Rules

by Doe, Anna B.

  #1: Don’t form attachments.

  #2: Don’t let your guard down.

  #3: Do NOT fall in love.

  I chant those three little lines over and over in my head. They have been my guide for so long. My lifeline. That is, while I lived by them. Now they’re a reminder. A reminder of the pain that’s lying buried inside me. The pain I’m trying to ignore, escape, while at the same time knowing it’ll catch up to me eventually.

  “I’m out,” I murmur to no one in particular, and then I walk away.

  Chapter Seven

  MAX

  “The winners are here, baby!” Derek’s loud whoop echoes through the house as the whole team enters an already packed Hill mansion. It feels like the whole student body of Greyford High is here. I’m not sure how he does it, but Andrew delivers every single time. He’s not even home, and when we get here, the party is already going on.

  “Wolves! Wolves!” the crowd chants as we walk by, through the mass of people. They clap and cheer, some even come to congratulate us on our latest win. It was a tough one, but we managed to pull through.

  My side still aches from the hit I took in the second period, but missing out wasn’t an option. Drew wouldn’t let me live it down if I did.

  Cups full of beer are passed to us as soon as we get into the living room. Hill jumps to the coffee table and people grow quiet.

  “This season is our season, and whoever gets in our way better get ready to have their asses handed to them!” Andrew lifts his cup in the air, the liquid spilling out from the sudden movement, but nobody seems to mind as the crowd roars in agreement. I too lift my cup with the rest of them before downing what’s left in it.

  “Now, let’s party, assholes!”

  More agreement is deafened by the music blasting to maximum volume. Without further encouragement, people start mingling around, dancing and drinking.

  “Dude, that was some shot.” Drew’s hand slides over my shoulders, pulling me closer. The guy’s already buzzed and we just got here. “We’re so winning this thing.”

  “That’s the plan!”

  Getting to the Ice Globe Tournament, and ultimately winning it, is the goal. As the season moves on, college scouts will be watching closely those teams who get to the playoffs. Winning the tournament isn’t just about the bragging rights; it also means securing a spot at one of the division one colleges, which could possibly lead to a career in the NHL. And that is the ultimate end game.

  I knew I wouldn’t get to any fancy college based on my grades, so I needed this. College hockey and eventually professional hockey were my future, and since I started playing for the Greyford Wolves, I actually believed I could reach that future. Not that my old team wasn’t good. They were, but there is something about being with these guys that makes me feel like all the pieces of the puzzle have finally fallen into place.

  “Dude, why is your cup empty?” Drew shakes his head incredulously. “We can’t have that.”

  Looking around, he spots whoever he’s been searching for. Whistling loudly, he grabs the guy’s attention and when he turns around, I can see it’s one of the rookies on the team.

  “Grab us a refill, will ya?”

  The guy scurries away like his ass is on fire, and we turn around to talk to the guys who are still in the living room.

  Pushing all other thoughts out, I let myself have fun. We shoot the shit for a while, but then some of the guys are dragged away by either their girlfriends or potential hook-ups. I stay with Luke and James, two of my teammates. They wanted to go play pool in the man-cave-slash-game-room, but when I caught a glimpse of Derek and Lia sitting in there on the couch, I decided against it.

  I accepted the fact that Lia’s with Derek now, but I still wasn’t ready to be with the happy couple more than was necessary. Being in school with them, seeing them hold hands and kiss in the hallways or in between classes was hard enough; purposely seeking them out away from school would be idiotic.

  Turning around, I go to the bar and sit down. I can almost feel my ribs sigh in relief as the pressure is taken off of them.

  The rookie standing behind the bar comes to me, and I ask him for a double scotch. I needed something stronger if I was going to survive tonight.

  The barstool next to mine screeches as somebody takes the seat. “How are you holding up?”

  I lift my gaze to meet Jeanette’s, my finger still absentmindedly circling around the edge of the crystal glass.

  “I’ve been better.” I shrug, the movement causing me to wince slightly. Maybe I should have taken those pain meds the doc offered me. But in a rough contact sport like hockey, relying too much on pain meds could result in getting hooked, and I wasn’t having that, so I declined.

  “You don’t look fine.” The disapproval is obvious in her tone. “That hit was brutal.”

  “It’s hockey.”

  I ruffle her hair playfully, chuckling at her sullen face. Jeanette swats my hand away, scowling at me.

  “Stop doing shit like that!”

  Jeanette has always supported my love of hockey, attending all my games and cheering me on for years, but she has never understood it. Claims it’s too violent, too dangerous. Like my bike. Or as she likes to call it, my demon motorcycle.

  Chuckling lightly, I ruffle her hair once again. Just because I can. I like to piss her off. These days, it seems like it’s the only reaction I can get out of her. But it’s better than having to face the cold and closed-off version of her. Ever since we moved she’s been like that, and I don’t like it one bit. We were tight before. I want that back. I want my sister back.

  “You’re acting like a five-year-old, Max!” Jeanette protests, her lips pouting.

  I shake my head, listening to her tirade, when something over her shoulder catches my attention. It takes me a while to realize what it is because the room is dim and there are a lot of people in here, but then I see it. A flash of ginger in the darkness.

  My throat closes up, the sour taste filling my mouth. I know I should look away, but it’s like she has a hold on me, and every time I see her, I can’t turn around.

  Lia’s back is pressed against Derek’s front and he’s helping her move to the beat of the music, their bodies grinding together. His hands roam over her skin, his lips nibbling at the soft flesh of her neck.

  “Max?” Jeanette’s confused voice breaks through the haze in my mind. She’s been talking to me, but I was flat-out ignoring her, only hearing the sound of my heartbeat echoing in my ears.

  Downing what’s left in my glass, I jump to my feet.

  “I have to get out of here,” I say, looking everywhere but at them.

  “Max…” I hear her calling again, but I’m already walking away because if I stay here one second longer, I’m going to suffocate.

  * * *

  When I stormed out of the party, I didn’t have a destination in mind. I just wanted to get away. Get away from the crowd. Get away from all the noise. I needed space. I needed some time alone so I could breathe. So I got into Jeanette’s car and I drove.

  I would have given anything to be able to ride my bike. Feel the motor purr to life between my thighs. Feel the cold wind bite my skin as I race down the empty, curvy roads, adrenaline buzzing through my veins. There is nothing quite like it, nothing that can match the rush I feel every time I slide on that leather seat.

  Unfortunately, I was out of luck. It’s cold and rainy in Michigan, with snow just around the corner, so I had to park my bike in the garage until spring. I tried to prolong it as much as I could, but even I wasn’t that dumb to try and ride my bike on the wet, icy roads, so Jeanette’s SUV would have to do.

  Rubbing my hand over my face, I sigh loudly, a white puff of air indicating that I’ve been sitting out here for way longer than I expected.

  My eyes zero in on the bar across the street. It’s rundown, like the rest of the buildings in this part of the town. Even clouded in the darkness of the night you can see that the color is p
eeling off the walls and the windows are so dirty it’s difficult to make out what’s happening inside.

  The last of the patrons left a few minutes ago with last call, but the dim light is still on inside. A shadow moves around the dark space efficiently, cleaning and closing up before she’s able to go home.

  Somehow, lately, I always find my way back here.

  My way back to her.

  I don’t know why. I don’t know how. I just do.

  I will my gaze to move, scanning the almost empty parking lot and street. Not like I’d expect much activity at two in the morning, but when I’m here, I’m always extra careful. Watching over my shoulder every now and then, my senses altered because even though I don’t expect trouble, I’m not dumb enough to believe it won’t find me.

  Not here.

  The door opens, and I can hear her soft goodbye before it shuts behind her.

  Showtime.

  Watching her carefully walk away, I wait until the distance between us is big enough so she won’t see me trailing behind. Exiting the car, I let the door softly shut behind me. Locking it, I pocket the key and pull my hood over my head as I follow behind carefully so she doesn’t see me.

  Because I’m sure if Brook Taylor finds out, she’ll have my balls.

  I cringe at the thought, but even that doesn’t slow me down.

  Nobody should walk around here by themselves, especially not a girl.

  Yes, the streets are mostly empty at this hour, but not completely. And the crowd that hangs out isn’t a crowd you’d want to mess with. The streetlights are few and far between, and the ones that do work shine such dim light they don’t help much with visibility. But it doesn’t seem to deter Brook. She walks rapidly, her head bowed down, backpack slung over her shoulder.

  This is her constant.

  Her life.

  I follow, keeping a safe distance between the two of us, until she reaches another one of the gloomy, falling apart buildings that is her home.

  Because the last thing I want is for her to know I’m following her.

  That I’ve been following her.

  For weeks.

  Because although Brook Taylor doesn’t need a savior, I need her to be my redemption.

  * * *

  MAX

  BEFORE – SENIOR YEAR

  “I just think we should include it in the presentation,” Brook insists stubbornly from the other side of the desk. “It’s a part of their tradition.”

  Sighing, frustrated, I look down at the notes in front of me, but the scribbled words make my headache even worse. Rubbing at my temples, I try to work through it like I always do. Deep breaths, while my mind untangles the letters and rearranges them into something that you should be able to read, but today it’s not helping. Maybe it’s because it’s in Spanish?

  Fuck it if I know.

  “Look, Sanders, if you don’t want to do it, I can work on this project myself, and we don’t have to go through this again. I’ll make the presentation and give you your notes so you know what part you’ll have to present to the class…”

  Just the thought of presenting anything makes my stomach queasy, but I push it away.

  “It’s not too much.” I stop her, my hand covering hers to gain her attention, but she pulls it away like my touch burned her. Something flashes in her green eyes, just for a second, but then it’s gone, hidden underneath the mask she shows to the world.

  “Sorry,” I smile apologetically. “My head hurts like a bitch today. Can we do this another time?”

  More like never, but it’s not like I have a choice. At the last private school Jeanette and I attended in California, my teachers would always pair me with my sister, and she knew what to do. Over here, they don’t care about those things. I tried talking privately with Mrs. Rodrigues about switching my partner, but she was set in her ways. Said something about getting out of my comfort zone and broadening my horizons. The thing she didn’t know was that this is so out of my comfort zone, it could be a hat trick.

  All my life Jeanette has been there, helping me with essays and reading assignments. Helping me focus on studying and understanding what’s written on the pages of all the textbooks, because to me it always seems like the words are trying to escape the pages.

  A few weeks ago, Brook said Jeanette’s the smart twin while I’m the pretty one, and she wasn’t far from the truth. It stung, but I played it cool like I always do. Like I’ve been doing for years. I’m not stupid; I know that, but words… words and I have never gotten along well. It’s frustrating, staring at the page, trying to concentrate, trying to understand, but not succeeding. So no matter how many times my sister assures me I’m not stupid, sometimes I wonder if she’s wrong and everybody else is right. Maybe I am stupid. Other seventeen-year-olds know how to fucking read and actually understand the words written on the page.

  Brook opens her mouth but thinks better of it. Her eyes roam my face for a while. I’m not sure what she sees, what she’s looking for.

  Uncomfortable, I shift in my seat. “I’m not trying to shit you and make you do all the work. Promise. Let’s go home, find some more material we can use, and meet here on Friday to discuss it. That okay?”

  She stares at me a while longer before she finally nods in agreement.

  “But it’ll have to be next week, maybe Monday.” Brook thinks about it, then nods. “Yeah, Monday.”

  Then she starts gathering her things, dismissing me completely.

  My brows furrow. “What’s wrong with Friday?”

  It irks me, the way she can just tune me out like I’m not even there. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me so much, but for some reason she does. From the very first day, Brook Taylor has either lashed out at me or ignored me completely. And while I don’t understand her issue with me, I’d take her anger any day of the week instead of the cold shoulder she usually gives me.

  She chuckles humorlessly. “You have practice, like today, and I’ve got places to be, Hot Shot.”

  “Like where?”

  Almost all of her things are already in that worn backpack she always carries over her shoulder, so I do the same, quickly grabbing my things because I know she’ll dash as soon as the zipper is pulled.

  “Like it’s none of your damn business, Sanders.”

  “It is when you’re ditching on this project we’re supposed to work on together.”

  Wrong. Words.

  Why do I always say the wrong thing when it comes to this chick?

  Her head snaps up, fury fuming in those field-like irises. She throws on her two-sizes-too-big leather jacket and slides the backpack over her shoulder.

  “I’m working around your hockey schedule, Sanders,” she grits. “Let’s not forget that, shall we? See you on Monday.”

  Those last words she throws over her shoulder as she walks away. She’s already at the door when I snap out of it.

  “Brook, wait!” I call after her.

  The librarian gives me a dirty look, but I ignore her. Grabbing my still open backpack, I run after the girl who’s getting away.

  “Brook!”

  Cool night air hits me as soon as I’m out of the library. It might be early October, but you can feel the crispness in the air once the sun goes down.

  I see a small body rushing away toward the bus stop, so I run after her. “Brook!”

  “What do you want now, Sanders?” she asks, without turning around.

  “Let me take you home,” I offer. “It’s late, and it’s getting dark outside.”

  She stops for a second, laughing. It’s one of her pretentious, humorless laughs that is so like her. The laugh that irritates the hell out of me. I don’t think I’ve heard her laugh, not once, for real.

  And I want it.

  I want her laughter.

  Something real that she doesn’t show to the rest of the world.

  I stop in my tracks, startled by the thought. Brook and I have been at each other’s throats since I moved here.
She’s stuck up in her own little world, holding back from everything except Lia. Maybe. And I’m her complete opposite. An easy-going, open guy who likes to meet new people and expand my horizons.

  Everything she avoids.

  Everything she’s afraid of.

  “Go home, Sanders.”

  Her words break me out of my trance, and I start stalking behind her, anger and determination burning in my veins. “I’m taking you home.”

  “I’m taking the bus.”

  “It’s late.”

  “It’s not the first time I’m doing it, and it won’t be the last. Go home, or find somebody else to play a knight in shining armor for. I don’t need saving.”

  She shoos me off and continues on her way, dismissing me yet again, but this time I’m faster. My hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her back.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Her lips part, surprise shining in her eyes, but one blink and the mask of indifference is back in place.

  “Let me go,” she grits through her teeth.

  A corner of my lips tilts in a smile. “Not a chance.”

  Cool Brook irritates the hell out of me, but I can work with the firecracker side of her.

  “Let. Me. Go.”

  “I’m driving you home.”

  “I’m taking a bus.”

  “Brook…” I say in a warning.

  “Max.”

  We stare at each other expectantly, fire meeting ice, waiting to see who’ll crack first. But no way am I backing down on this one.

  She tries to pull her hand out of my grasp, but my hold on her is strong. I can see her wince, so I loosen my grip slightly. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, no matter how stubborn she’s being.

  “I either take you home, or I’ll follow you there. It’s your choice.”

  Her lips are set in a tight line. The next time she tries to pull her hand away, I let her go. She cradles her arm close to her chest, rubbing the sting away.

  “Fine,” she mutters stubbornly, turning away. “Suit yourself.”

  “Fine.”