Exploring the Rules: The Dating Playbook, Book: 4

by Dietz, Mariah

  “That doesn’t count,” Cooper says, shaking his head.

  I was going to give it to her because while it’s an obvious answer, I hadn’t set any parameters.

  “It’s true,” she objects.

  “It’s still a cop-out,” Vanessa says, earning a wide-eyed stare of accusation from Chloe.

  “Okay, how about that I can tell them their horoscope because I’m majoring in astronomy?”

  Vanessa laughs. “I knew you were going to say that.”

  “Because it happens every time anyone asks what I’m studying!”

  Vanessa laughs even harder. “Last week, she was explaining the difference between astronomy and astrology to Kira from high school, and after like a five-minute explanation, Kira told Chloe she was a Capricorn and asked if she could tell her astrological predictions for the year.”

  “This doesn’t surprise me,” Cooper says. “I had to be lab partners with her.”

  “Chloe gave her a fake horoscope filled with warnings about this fall and told her that listening was going to be imperative and…” She looks at Chloe. “What else did you tell her?”

  Chloe laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t remember. But I know I’ve explained to her what astronomy is at least three times, and I think all she hears is stars. It was mean. I blame it on the tequila.”

  Vanessa laughs again as she nods. “That was a fun night.”

  Chloe flashes another smile as she fishes more whipped cream from her cup and licks it off the tip of her straw, distracting me from the road and how normal she seems in these stories compared to the shy, standoffosh girl I generally encounter. “Okay, my turn. Cooper, truth or dare?”

  Cooper blows out a breath. “Dare.”

  She smiles too fast, reaching forward with a balled fist. She smells like oranges and coffee and something floral that makes me think of that night freshman year, recalling the way her gaze had blazed seconds before she leaned forward and kissed me.

  “Oh, God. What is it?” Cooper asks, reaching to take what she’s offering.

  In the back seat, Vanessa’s already giggling.

  “Ketchup?” Cooper says, smoothing the small packet.

  “I dare you to drink it all,” Chloe tells him.

  Cooper cringes, and the laughter between us grows.

  “I have to record this,” Chloe says, reaching for her phone.

  He flips her off as she starts recording him, giving a brief summary. “How did you have ketchup on you?” he asks, tearing the top open.

  “Someone dropped it in the parking lot. I picked it up.”

  “Oh, great. So, it was probably injected with heroin.”

  Chloe’s smile spreads as she reaches up, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Likely. Now do it.”

  Cooper tips his head back, squirting the contents into his mouth. He gags and chokes, making us laugh again.

  “Don’t spew in here,” I warn him.

  He coughs, pounding his fist against his chest a couple of times as he breathes through his nose. “God. Where are those drinks you bought?” he asks, reaching for the bag Chloe had given him, digging out a purple juice that he downs half of in one drink.

  “That was the best,” Vanessa says.

  “That was terrible,” he replies, taking another drink.

  The game continues, and with each new truth or dare, the mood in the car lightens. I’m cautiously optimistic that this trip won’t be as bad as I thought. When we reach the I-10 Twin Span Bridge, Chloe skips her turn, staring out at the ocean with a peaceful look in her eyes.

  “Is this the bridge you were talking about?” Vanessa asks.

  Chloe nods. “This is the longest bridge in the world.”

  “Doesn’t it seem like the guardrails should be a little higher?’ Cooper asks.

  “You sound like Chloe,” Vanessa tells him.

  “Are we close?” Cooper asks.

  “Another thirty minutes or so,” I tell him, pointing at the GPS.

  Cooper groans with his protest. “I’m so glad we have a couple of days off before we drive again.”

  The rest of the drive is mostly silent, save for Vanessa’s occasional grumblings about the scenery’s lack of diversity.

  “New Orleans,” Chloe announces, pointing at a sign as we near the outskirts of the city.

  Traffic is congested; the weekend draws large crowds to the city. Cars are honking and changing lanes erratically, working to beat the traffic. I slam on my brakes when a car cuts in front of us, the driver one of the many arseholes trying to leap forward a mere foot.

  I punch my horn and throw both hands into the air. Few things get under my skin as much as bad drivers and busy roads. “Make that an hour,” I tell Cooper as we creep forward, and then come to a full stop as the GPS announces an accident ahead.

  Chloe

  Tyler wasn’t far off. It takes us fifty-five minutes before he pulls up to the hotel. It’s massive, sprawling across a full city block and towering several stories into the air. Tyler comes to a stop under an extensive covered area that’s made of stone and six car lengths wide. Broad wooden pillars are adorned with lanterns that warmly flicker, creating a warm ambiance. Two men from the valet dek and are dressed in black suits approach the car.

  “Greetings, Mr. Banks,” a man with raven-colored hair combed to one side greets him personally. “How was your trip, sir?”

  I glance at Vanessa, who’s already looking at me, her eyes wide with excitement and amazement.

  My door opens, and the other valet smiles and offers his hand to me. “Welcome to New Orleans, Ms. Robinson.”

  This is so far outside of the economy hotels we generally stay at that I have to blink back my surprise at him knowing my name.

  “Would you like all the bags brought up to your rooms and unpacked?” another valet asks, joining us.

  Tyler nods in response, and though I want to ask how in the world they’ll be able to tell our bags apart, I keep this question to myself as they begin unloading the bags out in record time.

  A woman with white-blonde hair and an elegant suit approaches us with a smile, greeting Tyler again by name.

  I stare at Cooper until he feels it and turns to look at me. “Is this a prank?”

  Cooper shakes his head. “I think this is how the other half lives.”

  It’s difficult to wrap my head around the possibility that enough people can afford to stay at this hotel to allow it to not only remain open but be in nearly every major city across the world.

  We step through large glass doors and are greeted by the air-conditioning, which is welcome compared to the humid night. The air smells like vanilla and citrus—rich. I never knew rich had an aroma, but now I’m sure of it as we enter the expansive and elegant lobby, my shoes too loud against the white marble floor. Vaulted ceilings make me tip my head back to see the coffered ceiling several stories above. A round table that could entertain fifty is covered by a bouquet of exotic flowers—real flowers. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed at a hotel with real flowers or with perfumed air.

  I lower my gaze to keep myself from openly gawking and follow the others to the front desk to check in.

  “You’re staring,” Cooper whispers.

  There’s too much to see to look at him. “Why aren’t you? This place is crazy.”

  He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Way better than the trip you were planning with Meredith, am I right?”

  “Too soon,” I tell him, shrugging off his touch.

  “Greetings. Welcome to New Orleans! I hope you all had a nice trip here. My name’s Natasha Benting, and I’m the general manager. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Banks.” A woman wearing a pristine navy suit and coral blouse greets us, her dark hair flawlessly curled. She’s probably forty but looks twenty as she smiles at us with a practiced grace that makes her look like she walked off a Hollywood film set. Paired with her Southern accent, it makes her the definition of a Southern belle. I’m not even remote
ly shocked to find Cooper and Tyler both staring at her for a full second while the woman recites a list of things about the accommodations and the hotel before confirming Tyler’s meetings tomorrow.

  Meetings?

  I want to ask Cooper what the meetings are for but don’t. The car ride here and all of our laughing created a false sense of friendship that just proves why I don’t trust Tyler. I don’t doubt where our alliances and the lines of our relationship have been drawn and have no interest in approaching them.

  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and I’m the only one to blame.

  I know the rules.

  What’s more, I know the score.

  “Please follow me to your room,” Natasha says, moving out from the desk with a stack of key cards in her perfectly manicured nails. It’s not her fault I’m measuring myself against her, comparing all of her perfections to my imperfections and feeling slightly more defensive and inadequate with each one noted.

  A man moves to take her place behind the desk. He has dark brown hair and blue eyes that are a shade so dark they’re nearly violet. He’s striking and so distracting I nearly collide with Cooper as he starts to move forward.

  Nessie chuckles, grabbing my hand and spinning me around to follow them into the massive lobby. “Do they hire models here?” I ask as I steal another look back at the guy who grins at me before he winks and makes me feel like I’ve just won front-row tickets to a concert.

  “Is this a freaking atrium?” Nessie asks. “Oh my gosh, there are crocodiles! Chloe, are you seeing this?” she whisper-yells, clinging to my arm as she points at a sign.

  Tyler glances at us, and Nessie tries to smile and play it cool although she’s visibly still bouncing and freaking out as we stare with wide eyes at the lobby and the glass ceiling.

  Natasha leads us to the bank of elevators and goes to the one on the far right. “You’ll need to remember that this is the only elevator that goes up to the presidential suite,” she explains.

  Presidential suite?

  Nessie’s fingers dig into my arm with the same thought.

  The doors open immediately, revealing white marble tiles patterned with smaller black and gray ones. The walls are dark wood with carved accents. There’s a large ornate mirror on the opposite side of the doors, and below it is a leather bench seat.

  “Oh my gosh,” I whisper as quietly as I can manage. “There’s a couch in the elevator.”

  “They don’t get out much,” Cooper says, ushering us forward when the others remain still, waiting for us to step inside the elevator’s cab.

  “Sorry,” I say, quickly moving forward.

  Natasha swipes one of the key cards and hits the top floor: eighteen.

  “Do you guys have plans for tonight? Do you need any dinner reservations? Chef Babineaux is here tonight, and she’s prepared numerous specialties and would be honored for you all to dine in the restaurant,” she says.

  Tyler nods. “That will be great. We’ll be down in an hour.”

  Natasha nods. “Most certainly. Your table will be ready.”

  The doors open with a chime, leading straight into a massive and elaborate space with no additional door or hallway. We step right into a foyer with bright white tiles that gleam from the warm lights that fill and warm the space. More fresh flowers are set on a round table; all perfect blooms. Ahead of us is the fanciest living room I’ve ever stepped into, which is saying something because I’ve been to parties that Ian Forrest, another member of the football team whose family is ungodly wealthy, has thrown in his mansion in Seattle. This suite makes that place look like a shack. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretch the span of the room, revealing the bright lights of the city. Sleek couches sit in a U-shape, and beyond them is another group of couches with a massive fireplace and a grand piano. Along the wall is a bar with lights glittering across a sleek black counter.

  “I’ll have them take care of the luggage while you’re dining. Would you like all of the garments hung? And does anyone have any requests for temperature or any oils?”

  Nessie and I exchange another glance before looking at Tyler. “I think we’re fine, thanks,” he tells her.

  Natasha nods again, her smile tight. “If you need anything, please let me know.” She hands Tyler the stack of key cards with a smile.

  “Thank you,” he says with a casual nod, making me realize this is his norm. He didn’t bat an eye at the full atrium in the middle of the hotel or the fact there was a freaking couch in the elevator or that this room is more opulent than I could have even tried to imagine.

  Natasha heads back toward the single elevator and disappears behind the elegant wooden doors with intricate paneling that barely resembles an elevator.

  “There are only three bedrooms. You two are welcome to the master,” Tyler says.

  Nessie stares at me, and I quickly shake my head. “No. You should definitely take it,” she replies.

  “I’ll take it,” Cooper says, his head dropped back to take in the high ceilings and expansive windows.

  I press my lips together to keep from scoffing or laughing because either reaction seems plausible during this completely implausible situation.

  “Come on. I’ll show you the rest of the suite.” Tyler steps forward, passing the couches and then the other set of furniture. When we reach the piano, I notice a staircase and elevator. “The elevator goes up or down. The stairs only go up.”

  “I thought she said there was only one elevator to go back to the lobby?” I ask, chancing a look at him and regretting it and the question instantly. His clear blue eyes are narrowed, watching us like he’s expecting us to steal or harm something.

  Tyler nods. “This one goes down to the private pool or up to the bedrooms.”

  Nessie turns to look at me, but I ignore her, realizing it’s likely our continued shock and surprise that has him so defensive and annoyed. We need to chill. I pull in a deep breath that I hold for five seconds in an attempt to calm my features into passive. Tyler continues up the stairs with Nessie close behind. I steal another look around and then at the elevator that leads to the pool—the private pool—and realize there’s no chance I’m going to be able to remain cool and calm. We’ve just won the travel lottery.

  Cooper chuckles, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Wild, right?”

  “This doesn’t even seem real. I had no idea places like this existed, much less ever expected to stay in one.”

  “I bet the food is going to be so good,” he says.

  I pause. “We can’t afford to eat at a place like this. I’m sure it’s over a hundred bucks a plate.”

  Coop shakes his head. “Ty said it’s part of the experience, and we’ll be helping him by offering our feedback. He’s doing this to report back on some of the hotels that are struggling.”

  “Struggling? This hotel is struggling?”

  Coop shrugs.

  “I feel like a fish out of water,” I admit.

  “You’ve gotta fake it till you make it. Once my company’s big, we’re going to be flying around the world, staying in places like this.” He weaves his fingers together and stretches them out in front of himself.

  “Don’t get too big for your britches,” I warn him, recycling the saying his grandma frequently uses when he talks about his plans for anything from school to football to his dream career.

  He laughs, dropping the pose and slinging his arm around me. He propels us forward to catch up to where Nessie and Tyler stand at the top of the stairs. It’s another living room filled with more couches, but these look less masculine and more inviting with throws and pillows woven with bright blues and greens. The furniture faces another wall of windows that look out over the city. But what grabs my attention is the telescope set beside the glass practically begging for use.

  “I was just telling Tyler this is where you’ll be while we’re here.” Nessie grins as my attention shifts to her. Then her eyes slowly move to Coop still at my side, his arm draped over my s
houlders. Her lips fall with a gentle frown, her shoulders bowing.

  I hate to see my sister upset, even more so when I’m a contributing reason. But this is Cooper, my best friend, the person who knows me nearly as well as Nessie. It draws my realization and fears back to how much is going to change this year.

  I look across the room at Tyler, feeling his stare as well. His blue eyes are calculating again, and for a second, I wonder what he’s thinking. How he’s reading this current situation. Is he regretting us being here? Does he think we’re using him? Are we taking advantage of him? Before the rest of the questions or a single answer can be considered, he moves to the nearest door. “This is the first bedroom.”

  We follow him into the room themed in dark stone colors with a king-size bed that sits against the far wall. Two chairs, a full dresser, and an expansive fireplace with a giant TV over the top complete the room. I’m fairly confident the room is bigger than the apartment we’re renting in Seattle this year.

  “This is the master?” Nessie asks.

  Tyler shakes his head.

  “We can totally take this,” she tells him.

  “You might change your mind when you see the other rooms,” he says, nodding in the direction of the doorway.

  Manners can be such a strange set of rules, I realize, when Tyler again waits for us to exit the room first. We step out and move to the side so Tyler can lead us to the next bedroom. The second room is both bigger and lighter. It’s decorated in muted grays and beiges with patterned wallpaper that makes the focal wall appear to almost move like grains of sand after a wave crashes. There’s a large picture window with a built-in bench seat filled with cushions and a couch with a chaise. The king-size bed has a tufted headboard that makes me want to run my fingers across the surface and forget about the giant TV on the wall.

  “Sorry, Coop. We get this room,” Nessie tells him, moving to the couch where she sets her purse down and moves to look out the window. She’s itching to go out and see the city. She turns to face us. “This is amazing, Tyler. Thank you so much for everything.” It’s sincere and kind and completely appropriate, and I’m beyond relieved she included me in the sentiment because I’m not sure I could thank him.