Rules

by Doe, Anna B.

  Shifting from one leg to the other, I run my fingers through my hair in hopes a strand will fall down and cover the bruise. “I wanted to go to Lia’s, but she’s at Derek’s since…”

  “I see…” She nods her head, but her eyes still observe me intently.

  What does she see? A little white trash girl who got what’s been coming to her all along? A pitiful creature who can’t take care of herself? An edgy girl who lives on the wrong side of town?

  “You earned that at home?” She tilts her chin in the direction of my face.

  I should have known she wouldn’t let it go that easily. Jeanette isn’t like that. No, she likes to pick and probe until she gets her answer.

  “If you don’t want me here, I’ll go,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

  It doesn’t matter. Stay or go, I’ll be fine, just like I always am.

  A heartbeat passes. Two. Three.

  We just stare at each other, and not for the first time I ask myself what she sees when she looks at me, because the more I look at her, the more similarities I find.

  It’s a hard pill to swallow, admitting, if only to myself, that the two of us, for all our differences, might have something other than our stubbornness and wits in common.

  Sighing in exasperation, I break our stare-off. “I don’t have time for this shit.”

  I start toward the door, but once again her fingers curl around my wrist.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Jeanette says, letting go of my wrist. “I’m going to order some takeout.”

  With that, she turns around and starts walking away.

  I want to sigh in relief, but hold it in. Still, I can’t let her go just like that. She could have thrown me out on my ass, but instead, she was doing me a solid. The least I can do is play nice.

  “Jeanette?”

  “Hmm…” She tilts her head to the side, letting me know she’s listening without turning around.

  “Want to watch Teen Wolf?”

  We watched it the last time we gathered at Lia’s, and it seemed like she was enjoying the show almost as much as I was.

  “Sure.” Jeanette shrugs nonchalantly. “Come down when you’re done.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  BROOK

  I turn around to lie on my back, restless.

  I feel restless.

  The darkness surrounds me, mixed with the musky scent of his cologne. Not overwhelming, but enough for me to know that I’m in his room, surrounded by his stuff, lying in his bed.

  How did I end up like this?

  I should have gone back home. Or to Lia’s house. Anything would have been better and less awkward than this.

  Sighing loudly, I squeeze my eyes shut and the throbbing pain in my cheekbone reminds me why I’m here and not in my own bed.

  With the tips of my fingers, I trace the sensitive skin, hissing softly.

  Once I was done with the shower and changed into a clean set of clothes, I went back downstairs in search of Jeanette. I found her in the kitchen making tea. Without a word, she went to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas to put on my face. I accepted it, thankful to relieve the pain I had completely tuned out until that moment. We spent the evening binging on Teen Wolf and eating Chinese food.

  The soft pattering of rain on the window brings me back to here and now. I turn to my side, snuggling more into the comforter as I fluff the pillow. I try to concentrate on that monotone, soothing sound in the hope I’ll finally fall asleep, but my thoughts keep wondering.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed—I guess I fell asleep—before the sound of soft footsteps nearing jolts me awake.

  My whole body stiffens as my heart starts galloping in my chest.

  Did somebody come home? Or is it Jeanette going to the bathroom?

  My fingers grip the blanket while I listen to whoever’s out there in the hallway. Or at least try to, since I’m not sure I can hear anything above the frantic thumping in my ears.

  The floorboards creak.

  I inhale sharply, my eyes glued to the door. Even in the darkness of the room, I can see the handle turn.

  Flashes from the past return in full force, paralyzing me.

  The creaking of the floorboards as the footsteps near.

  The door slowly squeaks open.

  A big shadow standing in the doorway.

  Nearing the bed.

  The bed dipping down from the weight as the person sat down.

  No, not now. Not again.

  Cold sweat washes over me as I shut my eyes. My fingers grasp the blanket tighter, but even the death grip can’t prevent them from trembling.

  It’s been so long. I’m better. I’m stronger. I won’t go down that road. Not again.

  Never again.

  I’ll never be the victim again.

  I open my eyes just in time to watch the door open and close smoothly. My whole body is still, alert, sensitive to everything around me. With my gaze, I follow the shadow move around the dark room.

  The person moves effortlessly, like even in the darkness he knows where everything is and how not to make much noise. When the thumping of the blood in my veins subsides, I realize that’s because he knows where everything is. He knows this space because it’s his space. His bedroom.

  I’m not sure if I want to sigh in relief or start to panic again.

  He shouldn’t be here.

  Max still doesn’t see me. His back is turned to the bed, and I watch his fingers grip the back of his hoodie and pull it over his head, along with the T-shirt underneath it.

  Even in the darkness, I still notice his tanned skin. He has one of those olive complexions that makes it seem like he has a tan year-round. His muscles move, tightening and relaxing in that classic guy move. You know which one I’m talking about. When they grip the shirt from the base of their neck and pull it off in what seems like the slowest of slow motions just so the female population can enjoy the view a few seconds longer.

  The hoodie falls to the floor with a soft thud, and before I know it, his pants follow suit.

  I can feel my eyes go wide as I look at his firm ass hugged in the tightest pair of black boxer briefs. My mouth goes dry, tongue darting out to wet my suddenly dry lips.

  Maximillian Sanders is one irritating fucker, but he’s one irritatingly handsome fucker too. Even I can’t deny that.

  His dark hair is a disheveled mess. Black like night, it makes his light, silver eyes stand out. His nose is straight, cheekbones prominent. His jaw square, and because of his dark complexion, it’s usually covered by light stubble before school is done for the day. And his lips, so plump and reddish you’d think the only thing that guy does is kiss.

  “…the fuck?!” The hushed holler startles me and makes me jump off the bed.

  “Shhh! You’ll wake the whole house!”

  “Do I look like I fucking care?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing with the motion and making the black ink stand out. “The hell, Brook? What are you doing here?”

  He looks at me expectedly, making me nervous. Sighing, I get in a sitting position and pull the blanket tightly around me. Unlike Max, who seems comfortable even though he’s virtually naked, I want to keep every possible barrier between us.

  “I was trying to sleep before you barged in and woke the whole neighborhood.”

  His eyes narrow at me. “In my bed? What are you doing in my bed, Brook?”

  “Jeanette let me crash here for the night.” I summarize the facts. He doesn’t need to know more than that. “She said you’d be out and she’d let you know, in case you do come home, that your bed is occupied. Apparently, she forgot.”

  “Apparently,” he agrees stoically.

  The silence falls over us. I stare at him, partly because I don’t know what to say, but a small part of me can’t avert my gaze from his body.

  God, he’s beautiful.

  While most of our class consists of boys, Max is all man. He’s tall, well
over six feet and towering over me. His body is toned and lean, every muscle sculptured to perfection.

  Imposing.

  Just like his attitude.

  And let’s not forget the black ink adorning his upper arm. It’s usually covered, but now I can see the faint lines of his tribal tattoo.

  “Whatever…” His arms disentangle and fall to his sides as he walks to the other side of the bed. Or what would be the other side of the bed if I didn’t sleep in the middle.

  “W-what are you doing?” My voice stutters as I watch him pull the blankets aside and sit on the edge.

  “What does it look like I’m doing? Going to sleep.”

  “In here?”

  “It’s my bed.”

  “But I’m sleeping in it,” I point out.

  Looking over his shoulder, his gray eyes find mine in the darkness. “Firecracker, it’s my bed. Either you sleep in here, with me, or you go and find another place to stay.”

  My mouth parts, but no words come out. Is he for real? Apparently, he is because he lies down, pulling the blanket to cover his almost-naked body.

  Jumpy, I move, leaving one big gap between us.

  “What will it be, Brook?” He turns to his side, leaning against his forearm. “Are you staying or are you leaving?”

  A challenge shines in his eyes. Puffing a breath of air, I pull more of the blanket to cover myself.

  “I’ll stay,” I say, lying down. “But only because I’m already warm and cozy.”

  “Sure thing, babe.” Max grins. “Whatever you say.”

  I glare at him, although I’m not sure if he can even see it, before making a point and turning my back to him. Fluffing the pillow, yet again, I lay my head down and close my eyes.

  It’s weird, sleeping next to him. Even with all the space between us, I can feel him there, behind me. I can feel his body heat radiating and warming me. His scent, that was only a faint reminder of whose bed I’m sleeping in, now surrounds me, entering my every pore.

  I’m prepared to spend the night in his bed, granted wide awake, just to prove a point. Prove to Maximillian Sanders that he doesn’t affect me in the slightest, but surprisingly, I manage to fall asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  MAX

  Soft murmurs enter my sleep-induced mind. At first, I think it’s all a dream, but when I roll over to go back to sleep, my body collides with another one, jolting me awake.

  Brook…

  “Go away… Please, go…” Her whimpers are small, almost inaudible, her body thrashing on the mattress, restless.

  “Brook?” I call her name, but she doesn’t answer. She’s in too deep. Lost in her dreams. Lost in her nightmares.

  What the hell happened to you, Brook?

  This isn’t the first time I’ve asked myself that question, but I’m not even an inch closer to figuring it out. I always knew the girl had a chip on her shoulder. I knew bits and pieces of her story—wrong side of town, problematic family life, not many friends—but seeing her like this makes me realize that it is just the tip of the iceberg, and something much, much worse is hiding underneath.

  Wrapping my arms around her, I pin her body to mine. Only it doesn’t calm her like I thought it would. She resists my touch, struggling to get out of my hold.

  “No! Please, no! Let me go. Let me go!”

  My gut clenches, her fear palpable and growing stronger with each plea, but I don’t let go. If I do, I know she’ll be lost to me.

  “Shhh, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

  I intertwine my legs with hers to prevent her from kicking me, and my arms hold hers pressed against her sides.

  “It’s okay, Brook.” Wiggling one of my hands free, I move a wild strand of her hair out of her face. “You’re safe.”

  I chant those words over and over again, my voice low and soothing.

  Her back is pressed against my front so hard I can feel every soft, slender curve of her body.

  So small.

  So vulnerable.

  My own memories fight to get back into my mind.

  Jeanette—small and broken, lying on the ground unconscious while I held her in my arms waiting for the ambulance to come and pick her up because I didn’t see it. Because I couldn’t see the signs that my sister was breaking right in front of my eyes. Not until it was too late.

  Shutting the lid to that box firmly closed, I tighten my arms around her. She’s the anchor that’s keeping me grounded. Keeping me sane.

  Brook needs me. She needs somebody calm and composed, not a scared little boy, so I push those memories back and concentrate on here and now. Concentrate on her.

  “Please…” she whimpers quietly, her voice breaking. “Don’t do this…”

  Breaking something inside me.

  Something wet falls on my hand. My brows furrow in confusion until I look down at her face and see the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  She’s stopped fighting me and is now completely motionless. Resigned to whatever her brain thinks will happen next, her body curled in a fetal position, protecting itself from whatever’s hurting her.

  I turn her so that I hover over her. My hand cups her cheek, thumb swiping away the tears.

  “Brook, baby, wake up,” I whisper as quietly and as gently as possible. The last thing I want to do is scare her. She’s had enough of that already. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

  Nobody will hurt you, not on my watch.

  But I don’t say those words out loud. I can’t make that promise, because I already did. I made that promise to my sister, and I failed her. Miserably so.

  After a few more soothing strokes, her eyes finally flutter open. They’re red and puffy, her long, dark eyelashes glued together.

  “Hey there…” My thumb brushes over her cheekbone, and I see her wince in pain. “What is wro—”

  But I don’t finish my question because I see it. A dark purple bruise on her cheek. I open my mouth, but she stops me.

  “It’s nothing.” Brook turns her head to the side so I can’t see the damaged flesh. Or maybe she’s trying to hide her tear-stained gaze? Either way, I’m not letting her run away. I’m not letting her hide.

  “It obviously isn’t nothing. You have a bruise the size of Texas on your cheek, Brook. And you were having nightmares.”

  She tries to get out from underneath me, but I don’t let her go. If I do, I’ll never get answers. Never find a way to help her.

  “I said it’s nothing. Leave it alone.”

  “It’s something, all right.”

  “It was an accident,” she grits through her clenched teeth. “Happy?”

  My eyes narrow as I look at her. I don’t believe her one bit. “Is that why you’re having nightmares?”

  Her body shudders, yet she still lifts her chin in defiance.

  Strong. That’s what Brook Taylor is. So fucking strong.

  Even after reliving her nightmares, she finds the strength to face the likes of me, and tells me where to shove it.

  “My nightmares don’t concern you, Sanders.”

  “They do if you’re having them in my bed.”

  I know this is a low blow as soon as the words get out of my mouth, but there is no taking them back now.

  Green eyes narrow in fury, her lips pressing in a tight line as she shoves me away. “I’m done with this shit.”

  Although she’s small, the sudden action has me sprawled on my back.

  “You can’t just run away!”

  “Oh no? Watch me!”

  She turns on the balls of her feet, ready to dash away, but the rapid movement has her stumbling, probably over the clothes I left scattered on the floor. I lunge forward, my hand wrapping around her arm as I try to save her from the fall.

  I pull her closer, her body colliding with mine, and we both fall back on the bed.

  Brook turns to face me. “What do you want, Max?” She sounds exasperated, but also tired.

  I can see it in her eyes.

 
Tired of pretending.

  Tired of constantly being angry.

  Tired of fighting this.

  Whatever this thing is between us.

  Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, I let the back of my hand brush gently against her cheek.

  “I want to help you,” I murmur softly.

  And I mean it. I want to help her. I want to protect her, not that I have any right to do so or that she needs protecting. Brook Taylor is a badass. Small yet fierce, she has the heart and attitude of a lioness. The circle of people she lets in is extremely small, but she loves and protects them with ferocity. And the thing about protecting is maybe you don’t need it because you’re strong on your own, but maybe the one who wants to protect you needs it to stay sane.

  I was always protective of Jeanette. We might be twins on paper, but I was born first, I was the man, so I always looked at her as my baby sister. Made sure everybody else looked at her as my baby sister so they wouldn’t mess with her.

  Look at what good that did.

  And that need to protect has only increased in the last few years, so it’s not surprising that when I came to Greyford and met Amelia that same need to protect arose once again. Lia reminded me, and still does, of my sister when she was younger. Innocent. Her soul is completely pure, her heart full of kindness and love. And then there was Brook.

  Lia’s best friend.

  Firecracker.

  Badass.

  A girl with the most beautifully broken, haunting green eyes.

  Eyes that have seen way too much ugliness in the world.

  Eyes that with one single look, see right into my soul.

  “Then make me forget.”

  She settles on my lap, her legs on either side of me. The tips of her fingers brush my cheek, tracing the lines of my face as hers comes closer.

  Looking at her so close makes me breathless. Brook is not a touchy person, not even with Lia, who’s like a sister to her, so for her to initiate the touch…

  “What are you…”

  “Shhh…” The tip of her finger presses against my lips.

  She leans forward, her forehead touching mine. Light brown hair that was tucked behind her ear gets loose and falls down, long, wavy strands touching my face. Those cat-like eyes stare into mine.