Rules We're Meant to Break

by Natalie Williamson

  “Oh, awesome,” I say.

  “Yeah, it was. Where are you?”

  Matt emerges from one of the bathrooms in this place and I wave him over. “We’re looking at apartments, but we’re getting ready to head back to Matt’s now. I have to be at my interview in an hour.”

  “That’s perfect,” he says. “GPS says I’ll be at Matt’s apartment in thirty minutes.”

  Relief floods my chest. “That’s great. See you soon, then?”

  “Definitely.”

  * * *

  We end up getting back to Matt’s apartment right as Jordan is parking in the tiny lot behind it. I run over to hug him. He buries his face in my neck, then loosens his hold on me enough to study my face. “You ready to kick some ass at your interview?”

  “Mostly,” I say, getting up on my tiptoes and kissing him. I mean to make it quick, but I have a hard time letting him go.

  “Whoa, whoa,” Hannah says. “This is a public space, you two.”

  We break apart and I look over and see Matt, Hannah, and Cammie all watching us, smiling. My face gets hot and I look over at Jordan to see he’s blushing too, a goofy grin on his face.

  “Sorry,” he says. But he reaches a hand out and traces a finger down my arm, which tells me he’s really not.

  Matt lives in the state streets between Mass Street and campus, where the houses are all old and beautiful, with big front porches and huge trees in the front yards. His place is actually a house that’s been divided up into three apartments. The front porch sags on the left and the boards creak at the slightest movement as we wait for Matt to find his house key. These are things that would probably bother me anywhere else, but here they seem to fit. I’m even excited by the rickety staircase we have to take to get to Matt’s front door. It’s so narrow that my purse bangs into the wall with every step, no matter how many times I adjust it.

  “It’s not much,” Matt says, as we follow him into the main room, which is a kitchen/dining/living combo, “but it gets the job done. And it’s a great location. Within walking distance to campus. I figured we’d walk to the game tonight. On game nights parking on campus is always a bitch.”

  We all nod and follow him further into the room. He goes over to the back wall and opens the three doors there one by one.

  “My room,” he says at the first one. From what I can see, his entire floor is covered in dirty clothes. Typical. “Bathroom,” he adds, opening the second door and pointing at the toilet. “And my roommate’s room. He’s crashing at his girlfriend’s house tonight so you guys have a place to sleep. Han, I figured you and the girls can take his bed. And you,” he says, rounding on Jordan and narrowing his eyes, “can sleep out here. The couch is very comfortable.”

  Jordan nods agreement, his expression serious, and Matt looks relieved.

  I’m half-relieved, half-disappointed about these sleeping arrangements, but it doesn’t take long before the disappointment starts winning.

  We have just enough time to drop off our stuff before we have to turn around and leave again so that I can go to my interview. Matt drives since he actually knows where we’re going, and while Hannah rides shotgun, I sit in the back between Jordan and Cammie. Luckily we don’t have far to go: It feels like we’ve barely been in the car five minutes when Matt pulls us into a shopping center that looks like it’s seen better days, swings his car around to the very edge of the lot, and parks in front of a building that’s set off on its own in the lot. Pet Universe.

  “Your stop, Amb,” Matt says.

  “Thanks,” I say. Beside me Jordan leans in, reaching a hand over to squeeze my knee. “Are you guys coming in?”

  “We can,” Matt says, “but I figured you’d rather go in alone, right?” I nod and he grins. “Cool. There’s a thrift store at the other end of the strip mall that’s pretty sweet. We’ll go check that out while you do your thing.”

  “Sounds good,” I say, and we all unbuckle and get out of the car.

  Jordan gives me a quick kiss once we’re on the pavement, and Hannah and Matt both give me reassuring smiles. Cammie’s still looking a little stiff, but she sounds sincere as she says, “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’ve got this,” Hannah says. “Text us when you’re done, okay?”

  “I will,” I say, and then I take a deep breath and turn to head into the store.

  The first thing I notice when I walk inside Pet Universe is how bright and open everything is. They’ve got the small mammals up front in glass enclosures, a beautiful parrot on a perch in the center of the room, and tanks full of colorful fish lining the back wall. It’s busy too, even on a weeknight, and I see at least a dozen employees spread throughout the room helping customers. I mentally cross all of my appendages that this job works out. I can already tell that I would love it.

  After a second of absorbing everything, I go over to the registers to let them know I’m here for an interview. The girl behind the counter, who looks maybe a year or two older than me, gives me a friendly grin and tells me she’ll let the owner know I’m here. I only have to wait a few minutes before a short woman with a wide smile comes bustling out of the fish area.

  “You must be Amber.” She sticks her hand out for me to shake as soon as I’m within her reach.

  “I am,” I say, shaking her hand. “And you’re Carol?”

  “That’s me.” Her smile widens. “Come on with me and let’s do this thing.”

  Carol’s version of an interview ends up being more of a store tour full of questions for me. She takes me around each section of the place and gets me to tell her about my work and training experience as we walk. At one point the parrot, who she introduces as Boomer, hops off her perch and onto Carol’s shoulder. Boomer stares at me as I tell Carol about the early stages of working with Buffy, and to be honest I feel like I’m being judged more harshly by the bird than I am by the woman who will hopefully be my boss.

  The whole thing only takes about half an hour, which isn’t as long as I was expecting, but Carol is beaming at me by the time we’re done. She takes me back up to the front of the door, gives me her card and another firm handshake, and says, “I’ll be in touch,” in a way that gets every single one of my hopes up. I wait until she’s disappeared through the door in the fish area before I head back outside and send a group text to let everyone know that I’m done.

  “How’d it go?” Hannah demands a minute later, when I meet everyone back at the car.

  “Good,” I say, unable to hide my grin. “I mean, obviously I don’t know for sure yet. But I have a good feeling.”

  thirty

  We take the car back to Matt’s place and then walk down to Mass Street for dinner. Matt points out all the restaurants we need to try eventually, and also all the bars that aren’t strict about carding. Hannah finds it hilarious that he’s being so strict about Jordan sleeping on the couch tonight but is okay with pointing out places for us to get smashed illegally next year. We get pad thai and toast Jordan’s campus visit and my hopefully successful interview. Then we walk over to the game, joining the streams of students who live near and on campus flooding into Allen Fieldhouse.

  I’ve heard stories about what it’s like to watch basketball in Allen Fieldhouse, but even the stories couldn’t prepare me for this. The crowd is already at a low rumble when we come in and head for the student section, and the entire place is a sea of blue and red.

  “Where did you guys used to sit when you came with the Kleins?” I ask Cammie, raising my voice so she can hear me over all the commotion.

  “Near half-court, a few rows back,” she says, nodding toward a section that hasn’t filled up as much as the others yet.

  “Nice,” Hannah says. “Best view in the house, right?”

  Matt shakes his head. “It may be a better view, but the student section is more fun. You’ll see. Come on!”

  We find seats next to Matt’s roommate and some of their other friends about halfway up the stand
s. A couple of them went to our high school and recognize Jordan thanks to his basketball stats; they pepper him with questions about his season and his college plans as we wait for tip-off. The whole time he’s talking to them he keeps an arm draped loosely around my back.

  When the teams finally come out onto the court, the noise in the building cranks up about ten notches. And when it’s finally time for the tip-off and the Jayhawks get the ball, it becomes a full-on roar. It’s electric, being a part of this, and as I steal glances at Jordan and the others, I know I’m not the only one who’s feeling like that.

  Matt is right: Sitting in the student section is a lot of fun. We cheer when our team makes a basket and hold up newspapers to show our boredom when the other team goes to the free-throw line. I’ve watched a lot of KU games on TV over the years, but this is by far the most fun I’ve ever had watching one. And when we win by ten points and the whole Fieldhouse starts doing the Rock Chalk chant, I get goose bumps at the beauty of it.

  After the game we go back to Matt’s, all talking and laughing over each other as we discuss the highlights. We stay up late, later than I know we should, and it’s a long time before Matt finally gets up, stretches, and says he’s going to bed.

  Matt’s only been in his room for a few minutes when Hannah gets to her feet. “You know what? I’m tired too.”

  She gives Cammie a pointed look, and Cammie clears her throat. “Right, yeah, same.”

  Jordan is next to me on the couch, and I can feel him watching me, waiting to see what I’ll do about this obvious setup. Careful to keep my voice neutral, I say, “Okay. You guys go ahead. I’ll be there in a little bit.”

  Hannah doesn’t bother to hide her gleeful smile. “Okay.”

  She beckons for Cammie to follow her, and with a quick “Night!” from Hannah and a good-natured eye roll from Cammie, the two of them disappear into Matt’s roommate’s bedroom, leaving me and Jordan alone.

  “So,” Jordan says slowly, in the same kind of neutral tone I just used. “You wanna watch a movie or something?”

  “Yeah.” I trace one of the whorls on the couch cushion. “You pick.”

  He grabs the remote off the coffee table and pulls up Netflix, and we spend a few minutes scrolling through the selections, trying to find something to watch.

  “What about this one?” Jordan asks, stopping on a rom-com that came out a few years ago.

  “Sure,” I say, because while I like this movie, it’s one that I don’t mind having on as background noise. Which I’m pretty sure is all it’s going to be, if I’m reading the signs right.

  He hits play and leans back on the couch, reaching out to tug me closer after a beat of silence. We shift around a bit to get comfortable and end up with him up against the back and me in front of him, pressed into his side. I focus on the rise and fall of his chest behind me as the opening credits start to play.

  “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, his breath warm on my neck.

  In answer I nod and settle in even closer to him, blowing out a breath when he cautiously loops his arm around my waist and splays his fingers out over my stomach.

  For the next twenty minutes or so we actually watch the movie. At least, I think Jordan does. I mostly stare at the screen and focus on the feel of his hands on me. At some point he starts tracing designs on my hip bone, which is very, very distracting. Slowly I move from my side to my back. Then from my back to my other side, so that we’re facing each other. And that’s when I see that Jordan’s not watching the movie either. He’s watching me.

  “Hey,” he says, his voice low.

  “Hi,” I whisper back.

  He reaches a hand out and tucks my hair behind my ear, then trails his fingers down the side of my face. My skin feels like it’s on fire where he touches me, and I want him closer. I grab his head and pull it down so I can kiss him. He kisses me back, deeply, and I pull away from him, breathing hard.

  His eyes search my face. “What?” he asks. “Too much?”

  “I think,” I say slowly, “that I’m ready to not go as slow. Not to go fast, just—just to not go as slow.” I take a deep breath to calm the ball of nerves that’s rising in my throat and study his face. “Does that … does that sound okay?”

  He gives a little ha of laughter that somehow sets me at ease. “That sounds more than okay. But I mean, I don’t expect—you don’t have to—” He stops and shakes his head.

  I reach down to tug at his shirt. His muscles flex as I run my hands up his stomach, and he pulls back enough to help me slip his shirt over his head. “I know I don’t have to,” I say, tracing patterns on his skin now. He shivers at my touch and I get this thrill that I can make him react like that. “I want to.”

  I want to be as close to him as I can. I want to see him. I want to let him see me. So I sit up and tug my own shirt over my head. And then I take my bra off too.

  Jordan’s eyes go wide and he studies me, letting his gaze linger. Then he pulls me back down next to him, so we’re pressed together, skin to skin. “Whatever you’re ready for,” he says, leaning in so our lips are almost touching, “that’s what we’ll do.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, and kiss him again.

  After that we aren’t talking with words.

  * * *

  Hannah corners me in the bathroom the next morning. Or actually early the next afternoon, because we sleep in way late. “So,” she says. “How was it?”

  I look at her in the mirror, yank the toothbrush out of my mouth, and spit into the sink. “How was what?”

  “Whatever you and Jordan were doing until four o’clock this morning,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at the closed bathroom door, as if she’s afraid someone else might be listening at the door. She turns back to me and grins. “You thought I didn’t wake up when you came in, but I totally did.”

  I can feel my face flushing as I think about last night, how Jordan and I kissed and kissed and how we peeled each other’s clothes off slowly. How I let him see more of me than anyone has, ever. How I let him touch me in some of those places too.

  “It was … good,” I say, my voice low, and Hannah squeals.

  “You really like him, don’t you?”

  Like doesn’t feel like a big enough word anymore, but I’m not ready to think about what comes after that. Not when everything about next year is so up in the air. “Yeah, I do.”

  “I’m glad.” She studies me for a second. “Did you have sex with him?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not ready for that yet. And even if I was, we didn’t have a condom, so it wouldn’t have been safe.”

  We did talk about it, and I think it might happen soon. But I want to keep that to myself for a little while. Enjoy it.

  “And he was good with that?” she asks. I nod and she beams. “Good. I knew he was a keeper, but I just wanted to make sure.”

  Hannah and I finish getting ready—which mostly involves Hannah brushing her teeth and doing more beaming at me in the mirror—and then we go back out into the living room so that Cammie and Jordan can have their turns in the bathroom. Cammie goes first, and while she’s in there and Hannah’s in her brother’s room—trying to wake him up to tell him we’re getting ready to leave and that he needs to go to class—Jordan and I are left alone in the living room again. He smiles at me shyly, and I smile back, glad I’m not the only one who’s feeling a little nervous this morning.

  I go over to him and twine our fingers together, tipping my head back so I can see his face. He’s studying me intently, his eyes going back and forth between mine like he’s trying to make sure I’m okay. I lift up on my tiptoes to kiss him; he’s much more relaxed when I pull away.

  “Did you get into the room okay last night?” he asks, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

  I nod. “Hannah left a space for me.”

  “That’s good,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss me again.

  Before he makes contact a voice says, “J, you’re up,” and I look ove
r to see Cammie smirking at us from the bathroom doorway.

  Jordan goes to take his turn in the bathroom, and by the time he comes back out the rest of us, Matt included, are assembled in the living room. Matt walks us down to the car, barefoot and bleary-eyed, tells Cammie and Jordan it was nice to see them, and hugs me and Hannah goodbye.

  “I feel a lot better about you guys being here in August after seeing how well you behaved yourselves last night,” he says when he lets me go. That earns him a punch in the arm from Hannah, but I just laugh and get in the car.

  thirty-one

  We get back to town right around dinnertime, and after brief hellos to my mom and Kevin, Cammie leaves for her mom’s place. We’re having leftovers from last night’s dinner, so Mom decides we should eat at the kitchen island instead of in the dining room. Buffy, who’s been stuck to me like glue since I walked in the door, manages to wedge herself under my barstool. Her head rests on my foot while I tell Mom and Kevin about the trip.

  “How’d you like the state streets?” Kevin asks, after I tell them about Matt’s apartment.

  “So cool,” I say. I pause to take a bite of my food, Kevin’s latest tofu concoction, which isn’t half bad. When I’m finished chewing, I add, “All the apartments down there sound so expensive though. Matt said he’d put me in touch with his landlord, but I don’t know if I’d be able to afford any of them without a roommate. Which I no longer have since Hannah wants to live in the dorms.”

  Kevin frowns and Mom clinks her fork hard on her plate and I realize I’ve said something wrong.

  “Apartments?” Kevin asks. Buffy’s head lifts off my foot at the tone of his voice.

  I look from him to my mom, to see if Mom will give me some kind of clue here. But she’s got her eyes closed like she doesn’t want to hear what happens next, which leaves me on my own. “Um, yeah. Since I want to take Buffy with me next year, I can’t live in the dorms.”