in his eyes. He took some of my suffering as his own, relieving me from parts of a burden I can’t carry. He genuinely feels for me—which only makes me weep harder.

  “It hurts… it hurts so bad. God, just make it stop,” I bla
ther between sobs. I can’t seem to make sense of my own plea. I don’t know what I’m asking him to do.

  So then why…

  Why do I feel like he does?

  Interrogations flood his gaze. I watch as he debates on something, weighing pros and cons, torn between choices I never gave him. Eventually, they vanish.

  I take it he found his answer.

  Our eyes meet.

  Then he kisses me.

  He cups my face, wipes my tears, and smashes his lips to mine with a need I’ve never felt in my entire life. Surprised, I tumble backward, but he keeps me upright, kissing me so hard my body cries for his touch. He doesn’t seem to give a single shit that I was sobbing seconds ago, dismissing my swollen face and salty lips.

  It’s like a switch.

  Yes.

  This is what I need right now.

  My pain goes numb, lingering in the air, promising to return as soon as his lips leave mine. But right now… it’s gone. Along with my ability to care. Don’t care that it’ll never work between us. Don’t care that he’ll never give me what I want. Don’t care about the endgame.

  I just want now.

  And I want Will.

  He ravages my mouth with his, backpedaling me against the wooden wall as his hands slink under my shirt. Our tongues dance along to the song we never got to finish when he kissed me at the party. And the fire sputtering to life in my stomach says we’re not running this time.

  We’re here until the last chord.

  The notes may be flat, the lyrics wrong.

  But the melody…

  The melody is lifelong.

  This kiss bears more recklessness than our previous one. Might have something to do with the absence of a soul to stop us. The absence of a bump to trip over.

  This could go too far.

  But too far is precisely what I’m craving.

  I lower my fingers to his belt, and he gives me the exact same reaction as he did that night in the bathroom, warning me with a low grunt. Knowing I’m the reason for his thinning self-control enthralls me in a way I can’t fathom. Determined to see how far I can push him, I keep my hands there, teasing, tugging at his waistband until he snaps. Squeezing my cheeks with one hand, he looks me dead in the eyes as if to drill the warning into my brain. He doesn’t need to speak. I know exactly what his eyes are saying: Do that again and I might just have to bend you over.

  My heart thundering out of control, I nod, and his mouth latches onto mine again. Next thing I know, I’m lying flat on the old, creaking wood flooring of the tree house with Will perched over me. He flips my shirt up to scatter slow kisses across my stomach, and I squirm, grabbing his neck at the base and leading him back to my lips. I try to convince myself I’m just using him to get the pain out of my system. That this won’t change, nor heighten the way I feel about him.

  But deep down, I know…

  This is how you go from a dumb crush to liking someone. Really liking someone. But you know how you also go from a dumb crush to the real thing?

  By letting the hot blond guy pop the button of your jeans.

  I gasp at his initiative. Not because I don’t want him to—I want this more than I need air—but because I expected him to stop. To bail before it got this far. A kiss is just a kiss, but this? He’s got to know it would mean crossing another line, checking another step off my list. If we do this, he can’t possibly carry on with his “friends” bullshit.

  I can’t silence a moan when his mouth trails along the curve of my jaw, attaching itself to the skin above my collarbone. He goes harder at the timid noises falling out of my mouth.

  And… another thing gets harder.

  I’m struck by a genius idea when he jerks my zipper down.

  I should write a book.

  How to get attached to a guy you know who won’t ever commit, written by Kassidy dumbass Kingston.

  Will hoists himself up, staring down my face with heat, lust, and doubt in his gaze. He’s trying to decode my emotions, giving me one last chance to protest and save myself. But… his eyes. His fucking eyes.

  They lure the truth out of me.

  I’m totally falling for him, aren’t I?

  Unable to handle his piercing stare a second longer, I lurch forward, trapping his bottom lip between my teeth. He responds by sneaking a hand inside my jeans and resting a finger atop my underwear. My breath hitches as his index glides up and down the fabric repeatedly, driving me completely mad. I’m a solid 95 percent sure he can feel my arousal through my panties, and the way he grunts in appreciation when his hand dips lower bumps it up to a hundred.

  One more kiss.

  One more touch.

  I can’t get enough.

  “Will.” I let out a breathy moan.

  That’s his cue to start fingering me.

  Kind of.

  He rubs me, tortures me with slow, rough circles over my underwear.

  Holy.

  Freaking.

  Shit.

  I could punch him right now. How in the ever-loving hell can he make me feel this way without really touching me? A hint of a smirk tugs at his lips as his hand begins its climb toward my stomach. He pulls on my underwear, mere seconds away from crossing the point of no return, but just as his fingers start to slip under…

  His phone rings.

  Kassidy

  The moment the loud ringtone cuts through the air, Will interrupts the kiss, disconnecting from me with a gravelly curse. His hand hasn’t moved one bit, still resting on the outer side of my underwear.

  Seriously, phone?

  Now?

  Our eyes meet on the third ring. I expect him to be horrified by the previous events, crippled with regrets, but he looks… strangely calm. Not panicked, not scared.

  Neutral.

  And horny.

  Definitely horny.

  Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.

  Or…

  Maybe he doesn’t regret it?

  The ringing continues for long, beyond awkward seconds. When it becomes clear whoever’s calling is not quitting anytime soon, Will withdraws his hand from my pants and props himself up onto his palms. I keep waiting for him to pick up his phone. Until he curses again, stretches his right arm out, and swipes something off the floor.

  My phone.

  It’s not his phone that stopped us.

  It’s mine.

  Someone is calling me. Evidently, the first name that pops into my mind is Kendrick’s, but the look on Will’s face when he takes a peek at the screen tells me I couldn’t be further from the truth. Cold is what he becomes. Any warmth that might’ve ever resided in his eyes is replaced by annoyance as he tosses me my phone. My heart drops at the caller ID.

  Luke.

  The call dies down as Will pushes to his feet, shamelessly adjusting the massive bulge straining against his pants. My eyes follow the motion, and my cheeks flare. Shit. He looks big.

  Kass, what the fuck?

  Embarrassed by my own train of thoughts, I tear my eyes away. If he saw me gawking at his dick, he doesn’t show it, clearing his throat and running a hand through his ruffled blond hair. My phone rings again, and I frown.

  Why is Luke calling m—

  Oh my God!

  The date!

  I had a date with Luke!

  I check the time on my phone. 9:05. We were supposed to meet at eight. This is all my fault. I’m the one who asked him out. Even if it was for all the wrong reasons. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like that. I zip up my jeans—which is so awkward I could die—and press Answer.

  “Hello?” My voice falters.

  “Hey, Kass. It’s Luke. I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier. You must’ve been waiting for me. I know we were supposed to meet at eight.”

  A wave of relief rolls over me.

  Then comes the guilt.

  No, I wasn’t waiting for you. I was actually doing “things” with another guy, but thanks for calling.

  Leave a message
after the beep of shame.

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m not going to be able to make it. I’m sorry. Believe me, I’d much rather be with you, but my aunt needs me.”

  “It’s fine. Tonight’s not really good for me either,” I say, overly aware of Will hanging on to my every word. “Can I ask what’s going on? Is Isabella okay?”

  “Let’s just say you and I are going to be seeing a whole lot more of each other.”

  I peek at Will from the corner of my eye. He’s tense. His jaw, his fists, his shoulders—all tense as a rock. He looks like he could easily tear the tree house to the ground with his bare hands.

  “How come?” I ask.

  “My aunt’s training me to fill in as store manager. I’ll be helping out for a while.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  He gives me the missing piece of the equation.

  “Jenny just quit.”

  I’d like to say that I’m surprised. But all I can think about after hearing the news is “Of course she did.” There is no world in which this could’ve ended well for her. If she hadn’t quit, I would’ve, and she had no way of knowing if I planned on telling someone. She probably didn’t want to risk it and ran away so she could keep fucking her dean without issue.

  “Did she say why?”

  “Nope. Just said it was time for her to move on.”

  Again, of course she did.

  “Okay, then. I guess I’ll see you at work.”

  “Yeah, see you, Kass. Sorry again.”

  He hangs up.

  The second I peel the phone from my ear, Will takes off. He gives me absolutely nothing: not a word, not a look. He just rushes down the crappy ladder and walks away.

  “Will!” I shriek like a complete idiot.

  I follow his lead, almost tripping on the vines covering the ground as I chase after him.

  “Will!” I call again, but he doesn’t stop, striding down the rocky path. When I finally catch up to him, we’re standing in the parking lot where I left my car. The guy is fast.

  “Wait.” I snatch his arm.

  “What?” he drones, sounding uninterested. Bored, even. I’m a bit taken aback by his tone but try my best not to show it.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. Look, I have to get to training. I’m late. You should probably call Luke back. You know, so you can reschedule that date.”