Unwritten Rules

by Eliah Greenwood

  “We are. Just from afar. We can’t risk Haze seeing us,” Will motions to get out of the car. “Come on. He’ll be there soon.”

  “Here goes nothing,” I sigh, closing the door and walking toward the completely empty and silent park. I sit down at one of the unoccupied benches, every single noise—as small and ridiculous as they may be—scaring the living heck out of me. Ten minutes go by.

  Then I hear it. The sound of an engine in the distance.

  I don’t know if I should be relieved or nervous when I spot a motorcycle speeding toward me, its gleaming headlight so bright it temporarily blinds me. It gradually slows down in front of me until it comes to an abrupt stop. Haze kills the engine and hops off his bike, removing his helmet. He runs a hand through his waving-in-the-night-breeze messy hair, still managing to look like he came right out of a movie, might I add. Cue the slow motion and music.

  “Hey,” he says.

  I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Our eyes meet for a second, but his hastily abandon mine when I get up from the bench. He’s looking at my dress. No, scratch that—he’s staring.

  “Well, someone is enjoying making an entrance.”

  “Get on.” His tone makes it clear he’s not asking.

  Houston, we have a problem. That was not part of the plan.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “This place is the ultimate place to get attacked, Kingston. That’s why.” He hands me a spare helmet. My thoughts are going a thousand miles an hour.

  I try to buy myself some time. “What makes you say that?”

  “It’s empty. Isolated. You’re lucky nothing happened to you.” His eyes fall to my dress again as he bites the inside of his cheek. “Especially dressed like that.”

  I feel my face heat up as my gaze drops to the floor. Well, he definitely noticed.

  “Why would I trust you? If I recall, last time I followed you, your brother—”

  “My brother was wrong,” he interrupts. “And I’m sorry for what he did to you, but if you want to talk about it, you’ll have get on and let me take you somewhere safe.”

  I glance at the helmet in my hand.

  What choice do I have? If I insist on staying in the park from hell, he might get suspicious and figure out that we’re not alone.

  “Fine.”

  Next thing I know, I’m sitting on the back of his motorcycle, holding on to him tightly. Haze Adams or not, I don’t want to die today.

  We take off in a roar as I hold my breath. I don’t dare turn around to see if Will and Alex are following us. I’m afraid even just the slightest movement would mean falling off and possibly breaking every bone in my body. Because that’s how lucky I am.

  Our speed increases with every turn, and it almost seems like he enjoys my grasp getting tighter around him.

  Then he says the one thing I feared.

  “I think we’re being followed.”

  I take a deep breath and finally turn my head to see the glimmering lights of Will’s car in the distance. They are keeping a huge gap between us. I have no idea how Haze even noticed.

  “Why do you think that? They’re so far away.”

  “That’s the best way not to be noticed while following someone. Plus, they started their car at the exact same time we left. They’re following us.”

  “What do we do?” I mentally curse. He has no idea how much better I feel knowing they’re following us.

  “Now…” He pauses. “Hold on tight.”

  If I thought we were going fast before, I’d obviously never experienced Haze’s “getting away from the bad guys” driving. My breath gets lodged in my throat when he takes an unexpected turn to lose them. The car manages to turn, too, but not without difficulties.

  “I’ll lose them, don’t worry,” he says.

  Oh the irony.

  “Just so you know, if you kill me, I’m coming back to haunt your ass,” I let out, holding on to him so tight I’m guessing it must be hard to breathe.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to need you alive for that deal.” I can picture him smirking.

  “How can you be so sure you’ll win anyway?”

  “Have you seen Kendrick? Go see him and you’ll understand.”

  Heart squeeze.

  I try to brush off the guilt, well aware that if I let it in, I’ll drown in it. Haze carries on with his “let’s see how fast we can go without dying” game for a little while. Then he finally slows down.

  “They’re gone.”

  The fear infiltrates my entire being. It’s just me and him now.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Somewhere crowded.”

  I sigh. “What’s with the mystery?”

  “The ladies love it.”

  And the best question avoider award goes to Haze Adams.

  When he pulls up in front of a restaurant that looks like it came right from the ’50s, I glance up at the sign that reads Debbie’s Diner. It does look as crowded as it could possibly get. We walk into the restaurant where everything reminds me of the movie Grease. A kind-looking waitress walks up to us, and before I know it, we’re sitting in a red booth, waiting for her to return with our coffees.

  “Nice place,” I begin. “You come here often?”

  “I used to.” He avoids my eyes, apparently not interested in discussing this topic any further.

  I don’t reply, wondering why he always does that. Any question that’s even a little bit personal turns him into this cold, unreceptive person. Then as soon as the subject changes, he’s back to his regular annoyingly charming, overconfident, and mocking self.

  “You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.” He takes his jacket off, revealing a black T-shirt that makes his buff arms unmissable. The ink on his left arm captures my eyes. He has numbers tattooed on his forearm. 04/16. I wonder what it means. A date maybe?

  “Is it true?”

  “Is what true?” He leans back into the booth, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing up at me with a familiar grin on his face.

  “You stopped the fight?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, thank you for saving my cousin.”

  “I didn’t do it for him. Don’t thank me.”

  “Then why?”

  “The only reason Kendrick was stupid enough to attack my brother is because of what Tanner did to you. I shouldn’t have left you alone with him. It was a mistake. People may call me heartless, but I have a code, and there’s nothing I hate more than seeing a woman get hurt.”

  His words catch me off guard. They bring me back to the night of the party when I heard him say to Bianca that he warned her about only wanting casual sex. Yes, it isn’t okay to keep sleeping with her even when he knows she loves him, but making sure that she knew where they stood before getting involved with her is better than telling her he wants a relationship to get into her pants. He has this sort of “honor” to him that I never would’ve suspected.

  “Too bad your code missed a generation.” I can’t help but wince, my neck still sore.

  “Can I see?”

  His penetrating blue eyes collide with mine, and I find myself unable to move away. I nod, unsure.

  He leans in over the table and gently pushes my hair off my neck with his hand. I shiver at the contact. His eyes darken when they meet the marks on my skin.

  “Does it hurt?” If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he actually looks concerned.

  Coming back down to earth, I shake my head quickly and move away, bringing my hair back to the front. “A little. But it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Listen, I know it might not mean much to you but…” His gaze descends to the wooden table like he’s looking for the right words to say. “I just want you to know I wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t urgent.”

  Somehow, he looks sincere. And part of me wants to believe him. But I know better. Kendrick warned me he had a way with words.


  “He was right, though, wasn’t he?” My words seem to surprise him. He doesn’t speak, waiting for me to continue. “I’m the enemy.”

  Still no reply.

  “So why did you save me?”

  He looks conflicted. Then after a few seconds of silence, he speaks.

  “Somebody had to.”

  I’m about to argue and say this isn’t an answer when a high-pitched voice interrupts me.

  “Excuse me.”

  We both look up at the same time. Next to our table is a girl that’s a good five foot nine. She has long ginger hair and green eyes. Her beauty is undeniable. Her cleavage is on display in the short white dress she is wearing. She happily squishes her breasts together by resting both her arms on the table.

  Something tells me she’s not here to talk to me.

  Her eyes stop on Haze. “Hey. So, I saw you from afar and…”

  She pauses and looks at me, probably wondering if I’m his girlfriend and about to pounce on her.

  “Here’s my number.” She hands him a crumpled piece of paper with her perfectly manicured fingers.

  Haze’s face turns into a seductive one as he takes it.

  “Well, thanks.” He smirks. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

  My stomach drops.

  “I’m Natasha.” She cackles, obviously appreciating the attention. “Maybe we could go somewhere else, you and I…” She gives him the “let’s make babies” look.

  Okay, that’s enough.

  I clear my throat to remind them of my presence. Natasha glares at me. “I’m sorry, is this your girlfriend?”

  “Oh no. Don’t worry. You two can go and do your thing in a minute. I just need to know the answer to the question I asked you earlier.”

  Haze’s eyes widen. His face says don’t you dare.

  “Have you told Samantha about the STD yet?”

  His jaw drops while color drains from Natasha’s face. Disgusted, she walks away without a word. As soon as she is out of range, I burst out laughing. I can’t stop no matter how hard I try. Haze glares at me.

  “What? You’ve got to admit her face was priceless.” I put my hands up in surrender.

  “You couldn’t have found something else to get rid of her?” he asks but I can tell he’s repressing a smile.

  “It’s the first thing that crossed my mind.”

  I carry on laughing, and eventually he starts laughing, too.

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” He shakes his head. “And who the hell is Samantha?”

  “It was my grandmother’s name. Also the first name that came to my mind.”

  “So, correct me if I’m wrong, you’re suggesting that I’m sleeping with your grandmother?”

  “You just infected my brain with images.” I bury my face in between my hands.

  “That was the point.” I peek through my fingers and catch his smirk.

  We’re still laughing when the waitress brings us our coffees and rests them in front of us. Ruining one of Haze Adams’s possible hookups? Check.

  WE’RE ON OUR THIRD COFFEE WHEN the waitress comes to tell us they’re closing in thirty minutes. We’ve been talking about anything and everything for close to two hours, and to my great surprise, it’s actually been a lot less awful than I expected. Haze knows how to hold a conversation. Not to mention the guy’s actually really funny when he’s not in “street fighter” mode.

  “All right. Enough.” His voice interrupts my thoughts.

  “What?”

  I have a little idea of what he’s going to say.

  “The evening’s been great. You’ve been lovely. Now spit it out.”

  “Spit what out?”

  “The question you obviously came here to ask me.”

  Busted.

  “I’m not dumb, Kingston. You wouldn’t be here with me after what happened to Kendrick if it wasn’t important.”

  I hate how he sees so clearly through my game.

  “Is it so hard to believe that I could just be a nice person who wants to spend time with you without getting anything in return?” I rest my hand on my heart and pretend to be offended. He laughs.

  “Winter, come on.”

  “Fine, smartass.” I sigh. “I was wondering if maybe you could do something for me.”

  “Try me.”

  “Here’s the thing.” I take a deep breath. “Kendrick’s at his worst right now, thanks to your brother and his fighters. The last thing we need is for word to spread that the East Side is vulnerable especially a month before the f…”

  He doesn’t say anything. But he doesn’t have to. The look in his eyes is more than enough to cut me off. I press my lips together, uncertain.

  “That’s a lot you’re asking from me.” He glances around the diner as if he fears someone might be listening. “I know I owe you after what my brother did to you. But I think I did my part to repay you when I saved your cousin. You’re asking me to cover for my enemies. I can’t do that. I won’t.” I feel in my bones that his answer is final.

  I can’t believe how stupid the guys and I were to think that a nice little coffee date would be enough to convince Haze Adams to show kindness.

  “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t make any promises.”

  “Wrong. You can promise me one thing.” I gather every ounce of courage I have left and let our eyes meet. “You can at least try and talk to your brother. And when the fight does come, don’t be too violent.”

  Haze smirks. “So you do think I’m going to win, huh?”

  “Haze, please.”

  “And what makes you think I would do such a thing for you?”

  His words feel like a slap. He’s right. I have no idea why we thought he would somehow act civilized and do something right for once. And for some girl he just met?

  “Nothing. I’m just hoping you’ll use the heart you pretend not to have and make the right decision for once because if you don’t give Kendrick time to get better, he will die and you know it.”

  He leans back into the booth and exhales. Irritation can be seen in his perfect features.

  “They sent you to sweet-talk me, Winter. Do you realize what that means?” he hisses, “They think they can mess with my head. They think you can mess with my head, so let me clarify something.” Any trace of kindness drains from his light-colored eyes.

  “I am not going to go soft. I don’t care how badly the East Side gets hurt, I don’t care if something happens to them, and I sure as hell don’t care if they’re vulnerable at the moment. Am I making myself clear?”

  Feeling rage and disappointment take over me, I nod and get up, not even bothering to look at him.

  “Winter, sit.”

  “Why? You’re clearly not going to help, so why waste my time trying to find some humanity in Mr. Bad Boy?” I head for the door.

  “And how do you think you’re going to get home?” he calls.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just walk. Or maybe I’ll call Kendrick to come pick me up. Oh no, wait. Your brother beat him up.” I rush out of the restaurant, blinded by my anger.

  The sudden burst of rage Haze created in me seems to have been enough for my common sense to go missing. I look around me and see I’m standing next to some sort of abandoned factory. I’m pretty far from the restaurant already and in a part of town I don’t know. I have no choice but to admit that I should’ve probably waited for him to drive me home before I made a scene. I instinctively reach for my phone in my pocket, and I’m mortified when I realize that Haze still has it. I completely forgot to ask him to give it back. How in the world am I going to get home?

  “You’re an idiot.”

  I almost feel bad for being this happy when his voice reaches my ears.

  I turn around to see him looking at me with mocking eyes. With both hands in his pockets, he’s shaking his head in disapproval.

  “Yeah. I figured that out when I reali
zed I have no idea where I am, thanks.”

  “Oh please. Don’t pretend like you’re not relieved that I came after you to save your ass again. Notice the word again,” he teases, slowly stepping closer to me.

  “I would thank you but…” I analyze my surroundings. “Saving me would require a danger of some sort, you see?”

  “You got lucky this time, but take my advice: don’t storm out into the night like that again. You’re hanging out with the bad kids now. That makes you a target.”

  The distance between us decreases by the second. He stops a little too close to me for my liking. The darkness of the night somehow makes his piercing eyes a bit more bearable. They’re slightly less hypnotizing at night.

  “So what? You made it clear that you don’t care one bit if something happens to me, remember?”

  “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are?”

  “I’m not stubborn. Just realistic. Those are your words, not mine.”

  “My words? Are you sure about that?” He’s staring at me intently.

  I try to find some hidden message in the sentence he so kindly said to me earlier but can’t find any. Probably because the idiot is messing with me and there is none.

  “You said, and I quote, ‘I do not care if the East Side gets hurt.’ So yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”

  He steps closer until I can feel his breath against my skin. We don’t move, staring deeply into each other’s eyes like we’re waiting to see who’ll look away first.

  “I said I wouldn’t care if something happened to them.”

  Then he pauses for what seems to be an eternity.

  “I never said I would let something happen to you.”

  THE SILENT STREETS WELCOME THE ROAR of Haze’s motorcycle but also welcome unwanted thoughts into my head. The neighborhood’s asleep. It’s late. Too late. Maria is probably worried sick right now. Not to mention I already owe her an explanation about not coming home yesterday.

  After Haze left me speechless, he started walking and told me, “Let’s get you home,” like it was nothing. I have no idea if he meant what he said. But I can’t deny that it’s been on my mind ever since.

  Everything about him is so incredibly confusing. He’s like burning ice—might be cold, might be hot. You never know which one you’re going to get.