by Monroe, Max
The notebook, I should say.
The one that traveled all the way to Milan and Positano and back, its intended purpose being for when I had inspiration and needed to sketch a few design ideas.
The one that holds the rules.
I grab it off the nightstand and—because I’m a freaking masochist—I open it up until I find the page with the infamous Italian Rendezvous Rules.
It feels like ages since that day on his yacht happened.
But I can remember it like it was yesterday. The wind in my hair. The sun on my face. And Theo’s handsome face smiling back at me.
One, Two, Three, Four, I scan the rules scrawled over the page with my eyes.
Until I reach the end.
But it’s not the end.
Just below Rule Number Five, more words fill the page.
Words that I’ve never seen.
Words that I didn’t write.
Lena,
I don’t think I’m a fan of these rules anymore.
Especially Rule Number Five.
I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
And I hope, when you get back home (wherever that may be), you’ll realize you weren’t ready to say goodbye either.
And right below his words sit two very important things.
His name: Theo Cruz—a fact I learned not by the scrawl on this page, but instead, by an awkward reunion with my brother in attendance.
And his phone number—the code to future, unmonitored contact.
My breath gets all caught up in my lungs, and my heart feels like it’s going to pound right out of my chest.
All this time. All these weeks. And I’ve had what, deep down, I really wanted—a way to contact him, to see him again.
Now what do I do?
My subconscious rolls her eyes at my naïve act.
She knows what I’m going to do and so do I—the exact thing his friendship with my brother says I shouldn’t.
Theo
When I glance down at my watch and see it is nearing two in the morning, a deep sigh seeps from my lungs. Thank fuck.
For the past several hours, I’ve put on a show of a man who is thoroughly enjoying himself, but in all actuality, time has flowed like fucking molasses. The damn minutes crawled by like they had better things to do than move this night along.
God, this night. What a mindfuck.
In a rush of confusion and uncertainty, Lena left the party three hours ago, and I’ve been trying to find my bearings ever since.
She left without a goodbye, not even an I’ll see you later.
Just… This is too much and I definitely should go.
I wanted to stop her. I tried to stop her.
But her mind was made up, and I can’t even fault her for that decision.
Truthfully, if I could’ve left after we almost lit a proverbial fire right in the middle of this rooftop, I fucking would have.
But I had this irrational fear that I’d draw attention to us—Lena and me.
So, I slapped a fake smile on my face and stayed put.
God, did we fuck up. Actually, we more than fucked up. Hell, I don’t even want to think about the worst-case scenario consequences that could have occurred had we not stopped ourselves from taking it too far.
It’s all so unlike me, it’s scary.
Clearheaded, cautious, practical, those are qualities I’m known for.
But the reckless man who was two seconds away from having sex with Lena in the middle of a party? He may as well be a complete stranger.
“Where’d Lena go?”
The sound of her name grabs my attention, and I find a lazy-eyed Cap with an even lazier smile.
It’s safe to say he didn’t hold back on the drinks tonight.
In fact, besides me, no one did. But that probably has more to do with the ice-cold reality check that was almost sending myself to an early grave—via having sex with my best friend’s sister at a party he’s fucking attending—than anything else.
“She went home a while ago, baby.” Ruby giggles and wraps her arm around his waist. “Kind of like we should go home right now.”
“What?” Cap asks and looks around the party. Well, what’s left of the party. Besides a few stragglers, most people have already headed home. “What do you mean she went home?” he slurs. “And where the fuck is Harrison?”
“He’s gone too,” Milo chimes in, and Cap’s hazy gaze turns skeptical.
Boy, that’s ironic. He’s suspicions of Harrison, but Harrison sure as hell wasn’t the one who had Cap’s sister’s ass in his hands and her breasts in his mouth…
Immediately, guilt creeps up my spine.
God, I feel like such a bastard right now.
“But you can relax, man,” Milo adds with a chuckle. “I saw him sneak out with one of the waitresses after her shift ended.”
“C’mon, Cap. Stop worrying about your sister, who you know is perfectly fine, and take me home,” Ruby whines. “My feet are killing me.”
“Aw, my pretty little Ruby,” Cap slurs, apparently too buzzed to remember what he was just talking about.
And like his drunken, oblivious state is some kind of win for me, a silent breath of relief jumps from my lungs. Immediately, I hate myself for being this thrilled over my friend’s inebriation.
But still blitzed and clueless, Cap wraps his arm around his fiancée’s shoulders and leans down to place a kiss to her lips. “I’m ready to go home too. Preferably where I shall remove all of your clothes and make sweet, passionate, sexy-time love with you.”
Ruby rolls her eyes and giggles. “I’ll be shocked if you can manage to stay awake for that long, but I’m up for trying.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ll get a second wind,” he mutters as they head for the exit doors. “And then, I’m going to rock my Ruby’s world!”
“As you can see, we had an awesome time. Good night, everyone!” Ruby bursts into laughter and waves goodbye to Milo and Maybe before helping Cap—aka the man who might end up murdering me if he ever finds out about Lena and me—out the door.
Done with myself and my incessant thoughts and done with this night, I start making my rounds of goodbyes to whoever is left.
A kiss to Maybe’s cheek. A slap on the back to Milo.
And when I get to Thatch, the motherfucker wraps his big paws around me and damn near lifts my feet off the ground.
“Christ, T,” I mutter as he squeezes all of the air out of my lungs.
“Love you, Cruz,” he says and eventually puts me down.
“Yeah. Yeah. Love you too, you emotional bastard.”
Thatch just smirks.
A few minutes later, I’m off the rooftop, stepping out of the hotel’s main doors, and hailing a ride home.
It’s not long before I’m in the back of a yellow cab, heading in the direction of my place on the Upper East Side.
The stress of the evening finally hits me hard, and I slouch into the silence and shut my eyes.
But that peace doesn’t last long.
About halfway into my ride home, my phone vibrates inside my jacket pocket, and I pull it out with a groan to find a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Is this Theo Cruz?
“Jesus,” I mutter to myself as I type out a response. The last thing I want to deal with is some bullshit spammer.
Me: Who is this?
While my number is unlisted to the general public, it wouldn’t be the first time some weirdo who wants some kind of favor got ahold of it.
Unknown: Someone who found your number in a very surprising place.
Me: And where exactly did you find it?
Unknown: In my notebook. Hidden underneath some…rules.
Holy shit. Lena.
My heart jumps to racing rhythm, and I pop up in my seat like a jack-in-the-box. My phone vibrates with another text.
Unknown: Rules that seem pretty null and void right about now, by the way.
And before I can respond, she sends one m
ore.
Unknown: I wasn’t ready to say goodbye either, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m so fucking sorry about that note.
I stare down at her words, and all the stress and confusion that come along with our situation just kind of float away as relief settles inside my veins.
I wasn’t the only one feeling a certain way about us.
I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t ready for it to end.
But now what do we do?
Unknown: Theo?
Me: Yeah, Lena?
Unknown: I know what we should do about all of this, but there’s one big problem.
Me: What?
Unknown: It doesn’t match up with what I want to do…at all.
My heart jumps into my throat.
Me: And what do you want to do?
I watch the text bubbles move up and down, and when her next message comes through, it’s my official undoing.
Unknown: I want to keep finishing what we started.
Fuck. So do I.
Tired of seeing the word Unknown staring back at me, I quickly add her name to my contacts and type out a message.
Me: Where are you?
Lena: I’m at my apartment.
Me: And where is your apartment?
Lena: Harlem.
Me: Lena.
Lena: I know. Be more specific. But I’m only willing to be specific on one condition.
Me: And what’s that?
Lena: If I give it to you, you better come over and friendship the fuck out of me…
I know this isn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but fuck, when it comes to her, I can’t seem to do anything but act on impulse.
Me: Tell me your address.
A minute later, her address is staring back at me.
And even though we’re about one block away from my place, I lean forward toward the taxi driver.
“I hate to do this to you, man,” I say, and he meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “But do you mind taking me to Harlem instead? I swear, a very generous tip is in it for you.”
“A change of plans?”
“Something like that.”
He smiles knowingly. “Harlem, it is, sir.”
Twenty minutes. That’s how far away Lena Hawkins lives from me.
We are inside the same city and twenty-fucking-minutes apart.
The irony of it all isn’t lost on me, but my focus is otherwise busy tossing the friendly cabbie my expensive fare plus a very substantial tip.
He grins at the wad of cash I place in his hand. “Thank you. And I hope the change of plans works out well for ya.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, me too.”
And then I jump into action.
Long strides across the pavement and up to the entrance door of her building.
One press of my finger to the button that sits above the last name Hawkins and her voice is filling my ear. “Theo?”
“It’s me.”
“Jesus. What took you so long?”
I smirk. “Let me in, Lena.”
The door buzzes open, and I’m off to the races, jogging up the three flights of stairs until I reach her door.
But just as I lift my hand to rap my knuckles against the wood, it swings open and there she is. My Lena.
Damn.
She reaches out with one hand, grips the material of my dress shirt, and pulls me inside.
The collision of bodies is spectacular.
All grabby hands and panting breaths and passionate insanity.
“Fucking hell. You drive me crazy.” I kick the door closed with my foot and lift her into my arms by her ass.
She wraps her arms around my neck and presses her mouth to mine, kissing the hell out of me while she whispers against my lips, “Like you should talk. It took everything inside me to walk away from you tonight.”
Fuck. I groan and kiss her hard. “This is probably the worst idea we’ve ever had, but I can’t seem to control myself around you.”
“Ditto,” she says through a moan. “Now, if you don’t get me to my bedroom and put your cock inside me in the next minute, I swear on everything, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
With ten steps through her living room and another few to her bedroom, we’re right back to it all. Right back to kissing and touching and losing ourselves to each other.
Right back to where we were before she left Positano.
Right back to finishing what we started.
Lena
Two hours ago, Theo was at my door.
And now, we’re lying in my bed, sleepy and sated, just quietly enjoying the way it feels to be this close to each other again.
Déjà vu hits me as I trace my fingers across his chest, lightly brushing my nails against the toned skin in the very same ways I found myself doing all those weeks ago.
He responds just how I’d expect—by running his fingers through my hair, starting at the top of my head until he reaches the ends of each strand and the loose curls bounce away from his palm.
Habits. They’re back, and I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t like them.
Or that they didn’t put a smile to my lips.
Or that they didn’t make my heart thrum faster or my head feel lighter.
Because they do. Those pesky little habits bring me comfort.
They make me feel…at home.
And Theo, well, he makes me feel safe. Like I can just forget about everything. Forget about the stress and responsibilities that come along with my internship. Forget about Vicky’s scrutiny and all the pressure I put on myself to prove her wrong.
He makes me feel like I can actually breathe.
And fuck, I’m terrified to let this feeling go again.
No matter how wrong this probably is, I need him right now.
I really fucking need him.
But how can we keep this going? How can we keep spending time together without causing some sort of catastrophic domino effect that ends with my brother finding out and killing Theo and never speaking to me again?
“I think we’re going to need some new rules.”
The words fly from my lips before I can think twice about them.
But they don’t necessarily feel wrong. If anything, they feel pretty fucking right.
“Oh yeah.” Theo laughs, and his chest vibrates against my cheek. “New rules. More rules. That’s exactly what we need right now.”
“Honestly, I think they are.” I lift my head off his chest and raise both of my eyebrows. “Rules. Boundaries. Something to keep our horny asses in line because it’s apparent we have no fucking willpower when it comes to each other.”
“Wait…tell me you’re joking. You really want more rules?”
My mind already made up, I shake my head, press one firm kiss to his lips, and disentangle my naked body from his and slide off my mattress.
His eyes are searching and questioning and even a little bit amused as he watches me from the bed as I rummage around on the small desk that sits at the far corner of my room. Once I locate a pen beneath junk mail and receipts and god knows what else, I pad over to the nightstand near his hip and snag that infamous notebook.
Crawling over his body, I plop my naked butt down beside him and open my notebook to a fresh page. “New rules, Theo Cruz,” I say, the first time I’m using his full name out loud. “If we’re going to keep friendshipping, then we’re going to need them.”
“Honestly, I think we can just adjust the old rules, Lena Hawkins…” He pauses, and a sexy smile lights up his face. “Scratch all but rule number three, and we should be good to go.”
Rule Number Three: Lots of sex.
Just as I realize the rule he’s talking about, he reaches out to pinch the side of my ass cheek.
I squeal and use my free hand to slap away his sneaky fingers.
“C’mon, Theo, we’re basically playing with fire here. I mean, we know way too many of the same people, and dear God, if Cap were ever to find out…” I trail off with
wide eyes. “Just, yeah, we have to lay some ground rules so we’re both on the same page.”
“So, what you’re saying is…” Theo’s long fingers reach out to brush a loose curl out of my eyes. “You want to keep this, whatever it is we’re doing right now, a secret.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I bet this is what Marilyn Monroe felt like with JFK.”
I snort. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m your dirty, little, scandalous sex secret.”
“Yeah, well, that goes both ways, buddy,” I retort. “Tragic death, great tits, and perfect beauty mark aside, we’re both Marilyn Monroe in this situation.”
“You don’t think I have great tits?” He feigns a pout. “I’m officially offended.”
“I think we both know I’m the one with the best tits in this relationship.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” he says and leans his face into my breasts, sneaking tiny licks of his tongue against my skin. “These are the best tits. My favorite tits.”
I bite back my moan when he sucks one pert nipple into his mouth and circles his devious tongue around it. By the time he works me over for a good minute, I can feel myself growing wet with arousal again between my legs.
Hell’s bells, I’m seconds away from tossing my notebook across the room.
Until he pulls away, meets my eyes, and drops one bomb of a question. “And…relationship? Is that what you want to call this?”
Shit. Did I really say relationship?
I open and close my mouth, but nothing comes out because I don’t have a clue what to think or say.
Obviously, since we’ve brought this thing back to our home territory, we’re not dealing with a simple rendezvous anymore.
But…a relationship?
Why I even used that word is a flipping mystery to me.
